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PRAOTI CAL

SYSTEM ·o F RHETORIC
OIL TIDI

l 1RINCIPLES AND RULES . OF STYLE,
mntB.B.ED l'B.O!I

EXAMPLES OF WRITING' ·
TO WHIOH 18 ADDED A.

HISTORICAL DISSERTATION ON ENGLISH BTYL1'

BY• ~ ·::.·~·
SAMUEL P~NEWMAN,
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l'ROFIC980R or Rlll:TORIO IN BOWDOllC OOLL&oa.

SIXTIETH

EDITION

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NEW YORK:
IVISON, PHINNEY & CO., 48 & 50 WALKER ST.
CHICAGO : S. C. GRIGGS & CO., 39 & 41 LAKE ST.
BOSTON: BROWN, TAGG ARD & ClllASE.. PHTLAll"LPIIIA; BOWEP., . BARNJll
61 00., AND J.B. Lll'PINOOTT & 00. OINCllNNATI: · MOORE, WILSTAOH,
Jl:KYB .. 00. SAVANNAH; J.M. OO OPEP. & CO. BT. LOULS; KEITH
& WOODS. NEW ORLEANS: BLOOMFIELD, STEEL .. 00.
DETROIT; F. RAYMOND & 00.

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l NTRODUCTION

The advantages proposed to be attained by the study
Rltetoric.•

1. Some acquaintance with the philosophy of rhetoric;
2. The cultivation of the taste, and in connexion, the
exercise of the imagination.
3. Skill in the use of language.
4. Skill in literary criticism.
5. The formation of a good style.
By the philosophy of rhetoric, I here refer to friose principles in the science of the philosophy of mind, ana 111 the plulosophy of language, on which are founded those conclusions
and directions which are applicable to literary criticism, and
to the formation of style. Obviously, th en, it w11. oe said, .
an acquaintance with the science of intellectual philosophy,
and with the philosophy ' of language, ;,should · prc'c~de the
study of rhetoric . . Hence, no doubt, , l\'lilton and others
assign to this branch of study lhe last place in a ~ourse of
· education.
But it is known to all, th at the prevalent opinion and practice are different from those recommended by .Milton; so
that our inquiry should be, what is the best practical method
of acquainting the young with the philqsophy of rhetoric those whose minds are not accustomed to philosophical
;nvestigations, and who are ignorant of . thqse sciences on·
which the art is founded 1
·
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I answer, th at, while the attention should be _directed to
' b11t few principles, and those ·most essential in · a practical
. view, instruction should be imparted principally by familiar,

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Jla.:.nro11 ucorell•J to act of Contrea• ht the yMU llID«, i.,
FL.AGO , GOULD ANO NEWMAN.
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th• Clou '• Otl.u1 or the Ulstrlr.t Coun ot Mau&cbUMtu .

D i ew Tbeol. Sem..

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!netitute August, 1830 .

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INTRODUCTION.

xt-book, if- one is used, should contai11
some general principles plainly statea

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Here I would more fully state, what I mean by familiar,
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talkinrr lectures. Suppose I wish to make the student u11dersta~1d what I mean by taste aud in so doing, I have
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occasion to speak of the ju~t, sensibility, imagination,
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~emotions of beauty and sublimity. Now, should I attempt
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to effect my purpose by a definition, or an extended technical
"' explanation of these terms, there would b~ lit~le reason to .
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~"J0 10pe for success. I would rather refer 111111 directly to the
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operations of his own mind, point out to him instances
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where he forms a judgment, where his sensibility is excited
his imagination called into exercise, and emotions of bea uty
and sulilin:iit~ kindled up in h.is own soul. It is true_ l~e may
1
"""'!10t, after this, be able to give me an exact defi111t1on of
these faculties and intellectual operations, but he has learned
what is meant by the proposed terms; and when I have occasion to use them aftcrwar<ls, I have no fears of not being
understoorl.
That instruction in this part of rhetoric is attended with
difficulty, no one will deny. The subjects themselves are
, I
intricate; hard to be understood, and still harder to explain,
I especially to th0se whose minds are immature and unaccustomed t0 philosophical reasonings. Here, th en, is room foJ
rnncn ingenuity in the instructor; and without a skilful cf.
fort on his part , the effort.s of the pupil will be of little avail.
Above all things, let not the mockery of set questions and
s . s _ __e_ (!!.!''lc is""" , ...!!!. teachrng what per.tam~ to fili
pln osophy of rhetoric.
Altera ]!, it -must
allowed, that with the most skilful in.
' struction, and the best text-book, young st11dents will obtain
but imperfect ideas in what pertains to the philosophy of
rhetoric. Still, what is thus imperfectly acquired , will be of .
importance to them as opening some interest ing fields of
thought, wl1ich, with strengthened powers, they may afterwards explore; and further, as aiding them in better under.
sta!H.ling the nature of the rules and directions founded on
these important and somewhat intricate principles.
I have stated as a second object to be attained by the
study of rhetoric, the cultivation of a literar} taste, and, in
connexion, the exercise of the imagination.
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spect, t ere 1s a c ose ana ogy o t e cultivation of taste in ~.
pa_inting, or. in an_y of the fine arts. · ·We may also learn some- ~
thm~ 011 tlus subject, f'ro_m the course pursue<} by painters in -the 11nproveme11t of their taste. They visit the most celebrated gal'leries, and seek for models of excellence in their
art; an~ these they make the object of close, long-continued
and patient study. They inquire what there is to excite
admiration in these paintings, and dwell 0n their different
pro_rninent beauties? ~nd. in this way cultivate and impro\•e
!heir t<J,stes .. Now 1t 1s m the same wu that a literary taste
1s to be cullivated. And that the student may skilfully use
his m?dels of exc~llence . in literaturet _and unite with his observar10n of them the application of those principles on which
they depend, he needs the assistance of an instructor.
In stating the details of the course here recommended , ]
remark; that, by the aid of a text-book prepared with reference to the proposed method of instruction, the student may
have brought to his view examples of those i1rntances where
there is most frequent occasion for the exercise of iiterary
taste. I here refer to what are .termed the ornaments of
style. In connexion with these examples, the nature of
whatever i? literary productions com~s under the cogni. zance of literary taste, may be explamed. The ~ifferent
ornaments of style may be pointed out to his notice, and he ·
may be led fully to see why attempts of this kind are in
some instances successful, and in other instances fail :
'When the examples thus cited, and the comments upon
them, have become familiar to the student, let his attention
next be direeted to finding examples in Euali sh writers
which may exhibit similar ornaments of style, ;nd in the ex:
amination of which, there is opportunity for the application
f)f the same principles. Here it is that important aid may
~e rendered by the instructor, since, in conducting hese
mquiries and forming his decisions, the student need8 both
~uidance and confirmation.
To make myself fully understood, I will here illustrate my
remarks. Suppose that a student finds in his text-book the
following ~omparison from the writings of Locke : 'The minds of the aged are like th J tombs to whirrih ti!f"Y

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INTRODUCTION.

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are approaching ; where, though the brass and the marblf'_
remain, yet the inscriptions are effaced by time, and the im·
agery has mouldered away.'
This comparison, he is told, is naturally suggested; and
in connexion with the example, the meaning (Jf this phrase
is fully explained to him. And not only i~ he made to see
what is meant by a comparison's being naturally suggested,.
but to feel, that in the absence of this trait, the pleasure to
be derived from it, as exciting an emotion of taste, would be
impaired. Let the student now be directed to bring forward
from any author, instances of comparison, which are in the
same manner naturally suggested; and in this way let him
become familiar 1 'ith the principle stated, and with its appl ication. In the same manner, by directing the attention in
succession to the different traits in the various ornaments of
sty1e, and illustrating, in connexion with examples, the various principles on which these attempts to excite emotions of
taste are founded, the pupil is led to a full acquaintance with
this part of rhetoric. He is enabled at once, when reading
the productions of any author, to perceive the beauties of
style, and to classify and arrange them-in other words, he
acquires a good literary taste.
But there is another point connected with this part of my
subject, to which I will for a moment direct your attention.
I refer to the exercise thus given to the imagination. In our
ceurses of study, we have discipline for the memory, for th~
reasoning powers in their various forms, and for the invention. But no regard is paid to the exercise and improvement of the imagination. And this, not because this
faculty of the mind is usel ess, or because it admits not 'of
being strengthened and improv ed by exercise. The impression is, th at ther.e is no method which can be adopted for the
attainment of this end. Now I would ask, if, by the course
here recommended, the imagillati on will nvt be called into
exercise, and strengthened? These attempts to excite emo·
tions of taste are addressed to the imagination ; they are un··
derstood by the imaginat10n, and it is a just inference, that
the plan of study I have now recommended, will furnish a
salutary discipline to the imaginat_ion.
Of the favorable tendency of the method of instruction. ]
can from my own ~J1perience as an in structnr, speak with
t10me confidence. I have ever found, that my pupils engage

in this part of their rhetorical course with interest. " They -· =· - ~
get new views of the nature of style, are led to notice their _•. -:d
susceptibilities of emotions, of which before they hav,e been - ..-_:__ . unmindful. They also become 'conscious of their own pow· '· ....
ers of imagination, ·and learn something of ,•the nature · and · . ·c·-. -offices of t'his faculty; and with these -views and this .con·. - ·---·~--·
sciousness, they find that a nl:)w source of pleasure is open- _ Al
ed to them. Thus they both derive important a!d in be.
coming writers themselves, and are prepared to read with
-_,.
increased interest the writings of others.
Before concluding my remarks on this head, let me say,
that what is here recommended, is perfectly practicable. It
is an .employment, which any student with common powers
of mind may pursue; and it requires, on the part of the in- '
structor, only that degree of literary taste, which every one
profe.':sing to teach rhetoric should possess.
'
TlH~ third object proposed to be obtained by the study of
rheto •c, is skill in the use of language. Here I refer both
to the choice of words, so far as purity and propriety" are_
conce ·ned, and to the construction of -sentences.
"·
Instruction in this part of rhetoric should be conducted
with reference to two points, - to acquaint the student with
the nature and principles of verbal criticism, anJ further to
lead him to be-ware of those faults in construction, to which
he is most liable. · ·. · t· ·
The former of these appertains to the philosophy of rhet )
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,oric, and is included under my first head : but I here offer
an additional remark. It was stated, when speaking of giv. ~
ing instruction on the philosophy of rhetoric, that difficulties
.. ......
attend this part of the course. These difficulties exist but
in a slight degree, when exhibiting what is connected with
the philosophy of language. Here is such- abundant opportunity for illustration, and examples are · so easily adduced,
that el'ery principle may without difficulty" be made perfect- ::
.ly intelligible. Neither is this part of the study uninterest• ··~: '
ing to students. Curiosity is fully awake to whatever per· -·
tains to the nature of language, and to the rules that govern
its use. And here I may be permitted to mention a work;
which, in what pertains to this pa~t- 9 rhetoric,~· I regard a!
f. ,,
of the highest authority. I refer to '. CampbelC,~ Philosoph) ~./ :--- '
of Rhetoric, - the ingenious, elaoorate- pri5duction of the V
Quinctilian of English literature.
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JNTROOUCl'ION.

INTRODUCTION.

To lead the student to beware of those faults in constrn<",.
tion which arc of most common occurrence, - the other
object in view ih this part of the course, must evidently be
effected by adducing examples of these faults. From the
nature of the case, the endless forms of correct construction
cannot be stated. On the obvious principle, then, that
where one has erred, another will be liable to leave the right
way, we direct the attention to these wanderings, and ~on.
nect with such instances the cautions they naturally suggest.
The object here in view may be accomplished for the most
part by the text-book. All that is incumbent on the in
structor, is, to lead the pupil fully to see what in every example adduced the failure is, and how it is to be remedied.
This part of a text-book does not require to be dwelt upon
in the recitation-room. It is rather a part to be referred to
by the student, when, hesitating as to the construction of
sentences, he needs guidance and assistance.
I mention in the fourth place, as an object to be obtained
by the study of rhetoric, skill in literary criticism.
Under this head, I include whatever pe1tains more particularly to style, its nature and diversities, as seen in the
writings of different individuals, and in different classes of
literary productions. Our inquiry is, What can be done by
the instructor most efficiently, to aid the pupil in acquiring
skill in literary criticism, as thus explained 1
Style has been happily defined by Buffon as ' the man
himself.' If I wish to become acquainted with any individual, I seek an introduction to him; I endeavor to learn
from personal observation the peculiar traits in his character. I may, indeed, from the description of a third person
receive some general and perhaps just impression respecting
this individual; but all this, though it might prepare the way
for my better understanding his peculiarities when in his
presence, would alone make me but imperfectly acquainted
with him.
The same holds true, if I wish to become acquainter.1. with
the peculiarities of those of different nations. You might
describe to me the national traits of the French and of the
f3panish; Lut a visit to those countries, and familiarity with
heir inhabitants, would be of far more avail in learning their
1 '\tional traits of character.
This illustration suggests the best practical method . o{

grri:ig instruction in what relates to literary criticism." ~. A
te ... t-bovk or an instructor ·may describe, with accuracy and
fulness, the peculiartties · of style, as they · are seen in the '
'Writings of different individuals, or found in different classes
of literary prodtJctions • . But this is not enough. '. That the .
student may clearly discern these characteristic traits,· and
understand their nature, and the causes on which they depend, his attention must be directed to these writings: ,: He
must in some good degree become familiar with them; and
thus learn wherein they differ, and what there is in each to
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approve or condemn.
It may be thought, that to bring to the view• of the . student in this manner the peculiarities of different .styles;·• may'
require too much time and labor." But ·•with 1 the ~ aid of. the
text-book, much of the work may be performed by the stu .. ·
dent himself. What .is most necessary on the part
the· _
instructor is, to direct the attention to specimens of different
styles, and in some few instances to point'out . characteristic
traits. The student, with this aid, ;will soon acquire suffi•
cient knowledge arid skill to apply the remarks found . in the
text-book himself. ·
This leads me to remark generally on the importance -' of,:·
...__ .!.rg,adiug_good authors in connexion with i rhetorical · studies.' ·:
This part of educationis, I fear, in most of ·our schools ·and ·
colleges, too much neglected. · ·From his inability fo judge· . .~.
of the merits of writers, the student needs guidance ' inil'se- · :
lee.ting those which may be most useful to . him, .and this - . ·?{·-.v
guidance the instructor should ' feel it is incumbent on him .. ...
to supply. To tea<l over occasionally with •the ' pupil ·1mme ; . .:.f.
choice specimE!ns of style, may also be · of: essential advan•• · /·
tage. To learn how to read, is no ' easy · acquisition; ~ l ·Of;.·
.
course, I refer, hot to the pronunciation of the words, or the ·.:
inflections of the voice, but to the quick and true apprehen• 7·~. · • •
sion of the meaning, and a susceptibility· to the beauties i-of~ .· '..,
style.
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Jn this conMxion, too, the student may be taught .the ttue ..
11at11re of literary criticism. · It looks not .; fof.~ faults. '"'' It ·
cherishes not a censorious, captious ·spirit. ·~ Its' eye · is · di•1
rected after what is excellent and praiseworthy_... after ·what'. ·
may inform the mind, give grateful exercise to the imagina!:.. ~; · ·'
lion and refinement to the taste. ;,. And •·when :it discerns · ex·• · .· ~,:~
1ellences of a high order: as if dazzled, with \vhat;is btighc. _.. -;'.-

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INTROD UC TION

and imposing, it sees not minute an? uni1~1p or.tant. defects.
Ct is indeed nearly allied to that charity win ch 1s kmd, and
which, where she discovers what is truly worthy of her r~gard,
Lhrows her mantle of forcriveness over a mult1tu.de of srns.
I proceed now to notic~ the last mention: <l a<lvan!age propos~d to be obtained by the study of rhetoric. I refer to the
formati on of style.
.
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This part of a rhetorical course of mstruct10n .1s not par·
ttcularly connected with t~~ u s~ of a text-b.o ok? further !ha!1
that it furnishes opportu~1t1es for the ap~l1,cat10? of p~mc1ples and rules, which are there fouud. l h~ aid . furm shed
by an instructor, is principally in the ~orr ect1011 of at.tempts
in composition, with such gene~ al . ~u1dan ce ~n<l. ~dv1ce, as
the intellectual habits and peculiarities of the rn<l1v1dual may
require. I offer, therefo!"e, O[l this head, merely a few practical suggestions.
.
I. It- is highly important, tltat !he attent10n of the student,
m his first attempts, should b~~~. , ~ an~gem!'..!!!_
of his
g.j.e,c.k- I would require of him to .exh~b1t a pla~, ?r
Skeleton ·stating the precise object he has m v1~w, t~ie d1vis~ons he proposes to make wit_h reference to tlus pomt, and
the manner in which he designs to enh1rge on each .head.
In this way, he will not only be aided in f?rming habits of
methodically arranging his thoughts, but will ~e le? to a.d?pt
!he easiest and most direct method of procee<lmg, m wntmg
on any subject.
.
2. I have ever found, that, so far as the construct!o.n. of
Eentences is concerned, and here I refer both to the d1vis10n
of a paragraph into sentences and. to the .phrases ~n<l forms
of expression, - I remark, that, m relation to tlus part of
the work of composition, I have ever found, that students
i m
derive im portant aid from t~ an slating select ass, f!
the \vritin s of ood authors m other Tanuua es. . Every. one
( mows t iat in this way a comm an o anguages IS acquired
And
would extend the me aning of the phrase, so as. to
mclude, _not only that cop'ia verborurn, m.1d that power of mce
discrimination in the use of words, which are generally un
derstood to be implied by it, but also the right arrangement
of words and the correct construction of sentences. Other
things b~ing equal,. he . wh?, during the first. ~ix months
in which the attent10n IS dITected to composit10n, sboula
devote half of his efforts to the writing of translat101u

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INTRODUCTION

would, I doubt not, be in advance of him, all whose exer•
.
tions had been employed in the work of composition.
3. I would further recommend a familiar . mode of cor- recting the first attempts <![ the~s_tude_nt. ' If ptacticable, th6 ~ ...
111struN or- may · with - adv antage read over with lnepupi!llis ,4<· ~:,
productions, and alone with him fre~ l)'. comment upon its P """
•f,, tlcfeets an
e~e!lences.
W 1I e in' tfits way nee<led--im·
couragement is given, the attrntion <?f the student is directed to that point where there is most need of improve ment
· Besides, it not unfrequently happens, that t~e efforts of .the
student ha.ve taken ::;ome wrong direction. He has som<:
erroneous impressions as to the nature of style, or as to the
manner in which a good style may ' h~ formed. It may be
that he is laboring too much 'on the ' choice and arrangement
of his words, or the construction of his" sentences ; or; assigning undue importance to the ornaments of style, he may
be seekiug principally _after what is figurative, and the ele·
gances of expression; or, again, with false notions of wh at
is original and forcible, he may be ' striving afier what is .
sententious and striking. ·Sometimes, too, there exists a'
fafltidiousness of taste, which is detrimental. ~ The student
is kept from doing any thing 1 because he is unable to dd .;,
better than he can <lo. In other instances, there i!'I an inju·
rious prop-ensity to imitation. The student has fixed upon
Rome writer as his model, and, servilely copying his · master,
his own native powers are neglected. Now, in all these in·
stances, the advice of the instructor may · be of essential ''~
benefit.
'
One general remark ·is all that I have to offer further on .
this head. It should ever be impressed on the student, that,
in forming a style, he is to acquire a manner of writing, to '
some extent, peculiarly his own, and w'hich .is to be the index of his modes of thinking- the development of his intellectual traits awl feelings. It is the office' of the instructor ·
lo facilitate the accomplishment of this important end, both
by wisely directing the efforts of his pupil, and bv removing ·
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CHAPTER PIRST
KOTE TO THE SEVENTH EDITION

Tim following work having been republished m Eng·
land, and introduced into the schools of that com try, and
having come into extensive use in the United States, the
publishers, grateful for the favor with which it has been
received, are induced to present it to the public in an
ImjJroved and more permanent form.

It has been stereo-

typed, with the hope that its circulation may thus be ex·
tended and its usefulness increased.
Andover, &ptember, 1838.

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WnEN we read the production . of one who is justly a~
&onnted a good writer; we are consci~us ~ that our attention
y3 engaged, - that we are pleased, and · ~( the subject is one
which can interest the ~ feelings, thai we are : moved. ' If
from being conscious of these effects we . are led to search
for their causes, we find, that our attention is engaged_ by
the valuable thoughts and just reasonings "that are exhibited ; we are pleased by what gives exercise · to our imagination, - by happy turns of expression,' - . by well introduced
and well supported illustrations. We are moved, because
the writer, whose productions we are reading, iR moved, aud
our feelings of sympathy cause us to be borne along on the .
same current, by which he is carried forward. But we now
ask, ~hat may be hence inferred in relation. to the writer 1
Do we not discover, that his mind has been stored with
knowledge 1 that his reasoning powers have P,een strength·
ened and subjected to salutary discipline 1........ that his imagination is active and well regulated, and his- heart alive
to emotion 1 and is it not from his possessing these resources
--these intellectual · and · m.oral habits~ ··that . he is able · to
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ON THOUGHT

engage our attention, to please and to move us, and consequently has acquired the reputation of a good writer 7
If this view be just, we may infer, that the fouuJations ol
good writing are laid in the acquisition of k11owl ed"e, -in
the cultivation of the reasoniug powns, - in the ~xercise
and proper regulation of the imagination, and in the sew!Sl·
bilities of the heart.
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But let us now suppose, th at two writers, who posses11
those 11u~lities, which I have called the fou11dations of good
wrnmg, rn equal -degrees, should writ e 011 the same su hi P.ct
Tliere might still be important. di llcrcnce:; !wt weeu tlicm.
One might use words with correctness and skill, selecting
~I ways t~e. best term; the writings of the other might show
1mpropncties and want of skill. The sentences of the one
might be smooth in their flow, perspicuous in their meaning, gratefully diversified in their length, and well suited to
the thought that is conveyed; those of the other might be
rough, obscure, ambiguous, and tiresome from their uniformity; an.cl while we are engaged and pleased iu reading
the product10n of the former writer, we soo11 become wearied
·and disgusted with that of the latter. Here then we have
a new cause in operation, .anu tllis obviously is the different
:degrees of skill in the use of language, possessed by these
·
. two writers.

.From this statement, we may learn the objects of atteu· tion to the critic, in examining a literary production. He
would judge of the value of the thoughts, of the correctness
of the reasoning, especially of tJ1 e method observed in the
discussion of the subject. He would next apply the principles of goo<l taste, and notice what is addressed to the im.
agination, and judge of its fitness to excite emotions of
beauty, or of grandeur, or other e,motions of the same class.
He might then direct his attention more immediately to the
-s~yle, and examine its correctness, perspicuity, smoothness

AS THE i'OUNDATWN · OF OOl)D WRITING.

Jf>j-

a<laptation to the subject, and the various qualities of .!t
good style.
The course here :narke.:! out, tlS ·t"hat of the cntic in the
examination of a literary production, suggests the objects of
attention and the method pursutd in the following work.
In the first part, a writer is regarded as addressing himself
to the m;iderstanding of his readers, and the importance of
. being able to think well, as including the number an<l value
of the thoughts and the proper arrangement of them, is considerecl. . The writer is then regarded as addressing himself more imme<liately to the imagination, with the design
of interesting or pleasing his readers. Here the nature of
taste, which directs in what is addressed to the imagination,
is explained, - the proper objects of its attention in a lite·
;ary work pointed out, and some instructions given which
may aid in its cultivation. Skill in the use of language is
next made the object of attention, so far as this is necessary
for the accurate and perspicuous conveyance of the thoughts.
In the remaining part of the work, the qualities of a good
style are enumerated, and the different circumstances on
which they depend, are mentioned. Thro~gh the whole
work, the inductive _method is observed . as far as practicable. Examples are given, and rules and principles . are
inferred from these examples. At the close of the work
also exercises are found, the analysis of which may call forth
the skill of the learner, and make him familiar with the ruleP
which are stated.
. ..
It will at once occur, that in each of t.he 'particulars men1.ioned, Rhetoric is connected, in a gre~ter ' or less , degree, .
with other departments of instruction. The Grammar.i an
gives us rules for the attainment of correctness ' in the use
of language ; and Logic informs us of the diff(:ltent modes o(
~~.. c-0nducting an argument. The .intellectual philosopher' afsc;
~\. explains to 1:1s the phenomena of mind, ,·particularly of those

.·.l1

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16

..

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PPI
D-., ,-,-~

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ON THOUGHT

AS THE FO.U NDATION O.F GOOD WRITING

emotions with which taste is connected. This connexion
has been bor.ne in mind, and hence it is, that on some part~,
comparati,·ely little iR said; and that of a general natme
Other parts, which are thought to belong more appropriately
to Rhetoric, are more fully treated.

--- -·-· - - :-:-i

Bx ensiv -'/f!trJ!.JJPX!.rl{j,_e . sumtiq;l t-o flu b rwd-uwitcr.
It is a recei\·eil maxim, that to wrile we we must think
well. To think well, implies extensive knowledge and well
d1sc1plined intellectual powers. To think well on any parti~lar subject, implies that we have a full knowledge of
that particular subject, and are able to understand its rela
tions to other subjects, and to reason upon it.
In sayiug that extensive knowledge is essential to the
good writer, the word knowledge is meant to include both
11n acquaintance with the events and the opinions of the
day, and with what is taught in the schools. That this
Knowledge is necessary to the good writer, may be inferred
from the intimate connexion between the different objects
of our thoughts. It is impossible for a writer to state and
.explain his opinions on one subject, without showing a
1knowledge of many othns. And if, in the communication
•Of his opinious, he endeavors to illustrate and recommend
:them by the ornaments of style, the extent of his knowledge
·will , be shown by his illustrations and allusions. ·were it
necessary to t ~stablish this position, it might be done by
analysing a passage of some able writer, and by showing,
even from the words that he uses, the knowledge which it11
composition impliP-s.
He, then, who would become a good writer, must possess
a rich fund of thoughts. The store-house of the mind mnst
be well filled ; and he mu'lt have th at command over his
treasures, which will enable him to bring forward, whencl'er
,he '"occasion may rer1uire, what has here been accumulated
\

""

·..:·~ ·,.or{:dtiture use. · To : make _.these acqumt10ns, is not 'the
· . work of a month, nor of a year. : He who woul.d gain much
1rnowledge, must possess habits of diligence· and attention.
He must be always and every where a .learner. Especially
must he seek after a knowledge of facts, and -distinct vi~ws
of received opinions on important subjects. He will be
" mindfu,l, that the extent of his knowledge will depend more
~, on his manner of reading, than on the amount read, and on
. h's attention to the facts which fall under hi~ observation,
'J:'""- than on ,the number of these facts .
-

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· In saying that the discipline of the mind ,...is··e. sentilf' .o
., the good writer, particular reference is had to the c:ason..,
In other words, the good write~ .nust have
sound sense. He must be able to examir subjects, and
•· pursue a connected train of thought with power and cor
rectness. That this is essential, may be inferred from the
rank, which is held by the understanding among the differ:,.. ent faculties of the mind. A man may have inverit1011,
:i:·, memory and imagination, but if he cannot reason accurately
and with power, he will not interest au<l inform his readers,
. and thus acquire the teputation of a good writer. It is also •
well known, that many of the faults of style arise -from in·
distinctness in the thol.!,!hts, and an inability to discern their
Iv. relations to each other.
Doth these causes of defects in .
" ;.' writing are removed by the discipline of thi;: mind.
". '. The im1Hovement of the reasoning powers, is the appr<>-~
I
',: · 11riate object of the study of the sciences. ·, The ability to ·
·v. reason justly and ably must be acquired hy practice. ,, There
may be physical strength of mind as of body, but the strength .
~f the" giant will not avail him in rearing a stately edifice; .
unless his strength be combined with skill ; and neither can .:
_> be giant mind rear its structure without the guidance- ofi
;)°17:J'""

.

2•

..
18

ON THOUGHT

skill, acquired both by instruction and practice. And how
can this skill be better acquired, than by the study of those
sciences, which require patient and careful research for hidden principles, or furnish instances of close and long-con·
tinued trains of argumentation? Hence the fondness for
metaphysical and moral inveatigations, and for the exact
sciences, which is ever felt by those who excel as sound
reasoners. And the student, who in the course of his ~ du­
cation is called to search for truth in the labyrinth of metaphysical and moral reasonings, and to toil in the wearisome
study of the long and intricate solutions of mathematical
principles, is acquiring that discipline of the mind, whicJfits him to di stin guish himself as an able writer.
But in addition to the exercise and improvement of the
reasoning powers, there tre certain intellectual habits, which
form a part of the mental discipline of the able writer, and
are worthy of particular consideration. To these I now
propose to direct the attention.

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He who writes for the instruction of others, seeking m
this way to enlighten and influence his readers, offers to
them the results of his own investigations and reflections.
Unless then he is able to state new facts or to present new
views of facts and opinions already known, he has no' claim
on the attention of other minds. Hence arises the necessity
of habits of investigation and reflection. The good writer
is a man of thought; he is accustomed to observe accaratcly the phenomena, both in the natural world and in the
scenes of life, which come under his notice, and to seek an
explanation of them; and whatever statements or opinions
he finds in the writings of others, or hears advanced hy
them, he · is wont to examine them, to test the validity of the

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AS THE FOUNDATION OF • GOOD WRITIN'1.

-~. E.~. ~~gumen. ~s .brought forwar.d i~ th~ir sup?ort?

th~

and
objec- · . .
·If.hons which . are made, or which nse up m his_own mmd. , •.
>J oWThe habits of thought here recommended, are not . easily
~Jo.rmed or generally possessed. The attention of most minds
~.is so much engrossed with the ~bjects , and ,occur~enc~s
~
QroJlnd them, that there is little inclination . or ability to look
~·! ; in upon their own thoughts and trace out their connexions
- -. and ,relations. Even educated men are too ready to be sat. ··-.1sfied with superficial views of subjects, . and to shrink
,,
.
-r back . from that intellectual effort ' which a more thorouah
~
· . investigation requires.
But there can be no dQubt, that
}'." habits of research and reflection have done more towarde
11
·;
enlightening and improving men, than . all . the brilliant sa!_., -: lies and sudden efforts of genius. It is indeed this ability
· .-.,_ -, to think, joined with a favorable constitution of mind, which
.· : ·gives its possessor a claim to the name of genius. It is said,
',, that when the great Newton was asked, how he was enabled
:,.
to make the greatest discoveries that any mortal had ever
,,
"''
communicated to his fellow men, he answered, by tltinking.
~
A habit of patient reflection should especially be enjoined .
-~· upon the young writer. Let him remember, that his dan-.
·:.~'!, gerr is from a slight and superficial acquaintance with , his: : · subject, and not enter too hastily on its treatment. He sits." ~' down to reflect, and finds that he has some floating thoughts• ~ .,.' .on what he intends to discuss. This is not enouah.
, I-le·
0
must direct his thoughts to some definite object, and find 1
~' .". f'lUt all that may be made useful in exhibiting and enforcing
his opinions. · Neither let him be discouraged, if difficultiesoffer themselves and first efforts are vain. Often, . in the
. f course of such investigations and patient . examination of .a .
suhject, ~ews ano valuable thoughts w1U,. present .thel!!__.,
" selves. We~ke new discoveries. · Our · minds become
'4'.. • ~illecl with the subject, and our thoughts flow forth in order,
~;:::;' wd :ibundance. ·
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- ·---..20

ON THOUGHT

It is by thus carefully and patiently reflecting on hie !!UbJect, that the wnter prepares himself to read with advnntage
what has been written by others. ~I.-I""
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<l-:opi.ui:ons, hich arc the result of patient thought and
thorough examination, he is enabled to make comparbons
between the opinions he has formed and those of other men.
Wherein the opinions of others coincide with his own, he ·
feels strengthened and supported. Wherein they differ, he
is led to a more careful examination ; and thus the danger
of falling into error himself, and of lead ing ol here astrav, is
liminished. Often also, in reading the productions of others, some new views will be brought before the miud, or
~ome aid derived for illustrating and enforcing _what is designed to be communicated. In this way, too, the writer i~
less liable to be biased by the authority of a name, and to
become the retailer of the opinions of oth e r men. These
remarks are designed to answer the inquiry, how far we
ought to read what others have written on a subject, before
attempting to write ourseh'es. We should read, not so much
with the design of furnishing our minds with ideas, as to
test the value of our own thoughts, and receive hints,
which may be dwelt upon and thu s suggest new views and
thoughts.
There can be no doubt, tha.t the

minds.

A.S THE FOUNDATION OF GOOD WRITING.

.' 21

. · ,;. · ;:.,... : ·' ~ '·
j

Method. ·

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Another intellectu ii attainment essential . to , the succes&
of tije · w.riter, is the power of method_ically 'arr~nging ,his
thoughts. It is well known, that _the thoughts in. their pa~
sage through the mind, are . connected together, by .certain
principles or laws of association; . and these laws·. are different in different minds. In the mind of one man these asso1 ciations are accidenial.
On«:J thought introduces another
.because it l:ias happened to be joined with . it; h~ving befor~
">een brought to view in the same place, or. at the same time.
<\.nother man thinks in a more philosophical. manner~ . and
ooks at the C?-uses and conse'quences of whatever passes un•
der .his observ~tion. When his attention is turned to any
subject, there is some leading inquiry in view, and the different trains of thought which pass through his mind,. are seeu
m their bearing on this leading object. As a necessary result, he has clear and connected views of whatever subject he
examines,-and is prepared to place berore the minds of others, the conclusions to which he has arrived, with the reasonings by which they are supported.
.
T~ attain this_ _power of ethodi.cally ·~. ar~anging ... th; ·
~houghts, o~ a~ it is sometimes termed, of looking a' subject ..,
m o slia e, it is recommended to stu~y with .care the \~orks ·
Qf .those, wbo ilre accustomed to think with .order and pr~ ·
c1s10n. It may be of advantage, often to . make a written
analysis of such productions, stating in ourJ»wn languag~
the proposition, which is the design of the ·writer to establish, and the different arguments which he has brought fot•
ward in its support. · This exercise will be found advantageous, not only as it aids in forming a valuable .intellectual
babit, preparatory to the work of composition, ,hut as it ena·
?Jes us to posse~s ourselves, in the best manner, of the op in
ions and reasomngs of well disciplined minds: :. .. .
, _ ·
:

------,,--"""'--~~....

----- ..

ON TH01JGI1T

AS THE FOUNDATION OF GOOD WRIT1NG.

23 ;

tention and awaken the interest of readers. : There ' ·iire
·: ,. however a few general principles; whi.c h may be."stated / at
1
• . the same time that some suggestions are ' made, ·; as to the
'. ·.. best ways ,of attaining and impr.oving this power of amplifi• ,
'' ·-,,
. , . cation.
· · ·
, . u:One leading 'object of

b. .

Another qualification of the good writer, which has its
foundation in the thoughts and is connected with the intellectual habits, is the power of enlarging l}pon the positions
and opinions advanced.
When any a·s sertion has been
'rmule, whether it be a leading propos1tion, or a subordi"late
head or division, the writer is desirous, that what is lll!s
advanced should be understood and received by his re;Hfors.
He endeavors therefore to exhibit his proposition more full;to support it by argument, and to enforce it upon the con
sideration and observance of oth ers. His attempts to effect
these obje~ts, constitute what is called amplification.
'fo state the various ways, iu which writers enlarge upo111
the propositions which they advance, is impracticable. Jn.
geunity is continually in exercise, seeking to arrest the a\

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~ · Pale} treating on the goodness of Deity: lays down the
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in the following
.
,:.J By formal definitions of the words, or phrases, used in
·.,;,.. sti;lting the proposition, or head of discourse. This is neces-: ·
. : sary, when the words or ·phrases are new, or uncommon, ' or
-'.' {. used in a sense differing in any respect from comm-on tisage:
:
By stating the proposition in different · ways, . at ' the
. " s.ame time shewing what limitations are designed to apply
• to it, and wherein there is danger of. mistake, which it is
~' necessary . to guard against. . This we, often do in ·conversa.:
,,,. tion, when we fear that an assertion we have made, is not
1
fully' and rightly understood.
•
•·
-'.' 1
: t" . t. By stating particular cases, or individual instances, an<l
~ .~hus shewing what is meant by a general proposition .. '
· · 4. By illustrations, especially by formal comparisons and .,
historical allusions. What j., famili ar to our minds,' is thus
:: made to aid us in un.derstanding what is less obvious and less
. :: easily discerned.
' r ,· . . . :' .. -~:"' '
_,,,_,·. ·· A second object of amplification is to support by argument .
·.. the proposition or assertion advanced. Here, of course, the'
·..;(;:amplification will vary with the nature of the argument used.' ·
•
I
,
. · The more common forms are,
\· .
-,,_, ~ ·~
· ' · i, When the proposition to be established is of the na·' " ture of a general truth, and the writer supports ·it by ·an·
. enumeration of the particular instances, on -. which it· is
,;~i: founded, or from which it has been inferred. ' '• /This is called
· fnduch'ln.
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24

-

ON THOUGHT

following proposition, that in a vast plurality of instances in
which contrivance is perceived, the design of the contrivance
is beneficial. To prove this proposition, he looks at · the
different parts of animals as they are subservient to the nses
of the animal, and also at the various orders of animal existence; and thus from particular instances infers ii. genera.
conclusion. This is an example of inductive reasoning.
2. When a proposition is establishea by a statement of
facts, or an appeal to acknowledged authorities. Thus Addison, \vhen endeavoring to shew that a mid<lle condition in
life is to be chosen as favorable to the cultivation of .t he
moral virtues, introduces the prayer of Agur. This is an
argument from Testimony.
3. 'When similar cases are stated, and the inference is
made, that what is proved or acknowledged to hold true in '
the one case, is true also in the corresponding case. This
is an ar ument from Analogy.
n observing different orders of animal life;
we notice important changes as to their modes of existence.
Such is the transition of the caterpillar to the butterfly, an4
of the bird from. its confinement in the shell to its full fl.edO"ed
0
Elate. Bishop Butler hence derives an argument from analogy in favor of the existence of man in a future state.
Other forms of argument are occasionally resorted to, in
proof of propositions a11d assertions. Those which have
been mentionecJ, are in most frequent use: and we learn
from them the nature of amplification, so far as it is of an
argumentati\'e kind.
llll~• pettoade.
A wr!ter
woulo recommend, or enforce, what he advances.
Ile
would induce his readers to think that wh at he proposes to
them, is desirable; and further, that the course which he
recommends · for its attainment is p.raclicable an<l will l:>e

AS THI: FOUNDATION OF GOOD WRirING.

.

~

auccessful. llere then the amplification becomes -in part
bortatoty, a1id in part argumentative.
.. , , .. ;·; .·:· ,-'::
.•:' ;~o far as th~ amplification is hortatory; it consists of RJ>"
p~~s td some leading principles in the constitution of man
~to his conscience, or his sense of what is morally right·
and wrong ~to his selfish propensities, or the desire for
his own welfare and happiness, and to his feelings· of bene-r.i
Olence. _Other paE~ions are also appealed to in particular
· ea~es. In making these appeals to the sense of justice, and'
.&he selfish and social . principles of our nature, there is frC* qu~tit occasion to tiew one proposition in its connexion
with others, to make inferences from what is felt and ac-;
k1~0Wledged to be true in cases of frequent occurrence, to
~.at which is more rarely witnessed. (See Exercise II with
~emarks.)
. . : . ,·
·: -Appeals are also often made in this kind of amplification
lO' ~ommon sense. By this it 1s meant, that the writer en;;
. de~tors to recommend. and enforce his proposition by aC>I
~ounting for it, that is, by assigning the causE!s or reasons on
· Jrhich it rests. It is asserted, for example; that men· pr°" ·
~oundly versed in science ate usually negligent in attending
to the common transactions of life; and in supporting this
~roposition, the writer dwells on the nature of habits of. a}:).i
lfraction, and assigns the existence of these habits as a.
CMse of the negligence referred to. Thus he accounts forwhat is asserted in his proposition, and every man ~f com•
mon sense perceives the reasonableness of the cause :issigned. -·
~ppeali:i of this kind to the common sense of readers,-.whichi
called arguments from cause to effect ; '' lite ··
are:·sometimea
.
more frequently used to instruct and influence those of. (',an...
ilid,.'tninds, than to convince opposers. · They gtatify also the
Mr~ng propensity of tnan to know the causes of things, and
Oitis .(l.Sµose the mind to the reception o( any proposition
1thieh they are brought to support.
/
~

3
'l

1

26

'l'he inquiry may here arise, what kinds of composition, ·
and what circumstances, require a brief, and what demano
an extended amplification 1 It may bf! said generally. in
reply, that writings designed to excite emotion, and to influ·
ence the will, require a more extended amplification than
those which are argumentative, or those addressed directly
to the unclerstandi11g. In the former case, it is dcsira.ble,
that the mind should be led to dwell on what is presented
before it l and to notice whatever is fitted and designed to
excite the desired emotion. Hence copiousness of detail,
and a full and minute statement of attending circumstances,
am required. - On the other hand, an argument shoula
be stated concisely and simply ; in this way it offers itself :
in a form most striking and convincing to the mind. Sometimes, however, it is necessary to modify these general di· ·
rections. An argument may be abstruse and complex, and
hence may require to be stated at greater length; or those, .
for whom the production is designed, may be men of uncul- ,
tivated minds, and nnaccustomed to connected reasonings .
In these instances, it may be well to depart from the general rule, and to expand and repeat the argument stated
'l'he nature and object of amplification may be
from what has been stated. 'l'he inquiry remains, How is .
this ~ower of enlarging upon a topic attained 1 or rather,1
upon what intellectual habits and qualifications, does the .
successfu exercise of it depend 7 And here I mention,
ent and commana of knowledge.
t was stated at the commencem ent of this chapter,
extent of knowledge is essential to the good writer.
.
is not sufficient, that the mind is well stored with facts.-,
Our thoughts must be at command. They must come at.our Lidding, and be macle to effect the purposes for which,
they are needed. This power of producing and applying.
our knowledge alil occm1ion demands, evidently depends

27

AS THE FOUNDATION OF GOOD WRlTING

ON THOUGHT

die~intellectuaf habits, especially -on the ' : etentlveness ·and

, reildines of the memory.
k.;- . ·
'ly coimecte<l with· the command of the thoughts,
._ power of illustration. Successfully to perform this
· ~artr of amplification; 'the writer needs to be · familiar with
~bjects and scenes in the natural world, with passing events,
itnd1 with the whole circle of science and literature. Ile
, heeds also an active imagination. Liveliness of fancy is no
less' conducive to the clear and striking exhibition of the
: t~oughts, than to ornaments of style. Hence the cultiva. t!<;>n of this class of the P'~Wers is equally important to the
· practical and to the elegant writer; to him who aims to en. lighten :the mind and improve the heart, and to him ' who
J
"ivottld_ ratify the taste and please the fancy of his readers.
her requisite for success in amplification; is defi•
ess of thought in our reasonings. · There · are men of
- ,.itrong 'minds, who reason ably, and, if we look at the con
- ~fusions to which they arrive, correctly, but wh<', are unable
(o'l follow out in their own minds, or to state to others, the
· ~ (tr aiii ' of argument they have pursued. ·. To do this, requires..:. · mental discipline, to which their intellectual powers have
itoi' been subjected. On the contrary, those who are · accus-tomed to look in upon the operations of their own _minds,
· ~q 'to think with precision and accuracyi are able to state
\heir reasonin5s defin~tely and fully to others; and this; as
*'·:,t h.as been said, is the kind of a~plification, which in arguy
mentative writings is required.
.,
\
~ ·,~ ·"'Ano_ther, r.equisit~_ for success in amplification, .is copi~ ness of expression.
This phrase includes both . a comm~nd of words and of construction, and he who excels in
J this ·particular, has one important qualification foi enlarging
!lpci'n the topics on which he writes, especially when joined
-)fith · the other 'qualifications that . have. been mentioned.
'!': Copiousness of expression is acquired by a familiarity with.
1

'- · "

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.-;

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- ''

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29

AS THE FOUNDATION OF GOOD WRITING.
ON THOUGHT

good authors; and the differences, which in this respect
are found among writers, are principally to be traced t(l
some diversities in their literary advantages and habits.
Those, who in their early years are familiar with books,
and accustomed to listen to the conversation of literary
men, usually acquire, with little effort, copiousness of ex·
uression. Much advantage in this respect is also derived
from translations, whether written or oral, from foreign Ian·
guages into out own.

[ Different kinds of <••po:iti"".. :

J

Writings are distinguished from each other, asyidactica.
persuasive, l!,rgument~, descriptive jlnd narrat~. These
distinct10ns have reference to the obje, t. which the writer
has primarily and principally in view. D1~:actic writing, as
the name implies, is used in conveying instruction ; the
common text-books used in a course of education are exam·
pies. When, in connexion with instruction, precepts are
enjoined, and rules laid down for the observance of those
who read, we have an example of didactic preceptive writ· '
ing (Ex. I.) When it is designed to influence the will,
the composition becomes of the persuasive kind ; the pro·
posed object is made to appear qesirable, and the reader is
urged to pursue it. Of this class, are sermons and most
discottrses addressed to deliberative assemblies. (Ex. 11.)
Another kind of composition, and one which is found unite4
with most others, is the argumentative. Under this head,.
are included the various forms of' argument, the state..,
ment of proofs, the assigning of causes, and, generally~{
those writings, which are addressed to the reasoning facul~·
\ie9 of the mind. (Ex. m.) Narrative and descriptive ,
writings relatn past occurrences, and place before the mind,_;

various obiects
and scenes.· (E L~
'
.
.
. .
1 . !hese different Kinds of composition ·- are . often .found
f,mted to~E;ther in the same discoi,irse. . Jn ancie1;1t' systems
of Rhe~oric, they became distinct objects of attention and
!lppropnate di~ections were given for the compositi;n . of
each part. It is not, however, desjgned to treat, jn thjs chap.t~r, on the mnnagement of the subject in an extended regular
discourse. Nothing more is attempted, than to state and
Jllustra~e some general remarks, pertaining to this topic;.
. '.fhe kmd of c?mp?sition more immedil!,tely in view, is an
essa~, or treatise, i~ part argume~tative, '.and .in p~trt per~
· ~u~sive, - such as is adapted to def~nd and . enforce the
~pm1.ons of a writer on any subject he would present to the
~!msideration of bis readers
...
\>r its

'I}d v.)

contE~mplation,

~election

.. .It is a direction of
;;(

·

_,

of a subjerl.

Horace,

Sumite materiam vestris, qui scrib1tis ·lequam

. "b us. *
V lrl
"'~ . ~·
.
.' .
]'he meaning of this maxim evidently i~, · t.}1at we sh~uld nOI.
!ttempt to write ori subjects which are beyond 'the r~a~b of
rr _mental powers, and to the treatment of which, from ou.r
_,abits .of thought, we are not fitted. Rightly to understand
~ ~d discuss some subjects, requires a previous knowledge
ti1~ powers of reasoning, which are not commo,nly posse~sed ·
}JYhe~ the~e essential prerequisites do not exist, oµr labo;
·
.jn1,1st be m vnm.
of
as thus .explah1ed,
of
· ~mg applied to the selection of subjec'-8 for y<mng - ~riters

.~.re inj~nction Horac~,

admi~:

"·\.-· * Examine well, ye writers, weigh with care . · · -1

,.~?~

c

·

What suits your genius; what your streng;h can bear.

·" "'

.

3•

. FR.&.1'Clll

,.,

--

...

----~ .........-~--- -~-·

30

..

:. •
.

ON THOUGHT

_:ii,

AB THB FOUNDATION OF GOOD WRITING.

And on

"o.

-~

_
1

·>;,.• ··, _

~.-,

&nd , appropnate. Often the opportunity ,is improved, to
•; _ -:
t?rr,ect some mistake, or remove ~ome prejudice connected
': 'jii~h the . subject to be discussed, - or a statement is made
~f,. facts, th~ knowledge of which is important to the right
.· ' .understanding of what follows, - or general . remarks . may
" ._ .l>,..e .made, designed to impress the reader with a sense of the
. ,_wiportance and interest of what is advanced, But. what· ·
•&.ver/, be the nature of the introduction, it should be written
.With .great care. Before the minds of readers become en. gaged in the discussion of the subject, the attention is at
,hberty to fix itself on the skill shown in the choice of words
conversation, ·
: ~and . the modelling of the expression. It is also .well known,
Desc riFti.ons ,
- ~h.at , first impressions are important. A happy turn of exunder immep,ression, or a well timed allusion in the commencement of
diate observation, are for these rea::ons recommended, or if ;
~ performance, may effect' much in arresting _the attention
the composition be of a didactic kind, the attention may be
_of-readers and conciliating their good will.
' <' . ·
directed to subjects of an ethical nature.
,, .:r,he following introduction to Webster's Address, · deliv '
The neglect of what is here recommended may lead
... ,
much vain and fruitkss labor, and perhaps to fatal discour- I :- . @J'~~ ,o n Bunker's Hill, is striking and appropriate . :
~
!
agement. Young writers not unfreque11tly get the impres;.. ~,~·The uncounted multitude before me, and around me, proves tae
sion, that they have not a genius for writing, or that in their .
. eeling which the occasion has excited. These thousands of happy ·
case there are peculiar difficulties and hincl erances, when the ""
'":la1"'es," glowing with sympathy and joy' and, from the -impulses of a
true difficult is the wrong selection of s ~ bjects for their first ..~
• eommori. gratitude, turned reV:etently· to ·Heaven, in "'this spacious
temple of the firmament, proCiaini that the,,day; the ' piace, and . the
attempts in composition.
.....: ' ' "

t

: .

-

.eurpose of 1 our assembling have made a deep impression. .on our

learts."

'" .

Introduction.
The speaker seems aware of the thoughts and feelings
1
-pi~h ,have taken possession of every ' heart, and giving
" . ttetance to these thoughts and feelings, ' he ·arrests with
. c'dhsummate skill the attention, and conciliates the good will
i ef: those whom he addresses. · The expression,· too,"" in tm11
- ~·.- ·~..
.
. fr .P.acious · temple of the firmament," though ; not '· ~triking
.·: from 'its novelty, is yet, from the circumstances '. under whicb
~"'Was · uttered, ·happy and truly appropriate. · ./ : .
:. ; .,< 1
;' ,

Whether a composition should have a formal
or not, must be determined by the good sense of the writer;
In short essays, it is generally best to commence with l
statement of the subject, and to enter at once on its discus- ~
sion. There should at least be a proportion observed be;
tween the mtroduction and the rest of the performance. A.
huge portico before a small building, always appears out of,
place When an introduction is used, it should be stnk.ng'

\

"'

'

i _:.

.

-• '

f .

I• I

...

·i

~!

-'·:; ' ~

·.1!,_ • !•!

.-

!•

••

..,

~

';;>;;>

1'

;i{fa _,
~ ;
~

.,

.

' ,

'\,-:.; .

~

ON THOUGHT
,,~

\

\·

33

AS THE FOUNDATION - OF GOOD WRITING.

.,,

\

On the statement of the subject.
The first and leading object of attention in e-\° ery compo.
11ition of an argumentative kind, is to determine the precist1
point of inquiry-the proposition which is to be laid down
and supported Unless the writer has steadily before him
some point which he would reach, he will ever be . lia!:>le to '
go astray- to lose himself and his readers. It is not ~il
he has determined on the definite object of inquiry, that hecan know what views to present, and how long to dwell on
the different topics he may discuss.
It is recommended to him, who is considering what propol:lition shall be laid down, and in what form it shall be
stated, to ask himself the three following questions; l. What
is the fact 1 2. Why is it so 1 3. What consequence~
result 1 Suppose as an illustration, that my thoughts have
been turned towards the manifestations of wisdom, goodness and power in the works of creation around me, and
I wish to lead those whom I address, to be mindful of
these things. I ask myself, 1. What is the fact? In re.
ply, it may be said, - that in the material world there are
numerous indications of infinite wisdom and be11evolence
and of ;;ilmighty power. I ·ask, 2. How is _the existence of'
these works to be accounted for 1 What is the cause 7 J
answer, God hath created them. I ask again, 3. Whal
should be the consequence 7 Again I reply, men should
live mindful of God. I embody the results of my inquiries
in the following proposition ; Men who live in the midst of
objects which shew forth the perfections of the ·gt eat Creator, should live mindful of Him.
It is not always necessary, that the proposition to be ::.up.
ported, should be thus formally stated, though this is usually
done in writings of an argumentative nature. Sorr•etimes it
is elegautly implied, or left to -be inf~rred from the introduc
1

; &ory re~arks. When however any doubt can exist iis to
~e object proposed, or there is- any danger that the reader
· _• may mistake the design of the writet, the precise object of
-. discussion qannot be too distinctly and formally stated. In
the management of the subject, as in the expression of the
- ' lhoughts, elegance should always be sacrificed to perspicuity.
Half the controversies and differences of opinion among
men' arise from their not distinctly understanding the ques'
lions' on which they write and converse.
· It is a common impression with young writers., that the
, wider the · field of inquiry on which they _enter,'. the more
.,, abundant and obvious will be the thoughts, which' .will offer
· lhemselves for their use. - Hence, by selecting some gene.;
ral ·subject, they hope to secure copiommess of matter, and
thus to find an easier task. Experience, however, shews
~ th~t the reverse is true - that as the field of inquiry is nar~'
~ ·rowed, questions arise more exciting · to the - mind, and.
tfaoughts are suggested of greater value and interest to the
· re~ders. Suppose, as an illustration, that a writer proposes
to himself to write an essay on literature. Amidst the nu·
rtierous topics which might be treated upon l,lnder this term;
'"what unity of subject could be expected 1 : · How commonplace and unintere~ting would be the thoughts a<l.vanc~d I
But let some distinct inquiry be proposed, or some assertion
be I made and supported, of which the extract among the
Exercises, entitled a " Defence of literary studies in men of .
·''business," is an instance, and there is a copiousness of in·
·tetesting thoughts, presented ·in a distinct and connected
1

•

.

-

On the lan or._~iiiisions.-. _·

'

J ••

/

'

-,e;aving before his mind the precise object of. inquir~, atl~

.· havfog stated also, either in a formal manner, or b1 1mph·

..

-·lilil
34

AS 'l'IIE FOUNDATION OF GOOD WIUTINU.

ON THOUGHT

3fi;•
' <

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

proposed to write an essay on Filial dut~es ; As the 'object
t.at101i, the prooosition to be supported, the writer now turn!
~f, the essay, the writer designs to shew, that children should
his attention to the formation of his plan; in other wordn,
19~der to their parents obedience and love. · His div_ision ~ is
he determines in what order and connection his thoughts
shall be presented. Thus are formed the divisions of a '
1as. follow~· ; Children should render obedience and love · ~
"
parents,
,, : ', . 'i" ,;: ,,.
composition, which will correspond in their nature to the
-their.
.,.
,1;..1. Because they are under obligation to the~r parents _for
leading design and character of the performance. In argu,benefits received from them. ·
: "! • ,,
;·::.•
mentative discussions, the heads are distinct propositions or
· !' ) l Because in this way they secure their own happiness · t,>
arguments, designed to support and establish the leading
,,~:;, 3, Because God has commanded them to honor. th.£ir paproposition. In persuasive writings, they are the different
considerations, which the writer would place before his
'~ents ..'
.,
.;,lffeln this division there is a manifest reference to the object
readers, to influence their minds, and induce them to adopt
. of· the writer. The different heads are also distinct from
the opinions and pursue the course, which he recommends.
· each . other, and taken together give a sufficiently full view
ln didactic writings, they are the differenb points of instrucof the subject. It is in accordance then with the preceding
·
tion. In narrative and descriptive writings, they are the
· · , directions.
.
different events and scenes, which in succession are brought
before the mind.
~· Let us now suppose that the following division had beei1
It is obvious, that no particular rules of general applica.. !lade;
;children should render obedience and love to their pa·
tion, can be given to aid the writer in forming his plan. It
~ r~nts,
..
must vary with the subject and occasion. Here then 1s
. .,,. L Because they are under obligations to them for beneroom for the exercise of ingenuity; and the habits of con'.fits received from them.
-secutive thinking mentioned in a former section of thill
. ~, 2. Because their parents furnish them with food and
' chapter, are the best preparation for this part of his work.
'But though no specific rules can be given, there are a few
. clothing
•
, .. 3. Because in this way they secure their own happiness
general directions, which will now be stated. It will be
~;: 4. Because there is a satisfaction and peace of conscience
·seen, th.at they apply principally to those writings, which
1n·the discharge of filial duties.
are of an argumentative nature, and which alone admit of
qn extended plan.
· ,..~1 ·T his division is faulty, since the different parts are not
E.istinct from each other. The second head . is included unI. Every division should have a direct and obvious bear
' tier the first, and the fourth under the third;. ·
· ..
ing on the leading purpose of the writer.
·i· 'A third division might be made as follows; . Children
2. The different divisions should be distinct, one not in
. ·· ~hould render obedience and love to their parents, · 1 · , , , ••
eluding another.
...
· -~ I. Because they should do what is right. .-1 ~d; i , : '
3. The divisions should to a good degree exhaust the ·
Because in this way they secure their own hnppineu.
1uhject, and taken together should present a whole.
1
·1
-Let us suppose, in illustration of these rules, that it ur ·
1

.

1

,

/

!··

3. Because God has commanded them tv nonor their pa·
rents.
It may be said of the first part of this division, that it ha!!
no particular reference to the object of the writer. It is a
truth of general application, and may with equal propriety
be assigned in enforcing any other duty as that of filial obedience. It is also implied in the other heads, since children do what is right, when, in obedience to God's command, they seek to secure their own happiness.
The question may arise, Is it of importance distinctly to
state the plan which is pursued 7 Should there be formal
divisions of a discourse 1 To this I answer, that in the
treatment of intricate subjects, where there are many divisions, and where it is of importance that the order and connexion of each part should be carefully observed, to st'ate
the divisions is the better course. But it is far from being
always essential. Though we never should write without
forming a distinct plan for our own use, yet it may often be
best to let others gather this plan from reading our productions. A plan is a species of scaffolding to aid us in erecting the building. When the edifice is finished, we may let '
,the scaffolding fall.
Ar.r.ange1nent.

'In the discussion of a subject, which is of an argumenta
tive nature, the direction is generally given, that the argu. men~ .sho1.d,d rise in imgor-tance. Iri tliis way tlre attenti'on,
excited by novelty at first, may continue to be held, and a '
·full and strong conviction be left on the mind at the conclru.
11ion of the reasoning. This, as a general rule, may be observed, but the more obvious occurrence of an argurr. ent or "
some other cause, will often require the skilful writer to de
, part from .1t.

;17

AS THE FOUNDATION OF · GOOD WRITING.

ON THOUGHT

...,; Another rule of more importance is, that arguments ~froyi
uuse to ~ffect, or tho(:le whii:;h account for what is a1:3se1ted
in ·the leading proposition, supposing it to be true, should
precede those of a stronger or more convincing kind, such
· .·· as. arguments from testimony or inductjon. '. Even. this ru':ie1
b.'wever, is not without its exceptions. . '" .
.
. ·:· · ,,f,1 An inquiry of some importance pet'taining to arra~ge­
ment, is, whether the proposition to be supported, should in
all c.ases precede the proof, or whether the prq;of should precede the formal . announcement of the. 1proposition. Men
1,1sually assert their opiniona, and then assigr;i the • reaso?-s on
. which they are founded, and this, with.out dot). ht, is .tne :best
arrangement, m\less special reasons exist: for , .adopting some
other. If what is aeserted is likely, either from its being
·'.· novel, or uncommon, or from its being opposed to the preju'. dices of the reader, to disaffect him, and to . prevent his due
. ~onsideration of the iuguments br,o ught forward, jt :is better
to ·depart from the genenll rule, and to defer the fonna1
.5tatement of the proposition maintained .to. the close. , . , "-·
.' •.; Another inquiry relates to the proper place for introducing the refutation of objectio.ns. . On this pt>~nt, . the general
:rule is given, that objectio~s. ~hoµld . be !pp:nsid~r~d> nea~ ;the
~mmencement of a composition.
n tliis_way, J he pr.eju..~ices of opposer!! may be erad1cat~(l, ana tfieir . IIJJnds:_left
free to give full attention and clue weiglit, to the .argumeuta_
· adv.anc.e a. t>llen, llowever, it is nece!ilsa~y .to. bting Jo.n \',ard
~ome views of the subject, preparatory . to the . ~xamination
of.objections; in these instances, their refutatiou is,found in
'the midst, or deferred to th~ close of the composition. :"'· r,
'

,,

Transitions.

t".ih,': ~ ~~·* ,,,._t-·

:;.'4.'f

..

·:.: :,<" '.· ~·

..

~-- ...~:~

,,

:i~:·;:~::t:. -::. '" ··.:~

~ Transitions from one part · of a composition ,t o another,

·'are . M~O important objects of attention.". . Th~ ge~1~ral ..d.ir~
~

"·

,.

4

. . . . ' .'

38

AS THE FOUNDATION . OF . GO( D

ON THOUGHT

tion is ofbm given, that transitions be natural and easy. Dy
this it is meant, that thP-y be in agreement with the com•
mon modes of associating the thoughts. In argumentative
writings, where the different parts are connected by a com·
mon reference to some particular point, which they are designed to establish, this common relationship will be suffi. cient to prevent the transition from one argument to another
from appearing unnatural and abrupt. Still, as has been
intimated, there may be skill shown in the arrangement of
the arguments, and one may nppear to arise happily from
another. But in writings which are not argumentative,
much skill is often displayed in the transitions. With the
design of exhibiting some happy instances of transitions
and thus showing what is meant by their being natural and
easy, I shall notice those in Goldsmith's Travell er, to which
these epithets are often applied. His description of Italy
closes with the mention of its inhabitants, feeble and de·
graded, pleased with low delights and the sports of children
The transition to the Swiss is thus made ;
My soul, turn from them; - turn we to survey
Where rougher climes a 11obler race display.

The principle on which the transition is here made, is that
of contrast. And since the mind is often wont to look at
objects as opposed to each other, it naturally, in this way,
passes from the Italians to the Swiss.
The transition from Switzerland to France is thus made ;
Some sterner virtues o'er the mountain's breast
May sit like falcons, cowering on the nest :
But all the gentler morals such as play
Through life's more cultured walks, and charm the way
'These far dispersed, on timorous pinions fly,
To sport and flutter in a kinder sky.
To kinder skies, where gentler manners reign,
1 turn - and France displays her bright domain.

Jn this instance, the transition, like that before mentioned,

WRITING.

''depends in part on the principle of contrast, b~~ seems more
' · . ,immediately to rest on the accidental mention of the words
. ~kinder sky. Such accidental associations are frequent; espe1
·-cially in familiar intercourse, and in the easy flow "' ?f the
1houghts ; and though they · would not be approved m the
-grave discussiqn of a subject, in a descript~v~ epistle< wh~ch
is the nature of the production we are exammmg, t.hey stn~e .
'
.. !.\~ • •"' l :· ~ • •!'·-~?!·
'!\is ravorably.

.. ~

.:.. :'Resemblance, cause and effect, contiguity as ' to time or
.: lace, may be mentioned as other principl~s of· a~sociatio~
oli .which transitions are often easily made. n· ;1 '"' " "··~ 1" •·•

>
!:

tt·~.·

. ·· i

- •

•

~

.

Conclusion.
1

•

i

~l,~ 1:.:·~~

~· 1.qr~1t; ~·i.. .1r .i'"iP

,.. ·

: '~ " · · ' ''•

'"·~·

lf it be of importance, that the attention be arrested · at

·first by

a well written introduction, arid ' sustained · by well
·. ~~onnected and increasingly important arguments,' it will be
·~readily allowed, that a happy conclusion.is ~o le.ss desirable.
'. lt is then that a decision is about to be . made, 'and the mind
should be left impressed with . a' favorable
~.t,opinion Of the . Writer I and With the j~StneSS and truth Ol
' .. wh~t has been told him~ ·· Here then the 'writcr ~h~:mld , exert
.1all ' hi~ skill, and put forth all his powers. ~'. •' •iJPI "'• ; ' ' ·;i·,, ;
· ''(• c'As ~n example of ·a well executed conclusion, the following
\ ~ass~ge which is found at the close of ari eulogy on··Adarmi
11
"'.i~1: a~d Jefferson, may be cited; ...-, ~
•" ,,-~~·,.: 4 ;
I • , ,•.:

· .,. ,~·~,~~ir statues are men: living, feeling, intelligent, adoring man,
: ~ te~ring the image, of his Maker; having t~e im.press of divinity.
-. Their monuments are the everl~sting hills which ~hey. hav~ cloth.ed
·J' ' with verdure- their praises are sounds of health and Joy, m valhea
1
• • • which they have made fruitful to them incense dail~ rises, _in ~he
'. pe~fumes of fragrant fields, which they have spread .with c11lt1vaho~
:. _fair 1ities proclaim their glory - gorgeous mans19ns s.pe~k the".'
. ',.l.1 munificence - their names are inscribed on. the goodly habitations ot
··~"r men ; und on those hallowed temples ' of God,' whose spires ever point
1
.'
to the heaven, whi~h, we trust, has received them."

\;

'·

•

40

.,,.,·I...

ON THOUGHT, El'C.

Narrative an Descriptive Writing.
The directions given in this chapter on the management
of a subject, refer principally to argumentative composition.
We are not to expect in narrr.tive writings the regular di·
visions of a discourse, as in didactic and argumentatiYe productions. Still there will be some prominent or lea ding
event, and the different parts of the narrative will teni to
exhibit it fully and clearly. These parts will be the circumstances of the event, such as led to it, such as accompanied
it, or such as follow from it; and the writer will dwell upon
them in proportion to their importance and connexion with
his main design. Occasional reflections may also be made,
and inferences drawn, and whatever can illustrate, or throw
an interest around the prinCipal event, will be introduced.
As to transitions, they will often depend on the order of
occurrences in the succession of time, or as one occurrence
is accounted to be the cause of another. (Ex. 1v.)
In descriptive writing, it is the purpose of the writer, as
has been stated, to place before the view of his readers soma
object or scene. Jn its design, it nearly resembles both historical and landscape painting, and there is a resemblance,
too, in the particulars on which the successful exertion of
each depends. A happy selection of circumstances is of im·
portance. A few prominent traits, well chosen, and strongly
exhibited, will produce a much better effect, than the enu·
meration of many particulars. In this kind of writing, much
is found, which is designed to assist the distinctness of the
mind's conception, and when the writer dwells f,111 different
parts, it is with this purpose. The transitions, as in argu
mentative writings, are often abrupt, and it is thought suffi.
cient connexion, that the different parts tend to the same end.
The narrati".e and descriptive are often found unite&. (Ex. v.)

CHAPTER S-ECOND

..-

;- ON TASTE.
_'r.

·~ WERE men simply intellectual beings, · and wete it the

lhiy design of the writer to convey instruction t9 hit! readers,
.what has been said in the preceding chapter, would be all
that is required, preparatory to the consideration of the qual.
ities of a good style. But men have imagination; and are
, susceptible of emotions; and it is often the purpose of the
writer, to cause the imagin.ation to be exercised, and emotions of various kinds to be excited. To give pleasure in
~: this way, may be the immediate object of the ·writer, or
· he ' may seek to please his readers; merely . td arrest their
attention, increase the -distinctness of their views, and favor~
ably incline them to the reception of the opinions he ~om·
•
\
--:!
mumcates.
•. 1From this statement, the definite object of this and the
following chapter may be learnt. It is to aid in 'judging of
. whatever is thus addressed to the imagination, in ~onne~ion
-~ ) with certain emotions of which men are susceptible.. ·. To
, direct in all that thus pertains to the imagination and thes6·
. ~- emotions, is regarded as the office of Taste; '· .Hence · the
- ~ nature of taste in general will first be considered.· ) This will
·. · b.~ followed by some account of what is implied by a li~erary
· t~te, including an enumeration of those' different properties
literary . productions which are objects of it.I!. attrntion,

·; m

4•

·• t·

,.

\\.
i

~

_·. 1'

·~

..
42

ON TASTE .

•

with such ren~ arks and directions as may aid in its acqmSI·
tton and improvement.

Definition of Taste.
T<.1e decisions of taste are judgments passed on whatever
is designed to excite emotions of beauty, of grandeur or of
sublimity. The power of thus judging is founded on the
experience of emotions of the same class, and is called taste;
and hence he who exercises this power successfully, is called
a man of taste. By judgment, as the word is here used, I
mean the determining of the fitness of particular causes for
producing certain effects. The chemist would produce a
mixture having certain properties,-' a certain degree of hardness, a required color or taste. With this view he unite$
several simples ; and in selecting the simples that are to Le
united for producing the required mixture, and in determinmg the quantity of each to be used, there is judgment. In
the same manner. where taste is exercised, there is a certain
effect to be produced, and in determining the fitness oi
means for producing this effect there is judgment.
For a full account of the emotions here mentioned, the stu·
dent must be referred to works on the philosophy of the mind.
But it is necessary, that a short statement of what is meant
by them should here be given.
If we reflect on the different emotions, of which we are
conscious in the notice of actions and objects around us, we
find that some of them are of a moral 1rnture, and we speak
of the actions which excite them as virh10us or vicious. Other emotions are included under what are called the passions, and we speak of the obiects which excite them as obje~ts of desire or aversion - of fear or remorse, or of some
other passion. We think also of such objects as affecting ·~
our happiness. But distinct, both from emotions of a mora~ ·f .
nature, and from those included under the passions, there ii

43 :

ON TASTE.

· a 'thiri class of emotions, which is · particularly referred 'to

'u. ·~the

preceding definition of taste, and these ; will now be
." exhibited.
· ·'
,' "
~When the sun goes down 'in the west, the surrounding
. clouds reflect to our view a ~ich variety of colors."' · We gaze
on the splendid scene, and there is a pleasant emotion . ex.;
. 'cited in our minds.
: .~·; :• ··i " · · ·:· '"' "
1
'
,bfin ·reading the story of the two- friends, Damon and
: Pythias, who were objects of the cruelty of Dionysius, ~e
·~ are struck with the closeness of their friendship; ': and while
' we think on the fidelity of the returning friend, .- arid on their
.·" "mutual contest for death, a pleasing .emotion" arises in' the

f ~ .fuihd ..·

', \'.

·.•

...

.1

t

:c· .~: ;
.

~ ·'>.; ';~-·\

·

~L 11•• ~~d

"' :.-:~.,:; When examining Dr. Paley's reasoning in · proof of the
J, ' ~xistence of the Deity, and observing·' how every part is
brought to bear on the particular object in view, while one
·example after another gives additional strength to · the argu:
and the ' perfer,tiori
m'ent ' we admire the skill of. the reasoner
-. ~
.
\.or~ his work, and in view of this skill and this finished work
··~grateful emotion arises in the mind. · ,,. ··; ·· "'
'•:"
·~ it- will be observed ' in these ' examples, that the emotion
e~cHed is not strong, - that it is of a ' g~~teful '.killd, 'and
:' that it may continue for some time: This is caped '!'_'!!_ .. em<r

ion of beauty.
The traveller, when he stands on the bank~ of the Missisippi, and looks upon that noble river, fl.ow.i ng on with the
ower of collected waters, and bearing on \its bosom tlie
l'Wealth of the surrounding region, is conscious o(emotions,
. Which, as they rise and swell · within his breast, · c~rrespond
'J •·the scene on which he looks.
· ... · •; ·.. '> - r"i ,, · ..,, '
"Burke has given the following biographical notice of
~ward the celebrated philanthropist. ' :; :i- .' '. / · ·
'. ,!•'He has visited .all Europe; - not to survey the' sumptu·
of palaces, or the .s tateliness of temples; not · to
, ... 1

.

.~

.. J

.:;;

44

ON TASTE

make accurate measurements of the remains of ancient
grandeur : not to form a scale of the curiosities of modern
art, not to collect medals, or collate man11scripts; - but to
dive into the depths of dungeons ; to plunge into the infec.
tion of hospitals, to survey the mansions of sorrow and
pain; to take the gauge and dimensions of misery, depression and contempt ; to remember the forgotten, to attend
to the neglected, to visit the forsaken, and to compare and
collate the distresses of all men in all countries. His plan i!'
original; and it is as full of genius, as it is of humanity. It
was a voyage of discovery, a circumnavigation of charity."
No one
can read this passage, and not feel a high derrree
.
b
of admiration in view of the devotedness and elevation of
nurpose it describes.
When the orator stands up before collected thousands,
and for an hour sways them at his will by the powers of his
eloquence, who, in that vast throng, can regard the speaker
before him and feel no admiration of his genius 1
The emotions excited in these and similar instances, have
been called emotions of grandeur. They differ from those
of beauty in that they are more elevating and ennobling.
Byron, in his description of a thunder storm in the Alps,
has the following passage:
"Far along,
From peak to peak, the rattling crags among,
Leaps the live thunder! - not from one lone cloud,
But every mountain now hath found a tongue;
And Jura answers through her misty shroud,
Back to the joyous Alps who call to her aloud."

Who in the midst of Alpine scenery could thus listen to
the voice of the leaping thunder, and not start with strcng
emotion 1
'Ve are told, that when Washington appeared befor~
Congress, to resign his military power at the close of the
war, "he was received as the founder and guardian of the

ON

TAST~.

republic. They siiently retraced the scenes of danger and ·
distress, through which they had passed together. ' :They'
recalled to mind the blessings of freedom and peace · pur
chased by his arm. Evety heart was big -with · einoti~n ' fears of admiration and gratitude btirst from every eye." ·~ ·
In the presence of this august assembly, the- Commander
in chief of the armies of the United States, ·after piously
recounting the blessings, which divine providenca had . con.. ·
ferred on his country, and commending that country to the
continued care of its Almighty Protector; advanced, and
. resigned the gteatpowers, which had been· c<>mtnitted·to his•
trust. How much must this dosing act have, ~dded , to the
deep interest of the scene I
~
,· ·. ·,; '
We are told, that when Newton drew near to the close
of those calculations, which Mn.firmed hi!! di~cott'.!ry of the ·
laws by which the plafiets are bound in their courses, he
'
.
was so overwhelmed witli emotioh·, that he ·could not pr()J
eeed, and was obliged ·to ask thEf assistailce of a ·frieitc1: · N 0 °
one can think of the mighty intellectual · work' that -was
then accomplished; and rtot feel as he did, a:n overpoweri_ng ·
t -~ .. ,. i
';J; .·~
-'f: i;·~.t.i}.···•Yt'~
emotion.
'
· ·
To the emotions excited ih these la!jt mentioned examples ·
is applied the epithet sublime. · ·They '· ti.re less permanent 1
than those of grandeur, bµt more thrilling and .exalting. --:- ·
In these examples, the · em6tions Which are mtcited, ·attse
neither from a moral approbation of the objects or actions
as virtuous nor from a personal interest in them ·as affecting·
our happin~ss. How, then, are they excited 1 : \,~ '.. 1 : ,,\ · /
The answers to this inquiry have been nutnerousJ · Som"
have said that there is -a distinct sense, whlch enables the .
'
.
~.
mind to discern ill' objects something whi~h 1s fittE!d · to et..i
cite emotions ot taste, and which is suited to :th1s• purpose
·in the same manner as the sense of hearing is suited to ·
sounds. Others have attempted -to resolve th~ whole into
0

•

....l

..

.

•

I•

-

1 •••

46

ON 'l'ASTE

the principle of the association of ideas, and have said, ~hat
in every instance where an emotion of the kind me11tionecl
is excited, some associated thoughts connected with our
happiness, are brought before the mind. Thus, in the sec·
ond of the examples given, they would say, that the grate·
ful emotion arises from the thought of our own past friendships, or of how much we should enjoy in the possession of
a faithful friend. Others account for these emotions by
referring them to -what are called primary laws of our nature.
So far as these emotions are excited in view of natural obiects and scenes, they say, that our Creator has so formed us
~nd adapted us to the world in which we live, that the view
of certain objects and scenes is fitted to excite in the mind
certain corresponding emotions. - At the same time they .
allow that much influence is to be ascribed to the principle
'
of association.
In reference tr; works of art, another
original principle is also recognized, which is called the
love of fitness or adaptation. The last theory is that of
Brown, and is the one now generally received. For a full
explanation of it, the student is referred to his work on Jn.
tellectual Philosophy. It is enough for my present purpose
to have pointed out the class of emotions which comes under
the cognizance of taste, and to have referred to some of the
attempts to explain them.
It will be observed, that the examples which are given,
are drawn from three different classes of objects, natural,
moral, and intellectual. But since, in the · classification of
emotions, as those of beauty, grandeur and sublimity, ~fl,
obviously refer to the emotions as they exist in the mirtd,
and not to the objects by which they are excited, this diverBity in the exciting objects is not regarded. Neither is _
it. of importance, that these different classes of emotion!! '
should here be separately considered. It is difficul in
many cases to mark the transition from one to anotrer, and

ON TASTB.

47.

to decide whethe:. the emotion excited be an ·emotion of•
beauty, of grandeur, or of-sublimity. ,.- These .three classes .
of emotions are alike objects of the attention ,of taste ; . anrl
the principles and rules established in reference, to one class .
admit of application to the others. · He~ce .. the , attention . i; ,
principally directed to emotions of beauty,'· and emotions ... of .
each class af·e s~metimes called emotions of taste. ·
· I return now to the definition of taste . . Every instance
of judgment implies knowledge of those subjects, on which
it is exercised. The chemist ·cannot form his mixture, that
shall possess certain required properties, without' a knowl- ·
edge of the properties of the several simples which ; are in- i
gredients. In those instances of judgment also which ·are ·
included under taste, there is in the same manner knowl+, edge implied ; but as this is the knowledge of emotions,
· .• and can be acquired only by experience, taste is said to . be _
-~ founded on the experience of past emotions. ... "' -. ;."-·; .·
; Though taste, in the definition which has now been ~x- •
" plained, is called judgment; it is not meant; that in . the ex- ·
ercise of taste, the mind is ordinarily. conscious of delibefation or of the balancing ·of reasons, as in some other - in~ .
stances of judgment. · It is true, that this ~ deliberation may ·
be rapidly passed through in · all instances,· and . im some, · as
. , in the case of the artist employed in designing · arn;l---exe~ut•,
·. -, ing his work, there may be a consciousness of the process
· But most frequently, judgment on objects · of taste · seems to
. '. be . passed instantaneously. · As the result of past . experi. · ence of emotions, certain principles seem fixed in . the mind,
·, and when tast>e is called into exercise, it is the ·immediate
• ';: 1pplication of these principles to particular instances. ·; The
', : ~alogy is close between the exercise of taste in the works .
: , of the fine arts, and of taste, as the word is literally applied
-~ to the sense of taste. , Take for example the case of wines ,
'· · ~he wine merchant is able at once to decide as to the qual~

~

;

48

ity of the wine presented to him, and to detect any foreign

ingredient. He has acquired his ability to do this by past
experience, and he brings the results of this past expert·
cnce, which seem to exist in his mind as certain fixed
principles, to the particular instance in which his judgment
is required.

Sensibility as connected wztli taste.

....

ON TASTE.

ON TASTE.

From the definition that has been given of taste, we may
learn in what way sensibility is connected with it!! attainment. By sensibility, is meant a high degree of susceptibility of the emotions of beauty. And since taste is founded
on the experience of these emotions, sensibility, as thus de•
fined, must aid in the formation of a good taste. It must be
~upposed, that so far as the emotions of beauty result from
original tendencies of the mind to be pleased in view of
certain objects, they are in some degree common to ali
men in their earliest years. But it is a well known fact respecting all our emotions, that if neglected, they lose their
strength, and if entirely disregarded, they will soon cease
to be felt. On the contrary they are strengthened by being
regarded and cherished. Hence it is, that while some men
are susceptible of emotions of beauty in view of objects and
scenes around them, others, the circumstances of whose
life have been different, look upon the same objects and
scenes without any emotion of this nature.• So far, too, as
the°'e emotions result from associated thoughts and feelings,
theTe is an equal cause of diversity among different individuals. One, from the scenes an<l events t.hat have fallen
under his observation, may have many associations connect
ed with a particular object, which another may have nevet
formed.
These temarks admit of illustration. Addison, when he

went forth in the evening, .and gazed upon the starry. ,he.llv1 ~
" ens and the moon walking · in her .majestyrfelt emotion~- ,Q~:'
sublimity. In accounting for the rise Qf th~.~ . emo_t_ions, ~w~, .
might say, t.hat he was a man of seneibility+from,.,the orj..., ,
ginal constitution of his mind he was susceptible ,.9,( fllll~
tions of taste to a high degree. His intellectual habits also ·
'
and the circumstances
of his life, were such as to cherii;ih
and strengthen these original tendencies of his mmd . .. Astronomy had taught him something of the size and number.
. and uses of these heavenly ;bodies ; and in , this w.ay~ or in ·
.;_ other ways, many associations ·were connected . with them_.! ~
On the same evening; perhaps, and in the:.same neighb.or~ i.
. " hood, the laborer returning from his daily- toil, looked . upon ·
the same starry and moon-lit firmament, but felt no ..emotion ·
, •, of beauty or sublimity. Still this indiv~dual might have
- been originally constituted with as much sensibi!Hy ~s Ad~
· dison; but such has been his lot in life, that this sensibility
has been lost, and he thinks of the moon · and star,g, only , ~
.lighting him homewards from his toil. , . ,r· - ~ ~; .~·. "X ,

'·

.:

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

,}

'

. "'· . .

.-;

of taste.
.. "~

·• 't" ~ t"f

'" '
·, ;\f ~

i ..

-~i)'"!t· •

~'.:.}~:.; ~- f•~'!.""'
,~; f;;111

.-T..

-~

;~}

. , ~r The inquiry here arises," whether a sensibility to ·emotions

of beauty may not exist, and.still the mdividual possessing :it

be destitute of good taste 7 And if this ·inquiry be answered .
m the affirmative, as it must be in accordance . with facts, . _·
1t may be still further asked, how this want -of taste is con- '.
sistent with the statemen1., that · taste is founded on · the ~ ex- .·
~ perience of emotions of beauty and sublimity~ ~' The resolµ•· ,
.tion of this apparent difficulty brings t1{) view what .is :teJ'.med
• J he STANDARD OF TASTE. ·. It ·is the case, as :we have; ~e.en, . .~
·that from the peculiar circumstance" of fodh·idu..~s • .thejr~ original tendencies to emotions of beauty . may be per.. , .
.' ·verted and blunted, or · strengthened and :_ioc.rease.d. ;- /l'qe
~·

5

'·

..~

4
';

. '-"

~

50

ON TASTE.

ON TASTE.

associations also connected with the same objects and scenes
may be very different in · different minds. From beth of
these causes, and from others not mentioned, the emotion!'!.
excited in the ~inds of different individuals in the view of
the same objects, will differ, and consequently, their experience as to past emotions will vary. In this wal we ac-·
count for diversities of taste among individuals, and here is
the ground of the maxim so often quoted, de gustibus non
disputandum.
But amidst all these diversities, there are
some objects and scenes, which do uniformly excite emotions of beauty in the great majority of those, who have any
degree of sensibility. And where there are cases of excep- ·
tion, some sufficient reason may generally be assigned. In
the assertion then that taste is founded on the experience
of past emotions, reference is made to this common expe·
rience, and not to the experience of individuals, or of any
particular country or age. Hence then we infer, tliat tltt
standard of taste is the ag reeing voice of suclt as are suscep· ,. .'
tible of emotionS'of beauty, botli of tltose wlto liucd in past
ages, and of tliose now existing.
To illustrate these remarks, I may refer the student to :~
the statue of Washington, which has been recently placed ' in the metropolis of New England, and which represents ·
him in the drapery of a Roman hero. Should it be asked, .t,
why he is thus represented, rather than in the dress, which ·~ .
as a military commander, or a civil leader, he was accus- ·
· tomed to wear 7 or in such attire as was used by military ,.
and civil leaders in Europe two hundred, or the hundred, ·~
years ago 1 it might be answered, that though such draper) ·
might have been approved at the period when it was worn.,":
and thus have !Jeen in agreement with the taste of the age, ,
at the present time it would appear unbecoming to the hu j
man form. But such is not the case with the Roman toga. ;
'I1his is a drapery, which at all times, and to all men, aP'."

· .. pears gracefhl and excites emotions of beauty. . This ·. fact:
.: . ' then, both proves, that there is a standard of taste, and illus-:.
·' ''.trates what is meant by it.
.
·' 'f:., ' ' ; . ,·, '.., ! ~
~Hence we learn one · object .and use o( models :of..excel-..
Jenee in the fine arts. •· It is principally by .means of. these,
that we obtain a knowledge of . the . standard of .taste, . o~
rather they are the standard, l'.Jince in them .the decis.ions. of,
men in different periods and portions of the world are found.
. embodied. To illustrate this. by an example, I "'.ill refer to
·.. .. West's painting of Christ in ,the .exercise, of the charities.,
·. ~ We know that th's painting was universally, admired :. i~
England. It has been regarded with like admiratiQn in
· ·: this country. All those who are susceptible of e~otions... o(
~~ taste, have felt these · emotio~hen looking ,upon; this pro-:duction of art. Here, then, is found the united voice of,
,;· . men of the present age; and the artist knows, .thatsq far. a~
· ~ his production exhibits what excites emotions "of_ beauty ..in
'~ this painting, it is in agreement with the general opinion of
·.,, men now living, or the standard of . the . taste of the age.
'( Had this picture existed through successive ages, and _been ·
. uniformly admired, this would give it higher authority, a~d .
·the ·arti.st, in conforming his work to it, would know,. that
what he produces, is in agreement ";ith the opinions of men.
· of different ages of the world. He might then hope; that :
;, ~is work, bemg conformed to this general standard o[ taste,
,'. would please all men every where, and of every age, . who ·
...are susceptible of emotions of beauty, and whosEl minds ar.e ·
,;:Jlot under the influence of some particular bias . . \In. models .
excellence, t~en, in the. fine arts~ is expressed Jbe~ exp'E?; ·'
i ~: rience of mankmd respectmg emotions of: be8:UtJ.,\i i~. an~ in ,
_studying these models, the man of sensibility_Jearns~Jo,. cor'°" . .
. rect any peculiar influence .which · circums.ta~ces , ~ay: ha~e
.nad on his own emotions, and thus. acqui.res,a .taste .,which.it ·.n conformity with the general standard o{ta&1t~ ,
·i.;·~~i_a,;

-·:.o:·

;.,x,

,.
62

'.

ON TASTE.

ON TASTE

Taste as ajj'elled by tlte intellectual ltabits.
,!·.

Taste, as it exists in different individuals, is affected by the
mtellectual character and habits. 1'Ve might expect thi§ t0
t-e the case from the fact, that it implies discrim in ation, and
that the same intellectual habits will be brought into exercise in judging of what is fitted to excite emotions of taste,
as in those instances wh ere judgments are formed on other
subjects. It is in this way, that we may in part accouut for
the diversities of taste in different individu :ils. Ile whose
mind is enriched with various knowledge, and whose inteliectual powets have been strengtl:ened and improved, and
who is wont to take large and comprehensive views of subjects, will manifest the greatness of his mind and the lib~r- ··
ality of his views, in his judgment of what is fitted to excite _.
an emotion of taste. lie whose attention has been restricted
to philosophical speculations, and who has been accustomed ,
to reason with the precision of mathematical accuracy, will 1
in like nrnnner bring his habits of reasoning to subjects of .
taste, and will be less bold and more severe in his judgment ·
of what is fitted to excite emotions of this kind.
.,
Locke and Ilurke are striking examples of the justness of :.
·- these remarks. Locke was an accurate thinker, and a close .
reasoner.
His judgment, where he forms an opinion, is '
~ased on careful and minute examination.
Hence his taste.
was severe. He used but little orname nt, and that simple . .
and illustrative. Fearful also that it might betray him, he
condemned the use of it in the writings of others. Ilurke, _
on the contrary, was a man of much refin ement. Ile pos- :
sessed extensive classical attainments - had large and Ii)).,
eral views of subjects, and, susceptible to a high degree of
~motions of taste, he was ever prone to indulge in the excitement of these emotions. But then he approved only of .'

what is truly beautifitl and . sublime, and. his judgment of
what is fitted to excite these emotions, evi<;lently felt the
influence of, his enlarged and liberal views on. other subjects,
or_, in other words, of his intellect1,1al habit~. r , ,,1 , 1. : ,,.. •. . :.

Ofdects on which taste is exercised. "' -.~·

···; ''

.~ Taste, as thus explained, employs itself in judging both
of , the obje<"ts and scenes in Na tu re, anq of works in the
Fine Arts, and in both cases jt determines .. jls to the fitness
:. of ., what is presented before . ii to ' prodn9,e 1 epi~tion~ .of
:._t>eauty. Suppose several individuals, wh,o ,. are .. s~s~eptil?le
,o f .emotions of beauty, to be traveHing through some ,regi1;m
of our country, which presents a rich variety 9f natural scenery. · One of them, in , advance of the othersj upoQ rising
·. an eminence, is struck with the view opening befor~ him, •
• , and is led to exclaim as to the he!luty of tpe, prpspe~t. ,. The
pthers, upon coming up, are impressed in th(," same manner.
_lThey declare the scene be(ore them beautiful, and they
unite in pronouncing him wJ- r> first pointed it out, a man of
taste. All that is meant by this expression is, that the individual to whom it is applied, is able, from , his . experience
, _o f_past emotions, to form a judgment respecting . the fitness
..,Qf•:obje~ts. in natural scenery to produce emotions of .beauty,
.;~~1ch 1s m agreement with the general jup.!!"ment of mank' d
-·
..
.
,}Tl

1

'

t ,

•

•"I:.

'

·•

'!" '

1"

"' ") 3uppose further, that the same individuals, in the . course
R,f i;their· journey, stop to examine a gallery o( paintings.
· Qne of them, in looking round on the differeni picture~, se~
. _:..lec~s a painting which he pronounc~s . beimtifµJ~ 'l.1' The ; ~tr.en­
. tjQµ of the others being called to it, they e:irpr~ss the , same
-.opinion, and again tlley unite in calling the .individual who
· ~,a~ ! pointed out the painting, · a man pf : t~ste. / Hete, . at'
' ~•(the former case, all that is impl if d is, that t}ie individual

5•
,,

5l

ON TASTE.

calle<l a man of taste, is able to judge of the fitness of cet
tain works of art to produce emotions of beauty.
Ilut let us now suppose, that instead of speaking of the
individual who pointed out the painting to their notice, they
are Ja<l to speak of the work itself, and to call it a work of
taste. This might b.e said of a work of art, though not of
a scene in nature; for in this expression reference is evi·
dently had to the artist by whom the work was executed,
and we n~ver think of the Creator as guided by taste in th€
work of creation. In this then, as in the preceding case,
all that is implied is, that the. artist has shewn by the design.
and execution of his work, that he is able to judge correctly
as to the fitness of objects and scenes to produce emotions
of beauty. But to shew more fully the nature of taste, and
lo point out its connexion with the imagination, I shall
here describe the manner, in which it guides the artist in '
designing and executing his work; and in doing this, I
shall confine the attention to works in the art of Painting,
since the mind conceives most eas.:ly and distinctly objects "
of sense.
Connexion of taste wit!t tlze imagination.
Let us first suppose, that the scene or object represented !
Ly the painter, is an exact i;nitation of some scene or object .
in nature. In this case, we might be pleased with the work, ~
and say that it discovers good taste. We might be pleased,'
because the original scene is one fitted to excite emotions ' .
of beauty, ancl we might ascribe good taste to the painter, .
from his haviiig selected a scene of this kind to be repre- ·
sented. Besides, ,..e might be gratified with the skill that ,
ts shewn in the execution of the work. Ernotions of beautJ
miCJht
Le excited in view of the closeness of the imitation.
0
~\ie justness of the cokring, and the truth of the perspectiv~ .

ON TASTE.

llll4. we migl.t say, that taste ha~ guided the artist in his ex·
bibii .iou of what are usually called secondary beauties of
~ P.~in,ting.
· ! -, :.r . ''t~i .. ttr ~: t :u ;i
;_ : But the most__ admired works in the arts 'of painting are not
exact imitations-:---They are the creations of the painter, and
; fla.v~ no archetype in nature. And it is in designing 'th.ese
,; .f?rigmal works, that.the presence of taste is most needed
"fl
.
•
,
·\'11 dh er m
uence felt.
·
, , ; ·1., ,, ,.. J."1"1>
_- iTo show in what way taste guides the artist in ·designing
. · his work, I shall here introduce an account given :by Cicero
~: ,of, the course pursued by Zeuxis, when .. employed .,by ' the
frotonians to paint the picture of a beautiful female.~.:~ The
· • ~ity,.of Croto?a was celebrated for th~ beauty of its fe~ales.
'. ·,.Zeuxis requested, that those esteemed most beautiful might
-·;bei assembled at the same place. From thP-se he selected
'iflve; , who in -his estimation excelled all others in beauty,
''aud by combining in his picture the most striking traits of
"·.~peauty in each of these five, he executed the task . assigned
·.. !O him. .
,,,. "' " '· ·i:
.- .'· Now in the whole of this process, taste was evidently the .
: guide of the artist. The selection of the five most beautiful
· ,virgins, the choice of the most beautiful traits in each, are
~~~oth instances of judgment, founded on the experience of
. "' .ast ' emotions. · But this is only the preparation for. his
ll'f'ork. ··what has been thus selected must now be combined
• ~~gether, and so combined, as to produce one harmonious
, . ·effect. i Instead of an assemblage of beautiful . limbs ~nd
. ~atures, an air and proportion must be given ·to the form,
~d-~ a cast to the countenance. Here is exercise for · the
~e~ighing . powers of the artist, and over this. part, of, the
• 9rk also taste must preside. Different modes oLcombina~
·."on . present themselves before his " mind's eye;' ~ ancl of
' 'tl},ese different combinations, one is to be . selected, as most
~~~tiful. The making of this selection is evidently an int

''

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56

ON TASTE.

stance of judgment, founded on the experience of past emo
t10ns of beauty. Zeuxis was familiar with forms of beauty 1
and had fixed in his · mind those principles of Judging,
which enabled him to decide with readiness and correct
ness. · Hence, no doubt, his celebrity as a painter of the
female form.
From this exampie, we learn, why the most admired productions of the painter are not exact representations of ob· "
jects and scenes ill nature. In natural objects and scenes,
that which is suited to excite emotions of beauty, is mingled
with objects of indifference and disgust. The artist, under
the guidance of taste, collects together these scattered frag·
ments of beauty, and combining them in one view with harmonious effect, presents to us objects and scenes more '
beautiful than those which can be found in nature.
But it is by no means the case, that the artist is
to objects and scenes of nature for the materials
new combinations. It is here that the office of imagination
and its connexion with taste, may be seen. By this faculty ·
of the mind, the objects of past sensations are modified and '
combined anew, and im ages of objects au<l scenes, that exist
only in this airy creation, rise up before our view. But
while gazing on these visionary things, the same grateful
emotions of beauty are excited, as when the objects before ·
us have more of reality. Hence, when the artist would ~ .
represent to us a scene, which shall strongly excite out \ ·
emotions of beauty, he calls in imagination to his aid. Sho ~'
brings to his view a bright assemblage of forms of beauty.
She presents them in diflerent lights; combines and modifie11 · ~
them variously. And while these shifting scenes are flitting
before him, he selects, under the guidance of taste, the most ,- ·
beautiful forms and happiest combinations, and fixes them on
the canvass for our view.
From these united efforts of imagination and taste,

·'

.

· 1.rtist presents to ·us models of excel}ence, ,super~or to _wl111J.
ean be found in the works of nature, or in the producti9q~
"....r, artists that ha~receded him. . By the ,effort11. of g~nius,
he •is enabled to .make .!'!UCh · combinati9n!'l ,. I\~ .o\ti,er.~1 -Jl~Y~
never made; and taste, .by exercising . itself ;°Q:.• the,. ,study, .oJ
these visions of the mind, reaches a degree ,of perA:lctipn,., to
,which it could never have attained in t}:i;e s~udy of •.~~istiP.g
"' models, or of the scenes of nature. . But if.imagina~jon t~µ,s
1
•
~assists in the cultivation and :improvement of ~aste, · ta&te.~~n
:· .return repays th~ assistance of imagina~i.onn,by .. ,a~ting , :~
~.- director in the new creations which she forms • .. lmagina·
·~ tion might be furnished with a thousa~1d ~ diffegmt forms of
'rbeauty, as the materials of her work; and unite them in ten
<- thousand different .c ombinations ;· but .withqut t~te:tQ ; pre. · aide and direct, she could n~ver reach that har~~qjpu,sne,ss
j:of ·effect, that unity .of : expression, , .t o . wbic4 na,t1,1.r e. o.fi~Jl

I>

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Value of models of excellence ~n t.he llf'.lS~ ,1 . {
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· i· From this analysis of the mami,er i,n .·wJlich.-W.?J'k.~jn, : ,t~.e
, · fine arts are produced, the ;assis~ance, :whi.ch ,ihe , !\rt.is~ mµ!;lt
Merive from the study of models of exc,e llence jqAhe . ~rt!!, ·
· .i:may · be learnt. Here he sees presented .,befor~ him~ \ ~he
··; epresentations of those beautiful forms of nature, the, _k,n91w).iedge of which, without this assistance, 'he .c ould· haye.r9l;>, .tained only by frequent and tedious processe11 .of ,0J>r;i~rv,ati9n
··bd analysis. The beau ideal is delineated to .his si~~y, ~d
. be;' forms his taste from the contemplation of p~rf~~~ fnn~!
bf; beauty, i~stead of those · imperfect . form~ . w4-er~ d>e~_µty
"_A~ llf tningled with deformity. He sees also-J he .}nO,st .h~ppy
·«:· ' tombinations of these forms. He has before him .the ,resul~.s
'·'fi •··which others have made, and is th 1s placied in advance , of
1

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58

ON TAS'rE.

those 1.vho are not favored with similar means of improve.
ment.
The man, who is thus permitted to form his taste from
models of excellence around him, may be said to exist in
a new creation. He lives where the sun sheds a briahtet
0
day, where the clouds ari> skirted by more brilliant colors)
and where nature's carpet shows a richer green. Angelic
forms are about him. He ever stands on some chosen spot,
and each new scene that presents itself, gives but a varied
hue to the emotion of beauty that he feels.

Explanation of tlte word Picturesque.
'Ve may learn also in this connexion, and by the aid of ':'
the principles which have been stated, what is meant, when
it is said of some countries, tlmt they present scenes more ~
picturesque than those found in others. This epithet, when .
applied to natural scenery, relates primarily and principally
to the harmoniousness of effect produced on the mind, and " '
jmplies such a pro_minence and combination of objects as ··
give an expression or character to the scene. N alure seems .-·
:in such instances to perform that work of combination, '>
·which, when represented to us on canvass by the skilful
painter, we say he has designed by the aid of imagination
and taste. The view may or may not present surpassing ·
forms of beauty. We look not at objects indivi<lually, but ,'
·regard them as grouped together a11d exerting a combined ,.
·influence. Neither is it implied that the prospect is exten·
sive, and that it embraces numerous and varied objects;
On the contrary, picturesque scenes are most frequently
those of limite 1 extent, and which contain bnt few promi .
.nent .parts.
1

. J; .; ... ' " •'•. -j.-1·,
,;.•ti-; ·.~...;,11 ·l .~flf.
Revolutions in Taste: i. n r: ;s rn . ;ti~·J ii,~ .
• ft•

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'"" On the prmciplcs which have been stated.i!l. ~h~~.1c,~~P!t;~; 1
.the revolutions of ta~te may be easily explain,e d:, ,As PEJC~;.
liar cJrcumstances have their influence
on ' theI. tastes
of dif.
'
.. t" \
, ...· -. f~rent individuals, ~o the manners and .c~~t·?·ms an~ P,~C~~iar·
; . circumstances of different .ages, exert their mfluence , on the
r, : aste of these ages. , The power t>f thes~ adventitious ··~ir-·
· cumstances is so great, that what in one age is este~med and
pronounced beautiful, in a succeeding age ~·.o( mor~, ~efln~~·
ment, is regarded
with disgust. Still it is true
that
in • ·\ thi~
•
'
J
•. \
'
case, as m the diversities of the taste of individuals
there.
.
' . .
~.are some works of. art, which rise ,superior to the influence
. _ of these accidental causes, and , wherev:er they . ar~ . k~o\vn.
1
~ ~:i.c~te emotions of beauty.
: ·. · :· ,· .~-:;·
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· Different qualities
f.~

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of taste expl~ined
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· ·· ·.1
•

I shall close this account of taste in general . with . a sho~
~·~· explanation of the qualities, which are most frequently
. , ascribed to it. These are three; Refinement, Delic ~cy; 'and
: ;,~orrectness. .
.
·
... ~·.. -~,_,..,. .. : .·
.~, ~,.·.we speak of Refinement of taste in reference to different
. ~-: ages and different periods in the life of an individual. . It
- i piplies a progress, so that what is pleasing in ~ne age~· or
· · ~f?~e period of life, is not so in another. . The sculptured mon·
~ . ument, which in the early ages of a country is regarded with
·. · ff admiration and called beautiful, at a later period is unheeded
.
.
('t ~r · considered rude and unsightly. -The pictures,._wh.i~h
•i m our r.hildish years we gazed upon with pleasure
at • a
.
'
: more mature time of life, are passed by with neglect. This
difference in the feelings with which . the . same object · is
' regarded at different ueriods, is found coµnect,e d with differ

>'It

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60

'61

ON TASTE.

ON TASTE.

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ent advances that have been made in knowledge, and m the
cultivation and refinement of the intellectual powers. The
emotion of pleasure, felt by the ignorant and half-civilized
man when gazing on 1 some rude monument or unsightly
picture, is of the same nature as that felt by the man of
knowledge and refinement, while viewing a finished work ~f
sculptute or of painting. But the latter has become habituated to the exhibition of skill in the works of art. He has
become familiar with monuments and paintings, that are
better in their design and execution, than those that have
been seen by the former; and hence it is, that th e production
of the artist, which at an earlier period of life would have
excited emotions of beauty, is now disregarded. Refine
ment in taste, then, denotes a progress in the knowledge of
what is excellent in works of art, and results from the study
of models of excellence.
Delicacy of taste implies a quick and nice perception of
whatever is fitted to excite emotions of beauty. He who
possesses it, will <letect beauties both of design and execution, which pass unnoticed by common men ; and when
,others pronounce a scene beautiful from the general effect
,on their minds, he will discover and point out all that tends
rto the production of this effect. This quality of taste results
;from a habit of careful and minute observation, joined with
:a quick susceptibility of emotions of beauty. It is also most
·frequently found in connection with moral purity of feeling,
and in its common acceptation, is sometimes used as opposed .
;to ·what is indelicate.
·Correctness of taste evidently refers to an agreement with
imme standard. What this standard is, has been aiready
shewn. :It is the agreeing voice of those, who, from their
. experience of past emotions, are able to form a judgment on
what is fitted to excite emotions of beauty. Ile, then, who
bas correc t ness Of .taste, feels and j'udges, in reference to

objecls which come under the cognizance of taate, in agree
ment witL he only true standard of taste. · · · · L . 1 · • ', ,,,, ,._
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. .

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Dijfe1·~nt . uses of the ' word 'Paste~ '.;
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,. It will at once be seen, that in the preceding account · of
taste, the word is used in a sense, different from that. <>ttet
applied to it in its comrrion acceptation. We . speak of a
la~~e for some particular occupation, for !!ome amusement or
study, when all that Is meant to be expressed, is;· that there
is a fondness, or inclination of the mind, for the 'pursuit, and
the word fondness or ·inclination would' better · c·onvey our
meaning. It must be obvious to all, that the rhetorical u~e

ofthewordisquite .different. ..

: . · ::~

;,

·· '/~· ·

.. ;.

~.

The definition here given of taste is also different' from
that found in Blair's Lectures on Rhetoric,' which,; as a .text
book, is in most frequ'e nt use. He defines taste. to be · the
power of receiving pleasure or pain from the beauties ·or deformities of nature and art.. The definition which has been
given of it in this chapter, _makes it of a more <liscr,imina~ing
1
principle . . It implies, ~hat the .m~n . o~ t~st~ ts ~h.l ~ l? di.sc~rn
what in nature and art 1s fitted to l'lxc1te this feel mg of pleasure and pain, while th_e pow~r .?l rec,eivihg. this' "plea~u,~e .' is
this ' d,istinc~ion,
called sensibility. That there i'~ grou~d
'is evident from .the fact "alfeady stated; ~hat some 'men ·are
'highly susceptible of emotions of beauty, who,' ~t th~ ~ar'ne
1
lime, are utterly destitute of good taste. · ·· 11 • • :· • ~
· ?:

for

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1'echnical Taste. · · . , " ,l.'.l"f....,.. r/·
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'r.· t1 •

.i~stanc~J~~:er~ ~he

. >' N either

is it the case, that in all
.1
word taste is used, reference is had to., the . standard, which
:_. ' has been stated in this chapter to be . the true standard of
· ·taste. A man i3 sometinies called a inan of' t~ite,; when · h111

6

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ON TASTE

JUdgntent extends no further than to a decision, whether in
any particular production, or performance, the rules of hs
art ha"" been observed. This may be illustrated in the
case of an epic poem. Aristotle has fully and with precision
taid down the rules, according to which this species of writ·
mg should be composed, deriving them from Homer, the
great master of the art. It is evident, that one, who :nas
made himself familiar with these rules, may sit in judgment
on the ./Eneid of Virgil, and the Paradise Lost of Milton.
'Vith his line and his compass, he may take the dimensions
of an Epic Poem, as readily and easily as of a building. In
fact, he does nothing more than apply to the work he exam·
ines, the measures which have been tak en from some other
work that has been admired, and in this way decide as to
the merits of the poem. This is the lowest kind of crih·
cism, and he who exercises it, may be called a man of
technical taste.

Taste

of Comparison.

It is also sometimes the case, that the productions of some
admired author, or artist, are the stand ard, to which all
attempts of the same nature must be brought. The admirer
of Byron, who.se mind is filled with his delightful horrors,
and who is wont to admire his master-strokes of passion, in ·
examining the productions of other poets, will pronounce on
their e~cellence, from their comparative effect .o n his own
mind, and will approve or condemn, as they agree with thosti
of thi~ great master of the art. This may be distinguished
as the taste of comparison. It is often found among those, I,)
who devote their time to visiting galleries of paintings, and '
'>ther collcetions of works in the fine arts. This kind of ,
taste is a source of enjoyment to its possessor, and is often.:
found united with merit as an author or artist. Some me;n

· ~.

ON 'lASTE.

~-~--'-~~~~---~~~~~------

•BUcceed better, When they take the taste of ·another •for their
guide, than when they rely on their own;"--.." Velles eum ·sua
ingei1io dixisse, alieno judicio." • ' ·r '"r, ·;:'K·· . &.,.· .: ~ i '. .'•., ·:-:;t<-tt
'

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Philosoplticar'taste.:1 ..,:1: i ,·iJ-; '.'fl rN- =~·,ct :i"
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· But the man of taste, in the true use_, 1of the word; do~~ ~~~~
. h~.e the mere critic of technical skill, only apply, the rules o~
. his art. . Neither, .in ~ forn_iing :his qecisions, ; poes !' hef bring
tevery object of .w hich he -judges, 1'. to. some 1 fav.qrite,,'stand 11rd.
. qf e:iscel~ence. · Truth and i.nature are. ,Jq~..1,iµIQ,del~,."'.hich_, he
_has s~udied, and he has found , them,,alike i.n t4~.,, objects,,..of,
creation around him, in the . scenes or' r,eal; life, and 1 in .. the
, ~reations of genius. . Like Numa of old, he has. his Egeria
J n ~he woods, and after holding high co11;verse with this mys.tenous revealer of the secrets of .nature, he comes forth , to
the world, and · discloses, as if by inspiration, th~ · principles
of the empire of taste, and the laws of her dominion. To him ·
. b~longs the prophetic eye of taste. He . can not only decide
l with correctness on the . scene spread before him, but ·sur. , i.. veying the visions of his; own mind the , scenes, that exist
,}onl! in the world of imagination, 'he can anticipate with . un~\ errmg certainty their beauty and effect; ';,There is also an un•
changing uniformity in .the decisions · of. philosophical" taste,
"t.Even the eternal · principles ·. of morality ·. are .not . more fixed
,;}•and determinate. What met the approbation of the man of
• 'r...• philosophical taste two thousand years aero meets the appro-·
~~
0
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\
;''."'bat10n of the roan of philosophical taste now, and , will con".t\. tmue to be thus admired till the end of time. ! .On this prin·~ciple Quinctilian has said, ·" flle sr, profccisse siiat,•cui Cice·
3;~0 valde placebit."t On this principle , Homer; ·,and Virgil,
1- .

·t

j

~ii .. y .ou commen d th e genius
. of t h e writer, but prefer ,J that
'.
.
" j?
it
should
. guided by another's taste, rather than by his own ; ... ._ ,.;,, ·: ... ·
.t ,:Whoever ca~ discern the excellences of Ci~ero, may hence Ieam
-~ ·
that he has himself made proficiency as an orator.

-

--ON

'JN TASTE

!'ASTE.

and Demosthenes, and Cicero, have been adm .Ired, wherever
. they have been known. Here also is the only foundation of
hope to the aspirant after litetary immortality.
The Fine. Arts are so ~losely connected with the subject
of taste, that I subjoin to this chapter a short account of
what is meant by them.
The Fine, Elegant, or Polite Arts, for these epithets ue
synonymous, are so called in distinction from the Useful
Arts. The former are designed to please; the latter aim
at the supply of human wants. It is true, that works in the
useful arts may be so constructed as to please, at the same
time that they subserve our necessities. And on the other
hand, works that please ~nd are designed to please, may be
useful.
Hence it may be difficult in regard to some productions
in the arts, to say to which they belong, the Useful, or the
Elegant; still there is ground for the distinction that hag
been made, and according to the design- to please, or to be
useful, we say that some arts are elegant and others useful.
Of the Fine Arts, somP are imitative, and otliers symbol1cal. Some exhibit nn exact representation of the object
or scene they would present before the mind ; such are
Painting and Sculpture. These are called imitative fine
arts. Others make use of signs which have been agreed upon
among men for the represe11tation of objects; such' as Music
·and Poetry. These, in distinction from the former, may be
~alled symbolical fine arts.
It has been stated, that the design of works in the fine
r.rts, is to please. This may be effected in two different
ways. 'l'.ie objec.t or scene brought before the mind, may
be such as jg suited to excite grateful emotions, or the mind
may be pleased with the skill that is shown in the execution
of the work. In the former case, when the 'Object or scene

~

represented has no original in nature, but is a creation• of
.he artist's mind, while we regard , the object of the work;
and notice how the different parts ·of it -. tend ; to . the prom°'"
tion <lf this object, we are said to observe the primary beau•
ties·, or the beauties of design. · But whether the ;scene or
object represented be an exact copy of some..original . in . na• ·
ture, or a creation of the""·artist's, if the attention · is directeci
. only to the skill shewn in the eJtecufion Of!the work 1·; we are
said to ob~erve secondary beauties, · or · the . beauties of exe-:
cution. The art of writing or composition f whether ~ elegant
or useful, is one of the symbolical arts. ··· There is .'. no exact
. imitation of what is designed to be brought befor.e the mind,r
· ~ but objects ·and scenes are represented by words as 'symbols.;
· This must evidently increase the difficulty of the i artist,· <!Ir·.
writer ; for though he may have in ·his own mind distinct .
views of what is fitted to excite emotions of taste,··and may
connect these views with the signs which ' he uses, yet, if the·
·reader do not attach the same views to the 'signs used, they
' , . will fail to excite in his mind the emotion~ designed to be:
produced. Much then w~ll depend upon the skill·with which
these signs are used, and hence ·it is, that" in literary produ~
tions!. so much attention is paid, with the ; design of pleasing,'
to·1t.he execution of the work. -' r '°/. · •• t· : 1.:1 ·r!' 1 ~ -'': ,....,)l1~ ''·"in ,
We may here also see a r.eason, why the be~uties o°fde-'
. t1ign in literary productions, are said to be addressed to the
imagination of the readers. As we have . seen in the last
chapter, it is by the aid of the imagination tr.at 1 th~ artist is
able to design those objects and scenes, which are the· creations of his own mind. When these creations, have · b~en
·formed, they are represented by the signs that .' are ' used.
Now it is obviously the imagination of the reader, which must
mt~rpret these signs. They are intende? , t.o sei hi/ imagina·
ion in exercise, and to cause it to present '. before the · mind
~· µi object or scene, similar ' to .t hat whfch theI writer had m

6•

. .

...

....,., .

ON TASTE

view when t sing these s.jgns; and if the reader have JHJ
power a of imaginat.ion, the attempt of tlie writer to place be·
fo~e him a scene fitted to excite grateful emotions will be
vam.
It is an easy inference from what has been said in this
chapter, that the cultivation and improvement of taste in the
several fine arts, will be promoted by a familiarity with models of excellence in those arts. He who would cultivate a
taste for painting, or music, or fine writing, will seek aftm
the works of those who excel in these <liffet ent departments
But it may here be remarked generally in respect to taste,
that it is improved by whatever gives enlargement and improvement to the mind. Taste, as judgment, calls into exercise various intellectual faculties; comparisons are to be
instituted, inferences to be made, and conclusions to be '
drawn; and the more perfectly this work is performed, the
higher is the or<ler of taste possessed. Education, then,
furnishing mental disc !p~ine, and accustoming the mind to
processes of analysis and investigation, s conducive to the
unprovement of the taste. And since, as has been stated,
much that comes under the cognizance of taste is ad<lres~ed
to the imagina:tion, especially in the symbolical fine arts. the
cuitivation of this faculty of the mind will conduce to the
same result

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CHAPTER 'fRIRU

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ON LITERARY __ TASTE.
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. ~I'.. . :...\.h. taste i8 the judgment of whatev~r. of literary
_nature JJ.I de., ign~d to excite ~motions . of .beamv ,· grandeur
, a,nd sublimity, found.ed upon . the ·past experience .-o( emO. ·
:,. ions of the same · kind. It is the _o bject of this ch?p~er t~
,.; explain the nature of literary "taste as thus defined · and to .
·t
· · ·· · ·
~ "'
· ·r ' ,. ,._ · -·
.t · -offer,
in connexion with examples,
such
directions
and
cau-"'
•
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'
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,..,
)
:
. ,. .
• .
,.:_t!ons
as
may
aid
in
its
improvement._
Thi».
word
J
iterature
)t;... . •
'
.!e"' • •;.')
~·..is most frequently used in ,distinction fr:om science: .In .
'f'
,.'.y· , , • , ·,-,
this sense, 1t refers to certain· classes. of writing. ·: Such
" ~o~~ry and Fictitious Prose, Hist<;>rical, ~piit9l <l;ry i_Yi_J)~~~~j'
• -.~nr,ntmg. On the other hand, a , treatise on,Optics or Electri·
· "<'.{' • .
.
.,. . . ' . - --·"1' '.
.
; city, or a work on lntelle.c tual Philosophy; is classed. under:
·\;the .head of science. In exammmg this division'~ ~~.e _find
· that those works are classed under the head of 1ite'r1.ture · in
:./ which it is a leadmg object of: the writer to ' inte~est and
·~ . ~.. please the mind by the mode of exhibiting objects ana
. ·~:, scenes to its view; while those, which are designed only
~;~. to elucidate and establish principles in any branch of ·know!-'
'.;~ e1cige, or to give exercise to the reasoning p~~er·s ."' are' de: nominated science. "
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"'~ word literature is used. - lt is often' intended to . r~ier mere/

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ON LITERARY TASTE.

ON LI't'ERARY · TASTEl,

ly to the use of wor,_'<; as a mode of exhibiting the thought11
and views of the minn, and thus embr<.>~es all that is com·
mitted to letters. In this sense of the word, we migh<
speak of Euclid's Elements of Geometry as a literary work,
and say of the literature of any particular age, that it is of
a scientific kind.
As it is not the object of this part of the work to direct
tbe attent10n of the student to particular classes of literary
productions, I shall here consider the word literature a~ used
m its most extensive sense, and consequently, in treati11g of
attempts of a literary kind to excite emotious of taste, l shall
refer to what is more particularly connected with the style.
If now we examine the various classes of literary productions, we find attempts to excite emotions of taste which
are common in some degree to all. Such are well chosen
words, well turned expressions and happy illustrations.
These are calle<l the ornaments of style, and though not
essenti;:il to the communication of the writer's thoughts,
they are often highly useful. They allure and fix the attention, and aid in the full and clear exhibition of what 1s communicated.
Of these ornaments of style, some have been classified,
and have received appropriate names. Such are Similes,
Metaphors, Allusions and Personifications; others are of a '
n1ore incidental nature. 'fhe former will be examined in
the present chapter; of the latter, some mention will be
made, when treating of the different qualities of style.
Before entering upon the examination of the classified or- ·
, naments of style, I wish to bring distinctly to view the dif..
ferent principles, on which these attempts to excite emotions of taste are founded. In this way, the student will be ·
enabled more fully to understand the reasons of the differen
directions and cautions which may be given, and to discern . ·
more clearly the nature awl objects of litei <1ry taste.
··

.;.. It was stated in the last -c11apter; that from' the originat'
constitution of the humah rnihd, we llre1fitted to feel '.° effi()i;
lions of beauty and sublimity in 'view·:C>fr objebts ·and .s.ceiies
in nature. A passage of descriptive writin~(will enable ~ ine
to illustrate what is here meant.
· ; F '""~"· • 'If ~... ~.;~ .. r;, i1w"'.
~ The following description of the rising sun is ·taken · from'
. . · .. ,i 1.:i1 ,• ""-t··• · :,ir .· ·
. one of Gray's Letters.
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'.'I set out . one morning before fi;e o'clock, the moon shining
through a dark and misty autumnal air, and got to th~ sea-co~st,
tune to be at the sun's levee. I saw the clouds and dark vapors open
gradually to the right and left, rolling over one anpther in great smoky
.vreaths, and the tide (as it flowed in on the 11an:ds) first ·whitening,
and then slightly tinged with gold and blue, and all at ·once a little
line of insufferable brightness, that before I can write these fi ve words
is gro.wn to half an orb, aad now a whole one, too glori~us ,.to be dis' ·
'•
·: · · ':' · · ' '"
tinctly seen."
, ,.,
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This is a representation of a scene in ; nature,· and the
writer, in looking on this scene, felt an emotion of gr an·
deur. Should it be asked, why · this ·emotion is thus ex·
cited, the only cause to be assigned is,· that 'it . is natural
to us to feel this emotion in view of this anti similar scenes.
, Our Creator has so constituted us. ' Should . we now further
;· ihquire, why the description of the scene 'excites an emo·
~·.,iion of the same kind in the minds of its readers, we have
, to assign in answer the 'same cause. The writer. ttd<lresses
· himself t~ the imagination of his readers, and by the u.se of
' words as symbols brings the scQlle distinctly , before their
~;: minds, and an emotion of g1 andeur is excited in vie\v of it
:::, as thus described, on the same principle, ns when this em<r
· •.'" tion was excited in view of the original. Now this is often
:; ,.W.one, when the ornaments of style are introduced. \ A word,
·" ·~.or an illustration, brings before the mind an object or scene,
t ',w.hieh - from the original constitution. of 9in' mind, excites an
~emiltion of beauty or sublimity. · This principl~ · then ·in th~

70

original constitution of the bum an · mind is to be consideret
as one of those princinles, to which the writer addresses him
self, with the design of exciting emotions of taste.
It was still further stated, that emotions of beauty anc
sublimity, are often excited on the principle of association
Objects and scenes, which are not fitted from any origina
tendencies of the mind to excite these emotions, may stil,
excite them from 11,eir being associated in our milllls with
what is thus regara, ., ; or where they are fitted to excite
these emotions in some <legree, they may excite them in a
higher degree, because of such associations. The traveller,
in passing the river Rubicon, might regard it as a common
stream ; but should it be told him, that he is standing where
CreEar stood, when he decided the destinies of Rome, thc:i
scene before him from association excites ai_ emotion of
•mblimity. Here then is another principle, to which the
writer addresses himself in t!Ie introduction of the ornaments
of style, with the design of exciting emotions of taste. He
brings before us that which from association is fitted to excite
in our minds an emotion of beauty or sublimity.
On the principles which have been stated, the ornaments ·~;-i:.; .
of style may excite emotions of taste distinct from their con- 1 .'.
nexion, as found in a literary production, and as tending to .: '
the accomplishment of the design of the writer. Regarding ):'.'
them in this latter view, another ca ~Jse of the emotions of ;~
taste which they are fitted to excite, is brought to notice. I :i: , ,
refer to what is called fitness or adaptation.
;1. ,
When we look at any work of art, a piece of cabinet ·: ·~
work for example, we may think of it in relation to some.1 • ;..
purpose which it is designed to answer, and from perceiving;
that it is admirably well adapted to answer this purpose, we
may on this account regard it with admiraticn. We may
still further examine it as to the proportion of its parts, theif
fitness to the , whole work, and the skill ~ ith which they ai:•
r

- 71 '

ON LITERAttY . TASTE.'

ON LITERARY TASTE

''·"

formed and arranged j and in . this' view• of. the •Work' We
.-: may feel a similar emotion. ·Thus· we ' are' led · to-,pronot\nce·
·· the work beautiful. Now in these instances,l;fw_e feel an·
:, emotion of beauty in view ·or fitness or :·actaptation.' n: Should ,
it be asked, why the emotion is felt; it must, as ; before, bereferred to a primary law of our rniture. i~i:We can only '. say;
that our Creator has so constituted us. As it is · ·highlf ·im-1
_. portant that the stu'dent should cJearly understand ' this prin-·
7.; ciple, and as it is the foundation of the · rules by 'which we
. judge of descriptive writing, I shall ·attempt its ,. more full'
·' development in conneCtioil with illustrations of ,th~s kind . .;J.
~t Would remark, however; that it is not my 'design -· to state d he
., rules' and principles which apply to ' descriptive writing, any
further than is necessary for the illustration ' Of the principle'
of~ adaptation, which is now to be explained. ~. · .hJ.'.<'; ;, '·''-·,1
'{\ 'J'he following passage forms part of the description of a
fatal contest between two HJghlanders,-:<who encountered
each other on a narrow and dangerous pass. ! ,.,;, '.~~~:·of! ' :fi•. -"~
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", u They threw their bonnets over the precipice, and advanced with a
,J~w and cautious step closer to each' other; they were b~th' unarmed,
nd ,stretching their limbs like me,n preparing for a di;sperate 'struggle,
they planted their feet firmly-on' the ·ground, compressed_. their lips, '
· ~nit their dark brows, and fixing fierce .and watchful ey~s on each
ther, stood there prepared for the .onset. " They '. both grappled at-the .
1ahie moment; but being of equal strength, · wer~ . 'unable for some
ti~e to shift each other's position, - standing fixed on . ~ rock with
a~ppressed breath, and muscles strained ,to the 'top of, .their heart, "
•' .!.-: ' '-' I ''.r~!; '"'' '' ,.,_
'ke statues carved out of the solid stone." ·

'· .he object of''the writer in thii:i 'JIJ.ssage,' i~ to ~p.-ace before .
1
~ -a· distinet view of the combatants'' as ' theY ent~red ' on tihe'~ · . ·

" ~t~st;

and in answer t9 , the i~qu.iry;.,,~~h.~:;· ~~:~"tpiss~ge :,:
. r;1kes us favorably, and, as. a despn1'hon, excites ial}; ~rnot1on ·
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heau ty, I would ~ssign it~ a . cau,; '°'e~~·a~aptaiJ~i-C .of the ~
e~cr.iption to this design; · ;'Ve '·ad~i(~i1't~,b-~6ii'.u~~ { both the:.··
·"'c tion and arrangement of eircumst'at.ces;"an~ the use .of ·

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ON LITERARY TASTE.
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words, are such as to bring the scene directly and clear'
before the view. Here then is orie instance, where an emo
tion of beauty is excited in view of fitness or adaptation to a
particular design, and that design is the distinct and striking
representation of a scene.
The accurate and vivid delineation of objects and scenes
here exemplified, is sometimes called trut!t to nature. The
representation of common and familiar scenes in this way
excites emotions of beauty ; but the power of truth to nature
is most deeply felt, when the writer lays open to our view
the hidden workings of the mind, and the strong affections
of the heart. That the student · may more fully understand
what is meant by the phra~e, "truth to nature," which is of
frequent occurrence, I here introduce two passages, which
happily illustrate its meaning, - one a description of .a fa.
miliar scene; the other, of the affections.
The foliowing description of a country inn is from Gold ·

L\lrs Hemans thus describes a mother's love i
There is none

In all this cold and hollow world, no fount
Of deep, strong, dP.athless love, save that within
A mother's heart. - - You ne'er made

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Your breast the pillow of ,his..infancy ' ' ,:;
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~··-,,n,, •. .,~ While to the.fulness of your ,heart's glad h~avinga .>~'.\~ ·-:,:.;::;·,
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His fair che•:k rose and fell; and his brignt hair · '.; :·.: .··· ·~y· ;·: ~, -~ ·,
11. ·· , . , Waved so!t:y to your breath! _::You n~'~t ·k ~pt · w~tch~<!,~ k·-''\'' r'."
•F
1'°f f·• B 'd '·
'lit!ie last pale, star
,
.· , "'.'dil<;".~5""
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had setj
j'.':t~v ~:.i::·v· ',/'.
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_And morn, all dazzling, as in triumph broke ':itf
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11 your 1m, weary eye; not yours the face,,'.#:. ' ~
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Which, early faded through fond care for hlm;. • ., .}':_~:,:.;·.'.· ,.. : '- ·$
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· .k", Hung o er his sleep, and duly, as heavens light, ··._-~ c;'i• 1 • ..
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as t iere to greet his wakening! You ne er smo9thec. L.,;.,:,~; ,
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His couch, ne'er sung him to his rosy rest, f', · ··~;;.;-;,i, .!·'.,';. :~·;') ·: ., · Caught his least whisper. w!1en his voice; fro_m 'you!1Lj;i,~.~··>;,:;~ ·~~
~i'' · Had learned soft utterance; . pressed yourJ ip .~o . his,
·' f!~~!&
f.·,. 1 W~en fe~er pa~r.~ed it_; hushed hi~. wayw~~~1,ories .:'
::~.'.~,~
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1; • With patient, v1g1lant, never-we.ar:ed lo,v~
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N o.1 th ese are womans
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[l'he following example is taken from Everett's .de~c.r1pt101t f.
the Pilgrim Fathers on their voyage to America ?~'\.. ·r:•i~;.£·r;

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{ t see them driv~n in fury hefore ' the
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r~ging ,'~~p~~t, '~h"' ih~ii!gi.

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d giddy waves. The awful · voice of the storm 'howls :th ~ough -the ·:!!
, igging. The laboring mastil seem straining froin their base; -the ·
pismal sound of the pumps is heard l ·the ship leaps · as_it , w~re madly ·:
porn billow to billow ; - the ocean .~breaks : and se.ttles " ;wit!k~n~ulfing .
oods over the floating deck, and , bea_ts .with · 9eiidening 1 shivering.
~lght, against the s~ggered ves~el.'' ~· ." , ·: !·~~~l.;':
: m\t:~::'.:\;><

11mith's Deserted Yillage.
Imagination fondly stoops to trace
'fhe parlor splendors of that festive place ,
The white-washed wall, the nicely-sanded floor,
The varnished clock that ticked behind the door;
The chest contrived a double debt to pay,
A bed by night, a chest of drawers by day;
The pictures placed for ornament and use,
The twelve good rules, the royal game of goose i
The hearth, except when winter chilled the day,
With aspen boughs, and flowers, and fennel gay;
While broken tea-cups, wisely kept for show,
Ranged o'er the chimnev, glistened in a row.

ON --LITERARY • TASTE i '·:,

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, " ~itPii"" .j t: •<•-f; '
;The design of the writer in' this passage, "is to . ex~i~e emo< .... , .
in the minds of his readers . .· He would have'· them:'.:, .
bdder in view of the dangers, by-which the fr~il ~ h,ark : he
~~scribes is encompassed, and regard with deep commisera• ·
·- h~n
.the noble adventurers it bears, If now ;.we\I notice·
the ..·.,;c
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.·
• i(?umstances which make up the description /fae,1:they tend' ;~>
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pas~age,

as a description, excites ·our · adi:nirati{)Ii.~ 'I'he· :--1 ; ' . ,
~wling voice of the stotm," "the 'straining ·of th~f':tii~sts," · :; ';:·

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tlie~2,ismal .,s~und. o.f ~h,e p~mp~,':.t~~ .~~~Jr,~~J~~.~~.t,9\e,:1sh1p:' ·).,-;~,.-/ ~vmfl~wmg ~of, ~;e;

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.ON LITERARY. TASTE. ·

ON LITERARY TAS'rE.

of the ocean," all tend to impress the mind most deeply with
horror at the scene, an<l with commiseration for those who
were exposed to its dangers.
I give one example more, in which it is the design
writer to excite emotions of a ludicrous nature. It is Ir·
ving's description of Ichabod Crane.
,, He was tall, but exceedingly lank, with narrow shouldc.rs, long ·
arms.and legs, hands that dangled a mile out of his sleeves, feet thal
might have served for shovels, and his whole fr ame. most loosely
hung together. His head was small, and flat nt top, w1~h large e~rs, 1
large green glassy eyes, and a · long snipe nose, so th at 1t looked like ·,
8 weather-cock perched upon his spindle neck, to tell whw.h way ·
the wind blew. To see him striding along tlw profile of a· 11111 on a
windy day, with his clothes bagging ~nd flu~te r~ng about l~irn, one
might have mistaken him for the genius of famin e descendmg upon .
the earth, or some scare ~row eloped from a cornfield."

Now there is no on.e, \\rho, in reading this
not admire it as a description. And any one, in assigning
the reason of his admiration, would at once pronounce it a· ·
fine description, because all the circumstances mentione~
tend so admirably to the design of the writer.
.
rrhe examples which have been stated an<l exarr_i1_ned, ar.~ .
amply suflicient to illustrate and establish th e pos1t10~, that ·
in descriptive writing emotions of beauty may be excited ,.
view of adaptation to a particular design.
·)
. I now wish to exhibit this same principl e differently ap~ ·
plied. I would show, that an emotion .of beauty ~ay ~~ .
excited
view of the fitness or adaptation of the d1fferen.I
parts of a description to the whole. For this purpose I ·
introduce the following passage :

in

" 'l he sun gradually wheeled his broad disk dowr..
The wide bosom of the Tappaan Z ee lay motion.ess and glassy:..
excepting that here and there a gentle undulation waved and pro,
longed the blue shadow of the distant mouvtain A few ambm

'.~. Now in answer to the inquiry, v1hy this descdption ' is r~­

. ~~td!".d with emotions .o f beauty; it m!1Y; a~o_n,ce~b(sai<l; · ~h,at
· he: scene itself is tme fitted to excite emotions of:, this kind 1 .
:.,~:~.:; also, that .it is · most ·clearly exhibited to our yie~. ~, But ..
1n' ~looking at ·the · different circumst~nces ' which make . up ·
1
. ,the description, it~ may be still further · noticed,'that they all'
.eo.~respond with each other, - they are of like importance,
1
.iir\4 produce a similar effect on · the .mind. The "-glassy ·
osom of the fake," - the "amber clouds," - the "varying
··'' .of the horizon," - the "light and shades. on surrounding ,
ints
,. .
, ' objects," and the becalmed vessel; apparently "suspended in
".t~~ air," are prominent objects i!l the scene, each worthy
, , ~f,~ notice, and each producing a similar effect on . the mind:.
, hat the en1otion of beauty felt in reading this descdption; •
t•· ..
s to be ascribed in part to the correspondence, and fitness of
he'.§ everal parts, may be made evident, if w~ attempt to in~duce an object of different nature. Sup.pose that after
. n'le~t.ioning the clouds floating in the sky, the V:'. riter had said,
"
.
.
.
.
:.w..
n the
•• • Dutch farmers were driving 11ome their cows from. ·
, p.~ t!lre, who would not say at once, that the ~,eauty of, th~
ct~ui,cription is gone 7 An emotion of . beauty ~ay:· then he
to
xcited. in view of the fitness of the parts of a destription
.
. I·
· ~e~\vhole, on the same principle, as in · ~ie~ o.f. the fitness . of
· lh~'-;,hole to some particular design.' ;:·~ "~ '·/ --'
·. · "
: '\~~he ~pplicatio11 ·or the · principle of fitnes~ · or adaptatio11

.

a

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~

..,.~.,~

•,

76

in accounting for emotions of taste, may be carried l!til.
further. From the different circumstances of a description,
we may proceed to notice the words, and we shall find
that part of the effect of passages of descriptive writing, as
fitted to excite emotions of taste, is to be ascribed to what
is usually called the happy choice of words, or the choic~
of those words which are best suited to the design of the
writer. In the examples already given, we have full illustration of the correctness of this statement. I would direct
the attention particularly to that where the writer says,
the ocean beats with "deadening, shivering weight, against
How much of the beauty of this -~the staggered vessel.''
part of the description .is to be ascribed to the choice .of the
epithets here used! To be persuaded of this, we have ·only ·~
to make some alteration in this respect, to substitute one ·
word for another, and the charm is broken. Had the writer :.
just quoted said, The ocean beats with a stupefying, shocking..·
weight, against the shattered vessel, who, in reading the de.. :
scription, would have felt an emotion of beauty 7
If in what has now been stated in connexion with pas· '.
'
.
sages of descriptive writing, the student has been led fully (
to understand what is meant by fitness or adaptation, and . ;...
to see, that it may be regarded as one of those principles c;>n •
. which are founded attempts to excite emotions of taste, the .
design of their introduction has been answered. · It will be.
shewn in the examination of the ornaments of style, that, .
whether we regard them only as parts of the literary production in which they are found, or look on them as tending to,
produce some designed effect, we may in part account for the,,.
emotion of taste which they excite, on this same principle~ ­
of adaptation.
[,I .;.
I have thus brought to view three distinct principles,
which are founded attempts on the part of the writer to e,-j
cite emotions of taste in the minds of his readers. The,f

77

ON LITERARY TASTE.

ON LITERARY TASTE.

are as follows; 1. Primary laws or original tendencies of our
natures. 2. Association. 3. Fitness or · adaptation. . Full
opportunity for illustration. is found in the relllaining part of
.the chapter. ·
·'
,-,.' ·: ,
' ·· -~~. ; In examining the classified . ornaments of style, · I begin
';·?",t"'.~th the SIMILE OR F'ORMAL CmtPARISON . . ,_.,.' r • . . :· ~,: (.
' ~ft;:

•

•

.'

I

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Ex.urPLE 1. -"Wit and humor are like those volatile essences,
. .' which, being too delicate to bear the open air, evaporate almost as
'·· ,11oon as they are exposed to it."
'
.

'l

· .~.<. In

this example, as .in all . instl!-nces . of the Formal Com'~p~rison, different objects are brought togeth~r, and,,,the re'semblance which they bear to each other is formally . stated.
1
My design, · in )ts introduction, is to shew the . student the
' kind of resemblance on which the Comparison is founded~
_ ~1 It. 'will at once occur !O him, t.h at wit and humor are in their
·~nature different from volatile essences. 'l'he latter · are pcr1
~, C!~ived by one of the senses; the form.er exist ~nly .. in ;t~~
, ;.mind. Still there is a resemblance between them ,as they are
· h~re viewed, and it is a resembla1,1ce. which J.s, disderned ~~th
-~~pleasure. Had the wit and humor of one · man been com". d >ared with the wi.t and humor of another, .we might have def.riyed information from the comparison; but · the effect , upon
'.* l[bs, as a pleasing comparison would have been . unfelt. Jt_ is
unexpectedness of the resemblan<?e . ":'hich pleases us.
·lJ~nce then we infer the caution, tltat tlte resemblance on
.. ·.'tw/iiclt tlte Simile or Formal Comparison ·is founded, should
).aot be too obvious.
· ·. .;, \

·:the

. \-jJ.;

'

'

~=;;:;:;. ~ Ell.AMPLE 2. - "The minds of the aged are like the to mos to which ·.
they are approaching; where, though the brass and the marble r~main,
y~t the inscriptions are. effaced by time, and the. imagery
hu moul.
)' ,;

~~~.~d a~ay."
.
,.,-:<
I
· '.T ,his beautiful passage is introduced to : shew, that it ie 11
~~t of a good comparison, ,t hat the object, ~o which a re.oom-

7•

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ON LlTERAllY TASTE.

'·1,;'.f!

1

ON LITERARY ~TASTE !;. '. ·: •. ..-

.

.

blance is traced, be naturally . suggested. We say that the
object is in this case suggested natuially, because the trans1..
~ion is easy from the minds of the aged to the tombs, which
they are approaching. The image brought to our view is in
consonance with the feelings, which the tl10ught to be illutt- •
tr.1ted had excited. Suppose now, that the object of resem•
blance, indtead of mouldering tombs, ha<l been the canvass
on which images had been drawn in fading colors. This .
would have been illustrative, but what man of taste w ~rnld
not say, that the beauty of the comparison is impaired 1
While then, as before stated, we guard against drawing our :.
comparisons from objects to which the resemblance is too _\
close, it should be remerrtbered, tltat it lteiglttens tlte beauty :.
•f •
of tlie comparison, to discovc1· tltat tlie object to wlticli a re~
semblance is traced, is naturally suggested.
J'
In applying this direction,
we are to take into view, not ;
.
.\
only the nature of the subject, but the circumstances with .~
which the writer is surrounded. Some of the most admired .*~
compositions in our literature are those, in wl1ich the r~ · ·1
semblance is obviously suggested by an object immediately ·*
before the writer. Thus Durke, describin g the effect pro-. ~
duced upon him by the loss of his son, says; " The storm}
has gone over me ; and I lie like one of those old oaks,·;, .
which the late hurricane has scattered ab out me. I am \ '·
stripped of all my honor ; I am torn up by the roots and lie
prostrate on the earth ! "
When a comparison is thus naturally suggested, there · 1
found in it a fitness or adaptation to the subj ect and occasion
on which it is introduced; and in such instances, the emo-~!:
tion of taste which is c alled forth, may be traced in part to ·· .,
~·
this principle of ad aptation as its exciting cause. More full'
to !;'hew that this fitne3s must exist, tnat a com'1arison mav ~
11pproved, I introduce another example
·.

i ·)

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•
78

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J\ ····'l.''f''iW::Ii'..

. ·:. ,.-?': ~.•:

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~·-: :1;, ,. Suppose that in -~ discourse ,from the.· pulpi~·~ tbe:.:,following · {'~ j

: ~z . ientence should be found; ''i• t1 i't~ -~'·"'1WJ :ilt~~~ '1;-~ . '·\~J!t,f/,;.· :•# ti..' ,
·

· ' · · ,..,., ~ · ' " "· ~·~~" •
.;Wi»l~ ·
" Curses, like chickens, always come home to. ~oost. 1 ,
. i<- ·..
•
; ' " . '. ··. , Jt ; •
~ .. 4
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'

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:·1" This comparison ·. is founded ·, on ' an • unexp~cted res~m• .
. ~ ' blance, and is illustrative; but if we regard it :i~ reldtidn 1tli
;~ .~ the occasion, there i~ a want of ·fitness: · ' It is"~. hot in'. so,>
' . Jiance with the sober, elevated train ·of thoughd~nd"' feelingi
:~· ~ ~hich should characterize
religious discourse i and•tth'e
~· ·.;_i'n'a.n of literary taste . at. once . condemns it;'·1 because'··o(; it~
· '·' want of fitness to the occasiott. -+· ;:,\1,v..-; ~ ;,. -~\{'•·-~~I)· . rt ~ ·' ·,'., · · . ~
.:·'. The principle here stated .is. runy{illustrat~d-1,'in,: t~~:ijtat1:1/~ : .'.'~:
.'·Of' the comparisons, ·which are most frequei:itly ii;ttt;ogdce~ ·. ,
1
' .m'' different departments of writing: · In· pa~tbrahi,• I'resf3_rn,'*; :·
:-:blances are traced to objects · and sc~nes· iii ru.ral lif~· j-E in
:~~pie and tragic poetry, to such as are of a ~ore· exalt,e d ; and .·" ;.-.
..~~li~obling kind; in "comic, to ' those. or a,;1 .f~i,niliar :.n.ature:' ··:: .f. ~Now in all these instances, the resemblan®s .ll;re ,_ said t?. ~e · . ~~::·
n ~turally suggested, - there is in them a fitness to• the ' 0.c• · ': ~--,. :
~sion and to the thoughts and feelings of ~he personage_~
.
,'
. ;·
..
. . . ,. . . .ri.. f {' .,.. ;-, .
traduced. ·. · ··:.'·. \l ,'.... "'' 11.'·'::;_,· . . . . . , ....~~~lb' '·~ri t ilU'/1'
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'~Exum.E 3. -"The ~tyle of ~a~ning is~ like ..~~ej ~~ny~~ ;!P~gor, .
hich scatters every ray of light which falls upon it, and !'.hin!JS and -. _.:·.
arkles in whatever position it . is viewed; -thai bf Broughain' is ' f~·. ::-",(.
"thJ concave speculum, scattering . no ' indiscrimiri~te' ~ r~diance,: n>Ut .. ' :~,_>
aving its light concentrated into one . intense , and~ tremend~u~ " .
.'):f'i :.\; ,>,' .l°t ~l;Y: +-·~ . ;r~,

1

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,,_·; This comparison strikes us f~vorably~ "arid ... should ~'th~ •·
.i! ~·
:
"
1.:r,~,·. ·'·"
''·
·'. Inquiry be made, wny it · excites an emotion of taste, ' we a~ ..·
ri c"~ refer the pleasure it gives us to its fitness' to the ~design' .. \ ;~
1
/'. the writer. He would have us 'perceive·· ·the ~d~fferent .
· a~~cteristic traits of the styles of Cannin/i1:~~4 Brdtighanif.
· ,d,~every one must see ·with .. admiration ;:~:hc1'Y '' much'-.. \8 e&.

~-~\d
"

by the illustration wluch is introduced. ,_:/ .
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7,

ON LITERARY TASTE.

.,~ n~~i~;

ON LITERARY. T ASTE ir

To illustrate, is most frequently the <le~ign of the Com
parison; and when in this way the writf)r seeks to increas11
the distinctness of the reader's views, the object of resemblance should always be more familiarly known, or such as
to be more distinctly conceived by us, than the object to be
illustrated. In the example given, an object of thought is
compared to an object of sense, and since objects of sense
are generally more distinct to the mind than objects of
thought, the effect of the comparison is favorable. Hence,
in good illustrative comparisons it will generally be the case,
that wlten objects of tlzoug!tt and sense are brought to view,
tile former is illustrated by t!te latter. In those exceptions
to this .principle which strike us favorably, some reason ma!
generally .be assigned, as in the following example. Scot
describing .Loch Katrine, says,
"The ~ountain shadows on her breast
Were neither broken nor at rest;
ln bright uncertainty they lie,
Like future joys to fancy's eye."

tnown only to tl1ose who are learned in '. a :par~ic?lar j br.ap.ch:ft·,JL

of,knowledge; or adepts in a particul.!11' , art~ i.k~;~'t'fl'-! ··/·".~'._; ~4. :·r

'4;~1 The object of resemblance in the \·;exampJ~~~ ~e,;: l:lr~ 'no~.~· :; .. ~
cbnsiderihg, is suffieiently familiar- to··~Lwho ·:are:~ cap~hl~. of~;··
tinders tan ding the production in which itiis foun~,t and ~ ili.i•t~··
is all that is required. ·'
· · ; ;u(.;, ' \'i. . 1-.rijl'"': :~t.f•f'f. \%·•~;~:~1i '
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is called an analogical comparison, and if analysed,,
. it will be found to contain an argument from analogy. · ~e
·.all know that it is the fervor of the sun, which calls up rank
~and· noxious vapors from the earth; and reasoning analogi·
' cally, we are led .to the conclusion, that it is the effulgence
of illustrious merit, which
draws forth the
rancorous
passions
.
'
.
.
.
.Qf low and grovelling minds.
...:~/ Comparisons of this kind strike us favorably ., They , ~id
.~ ~·tthe writer in imparting to others the opinions he may ' entertain, and the reasonings on which these . opinions are fo?.~1d­
, ed. Some men are accustomed to reason in this way; and
__.~!'.· ..:~ such are usually eminentiy successful as instructors, since
..
"-:...t~ey are thus enabled to make themsebes easily and reac1ily
-~ tirirlerstood.
This indeed is the appropriate object of ana·
...:;,.logical comparisons; and .it is a fitness to this design, which
. · ~auses us to regard those which are well .1conducted with
~motions of taste. .
·
.
~

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'~EXAMPLE 5. -"He lived a wanderer and

· I . •, " ' · , :

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.•

a fugiti~E{iO: hlB, native

,-_.

le.nd, and went down, like a lonely bark foundering · amid darkne111
~d temp~st, - without a pitying eye to weep his ; fall, or a' friendl1
\and, io record his strn~rnle."
·
· .- 'I ,,
-:;. ~ .

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.

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· ·EXAMPLE 4. - "Thus it is with illustrious merit; its v~ry effulgence
. draws forth the rancorous passiont1 of low and groveiling minds, which:·
t9o often have a temporary influence in obscuring it to the world'f ail
: the sun, emerging with full splendor into the heavens, ' calls up, by the
\ very power of his rays; the t.a nk and noxious vapors, which f~r a tim~: ·
becloud his glory." ,,.
' ·'>''7""1 "·1»< ;'.,,'11·;/r·~;. '.· ~'),.
:
. . .. )1 I , '
"i, • ~1

'

In this instance, it may be said, that our consciousness of.
the uncertainty of those future joys which fancy p~esents,
is so strong, that our conceptions of the wavering of moun. tain shadows on the lake, is aided by the compar ison.
In determining whether an object is familiarly known,
·regard must be had to those who are addressed. In a pro·
duction on a liternry st1bject addres~ed to litrrnry men, it
would be proper to bring to view objects of resemblance,
which shoul<l not be reforred to in writings addressed to chil·
dren or to the unlearned. Neither, in what is addressed to a
•earned audience, would it be proper to introduce as. an ~.
object of comparison, a principle in science, or a p~ocess in
1ome art, which is comparatively of little importance, and.

.., -·i·

-------'--~----'----~-----·~ f~~;-- ~\

\

: ... ' -,.· ~·.

Th s comparison is found at the conclusion of the account,
given by Irving, of King Philip. He has made mention of
his heroic qualities and noble achievements, and he would
excite in the minds of his readers a feeling of compassionate
regret at his miserable and untimely fall. The comparison
pleases us. The resemblance on which it is founded, is not
too obvious; and it is naturally suggested. Ilut the princi•
pal cause of the emotion of beauty which it excites, is its
adaptedness to the design of the writer. When we think
of the lonely bark, 'foundering amid darkness and tempest,'
it is with strong emotions of compassion and regret ; and by
causing the mind to bring this object before its view in con•
nexion with King Philip in his adversity, the writer derives
much aid in leading us to regard the latter object with the
same emotion.
In this manner any object or occurrence, which, either
from tl!e original constitution of our minds, or from asso·
ciation, is wont to excite an emotion of a particular kind,
may be introduced by the writer, and thus a higher interest
.is thrown over the thoughts he communicates, and increased
[influence exerted over the minds of his readers. And while
•the man of literary taste is led to notice the skill and power ,,·
·which is thus displayed, he feels, in view of such compan· ·
-sons, emotions of beauty.
'ExAMPI:E 6. - " He was a little, meagre, black-looking man, with a
·grizzled wig that was too wide, and stood off from each ear; so that
·his head seemed to have shrunk away within it, like a dried filbert in
its shell."

In this comparison, it is the writer's design to increa!!~
the emotion of a ludicrous kind, with which the object he is .·
describing is in '. itself regarded. The comparison is there•
fore approved by the man of literary taste, on the priryciple . ~.
..o.1 fitness, as m the :fast example. All similar atte,mpts at '

83;,,

ON LITERAR't' r TASTE,

ON Ll'f.ERAHY TASTE.

; .,.

----------------~-----:-:---~,...,,......,.-,-~
· ;::· .. '::t-11;

wit and humor must · evidently.~;.come.,,under;, tho:Mmgniz~~~-:: ' ?~
.
•
• . •
- ·: .,"<•.
_' .~f literary taste. , But· there . is,; ai pe.cuha!1ty,~m ; many c(>ll!-: .~
, '. parisons, introduced --with 1.he,; design ~ o(; expi~ing '1-~tµotions.;: ~c· '.~
: of•the ludicrous, which requires par,ticularc~,noti~~f..~tp~en: ·,< ~ . '!
, there is nothing in the object ·. compared, \~x:~iq.1,th~~-7-~R•}".h,!c~;~ ;;.~~.
~ a· resemblance is traced,· which is .fitted .to..; ~x~ite;: f'lmg~~<?,.nfi; · ·
o'r, the ludicrous; but when ,they . are view~ci toge~_be.r,,<{ant;, · · 11'.
t:inotion of this kind is produced. •;·. In suchdnstaµces,tth~ ;: :. -~!,;
effect of the comparison is ~ to be ascribed ,tp,..the ., sttangel}~~s.:~:-:.\;,;
. -· 0 r the resemblance , which . is'l' traced ;, 9ut~;~;A.n - ex~mple,11w:m
'I·~. more clearly sho'.'V ..whatf is~~ here ,stated.: tS19.~ ff ~~ib_t.rut,•.i_t,,.}~. ·,
· sa1'd ·
· · '"' "1· .~!~ H: '<..-Rt¥i! ~.;o1;·'":~; ...;· •• .;.~
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We grant;·alt,hou~h he
~uch ~1.(f :i~~,
• 1't • .-.,.
·"'··''"'
• ,_· ; ' '
He was very s y of usmg
''"·'.,,
·<·· ·:"'-·tc~'r'"
~ .... ,...,, ~1~
'· ""..
•',I':
As being loath to wear it out, ;1• i !5... 1 ~~f:i;~~oi•l<h ~·if<lff"I>· ·1 •·
And therefore bore i.t not ab.out; ·~~rf'Ilr ;.;,1 '1~'ii~·-i;t1i~~;~f.1Jf
Unless on Holidays, or so, ~-. ,,~-,~.. ,, . .::.-;. ,.,. .,--~,. .;~~;', .. '.;"~.~.-'
I
ll "' _,~ \_• .,,...,.~T 1'3 "J;ot'""''"
•.
As men their best apparel do.
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·;

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J :~"'~ Now there is nothing ·iudicrous ·in ·the :assertlori1 tnat ,ia ·- . .-:

$·r ~f'man possesses wit ' but does not ·often · show>itJ i·1..Neitherr , js ' ~· ,.,.
. /· th~re any thing ludicr,ous in" sayfog; that·: a : ma~ :~~ears ~his ·_ -:·~{
.'\: l>est apparel ·only · on · Jiolidays;trt' Butil when:.: the \i' o,bJects ~_ate~ -~
: brought together and compared; · the . co~pariso~~- exc!tes~_an..: 4.i~
.. emotion of a ludicrous nature. Still, in ' such instances;::as.0 ·~~t
., :.,. 1µ:th~se of which an example- was .befo~e- ..give~·, :.it)~f.~~~: fi~~·/{;
. ~ss .of the comparison t~ ~he - design of ibe ': l"riter;J; ~~~~~~·::.'.:­
·,arises it to be approved by the .man of lit'3~arY. t~~t~: /~);;;f:~
<-•Ji· - ·
· -. , ,. , .., , . · . . -ln·' -. ~ .. \ .~•f ·"n~ilti·-~•,·'.'
J

_· •\•;::EXA:llPLE 7. ~" Bramins

and

soode~s

and cas;s· anfsh~~te\.s~~iiJt

·~~ave passed away, like the mist which rolls up the mo1;1nl~i.n :~~~~de1~:

• ' .- fore the ' rising glories of a summer;s morning:'i 'whil~~: th~'Jand ·on'"',..,
. ' hich it tested, shining forth in all its" loveliness,' sH,a~~ -frotii.~ its ':';;};~,: ..
""- ~ lumber leas habitations; send forth the high praises~of
.a nq. \!le.
.;~: t,
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~; :·~1,!;·., ."lf{>-.~-N~"uf.-"~_ · ."' .

.~~· Ifithe part of the aiscour~e ' fronitWhi~h'. this : e~rppar1son
''ij'_

.

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ON LITERARY TASfE.

,.

ON LITERARY ' TASTE.

18 taken, the writer is dwelling on the influence whic\
must attend the spread of the Gospel in Asia. He would
have . us regard the thoughts he expresses on this subject
with grateful emotions, and by introducing the comparison
which has. been stated, he evidently does much to1varcls ef.
fecting this clesigfi. Hence the man of literary taste approves the comparison, from its fitness to the design of the
writer. But it is to be noticed, that the scene is one, which
in itself, distinct from its adaptation to the subject, is fitted
fo excite an emotion of beauty. "A land shining forth in
its loveliness, beneath the rising glories of a summer's
morning, while the mists are rolling up the mountain's
side," is a scene, whichi from the original constitution of
our mincls, is regarcled in this manner. In this example,
then, we find an illustration of what was stated in the former part of the chapter, that in the introcluction of the ornaments of style, with the design of exciting emotions of
taste, the writer sometimes addresses himself to the original
tendencies of the mind to feel such emotions in view of objects and scenes in the natural world. Comparisons of this
.kind are called embellishing comparisons, and when natu1rally suggested, and in agreement with the subject and oc,casion, they excite strong emotions of beauty.

'.>;;

'EXAMPLE 8. _,"The poetry of Milton, exhibiting the most sub
:lime conceptions and eleva.te<l language , intermin gled with pussa.gea. ,'
of uncommon delica.cy of tho.u ght and beauty of expr<'ss ion, reminds ·.,.'
us of the miracles of "A.Jpine scenery. Nooks and dells, beautiful .'~·- ~
as fairy ,Jand, are embosomed in its most rugged and gigantic ele- '~~ .
vations. The roses and myrtles bloom unchilled on the verge of the ;',
avalanche."

This example, ;ike the preceding, unites the various ex
cellences of a fine comparison. The resemblance on ·~ }iici:
it is founded is not too obvious, and is naturally suggested'
lhe 'corr:rarison i.is also .illustrative;-it aids in effecting tht! .::

desiO'n
of. tne writer as · connected .with his , subiect,
and ii:'.
0
J
brings before the inmd a scene, which,':partly from' the ori.:
1
. gin al constitution of the mind, and partly . from association~:
is fitted to excite an emotion of taste. · ~ ·tr-~l~r..·1 ·<til>i.z·;~r:11:~:r,.; t~~r­
' . . .' .,-f- From the remarks now made, and· the prin~iples stated,
· ; :. the student is prepared to judge of comparisons .:.,~ as orna•
, •:" 'roents of style. In examining a particular instance, he' will
' first consider the nature of the resemblance on which ~ it tis
founded, - whether it be not too ·obvious- whether it·.- be 1
:. · naturally suggested, and whether the ..object to which .a re-.
:; He ·~will next
· : semblance is traced · be sufficiently familiar&
. '.· i~quire as to the kind . of ' comparison;·;;..;.:. whethert1,the; in.,., ,'. stance under · examination is :illustrative( ,,or : analogical; ior 1
: , embellishing, or designed t~ excite·some partic~la~ i e~otion .I'
·.:, 1,md thus ·he will judge of ·the P!opriety :ofiits ' introduction
' in the place where it is found, and of its bearing'' on the·
'.'. leading design of the writer. , •He may then ask more · generally, on what principle is the instance founded j- as an. ·at-.•
j) tempt to excite an emotion of . taste whether on ,fitness,"or_
. . association, or on some primary law of our nature.. i ~';f~' _,•• ;, ; .~·
. ;- From the consideration of the Formal Comparison, I . pr~
01 ' ··ceed to the Implied Comparison, or Met~phor• '-1.ft1'•~'fr;i"· ': ' '~~:~: ·
• • ~ · l' ·Let us suppose, that · a ,writer wishes • tO' -show _
his readers,
. ~· how soon the effect of sorrow on the minds of the ·yoohi;c. is.
.::.. d~ne away. While this thought has possession of tile ..1.1uu~·l ·
#.~some principle of association brings up ·to his iview .a _yom12
~hd ' . vigorous tree,· in the . bark of: which · a~ 'incision .has ''
een made, but the wound, from the rapidity or tne growui
If
between
t the tree ' is fast closing over. The rese:ril bhmce
.
.
. ~- he th~ught in his mind and the object. thus presented,· his
''.,) ·' te approves as illustrative and strikil}g,· and he_ll'wishes to ·
: lace it before :the view · of · others.' ·f<c~The · m,ost· obvioue .
.,;.- method of doing . this is· as follows; '~1 :As ahe . wound made
·in .the bark of the young and health{tree, ·soon closes .overt'
~ ·

8

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86

ON. LITERARY · TASTE~

ON LITERARY TASTE.

---~---·------------- ·-----

: mch cautions given as may guard us from faults in , the. un .
. ,.· usual application of . language. ~;·, ·; . .' /'J,i~i~:· •11; fi';••· .'., .'' ~'~-•
• ": . .:-·· ..
,,
;·,~. '\1.;·~ t . '.···,_,.,:. / .
-,.t

sorrows in the minc.ls of the young, are of short <luratiou"
t~is forma. comparison, the object of the write1 would
be effected. His readers would perceive the resemblance
a?d. their good taste would approve this attempt to aid the'
d1st1~ctness of their view. But let us suppose, that instead
of tlus forf!lal comparison, he expresses himself as follows:
' What are the sorrows of the young I Their growing
minds soon close above the wound." This expression
bri~gs befo~e the mind the same objects as are brought by
the comparison; the same resemblance is trace<l, and the
same ai<l is given to the distinctness of our view. But the
resemblance, instead of being distinctly stated, is implied.
Upon rea<ling the passage, it at once occurs to us, that some
of the words .used are applied to objects, to which they are
not usually applied. We are not wont to speak of the
mind as growing, and ~f the wounds of the mind as
closing over. From this unusual application of wor<ls, the
imagination is set in action, and brings up to view the re·
semblance, just as the writer designed it should be seen.
This, then, is what is called an IMPLIED COMPARISON or a
!O

By

:.:. ·a·EXAMPLE

,<:; orite lamb of his Httle flock."

~the

1
. : · ·, ::J;"~~ ~ ;~:·fr~t~ ~·~ hi:

.

latter part of thie sentence is a metapho~;;' We'. are'
that the fair mai<lcn lrnre referred ' to; is not'
· t· '!leant to be called a lamb of a little flock in th~ _literal aP.~
.:.' plication of the \vord: _'The impEed comparisori) s' !eadi_ly
, · suggested. The imagination brin.gs befo.re ' us ' the lamb ' o(
1~.\l.
. , ~ -~ little flock, and we think -of the tenderness and · care'.' with' ·
• ,.~:· ~hich it is nurtured, and t~e str~~g i_ntere~t, ~which''.from:. ·
'~ its youth and simplicity it excites ; · and · we tra·c·t out : the'
q
•.
.
.i · resemblance to this pupil of . the village' pastor. : We · are
1
pleased with the comparison as one easily and . ~aturally
1
,'. .~uggested, as illustrative, and ' as brmging ' before' the mi~~ ­
. . a~ object which it regards with an emotion of beauty. W'>-•;'
.~: Though this example of the .Metapho~ is faultles~," it "ci~~s
:·;;.:. ~ot excite in the minds of most readers ·a sjrong emotion _of
;: ~eauty. This is easily. explained, and is, 'an . illustration of
.( ~ principle which should__be ,_bo~ne in mi.1{d in a,II "~~~- j·u~g~t ~
)~ ents of attempts o~ this · ~ature. •'!· SoJfreq ri·e-ntly' do we c~m- .
p~re what is tender and delicate and ' hmo~ent "tdr th~ hti;b'~
__,___
)
;that we have become familiar with ' the_. com.pal-ison: ' and . itt
·· has lost its effect upon us.' · We' may leari1· ihe~ · rro1~ 'this ex~e
. ample, tliat the introdu.ction of common'.compari~ons·-a;1d '
· .~ ~t~phors will add little to the _beauty of' style. ,., They ·will '
_ ·: not be defects, but having lost by repetition their 'power .-o(
. ·;~easing, they will be passed by unnoticed. '. ' No1Jeliy i; not'
;.. tlicn to be regarded as a source of emotions ·of taste; but tlte ~
;' y.•
.
. .
..·
.
..J ant of novelty will pre~ent .su~li en~ot~ons f~om be_ing felt. ·.~:'.
1
••.~xample 2. Burke, m his Gcscnptio:i of Atheists, says;
1

'::. •J·: The

.<. ~~ once aware,
1.

METAPHOR.

So far as the comparison and metaphor are the same it
'
is unnecessary to repeat the principles and rules stated with
reference to the former, since they apply alike to both ..... !..
But in thus implying a resemblance by the unusual appli· ';. ·
cat10n of language, there is an exertion of skill, which is
not. found in its more formal statement. And hence, when
rne metaphor i~ extended through different clauses, an emotion of taste may be excited in view of the fitness of the dif.
ferent parts in their c·o nnexion with each other, and with -.. ,
the whole. There is also need of cautions which are not . ~ .
required ii the .use of the comparison. Some happy in.'. ('
stances of the metaphor will therefore be pointed out anrf ·,-

.

'

l. - " She had been · the pupil 'of .the vj,Ilage_pastor;

~~

1

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,. ..· .,..-.~"·.,,

'~

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iii~~

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the author of their being.

.;"·../ \~ ..

;,

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He nover presents him ·

..

I .,
.'

88

........ .
,...,,.
ON LITERARY · TASTE,\"

ON LITEtlAllY TASTE.

·

11elf to their thoughts, but to menace and alarm them. They can
not strike the sun out of the heavens, but they are able to raise 1
smouldering smoke that obscures him from their eyes.'

" Man!
Thou pendulum betwixt a smile and tear."

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,

, l~~H>,~-~-- ,. · t-"} ·~ ,lp:;l "'fl"f •¥:tl. i~- _.~

"-'

f ;'.

" The contrast is striking; and it has a strange, eff~~t. ,t,ht}s tc> .he~r., ,~.;
the surges of active life hurrying along and beating agains~ . tl~e . very.~ . ·: ·, ,.
11 f th e eepu Ic Iire. " .
;'
., ' " ~ · · · "'"'' ·• .-··""-·
.,.,,..,.,. ·· .•. .
wa so
.>·· . · ' ,;: -·
. · . .:.: ,' : .: ..
• ; · J..

~· ~·J-1~ . ~--:.: ~tJ

,\t - ) :•.. .. .-+-\•

-<~

-

" The surges hurrying along and beating," at r once slig~ ~ ·
gests to the
imagination the comparison ~ here~'
..-" ........--~:,.~ ~
.
. .implied;
. . . · and
. .
there is a sublime ' emotion ·whi eh · take~ I possession·.; of ·the *i •.: ~·~ .
mind, as the resemblance"is tracedi : ·•' ;,,·~:<i~4~·; · :/i'.~~i.i~~~:.~H~,::·
.
. .
. .
'
These examples are sufficient fully to : "!how -the.' nattire :of 1
the l\Ietaphor, or Implied · Comparison. · .With t)le.design of..
exhibiting the skill · which is requisite · when . language .. is;>
.
thus used figurati,vely; a few more ex<>,mples .will •,now.... bei:<:' \)i
•
given.
.~
t·- .~. ··l't"-9 .,,. { ... "'t i.;.. •·,~~'f"~t" ·.
· - ~·
Example 5 . . Of Mr. Roscoe ,it i~ said .in the', Sketch.
·
· .. ··' ~ '''. -~· - 1 · · ·,.·1 :~
Book,
."

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·.
'
·. " He found the tide of' wealth flo\ving merely in the ~hannels . oi , .k·":
. ' traffic; he has div!)rted' from it in~igorati~g' 'tifJ8 Jto ~U~~~h . the · gat ~:·:.:;~. ~
dens of literature" .. ' ,'· · ;•~ ,t ·f ~i· «'"' "-.•l\lf·;JYX~ .i~f iii ~~,fT:i~ 't 'iki l''.'···. ·~-:.
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Here is evidently a11 implied comparison,' and one that
pleases us from the unexpectedness and appropriateness o!
the resemblance on which it is fount!~a The example also
brings to notice a characteristic trait of the Metaphor. I
refer to its boldness. The writer, under a deep impression
of the varieties in the life of man, in a sudden, striking
manner, calls ~im a pendulum, and leaves it to the excited
imagination of the reader to trace out the resemblance.
Hence it is, that the use of the Metaphor is not well adapted to a calm, deliberate, rea~oning state of mind. In this
respect it differs . from the Comparison, which is sometimes
called the figure of description, while the M etapho~ is term
ed the figure of passion.

rtl

·E;xample 4. ·• Irving; while · ~andeiing\tami<lst•} thii(~silent-.:· ·~.
and · gloomy scenes of Westminster '. Abbey/~hears ."i the ·· soundr·-.:
.
•
•
'
·t?< ;;' •.
· of busy existence without. He· thus des~ribes . the effect on~· .. ?,
~
~-"•' (~
h1s feelmas.
· ·:,_. "»r:/:'•11•~~1! · .1 'H.''.l~'-·''•' :f; , :ii,":,'.,"
9

Frnm the connexion, we learn, that this last sentence is
not meant to convey what is expressed by the words as theJ
arc usually applied. Thi.s leads us to inquire, in what "a7
they are designed to be understood, and imag iuatiou at
once traces out a resemblance between the sun in the heav·
t:ns, and that glorious Ileing, who shines forth in the bright·
ness of his perfections; and we continue to trace the resemblance between the attempt of mortals, to obscure the
brightness of the sun to their own view by raising a smouldering smoke, and the attempt of Atheists, to oLscure to their
own minds the existence of the Deity, by their darkening
speculations. As this is a representation of oLjects of
thought by objects of sense, the effect in giving increased
distinctness of view is favorable.
Example 3. Byron has the following striking Metaphor

-

.

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. ~ '!j~ \"°i j._:
~ ~).' ~nt>~., ,!';.t;·}'f:~..~~v wJ., ~.

::,'!-f~
1

; ,1'his is an example of a well supported. metaphor:' ~If we~.t ·~~
notice the different ·words; by ·the unusual ,· application 0£11..:: r . ~
which the IJletaphor is here implied, we shall find, fthat they~,;.,:< .~'
. are in agreement with each other, and all . tend · to .aid . th&:..,!~·· )
imagination in bringing · up the ·object 1 of :c~mpariso11: ·at1d ;{~-_/,
Lracing out the resemblance.
~ We have · before bur . vi~w the~)"..;;.;
.
.
." tide flowing in channels,'' and then the '' rills are 1 divertedF ,.'~ ,;s
~· t / refresh the garde~s." In saying that:the~e .~qrUs are . iri ';-. ·:,~ ·:,:i,!f. .
'. /'~( agree1~ent w.ith each other, ~efe.r.enc~)s ~:hii.~ ·tthe··us~ 1 of'.,'l ,~:.c:.:--il0l
"-. ·:. ·\them m their common apphcat1?n, 'i. and • this ".•e ; necessary''"
the metaphor be well support~d ,;: Let 7-us 'E-uppoee that --:J · -''
'

~

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t

8•

....
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\
ON LITERARY TASTE,'
--- _____________________
......_......_.,..

ON . LITERARY TASTE.

example had read, " ,As the light .0f; knowledge : brcaks ~in (,:
upon Its exhibitions 1 as the · outline~ ·~of i certainty becom~ ·'..-~
more and more definite, as the . weight· ofpr~bability increases}' ·._,
the lines and lineaments ·of. the-' phantoms :. ~hic. h .S it •calls .r:":
up, grow fainti::-r and fainter." . Here would _be :.whaHs called. '.,~
mixed metaphor, : The imagination, .in. its. attempt to trace ·~<:'_
out the resemblance and bring ·a distinct itnage before th " '·. :;;
min<l, when it comes to the clause-" the increasing 'weigh ) · ·
of probability," is led astray, and the whole image become'. .. •; ,.
confused. This then suggests the caution, that. in : contin ·,, . : '.\t:, ·
ued metaphors; we s1iould guard . against · :applying ,toor:,ds~ iry\'} t·
suc!t a manner, as to bring •up . two oq more ,~ diff~;,ent 'resem~~~: ..
blances, and tltus produce · confusion in- the r v~ew 1presented to.:·. I !te imagination.
" . · · .i" ;."'! ·:'!-if:/;;>.;.~f 11;~,
1- ·..
" . ':.·.. '1 ~
And here I introduce an example of .mixed _,~etaphor,;i l~ : :.;;.. ·
detecting which, the . student may more. fully .see' the na_tµi:~~·~ ;-,~
of this fault.
,_:,,.1 l •!"•i°!.1~1 :;~ l'-i~·~-':i -··: .

the writer had said, ... He found the tide of wealth flowing
merely in the channels of traffic, and took out large sum3
to flupport and encourage 1literature." 1Ve might in this case
have made out his meanincr,
but what confusion is .thoe in
0
the attempt of the imagination to trace out the compc.rison
which is implied! l'he reason of this confusion is obvious,
In the former part of the sentence; the words are used fig·
uratively, and in the latle:r, literally. Hence then we derive
the following rule. 'I'!tat in .fffetaplwrs, we guard against
joining togetlter language applied.figurat ivcly and literally.
Example 6. A, writer in the Edinburgh Revi ew, with
the design of showing in what way the early s~ate of society
IS favorable to poetical excellence, says,
" Poetry produces an illusion on the eye of the mind, as a magic
lantern produces an illusion on the eye of the body. And as a magic lantern acts best iu ·a dark room, poetry effects its purpose best in a
dark age . As the light of knowledge breaks in upon its exhibitions, a:i
the outlines of certainty become more and more definite, and the
shades of probability more and more distinct, the lines and linea.ments of the phantoms which it calls up, grow faintn and fainter."

· This example commences with a formal comparison, and
afterwards changes into a metaphor. It is introduced to
show the admirable skill, which is displayed in the application of words. "The breaking in of light," the "outlines
becoming more definite," the "shades more and more distinc.t," and the " lines and lineaments of the phantoms growing fainter and fainter," are expressions, which may be literally applied to the objects presented by the magic lantern, and
at the same time; as applied by the imagination to the crea.·
tions of poetry, they present a distinct and complete view.
There can be no doubt, that part of the pleasure derived
from reading this passage, results from the skill displayed
in this happy application . of language, continued as it I!
.hro 1gh several clauses. Suppose that the latter part of this

•

:

'

'·...:

'°;..

. .
'
;; ~ : ,,,(: ,:, .. ~~ ~·:· ,... ~ : .: ~ :'!.1
"We are· constantly called upon. to observe how the noxious pas~ " ,
'lions, which spring up in .the heart like weeds in a. neglected garden 1 . ~ -'.
.
··- '
,,
~ .
are dissipated by the Hght of truth."
·
.~ '. t. ..:
•· · · . ····_:...,,. ,.
•••.· ·

....

·- .

.

,"

.. ··i· ~!

.

•

,..; t,_ ~ ~ ·~/-;•• ~~ ' ~:f : ~;·t·~"!

Example 7. The same writer, in de~priHi~g}he ~~phis,try ,J·.:
and unfair statements of t~ose, who t~lJ,'. u~. t~ j~dg~..,o[ qiv,it· /
Liberty from the outrages and violent acts which attend rev-,:.(~
•

oluhons, says,

· · ,
:: .
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.

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·.,.

. •

.

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~ .. ,.·~

. ·, . ~"·. 1 ,~ 1_, ~·~r;

.:~: · : !~:., ·1 '"';,
.,.j,} ~~--~·~::.·!fr

·t·

" It is just at this crisis of revolution th~t its enemies lo~e to~;ex~~:~:
hibit it. They pull down the scaffolding from the half~finiehed :' edia'l' ~:
lice; they point to . the flying dust, the falli_ng,,bric~si · th~~cc;imfo!,tle_!!~-t"~rooms, the frightful irregularity of the whole. appe\a rance ; andJ .hen ' ~i
• • ,.
Xr"' tt~-.
1
ask in scorn, where . the promised .sp!end. or. il.nd c.oi .· o ' is.·--~~: ~,:_\
l.'-und"
\ ·· " .! ·" · f.t.~f·,:; ·· :1• '· <"ff: . ; • t. · ~- ,.\.•

".

.·

._

·

I\"'

•

·;~· T~i• example i, diffe;e~t ~rom ~b:';:;;.;;~t'ii~·~.~~:;"

· .
.

in the first part of it; that the words;; are , designe~ to be figu• ·, -~::
ratively applied to the syst~m of. government,.!by ·Wbich ~ivi). ·

.

.

.I
. -

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..
- .

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,, ·

'

92

'.

'·

ON LITERARY TASTE.

.·.

EXAMPLE

8. "Half round the globe, the tears pumped up by neath
Are spent in watering vanities of liff'."

'.The metaphor in this passage, though it may catch the attention because of its novelty and ingenuity, will not be
pleasing to the man of correct literary taste. It is not found•
ed on a resembhmce which is obvious and easily traced
out, or, as the phrase has been explained, naturally suggested.
lience metaphors of this kind are said to be forced, or far
fetclied, and the use of them slwuld be avoided.
Example 9. The celebrated passage, in which Burke
describes the fall from power of Lorrl Chatham and the rise
of Charles Townsend, unites in 'it all the exc;cllences of the
metaphor.
then, before' this splendid orb was entire·y set;

:·

-•
.
•
.
' : ..,,1,the western horizon was in a blaze ,with· his · descending · glory, on t.h:e i· :Iit
oppoaite quarter of the heavens , aro11e anoth~t 11'minary,.,an1 ,fo~ ~i.~ : .
hour becam~ lord of the ascendant." :. . ... :. , , ~·; 1,: \,..•:;;h'~·/;•>\ ~~',i~~:
'1 '
~ .... ~ ~ 1 ·.1 • h-.' ~ ~·.~~· t::.;ti·. ·:>t' .:·~-:.... . l~ .:·:1- ;-:i,t'.~~"~ ;.' .

' In this fine passage, the .resemblance · i~pl\~d ~~ ' such 'iis t? ·
be highly illustrative; there is .a grandeur ·in' the.t;obje,ct'preJ .
sented which elevates the mind, nnd the'' langu ~ge;' iii "" its . ·
figurati\'C application, is skilfully and happily manag~d. ·c~tl;J
In the examples of the Metaphor which:·. havet~tiow 'been'
given, it has been shewn, .that .it is 'in ~ts, !latt.ir~:the t'sam~ .•as .
· ~·~,t.. . ,,,. '
1·~ h
·~ \
the Co~panson, - that 1t . differs , f~om . \~;; .~.g,,,.~~~~~\J ~ ·~~.~~~~~·
blance 1s not formally stated, but simply 1mphe~;· 1<, t~a(;~h~; ,..
1
.mode of implying it is by the ·application of language · i~ · ~n ., :-:.:·fl.~
1
1 unusual manner, which is called applyirig') t ') igt.iratively; ± )* .''~~
that several cautions are to be observed in ihis figurative ap- · "e,t
plication of words, and that strained and .force,~ .. ;~~etaphor~ .-~~ ~·
are to be avoided. '" '' ·"'' ~. ":-:· .... l •· ' t · ·'!r-H:;..<ll ·, ~ ·~ ~.:i,t-,1!1-'ii;i:,1i1 ·'.,;;~,
· ·· It has · been common to mark a' distinction ·between ithe'. ·~t ·
metaphor and . the .allegory, ·the latter being\ defined :. a ~ont' . /:
tinued . metaphor. ii, But 1· as ·.both· ·are foun,ded on ,pie ·, 8~1;fie . \:..
p~inciples, and require thei sanie cautic?ns,...and . ciire~~io~~ , in ~ j{~
their use the tlistinction is regarded as one.of· h~~le pr_act1~al t
,!"~-:.;-: .. ·:..;., ',/~{''.f.: ~z ?.·'f· ... "l':;_;L.'t __:.·.
· importance. . ~ 1 ••
>: ~-. ·,'!·:·~:iJ.~t:r--:ti•l:~ trr,, .. n~-~ ~l~t.. ;1 . . :~~t ~·~-;~('~.t!.' ~J"\ \ ._
. ;. There is a. mo<le. of
illustration :and ' embeliishr:nent,rtiften:?
'.:..'
•'.
.
:
.' ' .
-.
. '%'
,.' found in the productions of good writers;,.whi~h ~.1 t\loug~ ·o~ .. :,~
:'.,· the nature of the comparison, is: worthy of.separ.ate' a.ttention,(1~
''· · I refer to what are · called ALLUSIONS. ' ff wilL~ at i, once ~ be,,~7.;,·!'
.: . ·seen, that though they differ in form from.·~ the \ comparispn}~ ~t
, · ~ they are of the same nature, and ' their intro'duc~,~onr~tde~~~d~/)
~> on' similar principles. · ·Like comparisons lthey ·ar.e Jl~ustra•.: ·.·
:~' ,tiv: , and give us pleasure from the discov~i'y . of:~~~'~pected~ 1'.-1.
;~: es~mb] ances, or coincidenc~s " of11thou~,~t ·: ~t~,{press~<m. 6. , ~::~
· ',- If;' too' the comparison, when drawii· fro,(~l!f-?,Ome fail'JSCene· inJ, ~:
I
~
:.nature "or some finished work":of. art,-a" gives'' m~ :pleasure iby. ].:'t:
··,;\ directi~g the mind to that 11Vhicti'; causes(i~ ¥t'~efuf e!J!?tion._ ·: ''.
•

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F.liile

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ON LITERAltY ' TASTE•

liberty is secured. W El may speak of civil government as an
edifice, and of the helps used in rearing it, as scaffolding.
But if we try to trace out that which may correspond to the
flying dust, the falling bricks, the comfortless rooms, and
other circumstances mentioned, it is without success. Still
the metaphor strikes us favorably~ for though the imagination cannot trace out the particulars, it is' aid ed in bringing
to the mind a general view of the effect. Let us now suppose that the example had read, "They pull down the scaffolding from the half-finished edifice, they point to the dust
of dispute, the falling bricks of contention, the comfortless
rooms of an exhausted treasury, the frightful irregularity
of the whole appearance of government ; and then ask in
scorn, where the promised splendor and comfort is to be
found." This would have been pursuing the metaphor too
far ; it would be called strained, and good taste would coil·
demo it. Hence then we derive the caution, not to pursue
the.figurative application of language too fa1-.

"'

·~

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ON Ll'rERARY TASTE.

LITEHARY TAS'l E.

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

"Every day you are fatigued and disgusted with this cant 7. ·The
Carnatic is a country that will imon recover, and :becQme. instantly u
p~osperous as ever. They think they are talking- to i~noce~u;, wh~
believe that by the 11owing of dragon's teeth, men may po~e ~p
grown _and ready made ." ·
• -;. "'.:··~~ · · •,~~-·~..:;: '~---~ ·... 1

the same is true of the allusion. Our attentiou is directed
to some classical writer, or to some well krH wn popular
writer of the day, or to some recent event,-the imagination
jg set in exercise, - grateful associations are excited, and
the effect is happy. Some examples of the Allusion will
now be given.
Example I. Burke, in his character of Lord Chatham,
has the following passage :

rcadv

')1-i.~t·i -. , ~- =#.- :.~::t~r ·. ~:t
In dassical allusions of this form, the writer ~s ,.not con-;
fined within so narrow limits, as in those of the preceding.
~tilli care should be had, that what is thus . alluded. to should
be generally known. Miss H. More is a writer, 'who hae
not sufficiently observed ·t his . cauiion. ~ ,We not . ~nf!equently
find ~lassical allu~io~s in her , w~itings,: of,';Y.h~ch~~;'L.~~h~~-J1!~:,
classical student, 1t 1s no shame to be ignorant. '}:Sh :;·,1.;_:~;,·~':i-,....,
Example 3. - A writ~r, descri~ing ~~J.; -infl~.enc,e , of, the'
·: :,,. . : '"
American revolution, says,
•

" His is a great and celebrated name; a name which keeps the
name of this country respectable over any other on the globe. It ma)'
be trulv called,
Clnrum et venernbile nomcn
Gcntibus, et multum nostrre quod proderit urbi." .

1'his is called a classical allusion, and to those who have
classical associations, such allusions are always pleasing.
They are connected with the days of our youth, and with
scenes, the memory of which is grateful to us. They refer
us also to those pages, where our tastes have been formed,
and our minds disciplined and furnished with knowltuge.
It will at once occur, that allusions in the form of the example given, should never be made, except in production!.
which are primarily addressed. to those who are familiar with
the language of the quotation. Should a preacher of the
present day imitate in this respect the sermons of Jeremy
·Taylor, he would justly incur the charge of pedantry. But
in addresses to deliberative assemblies, or to literary associations; or on public national celebrations, or even where
classical scholars are found, allusions of this kind may occ!l·
sionally be introduced with a happy effect.
Example 2. In some instances of classical allusions the es
1s a reference to facts found in classical writers, without .,
quotation in a foreign language. · Of this an example is
given by Burke in his speech on the Camatic war.

·.,;-~ 1

1

•

·.• •

•

"From Ottr revolutionary struggle, proceeded the . revolution' m
France, and all which has followed in Naples, Portugal; Spain and
Greece; and though the bolt of every chain haf! been again driven',
they can no more hold · the heaving mass, than the · chains of Xerxe_1
could hold the Hellespont vexed with storms."

.·. . . ,_, ...·. . · . . 'Ti" _:
-~

.~l.

~

0-~

. .2

This is a historical allusion: ·~- In most '. instanof'.S ·.. of ; this'
kind the design is to illustrate. ' The c~u_tion the~js· p~du­
liarly necessary, that in historical allusions· the facts· hllud_e~
. to be such as are generally known. · · Otbenvise ·'such~llu-"
sions will only throw a deeper shade on _those objects,_which
'i ,: ; , ~;: ". ·
~ · ~< _ ••
they were designP,d to illuminate. ·
: Example 4. There are some instance.s in which historical ~' t~:·
I .
. .· .
. allusions are designed not only to illustrate,.· b~t to ·awaken ; - .·;;-:
, grateful emotions. Such is the~ following from .. Ev_~~~tt~~ ; :· ;~-. _.:
Address ·
· ' ·' ·\·\;:•'_i:: ffC\;;:_<~,'.~ · -~:
'-~ '
'
)
-_: - -, "" ·~~~:c ~~~ ~.1;..- : .~
;.
. : ·s.r(;.r ·.nv~ . t.~~R.f.~..,"'''°" ~ ~{-I

·......

">

• ;~",. . -~. ·.· " Lincoll)., and Gr:eene, and Knox, and Hamilton,
are,'.;'gone
;. · ihe.. ··~"'!Ii->·
,..
. ... ' -:-... /
'
...
· · ~ heroes of Saratoga and Yorktown have fallen before .the'fa1ly foe thff ·. '
·
~

:

-~> ~-uld not meet."

. . -·

.,

~,

~:~\,~li;W ::~~-;~·:{i~;-4~JV~~ . . . ~·~[

1

· ~- ·.. , Historical allusions of this_kind, which : ~rmg to · v\ew)m:.~l · .~":L

!

I

.,.

..
-l.

96

ON LITERARY TASTE.

ON LITERARY TASTE.

1tellation of rem<?te, but .never failing lumi~\t~ies, wh,o. ~h,inc hi th~
highest firmament of literature, and who, Iik~ n'lorn\ng sta,rs, sang~­
gether at the bright dawning of British Poetry." ·: '' '', - ·' . · '' - -_

portant events or characters in the history of a nation, are
ever grateful to the people of that nation. Hence they are
so often found in public addresses on occasions of national
celebrations, and serve to gratify the pride of national feeling. One caution may well be given respecting allusions
of this kind - that they be not worn out, or such as are too
commonly made.
Example 5. The following is an English classical allusion. Milton, who was a contemporary with Cromwell,
was a zealous republican. He wrote much and ably against
the mona;chical and aristocratical institutions of his time
and, in so doing, condemned many of those elegant amusements which were congenial to his own feelings.

~.:.

" He sacrifices his private tastes and feelings, that he might do what
he considered his duty to mankind. It is the very struggle of the
noble Othello. His- heart relents, but his hand is firm. He doe11
nought in hate, but all in honor. He kisses the beautiful deceiver
before he destroys her.

This allus10n is to the Othello of Shakspeare; and such
is the rank and antiquity of his writings, that allusions to
passages found in them, are regarded much in the same
manner as classical allusions. We have in fact our English
classical writers, who have outlived their century, and who,
from their preeminence, may be . supposed to be familiarly
known by every English scholar. ' To such writers it is lawful to make allusions as those who~e works should be known;
and such allusions, when happily introduced, will please Ufl
in the same manner and degree, as those made to the an
cient classics.
Example 6. The following example is from Irving, and
is taken from his account of James of Scotland, the " Royal
Po Pt."
11

James is evidently worthy of being enrolled in that little cen

,

.

~-

.

This beautiful passage affords an ex!lmple of · ;i Scriptural
allusion, and is highly pleasing. Allusions qf this ki\'}d will
always l>e well understoC>d, and pften, from their elevated
nature, add much to the beauty of writ;11gs. B,µt there is
need of caution in their use.
With the example that has been given, no fault can be
found . . It is rather to be commended as an emb,cllishment.
But too frequently is it the case, that . t~~ ,.sarp_~ ,irmqc~ncy
cannot be affirmed of allusions to o.ur sacred , writipg~:
This remark is not meant to imply, tpat sl1.ch . 141µ~,io,n~
should riever be made, except when the subject of discqws~
is of a serious or religio1111 n;,tture'. It is ~nough ~p~_t ih~
sµbject be one of importance, that it h~Y,~ ~ome , d_igl)ity }~h,
tached to it, and that ther.e. ~e µo~hing l~~fCfPW! ,qr, .~rrn~µ,g·, _ •
J:,et ludicrous or tri~ing assoc~ations be ;cp11nem~rf ,:witP...: i! :
passage of Scriptµre, JlQd whenev~r this p<J.s,sage 1 P)e,~ts; -,i;>pf .· - ~ ·
attention, eve-n in our tpos~ i:;op~r ho~ir~, _ th,~ry }f}.JJ, b~ ;,<f.119gC1f . , :
that these al-3sociations will come with it, · and exert .an ;im( ;'
favorable influence on . th~ ,st11te . <;if .our~ f~_elings ~):c; ;B~~.~qes, _ ,~
there is something .'which savors mucp qf prqfap.lty }n- ",~u,ch {. .
allusions to Scripture; it shows, that that reverence is not._-;,.J; ··
felt for it, which, as God's word, it should command. • 1 . '" ,_ ~ '.·t
.; • 'fhese
remarks
are
intended
to be appiied ' with
most
strict~
,
.
' .
.
. .
I
" .:. ...,
•
.
ness to the introduction of the la~guage
.S.<!rip~~f~· :·. 'f~h~~~,·~,'f.ef
. may be instances in whi~h we may innocently make /.us~!·~:~, ':::
m .t qe :way of allusion, of Jii~tqrical f~cts fqµnd ,i9 _~·<??p,tuiei::~::. -.. ;
~

r-: . ,

ot

·~·t:t.'•

~~

,, .·- .~l;ien the introdµc_tion · p.f · a.. p,hr~~~ qr,:· se~_i~~~P.tf~?:rtj~!l\~~~?··
~~ )~me sourc,e, would n:i~mf~stly ' P~ ,,mpr,?P~~h i .'.flittf r~.~P.Jt;.~;t=··,

w~ ~t t~_is disti°'ction js o~yious. ,; Q.u( a~s_o,c~~ti1?!),efit'f~th · -P~~;; ~
: · ticular fnrms of ,expr.ession ,ar,e cl~se . !ln.d :~Jr.9_~ g j-' Jy,1tJ1J~P.ts/"·~., •
• • . ., much less so. There is more need · of"' cati1ion. ~Iso, ~be-: t' ~/ (" ~
-

:t

,

9

;;A7f·.·-1

I

,_ "''':-

- -i

··_ -.'-

·-

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

~· · .:~

- • -~;,.
'
: '·, ·;i,;'

-..,~~- --

I.! ..,

ON UTERARV • TASTE t

ON LITERARY 'fASTE.

ca~se the temptations in one case are much more frequenl

than in the other. From the antiquity of our translation
of the Bible, there is often a quaintness in its expressions,
nnd their introduction may give a point to some satirical
remark, or furnish a striking form for some sally of wit. nut
we should beware. Scripture is a pure ~tream, flowing fcrth
from the throne of God, and it should never be nnde tQ
reflect the fantastic images of human folly.
In the productions of writer-;; of taste, there are many
allusions made to the literature of the times. When any lit·
crary prcduction gains telebrity, it is supposed to be known
to literary men ; and allusions may be made to such writings
without incurring the charge of obscurity, and often with a
favorable effect. · Such allusions form a kind of bond be·
tween literary men. They are the language of the frater·
nity, and one cause of the pleasure which they afford, is
found in the complacency and pride which are felt in being
able to unllerstand them. It is unnecessary to give many
examples of this class of allusicn1s. Two only will be brought
forward, which furnish opportunity for some additional
remark.
Example 7. The following passage 1s from Greenwood
o~ the eternity of God:
'' A stone perhaps may tell some wanderer where we lie, when Wr!
came here 1 and when we went away; but even that will soon refuse ~
to bear us record :. ' time 's effacing fingers' will be busy on its surface,
and at length will wear it smooth."

~I

oeen cit,.~d, will be l'ead, is much greater'j .: than if the same~ ...
tnought had been expressed without the allusion;~~!,.... \~,.. .{ %if
We have in this instance .·an example,'.'9f met~od ·oft~~t
resorted to by writers in ·prose to embellish theii
tions. Poetry is the language of the · imagination. ~ · Its aim
ia to please; and hence the happy introduction "of poetical .
language is justly considered an ornament of prose:· Poetry
1tlso allows of inversions of clauses, and of the use .of words
· forbidden to prose; and heric~ it enables a write~ to convey.
a thought in a sententious and . striking . ~anner;:';:But .-h~re
the caution may be given;· not ·to irttrod~ce poetical e~pre#~.
sions with great frequency. To say _in · vei:se ' whf.a. ~igh.~:'as ~:
well be said in prose, and thus to be continually jnt~oduci~g ~ '.. '-\
scraps of poetry, may shew a familiarity with poetictal 'wriiers;·i '. ;:·~
but is ~o evidence of a good literary taste, \'·", ~.'..~·tr,:;;.:·~(.~''f . ·.r.,;v
· Example 8. As another example, I · quote the · followi~g ~ °' ~, ;;
passage:
~ ·.
·
!r.~~ :·' ' )z~.~~;: :~·~·,:t . .1it; . '~~··

,a

f

,.

•

••

"No sooner does he {W. Irving) catch a gli~p~e or'tl1e ·~~ne;:bJ~7
,
Kaatskill, lifting its shaggy head over its white ruff of ambieni ·clouds/
and frowning on the glorious Hudson as it rolls below l no ' sooner. do 1 __ ,, ·
the a_ntique gable-roofed d~m~s ·o~t~rn Man?aito~s .~n~ Aib~ny;_.~f ~iie :, ~(~f·~:
classic shades of Comm um paw rise upon his fancy;·lhan .his f9ot is. on . ·1.,.
his n.ative h~ath, and his niuiie is .M'Gregor. 1 ~/ ,~~;,.(J~~,;-.;~;,~;~~f;t·<~~:'."';~~;~.; !<'
.

.

-

' ....~f. .. \.J,. ~~ - ~"' 'i"\~.~-r.,._.._ ~~'

.

"t'.

~

.....!

Here the allusion is to one of the popular roma_nces .o(the. :.:?·
day, and hence it is undetst?od and is pleasing.,' ~('.': ~(·: ?t,~J/1::., ,:y
~ Example 9. The followmg example ·is from · a' review of'1t l:'.:··
the works of Milton. The 'author is stating" the!° fa~t ~ that~,~~d'if­
"" while, in the time of the English rebellion;· oth~rs ~er~ desi•: : ·.. · .,
_f · r?us ~nly o~ reforming some prevalent abuse~: it ~~ }\f,i!t?n'~,.i;}.
· ,'• . 'Ill
to attam the freedom , of the human
mmd
~.•to , elivet
· . ·.• _'
,
'
.<!;
, ,...
~....;,· en from moral and intellectual slavery:;~ J~~{_' · ltJ..S~i~~l<ht;(· :'.~V~·
~

The quotation in this passage is from one of the popu.at
poets of the day. The allusion to the admirable description
where it is originally found, will be perceived and relished
by erery man of taste who is familiar with the writings of
Byron; and the pleasure, with which the passage that baa

produc;i

~

I

•

•

:~

,.,,.. •

•... '

~·

~,. , . f
·:
·- :. -··r · 't._11. ... Milton

'. .
.
I"~, :Jl''t"'''iY'I'., ;.'~:r~><•. 'i;:;w~~ --~\~;,"
was
desirous
that
the
people
should
ithi~k• fo"
~
._.,
A. •.~h.emeel;e~, /.
- ...·/
,._. ·
·' . ,' 111; well as tax
themselves,
and
be
delivered
~
from
,
the
:
<Iominioit
of
~-;.,;i,,:i:
.
'
-_,. ·•..
!
I
'
~o
Jri:\ i:;_: . ..-.;;
~ preju.dice, as well as from that of Charles,· : He. knew; that thoee ,: ;~\ '.}'
i wh~ with tne best intention• overlooked these "schen{es of reform, and ' ". l:{'.'
.-1 •

.

..,.

)
'

'
'

.'

~..

'··

'

.

I

•

.

I

.

",

.--JOO

ON Ll'l'ERARY TASTE.

..........mll!lt

.
-~

........
.
'.

r.·4.."

ON LI'l'EllARY • TASTE.
-~~~~~~~~~~~~~~--'~~~~~~~~--~...;

contented themselves with pulling down the king and imprisoning thl!
malignants, acted like the heedless brothers in his own poems. who, iu
theill' eagerness to disperse the train of the sorcerer neglected th-9
means of liberating the captive. They thought only of conqueriug,
when they should have thought of disenchanting.
O, ye mistook. Ye should have snatched the wand.
Without the rod reversed,
And backward mutters of dissevering power,
We cannot free the lady that sits there,
Bound in strong fetters, fixed and motionless.'
1'o reverse this rod, to spell the charm backwards, to break the tie1
that_bo.und a stupefied people to the seat of enchantment, was the noble
!l.im of Milton.''

In this example, a striking passage selected from the works

I
I
I

!

which the reviewer is examining, is use<l as an illustration,
and the effect is good. The pleasure which it affords us, is
similar to that derived fr~m a sprightly turn in conversation.
We all know; that it adds much to the point of a witty remark,
when its author has founded it on an expression just dropped
by an.o ther. There is a suddenness about it, which is an evidence that it is not premeditate<l, and which is pleasing to
Something of the same kind of pleasure, is without
us.
doubt felt, in meeting with allusions of the class to which the
preceding example belongs.
Example 10. I shall give but one example more of the
Allusion, and that is worthy of notice from the manner of
its introduction. It is sometimes the case, that a writer
meets with a suitable object of allusion in the productions
of somn author, whose writings are either in a language unknown to most of his readers, or not of sufficient reputation
o be regarded as classical. In such instances, the only way
is to state the fact or story, and then on this statement found
the al~usion. One caution in such cases should always be
remembered. : Be sure that the allusion is of sufficient im·
portance to jt.i'3tify so formal an introduction. And if evet
this is the case, it surely is so in the following example :

' II Ariosto tlllls a ..'retty story of a fairy' ,wfo?,· ·by._ some ,myste_
rioll!'
law of her nature 1 !Vas. condemned to app~ar '. at._9ertnin seasons)i,a
the form of "\ foul and poisonous snake. Those .. who injured her
.
"•
..
f •'
during this period of her disguise, were forever _e xcluded from participation in the blessings she bestowed. Dui to ' those / wh~, in spite
of her loathsome asp~ct, pitied and protected her, she afterwards
revealed herself in the beautiful and celestial form which was natural to her; accompanied their footsteps, granted all their wishe1.11
filled their houses with wealth, _made. them happy in love, and victorious in war. Such a spirit is Liberty. At times she takes the form
of a hateful reptile. She grovels, she hisses, she stings. But woe
to those who in disgust sha~I venture to crush .Jier.. And : happy u,re
those, who, having dared to receive her in her degrade<!. :and frightful
shape, shall at length be rewarded by her in the, time of her beauty
and glory." .
· ' t ~. ,,, '"' ·-'
.r·.
1

·.

~

..

'

-.

~

• ••

, r r ,

~

~·

In the arrangement of the preceding .examples of allusion, reference is had to the division of our associations into
universal a1 d arbitrary, which has been made by intellectual
philosophers. Classical allusions, whether to standard authors in our own or foreign lar;guages, Historical allusions,
and Scriptural allusions, come under the head of those of
universal association. Other instances are those of arbi
trary associations. From noticing this distinction it may be
seen, why, in the writings of our best authors,---: those who
write with the hope of being read when other writers of the
age are forgotten, - allusions of the former class are much
more frequent, than of the latter. The passing e.vents of
. . the day 1 and the ephemeral productions . of the . age, will
soon be forgotten; and though an allusion to· them may at
first cast some light on the passages ;where they are found,
at a later time, and iri a different place, s~ch ~- allusions will .
,. only tend to darken what before · they illuminated;' Not .t so
: t<: with allusions founded on associations, that ap_~ univer~al. ·
-.:
1
: ..;, While t':ie works from which_they are derlv~J go down' ·10
'.'"
;: posterity, gathering new adrnirati_on in th~~r · progress, th~ -~
tllusions are understood, and constitute a ,bond of connexi~n
.;
g•
.
•

;,

It

-l02

------

...
ON LITERARY TASTE

betweeu the liternry men of different ages, being drawn from
the same comrnou storehouse of imagery and facts.
The Comparison, Metaphor, and Allusion, are founded
on the fondness of the mind for tracing unexpected rescrn·
blance:;;. There are other relations which give rise to other
attempts to please. One thing is the cause of another ;
here is the relation of callse and effect. One thing is the
symbol of another; here is thp relation of the sign to the
thing signified. We look on the goblet, and we think of
· the generous wine with which it is wont to be filled ; here
is the relation of the container to the thing contained.
Again, one thing is part of another ; here is the relation of
a part to the ~hole. One thing is a species in relation to
another which is its genus; here is the relation of the specie&
to the genus.
The relations which have now been stated, ai e not often
formally referred to with the design of illustration or ornament; but instances frequently occur, in which they are
implied and suggested to t~e mind by the peculiar use of a
word. The manner in which this is done, has been already
rhewn in the case of the l\1etapl1or.
To give examples of the different tropes, or figure 5 ,
foupded on these several relations, would Le of little practi. cal advantage. Besides, in these instances, the writer does
not found his attempts to please solely on the fondness of
the mind for dis?overing unexpected relations. Most frequently it is his wish to increase the distinctness of the
reader's view, or in some other way to excite an emotion oi
taste. Instead then of making these different figures, i\S
the Metonymy, Synecdoche, Metalepsis and others, disti
objects of attention, I shall more fully explain the nature
the figurative use of language, and in another chapter, when
treating of vivacity, as a quality of style, give examples o(
\he most important of these figures.
1

.IO~

ON LITERARY TASTE,•

A word is said to be used literally ,i 'fhen it is u~ed_jn : .~
manner, which is authorized .by ,,th!3 ;: gene},al ;p9nse~L,c;>.[
hose who speak . and write with coqec,tµe!S~.: th~ Jangl,iag~~
m which it is . found A word is used. :,figuratix~ly, ;_:rv,h.~~~
though it retains . its usual signification, . ~~ . ~s applie.d ,ht ·a
manner different . froM its common ,;applicatio~. :i 'Y.h.~11 · 1
speak of the pillar which . supports the , ,e~i.fice,,;, I : use ~hj
word pillar literally, or as it is usually applied . PY : .!AO§.~
who speak the English language . . If I ~ay, of ,!\ . man, ; Jh.at
.he is the pillar of the S_tate, i.still use th~ ~wor(pi?fm:jn)t~
' common signification, ,as , denoting tli,~t,,\Yl}i!?h,;;~~m.IYA~~PJ
gives a solid support, .but .J : apply, ,\he W..<?x:d1J9_.~.1>; ; 9.!>j~~t -~W1 .
ferent from those to which it .is usually appli~d. tf<.l~~lE:lll.~L~f
a solid mass of wood, or stone, the object to whicl;i .~t i~ <!tP.;
plied, is an intelligent being ; and instead of ~~µpporting 'a
material edifice, it is the support . qf the f?tate. / flJ..is,; t.~eµ,
is an example of the figurative use Qf langu.age. -·1 ~:· ';' h.i"~•
. It might be expected, that from their . be.ing ',ft_e n us~d ii;
a manner different from their common literal .. us;:;;·the signifi.:cations of this class of w:ords ~oµlcl. in ·1 time . IJ!3 _.s.1,1bje~i .H>.
change. And this, in examin~ng the .histwy-.of;,;i language, ,
is often found to be th~_ ca_se. ,Jn our . o:rvn.d angQ,age, , t.~~t~.
.are many words, which wer.e at first litera,lly · appljeJ t O;-;n.<J.; .. ·.
terial objects only, and figuratively used . to , denote. tho~e,
which are intellectual. · Ma.ny of these have ·now ialtogether
lo1;lt thei~ original. meaning, and retain . ·?-11.~Y \ t_haf'\~e~ived _
from their figurative use. Who ~ould now speak of the ·
.
I
'
'-~
appr~liension of a cliair, or of the ardor .ofi liis..fi.r,e ?f'.t'J}ut
such, in their orig;inal signific~tion, ,was _the ,c<?~l~WH .~~'H!..f_.
these words . . In other. _instances, ~h.er<~i~~h~ .; si~!.~S~~i?!f
of the word in its literal use has ·not .become,. obsolete, .~ the

~.<1aning

derived.

fr~m', it~~.~gur~~i!,~ ~~i:?~~~i~J4'~e;1~{'~~~:
,
' · .. , , "'. ' ·1;1."~'•t l [ 'h (::...r--• 1,li~i,. ; .

gested.
, It may be said, · if thi.s .~h~ng~-; is 1m~gr~~s.iyp, ·,'.~9d.- ,t_h , :
.

I

!

.

.

"

.

'

··

. ON LITERARY TASTE.

ON LITERARY •rASTE •
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~---

fueaning of a word, as used figuratively, supersecles the on
ginal literal signification, how are we to determine, in re.
sped td a woi:d thus changing,1 whether it be usecl figurative·
iy literally? The answer is, that whenever a word of this
Class ceases to have ahy influence on tlie imagination, in
leading it to trace out an unexpected relation, it is 110 Ion•
get Used figuratively, but its figurative meaning has become
its literal.

ot

· . The changes · in a language introduced by the figurative
use of words, are attended with inconvenience, so far as
they cause uncertainty in the signification of terms. But
this inconvenience is amply compensated by the advantage.'3
resulting froni the sar,ne source. Some of these I shall here
mention;

1. The figurative use of words increases the copiousness
of a language. It has already been stated, that when a
word is used figuratively, its original tneaning is retained,
but this meaning is modified by the new application which
is made. These new applications, then, are to be regarded
as modifications of the original meaning of the word, and
the effect is similar to the multiplying of derivatives from
the radi?al terms of a language. The following uses of the
word " tide" illustrate this remark.
· " What a tide of woes come rushing on this woful land '
" The tide of blood in me hath proudly flowed in vanity. '
~' There is a tide in the affairs of men."

, Now these different applications of the word tzde do 11\
fact so modify its meaning, that the effect is the same, as if
so many new words had been i1:itroduced into the language
Thus it is that a language is made rilore copious.
2. As a necessary consequence from the preceding, the
richness of language is increased. We have a greater variety of terms and expressions for c0nvcyi11g t!ie same

thought, or describing .the .same object, and , are.· ery,,~le:~. ~
rnark with distinctness minute !shades ·Of .difference ;m, our
thoughts and in the appearance ·of .objects:.- · ?~o, illustrate
this remark, I introduce several different w_ays m w~c~..th~
shining of the Sun is represented ;
,; }: , .'· t·; ·
,, .
i .•.

.!

_..,.'

" Behold the Sun hath burst the Eastern gates,
An i all i1is splendor floods the towered walls."
- .....
" And when the Sun begins to fling
"
His flaring beams."
;. .
" Right against the eastern gate,
Where the great Sun begins /tis .stat~ .. . 1 ..
, ", , .. ,, ; i
Rob'd in flames and atnber light." · ·
" . ·
"Thou'rt purpling now, 0 Sun, the vines ofC~naan, " ·: -.· '
And crowning with rich light the cedar tops of.Lebanon ·' · :: ·
"Thou Sun,
The quiver of thy noontide rays
Exhaust in all their fiery blaze."
... ,l
- - - " a dazzling deluge reigns." " The western wa'IJes of ebbing day
Rolled o'er the glen their level way,
Each purple peak, each flinty spire,
Was bathed in.floods of living fire."
1 Phmbus bade Jarewellto every ~eaf and flower. ,
'~

The aid derived from the figurative use of words in pomting out minute differences in the appearance. of· obje~ts,
may be learnt from the following expressi~ns which describe
the passage of light.
_,
" A peculiar melancholy reigns over the aisle where Mary lie•
buried. The light struggles . dimly through windo,ws darkened_ by
~
~
"tr• ~~ '
dust."
,:.

u The last beams of day were now faintly
painted windows in the_high vaults above me."

.".

'

•

• •

<

strtamin~' 'th~;ugh
.

.. •
1

·,
1

·; '.

,the

':;?'" ~ ;._'

"The time shall come, .w hen the garish sunbeam shal~ break mto
1
.these gloomy mansions of deal~:" . ·,
... : ·~' ' J ., :1;·T.' t
-; .
1

. , The advant1 ges derived from ,the Jigurative use of word.

106

ON

LITERARY TASTE.

in giving copiousness and richness to a language, are not
confined to descriptive writing. Without aid of this kind,
it would be difficult Jor the intellectual philosopher to con.
duct his reasoning and explain the phenomena cif the mind.
3. The increased power of language may be mentioned
as a third particular, in stating the advantages arising from
the use of figurative terms. By the increased power of language, I here refer to its influence on the distinctness of
our viiaws, and in -exciting the feelings and emotions of
which we are susceptible. The passages quoted when treating of vivacity as a quality of style, illustrate this remark.
I shall therefore state but few instances here, and these
without comment.

..

- - - - - " Men looked up
With mad disquietude on the dull sky,
The pall of a past world ."
_ "Thoughts rush in stormy darkness through the soul.
" It broke the Sablmtli stillness round."
"The heavens present an immense concave reposing on the
circular boundary of t!IP world."

A fondness for life and animated beings in preference to
·inanimate objects, may· be stated as one of the principles in
:man,· on which attempts to excite emotions of taste are
;founded. ·w henever, therefore, a writer causes the imagi·
nation of his readers to regard inanimate objects, or such as
_ hav~ an existence in the mind only, as 'living and acting, or
havrng the properties of a living being, such attempts, if authorized. by the subject and occasion, are approved by lit_e rary taste This is called PERSONIFICATION.
There are different ways in which the imagination is kd
.to give life to inanimate objects. Sometimes it is by a di·
r~ct address to them as listening, sometimes by a description of them as ~cting, and sometimes by merely ascribing
·to them the properties of' intelligent or animated being8.

ON LITERARY TASTE.

Examples of these different methods wilh be giv,~nj ac_c om· panied with such remarks as 'may fully shew the ' nature of .
11uch attempts and the ~ cautio~s t,o be o~~~rve.d _in ~ .~-heir use.
Example 1. The followmg much , admired mstan~e of
persomfication is from Milton. _ It is the language_ of Eve :on
leaving Paradise.
; :_ ,-;
': - ""- r : · y_: :-': z
"Must I leave thee, Paradise? thus leaye -· ~ - : 1:
· .;.
_Thee, native soil, these happy walks aud shades, -- :
Fit haunts of Gods! where I had hoped to spend, Quiet though sad, the respite of tltat day .
That must.,be mortal to us both? 0 flowers, ·
That never will in ~ther climates grow,
:
·
My early- ~isitation, -and 'my last - •-:!:; ''; · -{_.·r::•1 -":: \'i·~·i
At even, which I bred up with tender hand ·F~ ' ·V~L· ·.~•si;r"
From the first opening bud, and gave you names, ,;_.; :::; i
Who now shall rear you to the sun, or rank - -- ..... ·~lli.
. l:Ift'
'·: _.

.:ll

"1;t

Your tribes, arid w~ter fro~ th~ ~m~r~~~~8:1; _fo~~t{ · · ' '/' '.:··:,:v

•

In this example, the garden with the different ~ objects.:. it
contains, are addressed as having life and intelligence., , Eve
parts from them, -as from friends with . whom , sh~ pas long ,
been familiar, and whom she fondly loves. · -.What is m.<J~t prominent in all instances of .this kind o( p~rs~nification;_·- is, · _ .
that they result from strong emotio~; · a~d thi~ , ~':1gge_~ts ~o.i;1~__ ~:~-'. important rule respecting them. · , Pe~_sonific.:.,ation_s ·:,~l~'~~e. . ~--L'.~

bolder kind should never be intro,duced, t:xcept , io~en. ,tliere_;:t! · ·
•
•
.
. ' ' ' :· ''!t {~tr- .. · " ·:;.1.'·!:f,JC. - i<f\·!
strong excitement. _ ·
·
, r:- · ~ ·· ·J _ ·. ' ' • t-;;, ';)'.:~
r;"1 ~, - -,f
•
· ·l r. r• , •

•

~

Personification, both of inanimate objects, : and of , such; a~ _< ·_
have au existence ·only in the mind, are , frequently
foun~· 'inr ~. :-::/
'
the commencement of poetical effusions. -Tl\e p~et, fjtr.w~~ ·' t::·-. _
with them as objects of beauty, or grandeur; oi: "s~~li.~~~i, \,j}":~t
become& highly excited, and br~aks for~h :in -~~;i,.d~.r~~r.~o ::;; -~?
the~, as if they could_ hear his -~tram~~-. -~~~;if~~~1~~i~:,~;~
praises.
· · W"'~ ~'t ~' ·~ i~"iK ·•lr·"f(· "- ': f·
, 'Exalillple 2. The following example_~f.,.~,!iis.••~~~d)e,,~~!!:'
'
- '' ~ ·<"!;., !.\:rt
' ., .. ~~.:~. ~-- ~~~"i~
'
~
·. "-. ·' , ·. /,.,. -~f.;4'-.d/
Ak ens1'de.
·~·!:;,(3>

4

.

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.

I ,

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.
tos

ON LITERARY TASTE.

"Indulgent Fancy! from the fruitful ·oat ks
Of Avon, whence thy rosy fingers cull
: Fresh flowers and dews, to sprinkle on the turf
"\IV here Shakspeare lies, be present."

ln this example, there is a personification of a f1,culty .of
the mrnd - that which exists only as an object ol thought
or consciousness. Instances of this kind are comrnon and
' in·
from their frequency do not appear so bold, as those of
animate material objects; but they are often just!y regardLike
ed as happy attempts to excite emotions of tas~~.
comparisons in which intellectual are illusl.rated hf material
things, they assist the mind in the distinctness ot its views.
They also often bring before the mind an object or scene,
in the view of which, from some original tendency of the
mind, or from some association, an e'motion of beauty i"I
excited. In the instance just stated, imagination causes a
fair form to rise before us, whose occupation it is to " cull
fresh flowers frotn the banks of the rivers," and ·" sprinkle
dews on poets' graves," and we regard the image presentE><l
with an emotion of beauty.
·
The most important caution to he observed in the introiduction of personifications of the kind we are considering
11s, t!tat tlte object addressed be one of sz!lficient dignity and
!importance. Should a writer address his inkstand, or his
, paper, as beings of life and intelligence, the effect would
rbe unfavorable.
It will be noticed, that in the examples of personification
<Which 'have been cited, inanimate objects and objects of
'thought are addressed as living agents. · The writer calls
upon them as beings that can hear and act. Examples will
•now be given, in which inanimate objects and objects of
thougnt are described as acting and possessing the qualitie1
of living beings. These instances form a second class of
,j>P,rsonification~, bei[lgJess ,bold than those before stated

ON ,LJTERARY" TASTE.

Example 3. ·\ ~he followii:ig ·example 1_1s from Milton;';"r:,··(
; v; ~':"[ ..-~<~t~r~~~~~; ..A~~.;.,j.t!;;~ ,1~ · .~~;;:!·_.:~. ~~~~~--

,"

i'·.•

"So saying, her rash hand in evil hour/;:'. : :~:' . ~, · ... -~ ., J ·•. ) ';:.''
1
Forth teaching tb the fruit, she ·p hicked ·:she 'ate. r,, ·. :t 1·'1 / ' : • ·'.
, .
. '. ''" . ~-··~ .
Earth felt the wound, and Nature from her, seat, ·.,;j .•tr~:.f"· t-;.t · .<
Sighing through all her works, gave signs of woe ; . . ''· ~ ~
That all was lost."
· •'
': ..
·•2·.
~ ; !'·

,,.,.t,;-.,. . ; . ., ~

. .. J.:,"-._i;;, t· - ~

In this example, ~arth, an inanimate ;tnaterial object, 'is . described as feeling, and Nature, an "object of thought;~ es .
acting. Though so high ·an excitement of the / tnintl is not
required to justify "the inttoduction' of'a.\tlesotiptive persott~· ..
fication, such as is here given; as is · he~essaty' lo .:authorize ·.
a personi11cation ~f the preceding · class;-~ stlll , 0that' ex~itement '.'
must existto a. considerable degree. 'Had 'not <the oc~·asio11 .
been one of great ·importance, 'and the " evei:_!~ ·one regarded .
with deep interest, the personifications tif 'the ;earth •and / of
nature her.e found, 'would ·not be approved. ,;·But so important was tl1e occasion, and so inotllentotJs ~the· event, thlltlhe
· method of .description here : adopted; 'is ~ i.n •agreement ·. with
our excited 'feelings: ·Hence, "'then,, ·the 1caution .. 'giYen d n >
reference to the fotm~r .class of petso~i~ciitions, 1;~s;,applje~able 'i ·'"'
in some degree. to this. ,, · . i•'. . 'i . · r, ~', .;[,n'.;;.·
~
. .; ·w#~~,
.
.. ~~iiiJs~>:>,f
·.
.:_
Instances; ·it1 ·which objects ' 1of! th<mght 1are.~representeff~ as .. :.
acting ·and exhibitiug :the 1qualities of :-active' anll ' intelligen~
~
beings, are frequent. · One principal design ·of:such personi·' · . ·~::.~
fications, as before temarkedl is to aid the _mind . in the distinctness of its ~onceptions. :
: ·:,; ·; . \. · '_, · . , . ·1 ~- ,,,
Example 4. The following example of t~is kind . is ./i;,9~
Hooker;
· . .... • ·
;-''.<- · .·:- 1:(1 ::. -t11fo, ··ftti•/:)«
i-!_f~
l ·.
;··: · i> ,,·~ ...
~1 ~~1~,&\if:,,!< ~..;_ :~:.n;~\;{!
· ,,~'OJ law, there can be no lees acknowledge,4, than ,W~t ~he~ 1 eeat . ,~
1

1

~

.

.......~

'·'c. .

. tile bosom of God, her voice the harmony .of the world . .·, All . thingi
i.d1.~aven and earth do he.r homag~ ; . th~ ~er,1 ~ le~h· ail' te~ling l he~ '.
tare,' and the greatest · as not exempted 'ftoitl'· he~ ' ptltti!r. :'" Both1an•
geis and men ·and ·creatures .' of · what oo,nl,li!i~-~feoever, t though e~~.

10

.' /"
1·

-

'

·~

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JN LITERARY TAS'J'E.

in different sort nnd manner, y et nll with uniform consent, ndmirmg
her as the mother of their pence and joy .

No one can read this passage without a consciousness,
that the personification gives a unity and distinctness to his
conception of the nature and offices of law ; and this advantage is in addition to the pleasure, which is felt in the view
of the vener ated form of an intelligent being.
In connexion with this example, one caution may be
given, as applicable to descriptive personifications. There
should be consistency between the different parts ; the language used throughout the whole description should be such
as can be applied to an active, intelligent being; and the
traits of character ascribed to it, should harmonize with
each other. This is admirably exemplified in the instance
before us. An intelligent being may have her seat, she may
utter ·her voice, she may receive homage, and be call ed a
mother. The traits of character are also consistent. Well
may she, whose resting-place is the bosom of God, and whos~
voice is the harmony of the world, receive the homage of all
things in heaven and earth, and be admired as the mother
of peace and joy.
It may be here remarked, that personifications are often
fcnnd united with metaphors. Of this the following passage
ff 1 )ffi Thomson is an example;
" The mountain thunders ; nnd its sturdy sons
Stoop to the bottom of the rocks they shade."

Here the trees are called the sons of the mountain. This
will at once be recognized as the metaphor, and it happily
:ntroduces the personification, by which the trees are repre- .
sented as stooping. That the author speaks of the trees
as acting, and not of the sons, is evident from the latter
pllrt of the sentence, in which mention is made of the shade

ON .

LITERAR~ ·

TASTE.

111

[nstances of. this kind are frequent, and .upon examination
.of them, it will generally be found, that they''occur where
inanimate objects are wont to have _.some motion imparted
to them from an external· cause; or where some other circumstance connected wit]} them, gives ground for the per111onification. This is seen in the following examples :
" Low the woods
Bo~ their hoar heads."
"The sky saddens with the gathered storm."
. ''The cherished fields
Put on the_ir wi~ter robe of purest white.';'

-· All the~e instances of personification are evidently founo·
ed on a resemblance between what is literally true ·of the
object presented to our notice and an imagined ·animated
.being. Hence such iQstances are said to partake both of the
nature of the metaphor and personification. - Personifications
,·~ of this kind are naturally suggested, and do ·not imply so
·~i.. high a state of excitement .as those b~f~re mentio1~ ed; . Hence
:._ '' __they are frequently found. ·_, : ~: . .
«, · · ' . · / ' --.
'· ,- Instances in which some of the properties of intelligent
~nd animated beings ~re . ascribed to inanimate ,obje~ts, ~ are
, .. tery frequent, especially in poetical productio'i.s:.~ ~Out 1an;~.. gtiage, from its philosophical distinction ,of gender ,) s well. ·
.;: suited to personifications of this kind. ::. '\Ve have only to apply ·:·
::i
to an object one of our pronouns, thµs giyi~g t!?,it a gender/ '. '\<
· -~nd it "becomes a thing of life.' ~ . :J.'he, sa~~' i~ also effected~ · .:__"'.;
.- -, by connecting, as a predicate, with an .. inanimate 1. obje?t; i> ·~:·
,_ d ·verb, which in its received use implies' lit~ a~d·t.ac~!?n~~·~r -~
;;;.: by jo.i ning to an inanimate obje?t some ._epith~it ~~pres~ive~·o.f t~:.?
~ • *fe. .. Thus when we say of a ship, th~t sh~ s.a~J~J; -~~ .l!-: b90~, ~<J
_- tl~at it speaks to us; or when we cilh the i}V~J!4;~g1¢' whi~p~t~ , ·~
,, ~ leg wind, we afford examples of this class..or ~etsonificatlons. ,. , '~, ;··;:~ Instances of this kind of personificatiq~(arei_common, ·-~f!d . < ..
'":_,. -~ndur.e much to the animation and be~uty of writing. · :)' · ·, ._._.. /

<. :.·:_

?-

'!

•

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112

ON

LITERARY TASTE.

On the principle, that the mind is pleased with animated
beings in preference to those which are inanimate, a writer.
sometimes calls on the dead, or absent, as if li\•ing or present. This is termed APOSTROPHE.
The following example is from Webster's Address on
Bunker's Hill:
" Him ! cut off by Providence in the hour of overwhelming anxiety
and thick gloom; falling, ere he saw the star of his country rise;
pourin'g out his generous blood, like water, before he kne w whether
it would fertilize a land of freedom or of bondage ! how shall I struggle with the emotions that stifle the utterance of thy name ! Our
poor work m ay pe rish; but thine shall endure! This monument
may moulder away; the solid ground it rests upon may sink down to
a level with the sea; but thy memory shall not fail! "
.

It will be observed in reading this passage, that the Orator, after speaking of the "first great Martyr in the cause
of Independence," as of one absent or dead, sudden! y changes
the· train of his thought, and addresses himself directly to
the same personage as one present and listening. It is this
sudden turn from one manner of speaking of a subject to
another, that is referred to by the word Apostrophe, which
etymologically signifies a breaking off, or turning from one
object to another.
Attempts of this kind to excite emotions of taste, are but
11eldom made. They are evidence of strong excitement,'
and are found in prose only in high flights of oratory. In
poetical writings, they are more frequent. The same cautions and directions may be applied to them, as to personifications of the bolder kind.
It may be remarked, that the word Apostrophe is often
used in a more general signification, than that here ascribe3
to it. Thus we have in Byron an Apostrophe to the Ocean~
and also to .Mount Parnassus. All that is meant in this use
of the word is, that the author turns himself to these objects

ON

·:.
~
J

.
·
:,

113

LITERARY TASTE.

with a di~ect · address to them. · . So · far as· these instances'
c.ome under the examination of. literary1 t!tste; ··ii is as exam}
pies of personification of the bolder ~ind ..·; ~~:::~;-..; ·'. •': •::;.: ,
'i·,.Writers under the influence of sttong ,exettement, aome-·
times break forth in incoherent and 'e xtravagant h pressions, ·
which will not bear the examination of eommon' ~ense ; and '
which, unles~ viewed as the language of passion, would ho
condemned by good taste as unnatural and inconsistent.
Such expressions however are excused as the langu age of_
pai:!Jion; and to mstances of this kind .the. name. of HYPER•
BOLE is applied. ~ut as such . instances are o~ rar~ occur•
r~nce and are not subject to ru1e,' one Elx!lmple on.Jy will be
given: It is extracted from theSieg~ ~f Val~~cia. "

>:. .-

" Flow forth, thou nobb blood !
,
Bathe the land,.'
. : . .... ·..
llut there thou tihalt not sink ! our very ait
Shttll take thy coloring, and our loaded skies . ,
'
'
·=' ~
i'er the in'fidel hang dark and ominous, · ·
With battl~ hues of thee! .And thy cleep voice, · · · :, c•• .,
Rising above them to the judgrnent•eell.t, · , - , '· · ,. ; '<Jt
Shall call a burst of gathered vengeance down, .'.' : •f•v;>•·,·1~;·
'l'o sweep the oppressor from u~ .\ ~.f.?;, thy .~,~~:.. ffih ·,,-:;~xi.
Hath made his guilt run o'er "
., ;: .;'.-i~;,;l=-ir
'~

.. f1 ,;

.• ,

; ,{

.•:1 •'

.

~.

,

.

:· To call upon the blood of youth to ' ~athe the land,' or lo ..
.
.
. . . ,
speak of it as ' tinging the skies,' and 'uttetmg a voice, is _
1
I .· an extravagance, to be excused ·only_on ' lhe ground .of the
. , wildness or passion; 'but wh.en the 'ch~racte~(~!. . ~he ,indiv~d?;_; ·~. ual by whom these expressions were utterea, an? the cir~( .''
'

'

...,

'

•·· cnmstances. in which he , was plac~d, ,. ~re. k~\~'~l!,; :: ~~~'.~!!Z: ~t.< ~f
. guage used IS not only allowed but approved. ·• '.' _,.,t,· ·':· '·'.:'~ 7 ,·A.·>
. .,r-; But there is another form 'of the ' Ilyp~e)·bole;:";hi~b ~OI~es ~- ..,,"· . . ' .
·
·,,
·,;
·\~
;p.,.·"t•·-r·V,.~ryv-+•A·~
• >. ·."
more strictly under the cognizance ~of,..ll. . '11.1/,
i,ter.ar}'.~.
~ s~~;·· I_
.....,, ~~ ~·
.It' , a .,, · - "
when a writer, with the design · of procl~cing ' a · strong un:- ~ ·' -:§;
pres8 ion on the mind, · and thus tgratifyirig a fondness .for· c\i•'"
·
..

j

10 •

;..·"t.,

...

114

ON LITERARY TASTE.

tinct and vivid views of objects, exaggerates what he relatee.
Instances of this ;cind are frequent in common conversation;
but such instances, from their frequency, lose their influence
on the imagination, and are regarded as common forms or
speech. Of instances less common, a few examples will
now be given The following is from the Siege of Valen·
cia;
" A rescued land
Sent up a shout of victory from the field,
That rocked her ancient mountains."

This is evidently exaggeration, and it is the language of
an excited mind; but since the occasion authorizes this ex·
citement, and the effect of the strong expression used, is to
. produce a clear and vivid conception of the event described,
it is approved by good taste. It will be noticed in examining examples of this kind, that there is some apparent foundation for the exaggeratior> used. What is asserted doee
not at once strike the mind as improbable, though upon reflection it is seen to be impossible. Hence, when an exaggeration appears at first view both improbable and impossi·
ble, the effect 1s unfavorable. Such is the example given
by Dr. Blair ;
" I found her-on the floor
In all the storm of grief, yet beautiful,
Pouring out tears at such a lavish rate,
That were the world _on fire , they might have drowned
The wrath of heaven, and quenched the mighty ruin."

The following is from l\Iilman's Ilelshazzar ;
" Oh maid! thou art so beauteous
That yon bright moon is rising, all in haste
To gaze on thee ." ·

This example evidently differs from the precedmg, l!lince

ON LIT ERA.It Y

' TASTE. ~~·

I'flfi ·

--------------'-----'----------·~·
it is rather the la11guage or" adulation than of. p~ssio~. -~i Irti.
the use of Hyperboles of this kind / tnu~lil skill : is hec.essary. __ ...• ,'
They should appear to · be··naturally suggested, : an_d :not 1>61 :~: :· '·/
ibo bold, nor pursued too fa·r. · · This ' last"cau~i611" is . one · o6
general application to all instances of.r exagge~ation ~; ~ _for1.
c-ven to the extravagance of passion there' is a limit, · and_if~
this limit be passed, the effect mu:;;t be to' disgust: · Wha\'
this lim1t is in any particular case, the good sen~e of .erery :
one must determine . . · ·.. -. ..... , .;L<)q ;; -~""' :i• '1 .>1 ·
It has been my object . in · this chapter..-to direct the.'atten-1
tlon of the student to. those attempts ~ to please'. by·.exc~ting ~ ·.
emotions of ·taste, which are of · most ,;frequent ' ocbiirrencee"~
At the same time, such cautions ' and directions : have. beer(
given, as are cf mos'. practical h1portance. '. ' There are b.;
sides certam nameless graces, which are the objects of the'
attention of literary taste. But these; except such as· may
be mention~d in describin~ the qualities of a good style,
must be left to be pointep out by the instructor. · '
In concluding this chapter, I would recommend to the
student th~ study of models of excellen_c e in literature.· The
value of these models to the . learner, · and the ·trtanner '' in
. which the study of them tends to the improvement of a lit·;
erary taste, may be inferred from what was said 'n a preceaing chapter. It is not enough that the productions of good
writers are read. They must be studied as models of style.
Let the student in literature imitate in this respect the
c~urse pursued by the artist in the acquisition of skill in his
profession. The painter does not rest satisfied with a sin·
gle look at a fine pict_u re . . .He emphatically studies it, both
as to its design and execution. Knowing that it. is fitted to
I
give pleasure, he would discover wherein its excellency
consists; and thus derives from the study of)( ;ules which
may guide him in his own efforts, and assi ~t in his judgment
rif. the works of others. At the same time, .from his famil·

l16

ON LITERARY TASTE.

iarity with works o~ excellence, his taste becomes in a manner assimilated to the tastes of those who are the masters of
the art. The same is true in literature, and hence it i,,
that familiarity witli the best literary productions, both of
our own language and of other languages, is so highly conducive to excellence as a writer. The remark is often made.
that the best writers are almost uniformly the best classical
scholars. The connexion here stated, may easily be explained. The models of fine writing, which have come down
us from former periods of the world, furnish ample opportunity for the exercise of the imagination and the improvement of the taste. To him then who aspires to become a
good writer, I would recommend the stu<ly of those ancient
morlels, with all the earnestness of Horace, Noctuma versur~
•anu versate diurna.

to

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.

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' ON SKILlJ IN rTHE ; USE OF · LANGUAGE;th~~i:;,~t~:;'l~if: ., ..

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,i.. ·~i-;'< ·\ nit1~(,. fl., H.'.i';; · ~.-J1t~~~{~::..;1~
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;- V ALU ADLE thoug4_ts~· .extensive ' knowledgej'f ttltft ability~u{;. ·.~.i
reason justly' "and good literary taste;i are essential¥to; for·m ~;-': .... ~:~.
the good writer, in whatever '; language ~he .oniay ; conipo~)~. }:;~
They are therefore rightly called the fpundatiohs . of~ a· goodf .··_
etyle. But it was stated in the Introduction,\ that ill addi . ~·: ·~:
hon to these' requisites for good writing,' there must be 'skill ::7·'.: ,
in the use of language.' ' This then., is the · ne_xt '· object · C?~ 1.·~;~ ,t';:
~
t- it ~
_:; ,_ ...,.J.,~""}.. t..f.
attention. ~·
· ·. · · .'·~····
· , ... ::: ..r
' ~.,· ...... · .,._"_ . ·., _,,. '-"'"'.'~._·"·
~ To use the English : l~hguage skilfullyj implies that ,tt~~· i~
writer sele~ts his words and ~.composes l his ; sert~ehces;'!irl~·~~·;·
manner, which accurately' and. 'clearly · donvey~ ~tb th.Q~tffa.b.le:
to read this language; the· thoughts existing fo his · o;;n ·mirldt~
· With the design then of' aiding the young .writer 1in ·the · ac-' [,
quisition of this skill, I shall treat of the' nature and ptih#,~
ciples of Verbal Criticism, and afterwards state the rules and·:·•
.cautions to be observed in the composition ~f sentences ~.f:r :).t -,>; ~-.·
·~.
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Nature and necessity of Verbal : onticisia.~?. '10..t:.....'<'"
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."~~~ When .Corte~ land~d on t~e CoM~s ·o~S.ou~.~ r·Arneri~a~~!l ~i:r,

.· tOrmat\on was immediately given to the· kmg tof. Me:uco;· Of .,:j, ..i-:.
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118

ON VERBAL CRITICISM.

oN VERBAL

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. .
....
. .. .
. ,;- ..... ....·
. '-.
,~. ·· ttay. ·, This we infer :from ;th~ . factr that~,:~cir;.;~.fr~~gm~~t~~ot~·
.writmgs of that period: in the ,,Englis~ · i~gti£g~, 'jwhich' -~.6~§. .;. "~/'-:
remain; are not :intelligible::; ; Hence. we,~lea,tn ) 10t; ~mly._ t}\at~ ·~~ -::·
different words are used to exp~ess i the •~ same ;;thotigh~flint -~":
different languages, but that 'a t ·. dijfere'f!-t "peri_ods -.; dijfer~nt1 .Y: ".
· 111ords are used in the same language, as : the -symbols ; oj .~he! :·"
same object.
·~· ,,
' 1 • • ••• ·- · ~ :,,,;,'; :,_ ~<.,..;.,_~-~~f.,it-.i_~ ··
iv Now from these facts, that words are .-but sighs r;.J tl_iatf --... ·'
there is no rtatural connexion between· them ·and ' the objects ' ·.'i.
/:.~ which they 'represent'-'- and that . the ,;,wor.ds . br,a.:, language1 .. ·
, \ are changing, some · becoming fobsolete;tan.d . ~~he~s · ~~iniµgL:;~:'-'
_, ~ · admission, arises the ~ necessity r of ver}?al {britic!,~.~ · ;tt~~: q)f)· · ~'<
1 1
' ject of which ·is to establish those : principies~ ~ahdt l~~·Ho,~n•' ' \ .:
.'· those rules, which may direct writers: in' the sel~~tion .6~~ightl -:::_ ,
.~: .words for expressing ~heir thoughts. · If..words, ,lil_le\ pic~urei; _· i"i;.1:;,
,._ were the exact representatives of objects~ or the . same ·".'oriJt. -~ / ·:·"'/
' -always, in every- period in the · history :of;a iangu,age; . and f ·:;;· ~1 ,'...".
,~whenever · used; bad '.the same ·'thought · atta.ched-. to it «by •all l "~, ·•· ,. '
.. who speak 'or 'wdte· the' language; ther~ ~ ~ould ·; eyidently~ be!":.·f.\:_.
,,;·. ' no necessity.'for ; yerbal ~_ criticistn . • In . learning'. a'•l1m~tiagc.1i ....
' ·we sh.ould acquire the knowledge ?f the correc~ .~IJd uriifortfi~ . ¥use of each word; ·and •we sho~ld . then .q~_e m tip.=.danger': of.:, )::'.'~ .;
·
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USing it incorrectly. ·J _," -i' I li]' ' ~)•
'tt" i I'.;,;:,_ ~· • "'~<:.~' \· · I} ' ,' · ;,$.1.1'. c~~· ·;• ;t
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1is arrival and of the appearance of his troops. The despatches which were sent, consisted of pictures represent·
ing the appearance of the ships, the disembarking of men,
their arms and equipments and military array. Had Mon·
tezuma, with a company of his subjects, arrived at the same
period of the world on the coasts of England, an account
of his arrival and appearance would have been sent to the
king of that country; but in this case, iPstead of pictures
. words would have been used in conveying the information;
and the king of England, upon looking on the words, would
have had as correct and distinct information of the arrival
and appearance of Montezuma and his troops, as was obtained in the former instance from looking on the pictures.
Hence we infer, tltat words answer the same purpose as pictures; tltey bring up to . the mind subjects and thougltts
which tltey are designed to represent.
Suppose next, that Montezuma, with his troops, after
ieaving the coast of England, had visited those · of Spain
Information of his arrival and appearance would have been
sent to the monarch of that country; and in sending this
information, as in the case of the king of England, wurdr
would have been used. Ilut though the words used for con
veying this intelligence, would in this case have been differ·
ent from those before used, still they would represent the
same objects, and be as readily understood. Different wordt
then in different languages represent the same objects. Hence
wr. infer, tliat there is no natural connexion bctUJcen word:.
and tlie objects wliich tltey represent.
Suppose next, that the event of Montezuma's arrival on
the English coast had occurred during the thirteenth cen• ·
tury, instead of the sixteenth. In this case, an account
might have been sent to the king of England in writing, as ·
before>· but the words used, would not be intelligible to those
who speak and ~vrite the English language at the pP.seti#

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use the standard of appeals in
· · · Criticism.

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that in a recent ·publication, I · sho\dd , meet; wi~~~ "'~:~. '
Llie '. following expression; , " · When the · t~ial cariep~, h~ · o<?-.1'»'.;:~
~ .. :'. • ·cupied .' this ·man
· as a witness.'"·' I aLonce
: 'say/th.
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· word occupy is here :·inco~r~ctly · use~_. .,1 Sp.~y.!~-; a~y:~o~e ·: ;.). ' :_,; ·
· ask · me, on what authority I make t~i~ ~~~s~rtioh;~'i l ' ~houl_d 1 ·. ;<. ·::~­
,.·. ~swer, that the · signification gh:eh,;·to _it, .; di,ffercnt \from · · !i· ,.
iklJ'....t.~at , wl1ich it has in the :.:writin~s of. th_os.~ho ·~are · es tee~!
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120

ON VERBAL CRITICISJ\I,

ed good authors in the English language. I should turn to
several passages in the writings of Addirnn, Swift, Jeremy
Taylor, and perhaps others of the same repute, and show
him, that the common meaning of the won!, is to.possess--:-·
to !told or to keep for use, a11J I would then ch all enge him
to show me the word, as used in the passage in disp•1te,
in the writings of these authors, or of any author who is reputed a goo<l writer.
Suppose, n ow, that my opponent. should s:iy, t h at he ha d
found .t he word occupy, used in the sense to make use of, in
the writings of Sir Thomas More, who wrote at the close of
the fifteenth, or near the commencement of the sixteenth
century; and at the same time acknowledge, that he could
not find it thus used in any writer, since that period; I
should tell him in reply, that this is no authority for its be·
ing used in this sense at the present time. If for three cen.
turies the word has ceased to be thus used by English wd·
ters, it is not now a part of the English language. It has
become obso!ete, and to English readers, it is no longer the .
sign or symbol, with which the idea to ma/cc use of is connected.
Suppose, next, that my opponent should assert, that he
. has found the word thus used in some newspaper, and that .
he considers the editor of that newspaper a good writer. I
should answer him, that it is not enough, that one individual esteems the editor of the newspape r in which the word
n question is found, a good writer. He must generally be
reputed as such. And even if he were so reputed, it is not
enough that one good writer has thus used the word in dis
pute. This will not make the word, as thus used, a part of
the English laQguage, and cause it to be generally unfle1 ,
stnod in this sense.
Suppose, once more, that my opponent should assert,
\hat the word occupy is thus used in his own neighborhood,

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.,.

121

ON VERBAL CRI1 CHIM•

acknowledging at the same time, that ·he had ·not ·heard it
eo used in other parts ·of the country. · I should answer him
again, that this local use of it does not make it a pa~t of the .
English language. It may be a part of the ' language of the
town whern he resides, but it would not be right to UEe it in
this signification, in a work intended to be read by all those
who read the English lang1rnge. It would not convey a
ri ght rne<i.11i11g, or lie intell igible to an y, excepting those of ·
a single tow n ot •ill age in th e coun try.
.
· The case would be similar, supposing my opponent should·,
assert, that lawyers, or . those of' any particular -' profession,~~
are wont to use the word in the sense for which he \contertd! (.
·· I might allow that the word occupy is thus correctly used,
a~d at the same time contend, that this professional usage'
does not authorize its introduction with the same significa<
tion into works addressed to all who read the English Ian- ·
. , guage. Lawyers, and those of other professions, have ma- '.
.. · ny terms in use, which are peculiar to the profession, and
·· /· which are not expected to be understood by those unac··.t
quainted with its ·mysteries. ·
· · · · :r · '· .~, ·L'"!, ~hr.
..
.
$.·
· From these statements, we learn in · what ·manner eaoh·
. word in a language b!'lcomes the symh~J, of a 'pa~~ic~!ar.:, o~f~· ·~/{ _.. . je~t. - It is by conventio~al agreement. »: .:1~1 _w~o speak ·.~th~~;<7:?r
.:. /" language, are supposed l? haved ~nteh~ed : mto · a~~greei~~'?;t,~i:.;.~.~·~·
, • to use and understand the wor m t is sense.·• ;
en : t. er~.i ',..~~ ·
';-. fore we would know in respect to any particular · word 1 ;y.: ' : :';;{,.·
t.' ;
': ·. whether it belo~~s to a language'. '_Ve are '. fo yi~q~.ire, ·if . it ;· ~~:~' ·
/ ' found in the wntmgs and heard m the conve'rsatton of t~ose•.:·.~
' . r'.: who
write and speak the language. · ,If it .is not
thus found
"
. .... '1
~,.,,.,!!
~;. tJ'e use of it is cal\ed a Barbari~m, a~d is to Y.e;av~i~e~ :!
,, ~;'\Ve learn further .from 'the ·· views ·i now i·giveri; 1 ~n ;'.·~ha~~­
!." manner we may ascertain the '. proper ·~use ~6r,lthose 7 words --.
.. which belong to the language. ;· It ,:is .t{y.. a6 ~ppe!ll .to Goorl,i
•
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..k Usagt"~ We are first to inquire, how• t~e/! . word m
quel!lt1en ·
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___________ ________._
is used by those who are generally reputed good writer!!
This is called reputable usage, and is ( pposed to vu.gar usag11
on the one hand, and to partial or limited usage on the
other. We are in the next place to ask, whether the wri·
tings to which we look as authorities, are reputed to be
good by those who at the present time . speak and write. the
language. This is prcse11t usage, and is opposed tn ancient
·or obsolete usage. The inquiry furth er arises, whether the
word in question is used in the sense ascribed to it, wherev~
er the language to which it belongs, is spoken; and this is
national usage, as opposed to foreign, to provincial or to
professional usage. Thus Goocl. Usage in clude~ rcputab~e, ,
national, and present usag e; and wh en a word 1s found m
a sense which is not supported by good us age, as thus ex
plained, it is called an impropriety, and is to be shunned
!

Nature and design

ef a Dictionary.

From this view of the stanJard in verbal criticism, rnay
he learnt the nature and design of a Dictionary. 'Vhen
wishing to show my opponent, that the word occupy is used
by authors of reputation, in a different sense from that
which he defends, instead of seeking for passages, in which
the word is used by different authors , I should have turned
to the word in my Dicti onary, and there have found the re·
suit, to which the compil er of the Dictionary had been led
from an examination, such as I proposed. H ence it may
be seen, why Johnson's Dictionary is sometimes call ed the
etandard of the English language. He has carefully in>es-.
tiD"ated
the meaninO"t:l of words, as used by authors of reputa·.
0
tion, and has given us the results, to which, from these in-.
vestigations, he has bee.1 led ; and confiding in his fide!it11
and good jndgment, we appeal to him ns a standard

123

ON VERBAL CRITIC.ISM.

ON VERBAL CRITICISM.
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Prom this view also, may be learnt the manner,' in which
old and long established words become ' obsolete, and new
ones are introduced. When a word, from the · harshness of
h.s sound, from any indefiniteness in its t meaning, from its
being no !anger needed,' or from any other cause, c~ases to
be in use by writers of reputation, for , a considerable time,
it is said to become obsolete, and is no longer ' considered a
part of the language. ·· .
· · ·~." ' i
~·:'21
·~~~·
. On the other hand, every new 1 w~rd that is : introduced
into a language, must be first proposed by son'ie. ·:author .''o(
reputation. If it is thought necessary -· -- if it expresses-the
meaning attached to it better than any otLci' word, or is
more harmonious than another word before used in the
same sense, it is adopted by other writers of reputation, and
thus becomes a part of the 111-nguage. If it is thought un- ·
to 'introduceA
necessary, it is not adopted, and the !:tltempt
.
it. fails. While then inconvenience is experienced ·: from
the changes of language, in '. that the " au th.o rs o(; one · peri9.q ; : .
a:e thus rendered · unintelligible' at another; this ~\ii( i~bal~- ·:· ~- :
anced by the introduction of more signific~t and '' h.arffi~.
nio~s words. No new word · however should 'ever · be' ad-'
~;;. mitted, which is not decidedly an improv.ement~ '.'; On ·the oth-~ _:. :~~-~~
-:·
. ..
. . ., ' . 'If "
! "·' . ,,1, 1f,· ,. er hand, a word which IS unharmomOUS 1µ \JtS sound, . or,· . ~": ':'..
·~ which, from any hewly . associated idea, b~co~1es 1 unfi('. 'roiL · ·. -.~
.::~ the use formerly ina<le of it, though its use be suppo,l:tedf bl ~·;·; •.· ,,.,·,
. the authority of good wr'1ters; should be objecl~u ;l~:~
:.$y 1 ~rit~-.·~ ,,. . '· .....
·~·
f"
·r, ics, and be suffer_ed by writers to become 'obsolet '.~. ,Thes~·
t'f'lma~ks
hold true, whether the word in '.,:q~~_stion"'lb~·.. ~ntir;
...
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.y of new formation, whether i~ be made up of.'two or , inore1f
, - words compounded together; or . be intro~u.ce,d with or with ..
out modification from some other language. , ·1 ·
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124

ON VERBAL CR1TICl8M.

It may here be asked, - for how long a ~erio~ must a
word have been disused by the repu+..,hle writers m a Ian·
guage, to make it obsolete 7 To this inquiry, no definite
answer has been given. Campbell has proposed, that a
generation, or age of human existence, should be considered
a limit and this rule is generally adopted.
Gre~ter liberty however is given to poetical writers rn the
use of ancient words, and to scientific writers in the invention of new terms, than to those who are authors in ot!1er
kinds of writing. The same word, which in a prose writer
would be objected to as an obsolete term, might in poetry
be received as supported by good authority. This indulgence is granted to poetry in consider~tion of ~he emba~­
rassments of rhyme and of measure, which require a copt·
ousness of language. On the other hand, science is progressive. Ne w terms must be found to express new discoveries and inventions. The use of old words in new significations would ob•!iously create obscurity and mistake,
'
.
and it is thought be-_tsr, that new words should he mtroduced
when new objects are to be represented. It is also com·
mon for writers on _scientific subjects, to define the most
important words in their works, especially those which are
new or peculiar to the science. This liberty is given them,
and 1t is expected in retnrh, that they will be uniform in
the use of the word in the sense defined.
In connexion . with these remarks, the influence of criticism on language, may be mentioned. Its object is the improvement of the language - the avoidi~1g of all har~h, un•
harmoni'"'~ .vords, and of those also which, from their ety
mology, or any other cause, are peculiarly liable to be. misunderstood. This object is effected, not by the exerc1s.e of
any authority, but by pointing out the offensive word to lhe :;
notice of the public, and diss 'lading from its use

ON VERBAL CRITICISM,

:·<1":.: ,;, ·.')~A·:~ ,7.,. ;1~:;,iz.:,,;· >;'
Good use not always uniform in · he;/!tf~c.i$ion,s'i"'rules "u,Afc'/a -.
/. slwuld guide us wliere these deCisions ·at'e al" harianc~ idW,
.•' · '••f.>·
L!.. ·· ~'·'··
~"t.;-~
.··" eac/i other
..• ··~>i•,.'";":
.,.'.,, '·'"
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Suppose that I should meet with the following •'sentence ~
Beside he was a cotemporary writer of ·gr~af' delicatehess
of expression, and highly approved or.~ : :~ I might ·object -td
it~ and say that beside$ would · be . better' than '·beside__, 'toM
temporary than cotemporary :--- delicacy' th ah '1.d~litatenesgj
and approved than ·approved '"of 1 Should-' I, ' in 1· ~upport!:.of•
my criticisms, ·appeal t~ good us~ge,_ ' imd · mention '.several
authors of reputation; in whose writings . the 'forms ' these
words which I prefer, are . uniformly Us~d, it ·might be·' said
.a reply, that those forms which I condemn; are 1 also f'ound
in the writings, of authors of equally good reputation; ' ~.nd
this could not be denied. In these instances · good ' uee·1 is
riot uniform in her decisions ; ano It IS necessary- that' some
other principles should be referred to, irt' dete'rminitig which
-of these f~rms of words is preferable.';·I might say theri; that
the word beside is ' used ' often · as i a' preposition, .Jm<l : that
where there are two forms of a ' wotd/ea~h of1_\vhich J!_'l'!up .
p~-rted by the authority of good · authors, 1 buti• orie 1 of;these
. forms is sometimes differently used; it' should be restricted
'to this particular use,- and the other form alone used in that
: sense, which has hitherto been · common ·':to ' both. 'ff Doth
-~ · ' p,erspicuity and va~iety evide~tly require this; \ ' t'.:n,; :1 11 i.' '.~'t~ "~!>.. : ~'.
1.' ·, In preferring contemporary to cotemporaru; l m1g?t . plead .· .;: . ~.:,
' the analogy of the. language.
Whenever '. the'\ ins~vata~J~ ·~: ,
· preposition con precedes a , consonant in composi~on; thE( n ' '-':
is retained; we say. conglomerate, coniffutf,~,ate~~,t~~~~~lin~:l: ·:, ·~.
rro .this, copartner 1s the only except1om \M,•1Jut "-1f7tl11s_.}>_ar :, · :. ·~
')cle in composition precedes_(a ;y~':"~t;:w~~~e~:i¥~{fo~~,,t.~C
11

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126

UN VERBAi, CRITICISM.

as coequal, coeternal. • Hence in the present case, the anal
ogy of the language requires that we say contemporary.
For preferring delicacy to delicateness, supposing the au·
tho:rities on either side equal, I can give no other reason, than
that it is more agreeable to the ear. Here then harmony of
sound is the principle on which a decision is made.
ln the other instance of criticism, where I prefer approved
to approved of, simplicity of expression is the ground of
choice. It is well known, that the use of numerous particles is a defect of our language. It weakens the strength
of expression. The more simple and brief the form which
is used, the better.
In instances then where good use 1s not uniform in her
decisions, perspicuity and variety as leading to appropriate
words to one uniform signification, - the analogy of the language, harmony of sound, and simplicity of expression, are
the principles to which we should refer.
ThesE- principles are stated in the following rules, which
may be applied to the examination of the examples referred
to at the close of the chapter.
Rule 1. 'Vhen two forms of a word have been used with
the same signification, but one of them is sometimes found
used in a different sense, the latter form should he restricted in its use to this latter meaning, and the other form used
in that sense which has hitherto been common to both.
*

A~p~als are ~o oflen_ made to the analogy of t!te language, in

deterrnrnrng questions which pertain to the use of words that it is
important the Rtudent should rightly understand the meaning of thil!
ph~ase. In reasoning from the analogy of the language, we first
~ss1gn a ~vord t? a . clas~ of words_, _to which, from some similarity in
its form, its denvat10n, its compos1t1on, or some other circumstances
1t bears a close resemblance. We then apply the rules and principles
of this class of words to the individual word. Thus we assign 01e
wnr? contemporary to a class of words. compounded of the insPparable
P'.""twle wn as.a ~r~fix. We then, as m the text, apply n rule of the
cmss to the md1v1dual word. Departures from the analogy of th•
'anguagr are called .!lnomalies

.... '""

____

=

ON VERBAL CRITICISM•

-: Rule 2. Of two forms of a word which · are each support• ·
ed by a good use we should prefer th~t \~;v~i.chJ is ; agre~~~!e
to the analogy of the language •..',_,. ·<.;l'.~} 1.; · [,'~~ ·'{f'';ii 1'.\t'i ", f.;w•
:·, 1Rule 3 . . lf two forms of a word are·nmpp.o rted by equal
authority, and in other respects · equally .· appt;,.?Prl,ate, 1 tl;i~
sound may determine us in our choice. rl)1)~';;'i.J,~>rf.t1.f...f~tj1 ;i: :;· ·;~ ·
'' Rule 4. In doubtful cases, when no •·o.ne df,~the , preced':"
ing rules will apply, simplicity should b~ th~ · ground of pr~.t;.
~
t "I . .. •
~,'I-" ~·,· (. ,i '"~ ~~ ..J!,;<i_'
,,!•,,t-J;'~ '.,
:r, ~ "')
ll.~ J'fpft·'1!\
'~''"( "11 ~'q *'
erence.
.

I'

.

<

' •l'!.l
I

..
T

i'

'I
'l, p

•4"
'f

f

1

,hf"

I

' I . _ · , . •..'
·1

••"•·'
\~ ;• _. · 1Lli!\~~~·''f
J}~i'\ '.·'·l.,i·~.j,
~.
+J.;.-..,.o.·•,t

,.*),.,

1
Cautions against .th~ 1~ils"i fr~quent vi~z~ti~~~~l_/,,l ;tA~:. i;in~#
! 'i, l " i. f Vi b l ' n ";t' • " . l, ! ~m·tHt.HWt<f ._)61 IF. ;;;jir .
· p es o
er a ..... ri icism.
· . flh' 1i:· • ~
:~~

. .,, ..1~J--~i1H·~~ l ,,_.f.-t .'~=it';~,, I~ · ~ , .~flf <•~~1t~t·

,. From the statements that have' now 1bee1f m~de;iweJe.ar~
that to use words with propriety; ·is to use the~ '. iri' that•;hi~· ,
ner which is authorized by writers of reputation.:o-:riThe, r;no~t
important of those rules, by which we .are · to ,be cgoverned
in cases where authorities are divided, have also been stated • .
Some of the most · frequent , violations of the · principles,·;of
verbal Criticism .
now be enumerated, -and those. cautions
given which are most need~d · o~ this subject., \~1·\l;,,:·;;;.,_,Ji »~~'.if,;
· . '.'The lamb is tame in ' its · disposition,!: . ~ Here i.th~ ;. word
tame is incorrectly used for gentle; ·......_ tameness ~ is · superin~
duced by dirdpline - gentleness belongs to the ·natural dis1
.·
· n•'·' ,.. ·!1' I .. '·1''•
'
• ,.
"i:: .• ._
pos1t10n.
·
• ,,·,;-· '-"
·,w?f;

will

..

· " Herschel discovered the telescope."....._... Ii:i this, sentence . . ,,; ·:.,
the word discover is incorrectly used for in~ent: ;, We ~~8:: .";,"':Ji.
cover wh!\t was before hidden; we invent
whatI is new., ~_,,;fr• ·
.
. " Caius Mucius displayed courage, when h~ ~~ood, ~-~
moved with his hand in the fire." ; · ' · · ,. i~i-. ·I~ :}'-)':..:', {:4.. ;:;,:rri.i
'.. Here courage is incorrectly used 1 for (.jort~tude. ~- It :.JS
courage that enables us to meet dang~t ; .: but fortitude gives
•
.
, 'A '. I 1.··· , ..•
JS strength to endure pam.
.~· ,• ·~:~{ / . ,·;,,il'::
ln these instances. the words which. are ' 5u~tituted, re·l

' 28

ON VER.BAL CRITICISM.

semble in meaning those which are displaced. Such words
are said to be synonymous. They agree in expressing t.he
same princiral idea, but some accessory circumstance. froduces a shade of difference in their meaning. As the Eng·
.ish language is characterized by copiousness, there is grea\
danger of confounding terms which are synonymous. I-Jenee
in tlie use of words, care sltould be liad, lest we cc-nfound
tlwse which are synonymous.
" The observation of days of Thanksgiving is common in
New England." - Here the word observation is evidently
used instead of observance, which it resembles in sound.
"The endurance of his speech was for an hour." - Here
the word endurance, which signifies suffering, is used for du
ration, which implies length of time. It is true, that if a
speec.h is dull, and continues for an hour, we may speak of
the endurance of those who listen to it. But in the exam
i;le which is given, the '. word is wrongly used for dura
ti on.
In these instances, a similarity of sound has led to mistake. I-Ience, in the use of 'IJ!Ords, we slwuld avoid confounding those wltich are simila>· in sound.
" Meanwhile the Britons, left to shift for themselves
were forced to call in the Saxons to their aid."
" He passed his time at the court of St. J arnes, currying
favor with the minister."
The expressions left to sliift for · tliemsclves and currying
favor, found in these sentences, are most frequ ently heard in
the conversation of men destitute of refinement and inform a··
tion. They are beneath the dignity of the historical stylf'
Like clowns when admitted to the society of polite, well iu
formed men, they appear out of place. Other expressiom
equally significant, arid better suited to the subject, might
be substituted. I-Ience then we learn, tllat low wm·ds ana
phrases, or such as are usually termed vulgarism:, are to bi
minidpt/.,

ON VERBAL . CRITICiSM.

129
r

~. We are liable to err in violation, of ~this ; tule,. from the cir".".
cumstance, that · many words 'are used.,_tinhpomm9n ·conv:etsa. tion, which are not suited . to the dig~ity.lof·f a twritt_en:: di~
course. I might , hence , mfor .- the. impoi:t~nce: ·.o L keeping
good company; and being .choice .i n •J the·i selectiou . of 1 o~r
words. Evil communications ·not only corrupt, good ~ man:­
ners, but good language. " ... ~ " , "' ··.·w., ;,,~ l<H ~·~i-~·~, ,,'!ii1i<'t.
"I have considered the subject in its integrity/' \ .. i .. , ,;' ~ :.-,
The writer here means, that he has . considered ,: the whole
of the subject; but in expressing this nidea, he '. uses ~ word
in its Latin signification.·.' Integrity, ,iri ; ~he ·sense of. whole. ness, is not in common use by thos~ who corre.~tly... wrj te and
speak the English language. " Other instances '1might·~ be , ci:. ted, in which words have ascribed to them a. meaning derived
from the Greek, French, or some . other lang·uage . . Hence
- such instances ~re called Latin isms; , Grecisms, etc .., Besides tM obscurity, which must thus .be cause~ to · 110se,who
are ignorant of the me-aning of the word in.: its native Jan'." 1·
guage, there is an air.: of pedantry about . expr~ssions , of.,this
kinrl, which rendenL 'them ,. disgusting. i>. Hence .''then ;,the
cautitm may be giveri, ; Avoid using; words , in foreign ~ sig-;
ni.fications.
··
.·
.. We .not unfrequently fln<l r in ' reputable English 1\vriters,
~ords and phrases which" belong to .a .foreign language
Among those most frequently introduced are the following;
coup d'c.eil - corps de reserve - stans pede in uno - miscere utile dulci. Sometimes this practice ;is carried to an
extent, which savors of pedantry, and to one unacquainted "' ·
with the language of the , quotations, obscures the . meaning.
Foreign words and phrases, when thus introduced, are designed either to convey some striking , though~/ in;. a more
bold, sententious manner, th art could ·; otherwi13e,;;be , done.~
·~r to give a happy turn of expression. t -Henl e we infer the ·
p~oper limit to be observed in· their · introduction. .When.

·r ·

30

II. - ON

t

1311--· .'-

---------~-~--------"'
"' ''?j... .'
.. ·---·"\

ever we ham in our own language a word or phrase equallJ
expressive an<l striking, a writer cannot be justified in sup~lanting it by the use of one that is foreign.
'l'he most frequent instances of the violation of the principles of Verbal Criticism, are in the introduction of new
words. So much however has been said on this point, that
it is unnecessary to give either examples or rules.
The inquiry may here arise whether Johnson's Dictionary, or any other, is to be regarded as a standard, to which
we may in all cases refer for the decisions of Verbal Criticism 1 To this inquiry I answer, that since the words of a
language are ever changing, some becoming obsolete and
others coming into use, it is impossible, from the nature of
<he case, that any Dictionary can continue for a lonO' time
'
I:>
'
to be a stan<lard of good usage. In regard to Johnson,
there are many words now in good use, whi.ch are not found
in his Dictionary, and many there found, have become obsolete in the sense he has ascribed to them. ·where then
is the standar<l 1 The principles stated in this chapter give
·the answer. There is none, except that which the fbifheii
·scholar forms for himself from his familiarity with goo<l rnod•els of writing. And if he possesses this familiarity, ha may
.conclude, that if a word strikes him as new or stra1..ge, it
-should be considered a· word used without good authority,
.and which, unless some necessity for its use e:\":.~t~, should
:be avoided.

SECTION

~;.

O~., SENTENCES~-

ON SENTENCES.

-

HE Co3tPOSITioN OF SENTENCES.

The design of this section 1s o reat of -the composition
of sentences, so far as the clear conveyance of the author'
meaning 1lepends on skill in the use of languagf' .
.Sentences are either simple or complex. A simple seo

~nee consists . of a single member.'. ~A po.mpl~~'' senten~ ·
eonsists of several members, and these, 1 ) ~e~ber~ , are . _some-..
hmes subdivi<led into clauses . . ,," The 1sun ,,,shlnes. " ; /~h~~.
is a simple se.ntence.' . '~?'he sun, tha,t._ris1esj~,_the. ~or~,ing.'
and sets at night, gives hght to all those .who dwell on, t~~. , • ·.
face of the earth" This . is a compl~ . ~.enten~e, .11;nd . ~on-:
sist.s of two members; each of which., is : mad.«;i up ,'.0(.1 ~~o;
clauses.
, , ' , ,. ; :,...: ·,, .,•t .:;·.
i The principle .by which the writer .is guided in . dividing,
a discourse into sentences, is, that where, he . mi,ikes ,this ,4i~ ·
Yision, he considers ~he,, exhibition .o( hi~ i.~~oug~t..a!" co111p~~tt;l.;
Sometimes in making ~his · e?C-hi.bitio~ l!3~ye~~lii ,I}le!Dber,s ;1 ar~
. necessary; and where these members , are ' f>O :. closely 1.Cion:;
nected\ that the reader cannot stop before , the conclu~ioi:i
9f the sentence with any distinct thought in his . mind, 1the1
sentence is called a period. If there is one or.,m.ore places,_.
where he may stop, a distinct thought having)een ; stated~
the sentence
is called a loose sentence. , This , distinctiqn
.
1
•
will be clearly seen ; in., the (allowing :examples . ...''· I(~~
America, as some of England's writers are 1 ~J?.de!lvori_ng .,~q
convincQ her, she is he~eafter. to find !ln invid,i9!1s riyal •. 11-~4 .
a gigantic foe, she may thank those v~ry .~rit~.rs, for ,having ; 1
provpked that rivalship and irr,itate4"Jha,! ~o~t~lity.' ; Jf.h\~ .
~!!! a period ; and it, will .be noticeq, that..'thoug4· Jhe~e",a~~ - · ~
~everal members and clauses, there i~ .,i;io pla.c~ 'be(~re ,t~~ >'
close, where the reader may stop with a distinct view in i hi~ · .
min.I. This account of the period is in agreement with the
etymology' of the word. It signifies a circuit, and " the
thOli'Jht winds round, as it were, among the . different mem•
her;; and clauses, till it is brought out fulI . at ·. th~ : cl~se'.
· Tht . fol\ owing is a loose sentence.., ~ ' ~he~e ..jnin?r_, .~om~
. fort· are aL important in the estimation of ijarrow minds;
i.na ' '.hey . e1 her do 00t perceive, o~; .\Villi ,np(,~ckn~wl~dge,
~p,at hey ·\re more thn counte~~al'.l~~~d, ,,a~~ng us by grea .
/

-4
'

.1

·,

132

ON SENTENCE1'.

Jmd generally diffused blessings." Here it is evident, that
we .might stop at the word minds, and the thought would bs
complete; but had a full stop been placed there, what follows
would not, in its present form, constitute a distinct sevtence.
The principles of construction in our language are equal.ly favorable to the period and the loose sentence. Hence
in the productions of those esteemed the best writers in the
language, sentences of both forms are found intermingled.
Some writers incline more to the periodic structure ; others
to the loose sentence. The prevalence of the former gives
to style strength and power of expression, accompanied
with a degree of stateliness and formality. On the cont~ary,
where the loose sentence prevails, the style is generally
characterized by ease and familiarity. Either, when long
continued without interruption, becomes tiresome and dull.
·· Hence the inference will be readily made, that neither form
should prevail to the exclusion of the other; and further,
that there should be an accommodation in this respect to
the subject and occasion.
Since sentences are made up of many words, and of
iClauses and members, it will readily occur, that the forms
•which they assume, will be many and various, and some of
~ these forms will be best suited to one subject and occasion,
and others to a different. Vain then would be the attempt
to prescribe rules which should govern the writer in the
composition of his sentences. Instead of this, those in~tances have been noticed, in which perspicuity is mos..
·frequently violated from want of skill in the use of language,
and from .the examples given, such cautions have been in•
ferred, as may guard agaiilst similar violations of perspi.
cuity.
The examples first given are of simple sentences and of
:the members and clauses which make up r,omplex senten

ON SEN rENCES;

ees. These are classed · under the .foIJoJiingf• heads; ··~t i.·
Equivocal words and phrases. ":.2. Ambiguous eonstructiops,
3. Wrong arrangement of adverbs and1adyerbial:phrases1•t!f.'rl
The composition of complex sentences tis f next.{ examined
with r~for(· nce to the same object: . ,ConnectivQS" are :after-:.
wards separately considered. -·- ~; '• · ···/ ,'r:-J,nt> -•-.RW~K(~·'"J' '' ,-...~ •
1. Equivocal words and phrases. , ' ''":' ~" -;. ;·; 1'l'"" ~· t\'M\•.>'~ .
A wotd or phrase is called equivocal, when on the author·
ity of good usage different significations are at different timer,
applied to it. · The true meaning of such :words is to be de--,
termined from their connexion with other . patts :;·of. t~e~ !!en11 ·
tence. Hence the danger of obscurity in · thei~ ·.useJ ,-,l'ffr<~-'.~~ ·•i:
Examples of the preposition. · ·
"·:: · · -· · .,., ,<:f. ' :f '~,
~:

. -+ ' ~

-

"I am persuade :l that neither• death nor lite - shall be able to aep
irate us from the love of God."
· '
· .· · . ".: · '· ·"
J~ ·
t1 •
~ ...:i ' · t-· H ~· ~ ( "-."-i~
•

.._

/'

•

• In this sentence, the love of God, may signify God's ,.love .
to us or our love to him. This equivocation may be .avoided
by changing the last clause into the following (omt-:- from,.
our love to God; of being more cor_rectly us~d bef9re , the.
subject, and to before the object. of-a ·passion:g, 1The1;design.
of prepositions is to express" the . relations : betw~en differen~ 1
words, and since many of the prepositions express, , diff~rent
r~lations, there is much need of caution lest they~ bc used
~· ,1>. • • ;· . .... ;,: .. ,,. ... ... '·
equivocally.
;': · Example of the conjunction.
··• " They w~re n:iuch more ancient among the Persians than Zoro.
I
.
·,; '·"·
aster or Zerdusht."
, ·.
\~
.
:~:

I

;-~

•

;1"

1

~=, ~

\ :, ' :··,

i~F~~

~j

.. "

this example, the or is equivocal. , It · inay ,either , be
aMerstood as coupling together Zoroaster and .jlerdusht; as
,
lwo synonymous words, or, as a disjunctive qonjunctiori, . it
' ',, ·, may imply that Zoroaster and ZerdushL ar~ ;.two different
·. - {
'
.
,!; • Jiings.
Were the latter the meaning ·of.the writer, the word
;
12
I
·>\• In

J:J4

ON SENTENCES.

either shouU be inserted before Zoroaster. But if he designe to ,sc the word as a copulative, when the words thus
con,nected are not generally known to be synonymous, some
clause may be thrown in to denote that they are thus used
In the example given, it might have read- than Zol'Oaster,
or, as lie is also called, Zerduslit. When, in such instances,
tlie .fi-rst noun follows an article or preposition, or botlt, tlu,
equfoocation may be avoided, by repeating the article, or
p1 cposition, or both, before the second noun, if tlte co11j111iction be used di~junctively, and omitting to repeat it, if it bf.
used copulatively.
Example of the noun.
" Your majesty has lost all hopes of future excises oy their con
sumption."

The word consumption may be either passive or active.
It may mean, either by their being consumed, or by their
consuming. The equivocation in this sentence results from
lhe double use of the word consumption. Words of this kmd
are not to be avoided, when the connexion plainly determines which of the meanings is intended; but when this is
not the case, some other word, or some other form of expression, should be selected. In the example given, it should
be read, on wltat they may consume.
Example of the adjective.
"As for such animals as are mortal, or noxious, we have a right
to destroy them." ,

It is the design of the writer lu use the \Verd mortal as
signifying destructive, or causing death, whereas the meaning most obviously suggested, is liable to death. This may
be more correctly called an impropriety than an equivoca :,,.~
tion ; sino:i it results from the application of a qualifying : ·
word in a 3ense different from that, which is authorized · h.t ~;

________________ ________135.:_

-

ON VERBAL CRITICISM.
__.

_____,

good usage We speak · of a mortal-poison, or : of a ..mortal «··
disease, meaning a destructive poison . or ~ ~isease; but ,when ·
we speak of a mortal . animal, it is alwuys ~tin the sense .of am .·
animal liable to death. " This example,, suggestS;;the need of.
caution m the use of adjectives, when usage has :given .them ·
different significations as applied to different n~uns. ,,.,, ,.,.~,, ;-;;
)', Example of the verb.
·i•····.. H ·1·: ·~·.• :~1'·J~··n"•1:r
"The nl\xt refuge was to' say,~t was ov~r!ook?d
many passages wholly written by another."
·

,.hY .°.ne ' ~a~;·_~n~,
' ·

·

, · '

The word overlooked may here signify revised, or . it may
signify neglected. · The equivocation · in , this example, ,. like
tnat in the example of the noun, results from the use of .a
word to which usage has given a double meaning. It _may .
here then Le said, as in that instance, that if the .connexion
does not readily suggest which of these · meanings . is intend·
ed, some other word 6r form of expression should be chosen/
/
In this example, the meaning of the author ,would ' be ,ex~
pi;essed without equivocation by the word revised,,:. ·· /.. i .. ,·"':;··.
· " Of equivocal phrases, -the following " may , be ' mentionetl, .
not the least - not the smallest. ·._Thesei phrases may signify .
in direct .opposition, not any, or very great. ;• But . it is un• :.1
necessary to give examples of the use of the~e ''and similar
phrases, as they are made the subjects of grammatical criti·
cism. It may be said generally, that such equivocal phrases
sl:iould be avoided.
'
,;.
. ' i'.
:. 2. Ambiguous constructions.
r
.. J•.ci',
By
construction,
as
the
word
is
applied
\
to
sentence;,
is.
1
' meant the forming of the sentence in such\ a . manne~, that ~.
· ..the relations and · connexions . between . the . differ~ntI parts' of .·
~~. il, ~ay be made known. · The standard.of cor,r~;°tne~s in the
JX ,ecmstruction of . sentences, ' as .. o(: propriety;rip"x the use.,-, of!"
'-t:., \Votds, . is good . usage. "' , Every. languagek,hal~certain · form~
.Of ;C~i:iStruction, either pecul~ar.. ,t9 ~tse!f,'.!· ~{ in '. common W!tb
l

• '

..

.

II

I

.

136

ON SENTENCES.

other languages. What these forms are, may be learnt from
the conversation und writings of men of refinement and
knowledge, who speaK and wrne the language. Ilut as the
Lexicographer has given us, in his Dictionary, the result of
his inquiries after the proper signification of words ; in the
same manner, the Grammarian gives us, in his Grammar,
the results of his investigations as to what are the correct
forms of construction. Correctness, then, in the construction
of sentences, is to be learnt from the rules and principles
of syntax.
.Ilut a sentence may be correct in its construction, and
sti!I may carry to the reader a meaning different from that
designecl to be conveyed by the writer. In such instances,
since the sentence is so constructed that two different mean·
ings may be received from it, the construction is said to be
ambiguous. Ambiguous constructions most frequently arise
from the use of those words which are called connectives,
and these, it will be remembered, are to be separately con·
sidered. Some instances in the use of other parts of speech
will now be given.
Examples of the adjective.
11

God heapeth favors on his servants ever liberal and faithful."

Is it God, or his servants, that are ever liberal and faith..
ful 1 It is obvious, that the construction would bear either
meaning, and of course it is ambiguous. The ambiguity
may be removed by altering the arrangement of the words.
God, ever liberal and faithful, heapeth favors on his ser·
vants; or God heapeth favors on his ever liberal and faith·
ful servants. This altering of the arrangement of he word
is in our language a change in the construction of the sen·
tence. In languages where adjectives and substantives
nave correspondent changes of termination, the reader may
m this way most generally determine to which noun the ad

ON' SENTENCES. I

'

Jective biongs; but in languages, as ,iii ,the English, where
adjectives have no change ,in their · terminations~ it is ' their;arrangement, which must determine the nourts,··with which·
they are to be connected. · Hen~e then the caution may ba
given, To avoid ambiguity in the use of the aqjective, let it .
be placed as ?_tear as practicable to the noun it 'is ' intended to
-- ---,...)
qualify.
·~ There is anoth.er case, in which there is danger of ambi·;
guity id the use of adjectives. Sometimes, when two ad.. r
jectives are used in connexion with th~ ' same noun, .it is dif-,
ficult to determine, whether they are designed ~o express .
different qualities belonging · to the ' s~m'e ·thing, 'or q]ialities,:
· belonging to different things, but which ·ar~·: included under;_,
. the noun as a generic term. This is illustrated in the fol-r
lowing example : "The ecclesiastic and secular powers con·.
curred in those measures." , Is it mean~, •that the powers
which ,concurred, had both the qualities expressed by the '. ~ .-.· adjectives, ecclesiastic and secular? .or · that . one class of ·
these powers was ecclesiastic, and the other secular 1 . The
latter meaning is no doubt that of the writer ; and it should
have been expressed, "The ecclesiastic powers, and the '
secular, ·concurred i~ those measures." ,
·
· · .; ·
,' In cases of .this kind, the followir1g ''rule should be observ·'
. ed: :.W'lien the adjectives are designed to qualify the · ~oun as !
: '. eTpressing one tlting, tlie noun should either pncede or fol· =
· !ow both acijectives; but when the acfjectives are to be un·
d_erstood as qualifying different tliings included under the
·' noun, the noun should follow the first : adjective, .a nd may :
be repeated or not after the second, as the \ liarmony of the
. s.~ntence may require;
and in this latter· case, when an , arti· ..
.
.
cle or pi eposition preades the firs _t ac/jec_tive,· ftl hould be re- ~
p,eated b. fore the second.
·• · "" ,
.~
~ . By th s rule, the following version of. a passage in the ·, B1 ~
blei 18 to be censured. "Every . scribe, imtructed into the ,
12 •
I

\

\

1 •/

.·" '

•• •

:

• ·" •

.,-

,

ON SENTENCE S i ,

ON SENTENCES.

kingdom of heaven, is like an householuer, who bringeth
out of his beasury things new and old." It should read
new tltirzgs and old.
Instead of saying, " Death is the common lot of all, of
good men and bad," the passage should read, " of good men
and of bad."
Instead of saying, " How immense the difference between the pious and profane," it should read, " between the
pious and the profane."
Example of the preposition.
" You will seldom find a dull fellow of good education, but (if he
happen to have any leisure on his hands) will turn his head to one
of those two amusements for all fools of eminence, politics, or poetry."

On first reading this sentence, we are led to connect politics and poetry \Vith eminence, and make them all the objects of the preposition of. But the true meaning of the
writer is expressed, by inserting to before the words politics
and poetry. The ambiguity in this case arises from the
omission of the preposition, which leads the mind to supply the copulative conjunction, and thus causes mistake.
Hence the general remark may be made, that clearness in
tlte construction of a sentence, is often secured by tlte repetition of a preposition ; and tl1e writer may be cautioned
against its omission in suclt instances.
Example of the noun.
"The risini: tomb a lofty column bore."

Did the tomb bear the column, or the column bear the ,
tomb 1 Ambiguities of this kind result from the principle11 ..
of our language, which makes no distinction in termination ~·
between the nominative and objective case, but leaves the
'"'°mtructi m to be determined by the arrangement of the

words. In prose,' therefore, such ambiguities . will ·· rarely
occur; because · the nominative ·will . be pl aced · before the
verb, and the objective will follow it. : But 'in ' poetry, where ·
inversione are allowed, they will occur; and · the danger of,
mistake can be guarded against only by the connexion, ex-'
eept in instances, where, the possessive pronoun being used,
it may determine the nominative by referring to it as its an·
tecedent; as in the following example : .
;

'

.

"And thus the son his fervent sire addressed.' ·
~ ;", ' .. '· ~ ' ; . ~

... .
~ Here the pronoun !tis most naturally refers to son as its ·
1
~ anh1ccdent, and .thus determines which is designed as · the ~
--' nominative, and which as the object of the. verb. · · •> .-:<· ..-.
. ~' 3. I proceed now to mention the wrong position of ad-"
''. ~E'.rbs and of adverbial phrases, as affecting the clearness of .
:· t~e sentence. Faults of this kind, it may be thought, are
; included under the solecism or grammatical blunders, since
· .the rul~s of Syntax require, that adverbs should be placed
. ~ n.~ar the words . th.ey are designed to qualify •. · But such in:' · stances are of so . frequent occurrence, that a · few will be
~.entioned.
«.-' '
'
·, ".-.-"''''./",,
\

• I

"'
"The Romans understood liberty, at least as .well ae we." .:

,.

~ In hearing this sentence read aloud, with the - ~mphas1s :
upon liberty, we should be led to connect the adverb with ·
' this Word. But should the emphasis be placed on the ad. '
,verb itself, we should connect it with .the concluding part'
: of the sentence. · · It is better to change the 'position of the
a'dverb, so that there can be no danger bf mistaking the"
.'il.;f·
tiue\,• meaning of• the writer.
The 'sentence , is ' then more"
'
..
·
I
, ...
. . ' cotrectly constructed as follows: · ''The Romans undet• " .
.~·

~-1{~?.~ ~.~~~ty, as well at least~~ we::~ ·..::~~~~ .f/r'~~ .:·.. ~ ~~:·~;-~·
"'111eism can only be opposed to polytheism or atheism.

/

;. ;

' .... 1~

•'

.' •',._
J~
\ . '~
·~

,,,
.J

. J

t .J

--- ---·-:

ON SENTENCES.

"Theism can be opposed only to polytheisn or atheism."
"There is not perhaps any real beauty or deformity, more in one
piece of matter, than in another.'
"There is not perhaps any real beauty or deformity in one piece
af matter, more than in another.''

_____

-- ~:

' The following' example · is ' introduced, ' td shew'' the injuti. ·
pe~spicuity of a· sen-'
with '•-.whic)t',
tence, of separating prepositions from the words
.!•· ,,.
they are grammatically connected.

. otu! effect on both the smoothness and

• l"':o-1

•• ' '

• ·•

'.~~

f:··EXA.MPLE 1. - "Though virtue borrows no assistance fr?~ yet 1t,
may often be accompanied by, the advantages of fortune." . ,,,.. · · · .

"Not only Jesuits can equivocate.''
~' Jesuits can not only equivocate.'

1

~

l\Iy design in stating this last example, is to shew. that
the same word, according to its position in a sentence, may
be either an adverb or an adjective, and consequently an
essential difference in the sense be made. The meaning ,
of the sentence, as first given, is, that Jesuits are not the
only persons who can equivocate. In the second form of the sentence, the meaning is, Jesuits can not only equivocate, but they can do other things in addition. Hence then
may be inferred the need of additional caution in the use of
those words, which may be regarded either as adverbs or
adjectives, according to their position in the sentence.
Adverbial phrases are to be considered as adverbs, and
should be placed near the word whose meaning they are designed to affect. .Much skill is often requisite in so placing
them, that the sentence may be easy and harmonious in
its sound, and still retain its perspicuity. They are well
compared to unsightly stones, which try the skill of the
builder. As several examples will be given while treating '
of complex sentences, the further notice of them is here ·
emitted.
·I
I proceed now to consider complex sentences, in refer- : >
ence to perspicuity, so far as this quality depends on skill ··.
in the use of language; and without arranging the fauhe ; ·
which are mentioned under distinct heads, I shall give in- , ,
stances of sentences that are deficient in perspicuity, amt' '
infer from the ei'lmination of such instances several cau 1 .
t1ons.

ON " SENTENCES.
-----~------....._

-

,

\,

-~

j

; 'It occtlrs to every one in reading a sentence constructed

A

in this manner, that the easy flow ·of expression is checked,'

. at the same time that we feel a sort of pain from the violent
·'.' separation of two things, which ought .to · be' united. ;·, In'
" State papers, and legal instruments, "where there is ·'need .of'
; u'ncommon precision, sentences of this form may be ' allow I
:_ed, but on other occasions they should be avoided.' ··-·· " ~""~
~ ~:~,J .. '
'
.~
'.~
l
., .~-·t
't,,

•

>

'~

" ]

i

~
. ·. ~

--<:!

•

~

2. -"After we came to anchor, they put me on shore,
'there I was welcomed ,by all my friends, who received me wilh: : th~,

·"' 1t: EXAMPLE

*" ~eo.testkindn~ss.~'

~

,... ., . ~·i ~.'··l'.• ,
.·
.·
.
. ~,~
;:. :;" Having come to .anchor, I w~s ,put o~ shore, where I ~a~. ~e~ :
,-.

..

, eotned by my friends, and received with the greatest kindness."
-~b:

•.

j ·

~·

.

A;'~ Should ·the

·- .

*i f ...:; i_~ -·~h ?~

· ........ ~~ ..

~- -;~· • ~_.w·-~fl 1-'·-::r.~~. . r-~r-<·•'t

···

;--

::

·,

;:!r~If}

--

~- ~

question arise, who, or what, is the ' predomi·1~ · · ·:_. j l
of~~is se.ntencel·~ _· ,.:..::t_,~
it .may
be
difficult
at
first
view
to
answer.·t:
We
;:.rtliey::I/and:,)~'·~~?~
\r
who, referring to friends,· are · in °different ·parts of tnis :short;'i- ·:..•.".
.'. cpmplex sentence, made the governing : or i leading words.!
I~ the corrected form there is one leading word, and all the ·
· p~rts are constructed with .reference to .this. .· In this way;•.
t~~. sentence is made more simple, and the pieaning is more, ·
6bvious. Hence · then we infer, that · the1ie .~lwuld , be .'. one · ·
,kdding ' word or clause in . every sentence;' an,d_· that the . dif-·
:ftfent: members and clauses should .be ' so co,n;structed ·'and ·
ionnected, as to be made subservient to ' tlti s ·leading word or'
r: nant subject of discourse · in_the · first.;form
I

._

~

.

• .........

.

,!~M~~·

"- . . . . . -: . ..

>,:f>y~ ,,~)It{~:~
,I

. . ~ .,: .:.

,,~·!~_,

142

ON

ON SENTENCES.

SENTENCES.

3. - "lie had been guilty of a fault, for which his mu
ter would have put him to death, had he not found an opportunit1
to escape out of his hands, and fled into the deserts of Numidia.
- - - and to flee into the deserts of N umidia.''

.. ·ncorruptible guardian · of their liberties, ' the , enlightened -.1 champion ·:
of their wants.''
_, , ,.,.:" '"1i. J ·.4t) "'-''l:IAT.r·,. ;!· .~ 1!-" ''¢!! .. ·•·"'11>:! -i· __

Exu1PLE

'\\-

'

~ ~'

···,

':""•

- · ,~~\t

.' -:·:·'·'·'r .,\:,

""9 • ~'-'.·~

•

.'-·

4. - "If he delights · in theseV11tudiee; · (Matl1eIOOtit-1,)'
ne can have enough ?f them. He ·may " btiry· himself in', them · u
deeply as he pleases. He may revel. in the~-_ inc~ssaritly, and eat •
-• . drink, and clothe himse1f with them."
'' ~:'';>1;1• ::>!t ''•l\lill~ii. · .. ..,i'{J.;,r.,.lf'''
1
- - - " He ,may revel in them incessant
'a nd ilat' ihem, drink
I.hem, and clothe himself with them.''
''
. ' •.-..,. .· ' :· .. ,,.
.

EXAMPLE

1

I·

In the first form of this sentence, are found two clauses,
"to escape out of his hands" and " fled into the deserts of
Numidia," which have the same relation to the other part
of the sentence, and are constructed differently. In one,
the form is that of the infinitive; in the other, of the past
participle. In the sentence as corrected, this div ersity is
not found, and the meaning is more obvious. From this
and similar examples may be inferred the following direction ; Wlien two or more clauses ltave tlte same relation to
otlter parts of tlte sentence, tltey sltould, if possible, be mad«
similar in tlteir construction.
The two directions, that have now been given, should be
particularly regarded in the composition of long sentences.
It is generally supposed, that in long sentences there is always danger of obscurity, and that the-y should be avoided.
But let the two directions that have been given, be observed - let there be a leading word or phrase in the sentence,
and all the parts be sim;Jarly constructed, and have a common reference to this leading part, and the sentence may be
long without becoming obscure. This is seen in the following example :
" He can render essential service to his country, by assisting in _
the disinterested administration of the laws; by watching over the
principles and opinions of the lower classes around him; by diffu.
sing among them those lights which may be important to their wel ·
fare; hy mingling frankly among them, gaining their confidence '!
and becoming the immediate auditor of thei_r complaints; by inform.
mg himself of their wants, and making himself a channel through
which their grievances may be quietly communicated to the proper
tources of mitigation; or by becoming, if need be, the intrepid and '

y,·

.,
·~ In the first form of this sentence, there is a solecism, ·
: ~rising from the ellipsis. According to .. the st_a tement there
• I?- majde, a student may eat and drink
himself
with ;Mathemat-!'·
.
, •f
,.~)'?~· .The second for~ . of.the se~tence ~s, gr~~_n1atic~I).r."'cgr:i
~~c~, anq expresses the meaning of the .writer-;" . ~h~s exal!l-.
pl~ .. t.h,en sugge~ts t~e necessity ~f. , ca~~i~n . i~ .;.. the, y.~e i?Xt
elhptical
expressions.
·. .·1""-~. ·.7 ,lt'p.t~,11.
.. ,, ,.i ' -r+{:>.~t·r,,:\l;o.t.,
•
,· :i,·\.
'
~'f •.

~·

-

11

'

,, '

·-1 1

\4•

- •' ..~ .

~ ,. .

.,

' .

' •

.

1

.

; '

l

Whatever renders a period sweet and pleasant,
;,, makes it also graceful; a good ear is the gift of nature; : lt 'may he.
;.; much improved, but not acquired by 'a rt; whoever is possessed of it,\
,,. wil11,rarely need dry • critical · precepts to enable -, him to -judge ·or, a•
tr~e.. !ightness and , melody of, co~position; just numbers, accurate} __,
proportions, a .musical symphony, magnificent figures ·and that; <fe- _~ - ·.
' ·: coruin which is the result' ~fall ' these, ~re ''hnison " ld'\he''ii~~arl·~ ~~ :-:.•{{
~. mind; we are so framed by riature' that' their charm is irresistible, H.'!~::~t ·;:» ~-:~~
.

•·

1

EXAMPLE

-f&·~"q'

-

-

" •

•

·~ , · .. ·,

N

'

"

•

;;

~ ~ <''» , ~-f~·~t ;~~e ,~~(•

• , :, .+~~-

Ml>';ro inake this sentence perspicuous, it would be Iiece~sa~:« ". ·" .,. :-"'
·~ .rY . ~o entirely remodel it. It is an example of .the violation !/~~

of: those principles, on which a disceurse is divided into sen-"' fr.-· ~~._:
/l ten.ces.
It neither has -one subiect
nor is thete a conn. ex·-· ' .. · -~(:....
•
.,
J
'
.ion,.. between its different . parts . . We .may infer from it the ~'.~,
·ge~~ra1 , direction; _ Not . to :.unite in t~e same \sentence i.i thost't-; '··.. th()Ugltts and statements tchich are _d istinct, and buf'remoi6 ,f' ,· ;/:1•
.- Jf iwnnected witli e_ach ot!ie1" ~ ~~ . . ·. :•• ·'· ~t~'i •ii~ ,\v{ii,f~·:~{;;?l-~@,~:- ;;
, -, .•• -"'!;·"1' ' , ) ~· ' -; -', ' . . , . ' .; ·' 'i ' ;~:.~:.:~: : ;;,);,~:~~\;7..:~,;;;{' ~::·~, .~::< ./~

·f.tr.

·; "·EUMPLE
•

6. - " It is not without a degree_· of patient attentinn ·aatil ; -~-;,.
•

.. ' r

"

I _,S

.

-·' '

-

·"
I

144

ON

OH ' SENTENCES;

SENTENCES.

persevering diligence, greater than the generality are willing _to ht'
stow, though not greater than the object_deserves, that the ha~1t can
be acquired of examining and judging of our own conduct with th6
11ame accuracy and impartiality as that of another."
"The habit of examining our own conduct as accurately as thal
of another, and of judging of it with the same impartiality, ca~not ~e
acquired, without a degree of patient attention and persevering d1l
agence, not greater indeed than the object deserves, but greater than
the generality are willing to bestow."

were fruitless." · Now it may be asklld, •·what"c_om\exiori'' tne :,
c.ircunistance, that the man's "head : ~afl . supported by a ·
bundle of clothing," .· has with the want .· of-"'success ·in' at..
tempts to r~store him to life.
•( /'>1•·~ q}.:;,::;;.'>'· , .: : '.'' ·
.,.. But since there is difficulty in the right position of clauses,
~ome ·directions · will now be given, which may aid in their
Qftangement. ' '
'
- . ! ' ' ' ",' · I .
">
7. - 11 'l'he moon was casting a pale light . on the nume .
rous graves that were scattered before me, as it peered above the horiton, when I opene·1 the small gaie of' the church yatd/' · ' · · ·
'· ·"
11
When I opened the small gate of the church yard, the moor / ·
. as .i t peered abo.ve tlte horizon·; was casting' a 'pale \~ighf oft :the ~ nutile-:.:-c
t• , .rous graves that fay scattered before me.": ~ ; ::· -~ .. ~.~'. '.;; ·~- ';,<·?;} ~,~;..
,,EXAMPLE

,.

I

I

This sentence is Jong, and the objection may be made to
the first form of it, that no distinct meaning is conveyed to
the mind, till we arrive nearly at its close. This prevents
its bein<Y readily and fully comprehended. In the correct·
ed form~ the different parts are so arranged, that we take in
the meaning of the different clauses as we proceed, and
without difficulty or delay comprehend the full meaning of
the entire sentence. The example then suggests the in'l·
portant caution; T!tat t!te different parts of long sentences
be so constituted and arranged, that each part may be un
derstood as tlie sentence proceeds, not leaving the meaning
of the different parts as well as of the whole sentence to be
gathered at its close.
'
Most of the faults in the composition of complex senten·
ces are connected with those clauses, which express some .
'
circumstances
of the actions or objects mentioned. Some It.
of these clauses are less intimately connected with the main ,-~."
thought expressed in the. sentence than others, and the wri-.' ·, \;
ter should always avoid crowding into one sentence more:i .._t
clauses expressing circumstances, than are absolutel! nece~ · ;-'.
But writers, sometimes, instea~ of o bservmg t?1~ ·•.
8 ary.
rule, bring into the same sentence circumstances, wh10h~: ·.
are hut very remotely connected with the leading thought '
of the sentence. One of our daily papers, in an account of ·' _
a man frozen to death, says: "His head was supported by .;.·~ ·
a bundle of clothing, but all efforts to revive the vital spark ~ , «

- .., .. ~

~··'(..

.

. ~ ' •.

.

...

. . ~. -:-;1 ., ~.

. ;'. <~~· Any one will allow, ' that the image hroughCbefore' thJ_- ~
. : nimd in the second form · of. this sentence, is more distincf
· a~d vivid, than that presented in the _first. Upon compar~· · ing ·the two forms of the sentence, it will be\ ;een 1 'that air° ·
1
;t that has been done, is. to alter the position ·o( clauses .· ~x:::
'. ~· pl'~ssing the circumstances of the action. !~stead ~f b~_:.
· ·. ing introduced near the close of the sentence, they are pl.a ced:
.:'. ut, its commencement. · From this and .-.similai; ' Instances ·.. ·
', it1 is inferred that cl~~ses npressing circumstan~es; mu~t -.tbe
.. place<!.i as near as practicable to the · beginning ' of_<J:. _ .sen~-·
· tence. . It is obvious that this directioi-i will apply principal( · · · '-~::,·
· IJ'to those c1auses expressing time or place, and not to those ·' .. ·~<· ,.;,.·
' wbich are designed to affect t~e meaning . df · p~rticuJar par~S;· ;':~~·..?~
1lhe sentence ·'~ . . -'-· !· 1··-·.
' , ;. , ,•, '' 1 \•t'r'~!,j• .. ... ·i-i·'.~~·"~''•,"; -: ':-; ·:
1

. of
•. ,

:!')~~.

.

.:,, ·.-:-'• -· '·.'

. ' . _.

. .

~'~--~

\ <..';

1

"1-- ~.-\:. ~;;;;.:.;._}- ;~~:.·~.:~~::••:·

8. - '' 'fhere. will therefore be two . triaJs. in this town .11.t\ , ,;..
~.: · - .-.--\.·
·
.
.... ~at lime, which are punishable with death if a full court sho\lld. ~t· <-h~ 'f --~>;;;,:
·:

UMPLE

\

,. ,. .~ 'Ba ·,, • . .

.'

·-'

...

"',-f i 't ' that time, therefore; ' if a fuli court

~)!o: trials

punishab~': by _ death,'~1~l'~7-j;.:JJ~'littk1~::f_T:: 4 >·~:
'
.... '1
'"• . '' , .. ,,.~·O.· ' If/{"'"-;; ' ,J.....
,,.,, "· • - ko<-'
~
·..f ' -} . ·:1 · · 1t i,""7--.. ~-t,_...;.· ~i .~?t- 'f{rrt..t" ;
~ ' '•·t"?,,."~ ·
.:.~
~h_e first form of this senteucei. convey!;_,:;•~ meanin1 difrer.. --yr .. .·
f<'•·\·~

, ·t: '·

"

. _,._, .CI;· .::;~~· SJ?~if~f· 1:-e~~·· "'~.; ; ."
sii~~d\1.l~~t~tfu;~"'wiu_ii':.'. _._·\-

'

.

which are
.

.

11

:"'r

J3

,.

/

i

'

,.._

.,..,,.,

OF

ON SENTENCES.

146

ent from that intended to be conveyed by the. writer. Ac·
cording to this statement, the criminals might earnestly
wish that a full court should not attend. Th.iK wrong mean
ing is given, by connecting the clause "if a full cour~
should. attend" with the wrong part of th~ sentence. I
the corrected form, the place of this clause is changed, and
the meaning of the writer is clearly conveyed. ~I enc.~ .the~
'1ncerred
that claus1:s e1:prcsswg c11 cum
1
t h e ru l e may be
h
'
'
stances of the action, should be placed !zea~· that par.t of t e
s1:ntence the meaning of tehich they are des1.gned to a.fleet.
E

. 9 -"Are these designs, which · nny man who is born a

Hrit:~:1;::n;

circumstances.or in any situation, ought to be ashamed

or a t''dt
ra1 o avow ?"
·
h · b
a Briton ought,
" Are these designs, which any man, w o is orn
' ?"
in any circmnstances or in any situation, to be ashamed to avow.

.
f
, her· tlie former end'l his sentence consists
o two mun tS,
.
t B 'ton and the latter commencing with ought. The
mg a
ri
'
·
·
" · · the
hrase "in any circumstances or in any s1tuat1on, is m
fi
tl
n i'n between the two members, and may be
p
first orm uow
··
d
connected with either. Ily changing its position, an co~.
't 'tl the latter member of the sentence, alt amb1nectmg I w1 l
'
.
l
. .
d Ilence we may infer the follow mg ru e:
gu1ty is remove ·
A clause or phrase expressing a circumstance, uught never
to be placed between two principal members~ of a sent enc t.
ONNECTIVES are included tho:ie words,
'
U n d er t 11e l1ead Of C
which are used to connect different sentences, or to connect
if fft
t clauses and members of the same sentence. Much
o~ :1::n clearne~s and finish of style will depend upon thle
It is true they are t le
.
f
d
' ·1r 1 use of this class o wor s.
'
.
.
s u. u . ,
..111 t 8 0 f a discourse; but in a well written
•
art1cu,at10ns or J0
.
'l
like the 1'oints in the numan frame
production, t iey are
.
which show forth the skill of the l\'laker' and !'lre essent1a.

~o the perfection of the work.

CONNECTIVES.

•.,. A connective may be defined, as , that.: word in a sentence
or clause, wliiclt being neither expressed .nor implied, it could
riot be discove1·ed, that what is said in ,the sentence; or clause;
has any ctmnexion with wliat precedes. To show more fu) ..,_

the nature of a connective, the following examples are given ,,
J

I

• ·~·::.

•

' t·'

'•

.

'

It is difficult for the most wise and upright government to con•
tect the abuses of remote delegated power, productive of unmeasured
wealth, and protected by the boldness and strength of the same ill-got
~iches. These abuses, fulJ of their own wild native vigor, will grow
" ".
· ·, 1 '°···
1·
and flourish under mere neglect." • .
· .. "
1

..,. ,.

J

.,

-.~_

;' \"

'<·'

'

/ ,.

I

*\

:

·,.-~1-~-.

~

The connexion between . the ,latter ' sentence and the pre;
eeding, in this example, is denoted by the' demonstrative pr<>;~oun "these," followed by the word ,~' ,abuses,'; which e~­
presses the subject of the former ·sentence. That the con.•
~exion is expressed in the pronoun, is evident from the fact,
that if the pronoun be omitted, what remains of the sentence
expresses
a . distinct proposition without any connexion
with
.
.
what precedes. In some instances, the noun is not repeated after the demonstrative pronoun, and in others, some
synonymous word, or some word which brings · to vie~ the
object of the preceding sentence~ is joined to the pronoun ·
Sof!1etimes also the definite article, or ' possessive pronoun, .
~sed for the demonstrative pronoun.' But in all ·instancesof this nature, the connexion is in the pronoll~ itself. · ,. ' ~

'

.:

.

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,

f

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l

•

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ls
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~ii, A true aristocr~cy i~

not a separate interest m' the · state: ~r · ~ep· .
arable from it. It is an ·essential integrant par I of any large body.
1
tightly constituted.'' ':
q · · t ~. \
•·
·• .
, \:.: ~ \n

. "fl

'' . " ·' .. '' .':

- "., ~.......H,e re the personal pronoun it 1s tl~e con~ectI~e. 1 ~~~m~·
·plea .of this kind are frequent, and need no comment... •.· .. ,
~. ···~·'

.

~

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...

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.-J

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.. "The air, the earth and the water, teem with delighted..

i•

,,J.!

..

exi11ten~'

;, In" a .Spring noon or a Summer's evening .. ~ on ' whichever eide w•
I

tum our eyes, myriads of happy beinga ·crowd upon .our. vie~" ··

.,,:r
•'

______________________
l48
OF CCUNEC'flV ES.

OJ) · CONNECTIVE!§ i

.._.

•s.ample is needed. From this short .:view of the nature,of ·
oonnectivel'I, I now proceed to give · s~me ·:_ c~utions tQ · guard

This latter sentence, in this example, is intended to be il
lustrative of the former, and though no connec.tive is ex
pressed, there is one easily supplied. Instances of this kind
are also frequent.

8gainst their wrong use.

•1t~

;·. r

;·,~~· ~~ :~·-t:- ft ~...

j

~ ~ ~.

! ; : ... ·1· (

....,

:r

1. Of d~monstrative and other pronouns except ' the relative.
"''·", ,'.,~;,-,· -.:,;----.., :· ..... ~;;,~·
. -~: It. has ·been 'already temarked, that ' when .1 pronouns of.
-. · ,his Class are used as connectives, it is generalJy the · case • .
' that either the noun which expresses the subject of the .pre•
· ced~ng sentence, is repeated, or some synony111ous word is
used. When this is 'done, there can be little .danger of 'misThe .only caution needed, is . the general one," that .
'·· whenever adjective pronouns ·are use!l as conn~ctives; .and :
.!( tp{ tloi.m to which th.oy belong Is left t~ be .s~pplied - by:the
· ~eader, care should be had, that this noun be obvious. 1 To
effect this, the word to .he supplied should · be,· l. A word
·. which the mind is accustomed to suppl}' in ·similat cases:·
'.•.2!', The leading word of·the discoutse."1 3. A w~rd ' that has
·just 'been mentioned, and is thus fully in the view of 1the
. _ ·:. ,.
· ' reader. An example. of each kind is subjoined.--~'

'' Let not the passions blight the mtellec.t in the Spring of its ad
yancement nor indolence nor vice canker the promise of the heart
in the b\os~om. Then shall the Summer of life be adorned with moral
beauty."

In this instance, the connectmg word is tlten, which is a
particle usually called an adverb, though by some grammarians considered as a conjunction when used, as in this in11tance, to connect sentences. But by whatever name it
may be called, it is evidently one of those words, which, iil the
improvement of language, are inserted to save circumlocu•
ion, and is here equivalent' to the phrase, Let tltis be done.
: nstances in which adverbs are used as connectives, may be .
resolved in this way into a phrase containing a . demonstra·
tive pronoun.

tl(;
11

.
.
.
.
The citizens.of II. free government must be enlighteped. and virtuous. To effect this, 'schools '' and 'U.e institutions' for · religioli~ ltl~
•tr}tction ffiUSt be SUpported," ·-..
""! ~ " '; ''"~'
., L' '""'""-'--"'-"

I certainly have very good wishes for the place of my oirlh
But the sphere (}f mv duties is my true country."
cc

The connective in this example is the particle but, which
is a conjunction. Should this be resolved, as in the last ex~ .~
ample, into what it is designed to express, i~ would be :ound .
equivalent to some phrase like the follo~mg;. To tlizs SU• \,
peradd. Of this mode of resolving con11mct10ns, I shall :
presently speak, .and endeavor to shew, that. w_here_ the
junction is used ns a connective, a pronoun is implied .
..
The examples which have been given, are instances she'!~ ~
1ng the manner of connecting different sentences. Th~ ~1·
.11ame means, together with relative pronouns, are used for :·'
connecting the different members and clauses of the same ~ .
.~cntcnce. Of this common use of the relative pronoun n~ •. ·

c:':

',

*
.
,
·\f

Hheret ~he mit~d reda~ilythsuppliesd.the n:ortd ofdect, · ~eferring .
., .
·/ ~. :-V . a. is men 10ne m e prece mg s~n ence. ,; ."i .. "·P ih"· .... ,

,· ~~~i ~~s was not the tnumph of. France.';
.

•; ·' .:.

......,. ·

t .. :

.

•

of the

;
~

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....-\<"(' -

from . which this

is ilow

~

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'
150

In this example the word papers, having bee11 recentlJ
mentio7rnd, is easily supplied after the pronoun.
Excepting in cases similar to those now mentioned, there
is danger of obscuril .y in omitting the noun, which is designed to be connected with the pronoun.
2. Of the relative pronoun. Under this head are includ.
ed relative pronouns, properly so called, and other pronouns
used as relatives. The danger of obscurity in the use of
this class of pronou.ns as connectives, arises from un certain·
ty as to the antecedent. To prevent this in the construc!ion of sentences, some cautions will now be given.
It is folly to pretend to arm ourselves against the accidents of
life by heaping up treasures, which nothing can protect us against,
but the good providence of God."
"lt is folly to pretend, by heaping up treasures, to arm ourselves
against the accidents of life which nothing can protect us against,
but the good providence of God.''
11

In the first form of this example, the mind is led to refer
the relative w!tic!t to the word treasures, immediately pre~ed·
ing it. Upon examining the sentence, we perceive that the
relative is oesigned to refer to accidmts, and that we have
been led astray by the intervention of a clau se betw een the
antecedent and rel ative. The position of this clause is different in the corrected form of the sentence, and the true
sense is then evident. Hence we infer the following rule ''
In m·1·angi11g t!te members and clauses of a sentence, tlttrelative s/wulJ be placed as near as possible to its antece•
dent.
" Uut I shall leave this subject to your management, and questi.o~
oot, but you will throw it into such light, as shall at once enter :
tain and improve y'>ur readers.''

In this sentence, the personal pronoun it, which is hme
a relative, is removo l to some distance from the noun lt

l.

'

OF CONNECTIVES;

OF CONNECTIVES.

•151- .

;which it r~fers. It would be difficult . to \ make . any altera•
Hon in the sentence, which woulct -place it n':larer;'.~ Neither
A~··. this , necessary for the attainment of perspicuity, · since
.we are in no danger of mistakmg the ". right •. antecedent;
_Here then we are governed by a different :, principle from
J ha.t .which has JUSt been mentim~ed; anp 1 this ·prinqiple· :is;
,t.he rank which different words ho.a in a · sentence: · : The
nominative ~nd accusative, as the agent and object; are :pf
.more importance in a sentence, than . other nouns which are
. dependent upon them. . In the example giveh j the word : sub"~ -' ject is the accusative, and of higher rank in . the sentencej
than the word management, which is connected with the
. ac~usative by' preposition; and thus .made depende~t +u"p.on
it. Hence then we infer the follow_ing ~tile"; · lV!ie~', th~
· ,sentence cannot be so modelled, tlzat tlte relative · may , be
. placed in close connexion with tlze anteccdent 1 it should le
.. made to rifer to the leading noun of t!te sentence. : · -'. ·, 1. i.

a

. l~;;," The

~rator des~rves

thos~

j~~~r~

no credit for
benefits, _however
tant, which result from the subject and occasion, .which are ' ~flen
the true cause of that effect, w,hich is g~nerally supposed to · be' pro-'
;.duced by the man himself." · .._:, . -. ·'-. ~·.,,_ • : ., >·-· _{ , ·'" h:iJ ,,;
' j~ _'. " The .orator deserves no credit for , those'~ benefits;. howev~r ' 1~por•
.
lant, winch result from the subject and ocr.asion . .; These are often
,' n- ;'.the true cause of that effect, which is generally supposed .. to be pro·
~: dnced by the man himself."
· c -"'.
.
. ~ ·
. "
I

, ,~.,

.

':JI.>•-~ .

.

. •

.

~ .I

• ;.,

··~ . ,. In the first form of this example, the relative is used thr~e
~;·,-. ?~fferent tim:s, and in each instance with a_ different · ant~
.~ cedent. This causes a want of perspicuity; in' the senterice:
. J'he 'lronoun is a substitute for the noun, ~nd the effect ofl
:"using the same relative with different antecedents in · the
: (,~ame sentence, is a violation of perspicuity) sini ilar 'to · that
'+ which arises from the use of the same word 1 in "different
. _J;.~enses. The difficulty is removed in . the /s~c~nd form of
',.,.r e, example by a division of the sentence/ Hence then we

i

la2

OF CONNECTIVES.

11erive the direction, Avoid using tlie same relative twice en
.oftener in° the same sentence with different aniectdents.
The preceding rules are designed to assist in so con
structing the sentence, that no .doubt may exist as to the
right antecedent of the relative. But cases will occur, when
it is impossible to prevent all ambiguity in the u~e of the
relative pronoun. In such cases the noun itself may be
repeated, or a division be made of the sentence, or in some
other way the use of the pronoun may be avoided. S-<!me.
times ambiguity in the use of the relative, may arise from a
different ~ource, as is seen in the following example.
" 1 know that all words which an signs of complex ideas, furnish
matter of mistake and cavil."
"I know that all those words which are signs of complex ideas,
furnish matter of mistake and cavil."

In the first form of this example, though the relative is
rightly placed in reference to the antecedent, still the true
meaning of the author is not conveyed. He did not mean
to say "that all words are signs of complex ideas," which
is expressed by the words used ; but his design is, to affirm
something of those words which are signs of complex ideas.
Here then is ambiguity arising from a cause which has not
been mentioned. To state this cause, it is necessary to
mention a distinction between clauses introduced by the
relative as explicative of the meaning of the antecedent,
and those introduced as determinative of its meanmg.
".Man who is born of a woman, is of few days and full of
trouble." "The man that endureth to the end, snail be
saved." In the former of these sentences, the clause introduced by the relative is explicative. It merely points out
some property of the antecedent, but does not affec~ ;ti> 'llean. .
ing as used in the given instance. It might he said of man .
that he is of few days and ful of trouble, though he were not

---

OF · CONNEC'rIVES "

. oorn, of .a ~oman. ' In the other example; the . relative . intl'<r~.
-. ~u~s a determinative ·clause, which -:,atfects: the meaning of;}
~i th~ ·.antecedent. It is not said that all , men .,shall be saved, ,
, .'. bµi:only " he that .endureth to the ~nd} '~ and _the clause in.; ~,
troduced by the relative cannot be removed without chang•\· .
ing .entirely the meaning of the sentence. ··Now the clause'
·introduced by the relative in the example at the head of thiR "
paragraph, ~s designed to be determin(lti.ve in its ~ffect on:
the antecedent. It has this force in .the corrected form of ·
the .example; which is given to it by the insertion of _the de.::'
:nonstrative pronoun tlaose before words. · The : sam,e efrec.t>would have been produced by the insertion of the defin_ite
atticie. Hence then we infer the ; rule, Tliat . whe.never",.af,.
cla11se which is designed to be determinative .in its effect otl: .
the' .antecedent, is introduced by the relative, . the antecedentv,
·.·r."'--~_ should be preceded by tlie demonstrative pronoun, or the defto.:
. 1
'
·
• :i
• ·
• ,
nitearticle.
- ~
"_/ 3.' Of conjunctions, and other particl~s.
· ' '- .:,:,.
""r.; Every one acquainted with grammar; ,knows that adverbs"
. ar_e. not essential parts of language, but .that they might "be ,.
,, : ' dismissed, and the same · meaning expressed by. circuml~/
· ' ·· cutions. . It has been shewn . by a late · eminent philologist;~
·. : tqat ..conjurfotions are of \lie satne nature. : They are obso:-; ·
. ·" lete forms of verbs, .and m the use of them an elli1)sis is im.-:"
._ plied, in supplying which, where they serve tl~e purpose of; .
· '. connectives, a pronoun is used. This is shewn in the foh~ .
· ,~ i'owing example ; . "Faith cannot be perfect unless there be'>!
good works.'; Here, unless is to be oonsiderqd· as .the im- '
'pe.rative of the obsolete verb onlessan, th~ -~ignification ·of .'.::
.: which is to dismiss. In supplying the · implied ellipsis;~
', the ·· sentence will read; "Fait_h cannot be\ perfect to ,this ~'
, dismiss there he good works." In this then; as i.n th~ pre:
• ·... ceding examples, the real connective is .ai pronoun ··
~, :;·
.·.. •. '.-}:);. '
//
"

;

t• .:.

/
()
,·'...

.l.

.-11

.

·-

~---.~

--1
·-tl

154

OF

CONNECTIVES.

In agr ~ement with this account of conjunctions, it is
found, that besides implying connexion, they express the
manner of connexion, or the relation of one clause or mem ·
ber to another, or of one sentence to anoth er. In doing
this, they retain their original nieaning, and hence the dif·
ferent classes into which they are divided ; as the copula·
tive, disjunctive, causal, i1lative, etc. ; all of which names are
intended to shew the nature of the relation expressed by the
conjunctions included 'under them.
Skill, in the use of conjunctions, both as connectives and
as shewing the relation between parts connected, is to be
acquired from practice in writing, and from famili arity with
good writers. It is also most frequently found united with
clearness of thought, and accurate habits of re asoning.
Hence no directions are here given to guide the writer in
their use, but simply a few remarks offer~d, the reason and
propriety of which, sound sense and good taste must per·
ceive.
1. Long conjunctions are to be avoided. Such are the
words, nevcrtlteless, notwitltstanding, furtlt ermore, foras;much..
The improvement of out language has caused most of
! these conjunctions to give place to others, which are short' er; and as such words are but secondary parts of sen·tences; it is desirable that they should not occupy more
room, and become more conspicuous, than is absolutely necessary.
2. The frequent recurrence of the same conjunction i!
to be avoided; especially if that conjunction consists of
more than one syllable. The reason of this direction, as of
the preceding, is to prevent conjunctions from appearing 08
prominent. ·
3. The accumulating of several conjunctions in the same

I

OF.·< CONNECTIVES; ;"
..

ehtusel is Jo ; be avoided, unless , their 1c9alition, ibe.! 11.l:!spl~teJY:,
, necessary. · To aid in forming a judgment of what propri0;1
, ;ty1:and i the• idiom .of the · language)· a1low j n... suyh . 1ca~·es, ~h~
: fo.t::owing remarks are made: >·r. ~. er.> . .~ i , Yf(ii 1 1' tY!J<t~l 1 b · .~11 11
.-"' ,:.;i Two conj!-lnctions may follow each _.other ;~when , 9.ne .C?.f,, .
,;;f,' hem serves to connect the sentence with , what precedes, ·
· and the other · to connect one clause in .the sentence with
another c~ause. "~ go to prepare a place for you. And if
I go and prepare a place for you, I will come again and re-. .
ceive you to myself." And is the connective of the senten_
ces, and if of the clauses.
Conjunctions of the same class may be united, but such
coalitions are often unnecessary, and should be avoided. ·
Examples of this kind are but however, and further, yet nev1rtlteless, etc. In eal'.h of these instames, one of the con~
junctions used is unnecessary.
Conjunctions of different classes are often found united,
and sometimes necessarily, but at others, when more care .
m the construction of the sentence would have rendered
their union unnecessary . ... Of the propriety of such coali .
tions, a knowledge of the usage of the best writers, and ,o .
the original · meaning of the conjunction, will en~ble us to
judge.
Conjunctions may often be left to be supplied by the
reader.
To use a conjunction wherever the sense would allow of
one, would render a style heavy, and conduce but little _to
its perspicuity. Here, as in the former:, instance, the usage
of good writers must decide. On the one hand, we are .to
guard against the omis.sion of connectives t~ , that . degree,
which might render the style defective . an~ ' ,obscme. , .On .
he other, we are to avoid the too freq ~.ent ,use of the111,
•

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, __t

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.,, :i

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~·' J ~; \,~\r·t ~,~4t~~:.,~1_.r;·,
I

I
. ..,:

156

OF

CONNECTIVES.

which would render our manner of writing awkward and
defective.
To these remarks on connectives, it may be added, that
the abbreviations i. e., e. g. and viz. are in dignified com
po1!1~t10n to be avoided.

'

. {" ·

.

-.

i '··.

:

· CHAPTER FIFTH

...

.... -

. "· ~ . ~

.

._.~ :· .

/?

:.~ ·} .. /.•, ..

f

\

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j

.

ON STYLE
·"!

. ,.. . ,
;

- · · ·'

'

f.

~

is defined by Dr. Blair, to be "the peculiar man·
- :~
ner m which a writer expresses his thoughts by words. - Jt
;,~]
is a p1ct·Jre of the ideas in the mind, and of the order ;in
,
which they exist · there." Buffon has more boldly and nap· _j
pily said, "Style is, the man himself.'·'. .; L~t ~wo individuals . - ~·~
write on the same subject. · 'Ve· seer in their productions - ~ ~j
!~' their peculiar. modes of thi_nking '""7. ~e extent of their kn_
o.wl- .
·~
:}:;;, edge - their tastes .and their feelii;ig: :'; ,~h.e portrait executed.'
.. ~
:,::: by_the most skilful painter, does , not ,.more ,fully .represent - - - ':!
,~'.;.· the countenance, than the producti9,ns.of.the pen exhibit th~ .
~
'.Zi.; characteristics of the mind. . . ·- i . . . ,
. _'···· . c
-~2j
:'.:~r ,:Consistently with this account of what is meant by style,'. --~~
~- the attention has been directed to thought as the foundation
•: ;:
·(::_of good writing- to the nature and objects of literary taste,.
._ :
:f,~· and to skill in the use of language.· : From what has )een~-: ·~ ~~
·;~,ii said on these different heads, it may easily pe inferred;. that. ·
:~
t~ere are some qualities of sty le, which ,ar~, .~ommo~ , to ·atl
· ;~
good ,..Titers. But since style depen~s on,; J1he int~liectu·aJ '.
>7-~
~i~ habits, and acquirements - on liter?-ry tasJ6; .and on skiU)n ,: ~ ,,:,_3
·. ' lh~ ; use of.language, each of whie~ !s po,s~e.l'!sed by: different :-;.:_~;~!
~~lf,i.~uals in different degrees, .it t11Uj};,' b~ :~byiomi~ _that the;.,.·~~~-=
14
. ..
. .
. - -~
BT1 LE

1

.

~

...

1

i:

-li

:

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,

_..;~

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..- . •.!!
.:~

It

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· ibS

ON STYLE.

modes of writing peculiar to different authors, will diffet
according to their characteristic traits. Oth er diversities in
style, arising from the subject and occasion, and characteristic
of different classes of writing, will also be found. I purpose, therefore, in this chapter, to consider in three different
sections, I. The qualities of style common in s0111e degree
to all good writero; 2. The different modes of writing which
characterize different individuals; 3. The kinds of style
suited to some of the more common classes of writing. To
fois will be added some general directions for improv ement
in style.

SECTLQN

1.

On the qualities of a good style.

U~nRECTNESs, as a quality of style, implies the use of

I

•

1

I
'I

J

l

I

words that are purely English in their true and proper sense,
and the construction of phrases and sentences according to
~he rules of Grammar.
Thus it is opposed to the Barbarism, or the use of foreign words; the Impropriety, or the
use of words in a wrong sense ; and the Solecism, or grammatical blunder. Enough has been said in the section on
Verbal Criticism, to guard the writer against the two fo~mer
faults; to prevent the 1utter; is the appropriate object of
Syntax, and does not come within the limits of Rhetoric.
Attention to this quality of style should be urged upon all
those who would become good writers. It is equally necessary in all kinds of writing, and though it is not regarded
as a high excell ~nce; · the absence of it is ever thought disgraceful. Incorrectness in the use of words and in the construction of sentences, like inaccuracies of pronunciation, 1s
considered as evidence of careless intellectual habits and an
unfinished education. There is also something of the na.
ture of incivility, when a writer asks us for our attention~

.> ~
and acld'-eises us _in language we cannot understand>~ Hence'
;_ :;.f''"
it is, that the faults which are 1opposed t-0 correct11ess1, are1
··~pardoned ·\vi th least willingness;· and ; furnish , occasions ~ to
.i.~
· critics for raillery at the expense of guilty_·writers.i•"'tt-'"*'' w• t••
· T!1e different feelings with which -we regard •an ·instance·
of ihcorr~ctness in conversation · and in .writing, are worth..
'
our attention. If, in the ardor of conversation, a word is
improperly used, or a sentence wrongly conf'.!tructed, we · are·
ready to ascribe. the incorrectness ' to the impetuosity and ;
hurry of the thoughts, or · to the rapidity ~ of the expressionf
and we overlook · it . . Not so in writing., " Here is time..for ;;
;~
reflection, for the due arrangement of the thoughts, and the
..:.l-~
right modelling of the expression _; and though one or two '
~
instances of incorrectness may be forgiven, :. yet ' if .they- are ,
~
of frequent occurrence, their · effect on our. opinion · of . the '
----~
writer is unfavorable. , · .. • . ..'.-;;:; ' .1.: ::~·; 1 , -: ~ "·.:7·.f?' '::L'..
It is unnecessary to . repeat . here · what was said ri at~' the
close of the section oh .Verbal Criticism, on :the importance ·
f'f familiarity with ·aut.hors· of reputation, that .; we may- attain ; . .
propriety · in.the ~juse .. of lw9rds,·, ; But it-is not< amiss to~ urge.! ,:~"'~
the necessity of a critic~l t ,knowledge . of the·irules ·and ' prin:·. ·
ciples of syntax, · 1· ;, ! 1, ; r·'- -'; ·;, rm1tc..: (! .~•;: ;:J.:; ;•i :: !!.!':J.J.:J; E;:.J.t7 .
These rules, it is . true, like , those which : relate to i the •
choice of _words, derive their authority. from good-usage; .and ;.
the principles which • they enjoin may, be learnt ~ front ~ the <
study · of good models . in writing; still they are : valuable, f.
since"' they direct the . attention to those cases where there -is ; most danger of error, and give us the' results to .which those r
have been led who .have carefully s~udied . the s.ubject.:f Let r
then an intimate knowledge of the principles and rulei( of ;
!yntax be considered essential toward forming'. a good '. style• .
.. PERSPICUITY ,is the next quality 'of.a . good styl« to be c on~ t
sidere<l.
It implies that the expressions fi'sed are such as- to.

~
., _

~

;j

1j

1,

convey~. ~~.~ c~earl y to <?On~~r,' ~h~. ~~~:~ 1~~1a~~~~fof, t}1e '".rite.i:"!
'

•

I

,

-;:.•/

'

160

Thus defined, it is opposed to ambiguity and obscurities of
every kind, from whatever source they may arise.
In every t>ystem of Rh etoric, Perspicuity is dwelt upon as
an essential quality of a good style. The argument, by
which its observance is enforced, is simple and unanswerable. We write to communicate to others our thoughts ;
and, if we do not make ourselves understood, we fail of om
object in writing. Neither is it enough that, by study, a
meaning may be made -out of the expressil>ns that we use.
The meaning of a passage should be so obviom;, as not only
to prevent mistake, but to become evident at the first glance
··-so evident, that we cannot help discerning it. On this
point Quinctilian has happily said, " Oratio in animum audientis, sicut sol in oculos, etiamsi in eum non intcndatur,
occurrat." • Perspicuity is a word of similar import to
transparency, which is applied to air, to glass, and to
water; or to any substance, through which, as a medium,
we are wont to look at objects. Now it is well known that,
if there be any defect in the medium through which we
look, so that we do but imperfectly discern the object of our
survey, we are liable to be deceived in our estimate of it;
our attention is also taken off from the object itself, and we
are led to notice the want of perfect transparency - to account for it, and to judge of its effect on our view of the
object before us. But, on the other hand, if the medium be
perfectly transparent, our undivided attention is directed to
the object itself; and, while we see it distinctly, and judgu
of it correctly, we think not of the medium through which
it is viewed. This illustration admits of close application
to style.
But the question may be asked ; Do not instances som&
times occur, in which a degree of obscurity is desirable
* The meaning of a discourse should strike the mind, as the light of
the sun does the eyes, though they are not intently fixed upon it.

J6J c

ON . STYLE.

ON STYLE.

....

Are there not some delicate ·turns or bold forms of expres~· ·
l'lion, which lose nothing of their pertinency from the degree ;
of obscurity which characterizes them 1 and may not a regard for delicacy, or even decency, sometimes prevent the
distinct . enunciation of a thought 1 To these inquiries, it
must be answered in the affirmative. Still such instances
are but of" rare occurrence, . and upon examination of them,
it will generally be seen, that the thought intended to be
conveyed, is rather left to be inferred from what is said,
than obscurely expressed in the words themselves.
The
expression itself perspicuously conveys what it was designed ·
to convey.
, ·
·', ·
. ..-.-.·
The following instance of a delicate turn · of expression
nappily illustrates this remark. Fontenelle in his addres9 ·
.o Dubois, who was guardian to Louis XV, in his minority, says to him, "You will freely communicate to our
young monarch that knowledge, which will fit him one day .•
to govern for himself. You will strive with all your efforts
to ·make yourself useless." This last phrase may be consid
ered obscure. Fontenelle designed to say, "You :will la- '
bor ~o impart i;10 much knowledge to your ward, that · your
service.a will no longer be needed by him." ;.;.i But this - is =,
rather an inference from what is said, than what is conveyed :.. .
in the words themselves. There is no obscurity -as to the :
meaning of the expression itself. It is a singular fact, . that ~ .. ·
a c'iitic, in remarking o~ this p~ssage, asserted, that no doubt ·
Fontenelle said, or designed to say, useful , instead of useless, .
and that the present reading is probably a typographical er· ·
ror. From such critics may we be delivered I .
-:-,
But another inquiry on this subject has arisen, May not a
writer be too perspicuous, and not leave enough to exercise.·
the ingenuity and reflection of his readers 1;4 'rhis ·question!;
has arisen from ascribing the weariness and disgust, which
ue felt in reading some productions, to a wrong cause

\4.

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162

ON r HTYLE. ·

ON STYLE.

Some writers are minute to a fault. They mention evPrJ
little · circumstance in a narrative - state with formnlity
common anu trivial thoughts - supply every step of an ar
. gument, and dwell upon what the ingenuity of their readers
could better have supplied; and such writers are al ways te·
dious. But our ennui and disgust in reading their works,
do uot arise from the perspicuity of their ex pri:,ssions, but
from their saying what had bettP.r been omitted. · The fault
is not so much in the manner of saying, as in what thcv
say. Often also is it the case, that these prolix aud minutP
writers add to their other faults that of obscurity, and leave'
us to labor and search after that, which when attained does
not reward our exertions. When then a writer is complained of as too perspicuous, we may safely ascribe the fault to
futility of thought, and not to excessive clearness of expression. \Ve never complain that glass is too transparent, a111l
no more can style be too perspicuous.
So far as perspicuity, thus explained, depends on th~
selection of words and the construction of sentences, tllP
rules and principles found in the preceding chapter, are designed to aid in its attainment. An additional direction cf
some practical importance may here be given ; that in the
selection of words and forms of expression, the writer adapl
himself to those, for whom his production is primarily de
signed. A story, or tract, intended for children, or for ii
literate persons, should be expressed in the most commov
nnd familiar language. On the other hand, in those work~
which are strictly of a literary and scientific class, and
which are addressed to scholars, words and expressio11s of
less frequent occurrence and less obvious import, may be
introduced. Often, however, a productic 11 is designed for
a promiscuous assembly, and here much skill may be exhib
iteJ in its adnptation. The point to be aimed at, both in
~~" reasonings and language, is, that while there is nothing

.

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1'o:it;~.:
....- · - '· ...... -·~,?_

tedious or disgusting to any~ the -: producti~n may be levfll :'t(i'i ·
the comprehension of all. It may ·be well, fo · writingi~
· of this class particularly, to select words 'of-Saxon origin; in
preference to those of foreign derivation,·'l even ·th1ough the '
latter should b,e in more common use 'among 'educated . men.' •'.
A different practice in 'J;~is ~espect accounts ,. for the fact; ·
that some public teachiWs are much better undtm ood by
men of common education than others. · Indeed a difference '
of this nature is observed in the writings of the same in~ ·.
divi<lual, comparing his early productions with' those· written':
at a later period ill life, when, by intercourse with the world {"
he has become more familiar · with the language and modes •
of thinking of those ·around him. Some quaint, but -ju<li~ 1
cious remarks on the selection of words; ·are · f<;mnd in thf'·~
extract from the Rhetoric of Thomas Wilson in the historf
of English style at the close of this work, to which the stu-"'.
dent is referred.
; · t ..i::::
It is obvious to all, that distinctness · and order. in the -.
thoughts, are essential to perspicuity. Let a writer's view '
of the subject be indistinct-let him but imperfectly under-'
stan<l what he would communicate to others, or let " his '
thoughts be without method, and there will necessarily be :
indistinctness and confusion in ?is productions. This con~ "
fusion of thought will betray itself in long, involved senten- '
ces, made up of loose and redundant expressions, the mean-'1
ing of which it. is difficult to divine. ' It sometimes seems -:
as if the writer, aware of the indistinctness of. his thoughts,<would conceal it by the use of many words, thus hoping ' to
throw the blame of obscurity, either on his subject, or 011 °:
the discerning powers of his readers. · ·Against violations · of'i
(>'8rspicuity arising from this source, the obser vance of what ;
1
will be a suf.. "
was en1oined
in the first chapter of this work~
•
I
licient security. Let habits of patient, persevering and co.n· ·
'lccted thmking be acquired, and it will seldom be the case

164

ON STYLF. .

ON STYLE.

that a want of perspicuity will arise from confusion of
thought.
It was stated, when treating of the illustrations and orna·
ments of style, that when heterogeneous objects are brought
together, a confused and disproportionate image will rise to
--=~=lith"'e;.view of the mind. Here is another source of obscurity
ucn attempts at illustration and ornament are called an af..
,
fectation of excellence, and tend to darken and deform those
objects, around which they are designed to throw light
and beauty. It is unnecessary here to give examples of
faults of this kind, or to repeat what was before sai<l. The
remedy for such violations of perspicuity is improvement of
the taste.
Before leaving the subject of perspicuity, the student
should be reminded, that writers become obscure, not only
from indistinctness and confusion in their conceptions, but
from the reverse - from familiarity with their subject.
They forget that what, from having long been the object of
their contemplation; is known to them in all its relations and
in all parts, is often to their readers new and strange, and
hence they omit those parts of a statement, which are essential to its being fully understood. From this cause also,
writers· are often led to construct long and involved sentences, the full meaning of any part of which cannot be known
till the reader has reached its close. (See page 143.) To
prevent obscurity from this source, a revision, when the ar
dor of composition has passed away, will be advantageous
A good style, in addition to Correctness and Perspicuity,
will be characterized l:ly VIVACITY. rI'his quality of style
implies, that the thoughts are exhibited with distinctnes8
before the mind of the reader, and in a manner which ar·
rests and fixes his attention. It gives evidence that the
writer is interested in the subject on which he treats, and
springs from a desi 'C to awaken the sane interest in tht'

minds af his readers . . Viewed · in · t~is light; rt 1s an . effort
on th9 part of the writer to ·supply, in a written discourse,
what i~ effected, in conversation, by .t he , tones of. the voice
... ·
and the expression of the countenance. -, As it is a qualitJ
of high excellence, and conduces much to _the .success of the
,_
writer, the different circumstances which are favorable to its
:;~
attainment, will be distinctly considered . .;· .c/ - ~ .. . :.:i~,;:.;,,::_· 4 · , _.
Vivacity is promoted by the happy choice of. words. ~ Un-;
der this head I mention,
:,. ,
1. The use of specific and appropriate· terms, in prefer~
I\
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ence to those which are . more general and extensive in theit.-meaning, and of well-chosen epithets. . . ~q ~ ·~ -~ '.~
L~._~1. ,:..
The following passage, found in one of the Waverley.
Novels, affords opportunity for illustrating . and establishing
what is here stated,

;:

••

••

") '.. "

..

" The moon, which was now high, and twinkled with all- the ";i:.=
vacity of a frosty atmosphere, silvered the windings of the river, and
the peaks and precipices which the mist left visible...:.... while her
beams seerned, its it ·were, absorbed by the fleecy whiteness of the
mist, where it lay thick and condensed, and gave to the more light
and vapory specks, which were elsewhere visible, a sort , of ..filmy,
· •
transparency resel'.l,lbling the lightest veil 'bf silvery gauze." . . ·
~

.

_; .. ~ '

.

An inferior writer, describing' · the' satne
have said,-

.

•.

;.

'

...

',

'i r

sce~e, · inigr.t_

11 The moon, which was now high, and 11hone with all the brigh,ne119
of a frosty atmosphere, lighted the windings of ,the river, !lD.d the top1 .
and steep sides of the moul)tains which the mist left visible - while
her beams seemed, as it were, absorbed by the 'whiteness of the mist,
where it lny thick and condensed, and gave to the more light and
,nporJ ittle collections of mist, which were elsewhere visible, a sort-:
oftran~parenev resembling a veil of gauze." ·.
:f{··.·~ ':<.. i:;',:.: _"
·'
• ' '
• t: :.~ , :f • ·'. \_: : :;!-' ~ ~
~.
In directing the attention to . the , divetsit_i~s in the two :
1

I

:

::

" " ; , - .... :

•·•

forms of the preceding sentence, .)he . use ..of the -worci
.

.

-

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I·

: ·. ·,>:·

);!

166

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ON STYLE.

1winkled for shone first occurs. Every one will allow, that
the word twinkled, as here used, is more expressive than the
word slione: since it not only conveys what is conveyed by
the word sltone, but something more. It informs us of thE
manner in which the moon gave forth her rays. The next
mstance is the use of the word vivacity for briglitncss. The
reason of our preference of the former, is the same as in the
preceding case, though not so obvious; the word vivacity
conveys to us more than the word briglttness. There is a
cheerfulness and animation in a wintry scene, lighted up
by the r~ys of moonlight, which is well expressed by the
word vivacity, but not brought to view in speaking of its
briglitness. In the same way, silvered instead of ligltted,
informs us of the manner in which the rays were reflected
from the river. Peaks arid p1·ecipices meart the same as
the tops and steep sides of tlte mountains, but they are pre·
ferred as terms appropriatet.l to these objects. Specks also
has the same meaning, since the connexion determines that
specks of clouds are referred to, as the phrase little collec·
lions of vapors, but it is preferred, not only as shorter, but
as exhibiting more distinctly the appearance of the clouds.
It will be still further noticed, that in the second form of
the passage, the epithets fleecy, applied to the whiteness of
the mist, - filmy, applied to transparency,- and silvery, applied to gauze, are omitted. The effect of this omission, in
each case, is to take away something, which, when expressed,
adds much to the distinctness of the view.
From the preceding examination of the different forms of
the passage used for illustration, the following i11ference11
may be made.
1. That specific terms and phrases are to be preferred to
those more general in their signification. By a specific
word or phrase, is meant a word or phrase used i11 compara·
tively a definite and limited sense. This distinction bes

tween specific and generic terms, ;.., fully' explained in books
on Logic. It is also there stated) that . a specific term con·
veys a more full and distinct meaning to the mind than that
conveyed by a generic term ; an4 . henct;l,. the use . of such
terms conduces to vivacity of expression. Of the instances
mentioned, shone is the generic term, and twinkled the spe·
cific. Vivacity; as expressing the appearance of a scene, is
a specific term in relation to brightness. Silvered is specific
in relation to lighted.
· ' ·"
'
·
-.
2. That when words have been appropriated to particular'
objects, as their signs, it is better' to: use such : words; than·
.to convey the same meaning in more gener~ ter.ms. ~-' It giv~s
a· more definite view to the mind to. speak' of'.pealcs a~d . p~e·
cipices, than of the tops and steep sides of mountains; and of:
specks than of-little collections of mist. , - _. , ,
, .... -'.\ :
3. That the use of well-chosen epithets contributes much
td vivacity of style. ' So much ' depends on the successful
use of this class of words, that I shall bring forward several
examples, illustrating the different ways, in which they prOdtice the effect here ascribed to them:· 1•
·'
·' • .,,_
'"·;,~ ·
Epithets increase the distinctn_ess of the ·view : ' -; ,;";J ~;,,:.
1. By directing the . attention to some striking and char-'
acteristic quality of the object, · with which · they ,. are con
nected.
"i
,

. y

•

...:J

.

'J

. ~

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..
i

EXAMPLE; Cl

The wheeling plover ceased
Her plaint."
,{.j·, ·

In this example, the epiti;tet wheeling \ directs our : atten'~'
lion to that kind of motion, which is characteristic 'of the:
1pccies of bird mentioned. ' Ily thus · bringing before -out
rdnds the characteristic property of : an obje~t, the di!!tinc~ ·
_~e!lB of our conception of that object' is _aided. 'l:· ''I :
''i';:i

·,

'·

'.

. ·;

"~

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168

ON STYLE.

2. Uy directing the attention to those qualities of objects
which are most obvious in the view taken of them
EXAMPLE .: "Happines.:1 is found in the arm-chair of dozing age, 11.11
well as either in the sprightliness of the dance, or the animation
the chase."

or

In this example, the epithet dozing brings before the mind
that characteristic of age; which the writer designed should
be prominent, when speaking of the happiness found at this
period of life. In this way, it increases the distinctness of
the reader's view, and leads him more folly to feel tl1e force
of what is asserted.
3. By leading the mind to trace out illustrative com·
parisons.
ExA111PLE :

•

"I have felt the bitter satire of his pen."

The epithet bitter is literally applied to that which is an
object of the sense of taste. By its application to an object
of a different kind, the mind is led to trace out an illustrative comparison. Consequently in this way the distinctrie5s
of the reader's conception of the object, to which the epithet
is applied, is increased.
4. By affording a more full description of an object.
Eu111PLE : "The rays of the setting sun were just gilding the graJ
spire of the church."

The epithet gray, in this example, might have been omitted, or a different word, as dark-blue, might have been substituted for it, and the proposition would have been true.
Still the effect of i~~ use is favorable, since the mind has
more definiteness in its view of the object, on which it fixes
its attention. Every spire must have some color, and men· ·
tion of this colot, whatever it may be, aids the mind in the

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J6!f

ON R'T'YLE.

distinct conception of the object to which it belongs. It is
m this way then, that an epithet, by a more full description;
aids the dislinctr..ess of the view.
· 1
To these illustrations of the nature and power of epithets,
I would subjoin the remark, that compound epithets are
sometimes introduced with favorable effects. The followir,;g are instances of this kind; "__._ silver-tongued hope,' ,
- ·" much-abused man." The caution, that they be not too
' frequently introduced, may not be amiss.
- Under the head of a happy choice of words as conducive
to vivacity, I mention,
1. The use of language in a figurative manner. While ·
· giving examples in illustration of this position, I shall direct the attention to what are called tropes or figures of.
•
language.

i

/

\'

".

"An ambition to have a place in the registers of fame, is the Eury•
thens, which imposes heroic labors on mankind."

In this example, Eurystheus, the name of an individual)
t8 put for a class of men.
The same idea would have bee:n,
expressed, had the word taskmaster been used. But by in-·
iro<lucing the word Eurystlieus, besides the pleasure derived .
i'om the classical allusion, a more dist.inct idea of what is mposed by ambition on its slaves, is given to the mind. This
s an instanrn, where an individual is put for the species, an,d :
e a form of the synecdoche.

"When we go out into the fields in the evening of the yeru:, a dif• .
·

r~rent voice approaches us."

.

The word evening, which is properly applied/ only to the· ·
c10se of the day, is here used in a more extended significa~ ·
tion Instead of being a specific, it · becomes a general ·
~rm
In the same manner, we speak of the evening of lifa;
15

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170

In this example, besides the increased distinctness of view
there are pleasing images and association s connected wit\
the close of the day, which are brought before the mind
This example may be classed under either th e meta phor ot
synecdoche.
In the two examples now given, we have instances, where
greater distinctness is given to the view, by 11 si11g a woril in
a more general sense than tlrnt usually applied to it.
" O ! 'Tis a thought sublime, that man can force
A path upon the waste."
11

[n this passage, the word waste is use<l for ocean, a quality
for a subject to which it belongs. This is called sy 11ecdoche.
From the connexion are seen at once the design and effect
of the change. What is it that makes it difficult for man to
force a path upon the ocean 7 Is it not because it is a vast
desert- a wide spread waste, where all is trackl ess? How
much then does it add to the vividness of our conception oi
what the author here says, that he fixes our attention on that
quality, which he designs should be immediately in view, and
on which his assertion is founded!
"We wish that labor may look up here, and be p ..JU<l in the midRt
of its toil."

In this example, the ahstract is used for the concrete labor for the laborer. This is called synecdoche, and its
tendency is to increase the distinctness of our view. In
reading the word labm·cr, there are many circumstance!'!
which rise to the view of the mind. We think of the mnn,
h:s station in life, and the relations he sustains; but in the
m1e of the abstract term, our attention is directed to tho
humble and wearisome occupation.
" All hnnds engaged, the royal work grows warm

171

ON STYLE,

ON STYLE.

The word ltands in this example is used lo sigmfy menl
. t may be considered either as a synecdoche; when a part
is put for the whole, or metonymy, when the instrument .is
put for the agent. In either case, it directs the attention
to what the writer designed should be a prominent circumi•
stance.
l\lany other examples might be given, in which the atten'\
lion is in different ways directed to the most prominent cfr.;
cumstance. One caution is necessary in all attempts of
this kind - that the whole form of the expression be suited
to the design of the. writer. If it had beert said, that the
waste dashes and foams, that we wish labor may regain its
health, and that all hands walked out, the expression would
at once strike us as fauity.
.

(

"The last fond look of the glazing eye, , turning to us even from
he threshold of existence." .

...

In this example, the word threshold, which is usually ' a~
plied to the extreme part of the passage to a building, · is ap~
plied to the close of life. , As the ground of this different ap-;plication of the term is resemblance';· the figure will ' at ' once:
be recognized as . the metaphor. It is an instance . where.
' '.
that which is an object of thought is represented to . the.·
mind by that which is an object of sense. This, as was re~
marked when treating of the metaphor~ aids ·the distinctness
of the view, and what was there said needs not be repeated. f
'

'i

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, :·

" It is curious to get at the history of a monarch's heart, and to'
find the simple afft>ctions of human nature throbbing under the er~'

min·e.,,

~

/

·

. '-.

~t

f~r majesty~~r' roy~l.' ~~·~ :~:~. ·

The word ermine is here used
The ermine is the dress of royalty -it the syr~mol which
indicates its pf esence. Here then tl)e sign 1s ppt for the

i;

', ·,-

thing signified. This is an i113tance of the meto11ymy. We
notice also, that it is of the srrme nature as the preceding
example - that which is an Jbject of thought is represent.·
ed by that which is an object of sense. The same favorablE>
effect on the distinctness of our conception, is also exerted.
2. Vivacity is often attained by a departure from the
\~ommon arl·angenient of the words in a sentence.
Every language has some manner of arranging the words
of a sentence, which, from the frequ ency of its occurrence,
may be called its common mode of arrangement. E specially
is tlus true of the English language, in which the grammati·
cal coiistruction is often made to depend 011 the juxtaposition of words. That vivacity of expression is c:ltlscd by departing from this common arrangement, is learnt from the
following examples.
Petet, observing the grammatical order, would lrnve said
to the lame man who asked alms, "I have no silver nor
gold to give thee." llut how much more vivacity is there in
the expression, " Silver and gold ha1'e I none." In the
same nianner, our Saviour, following the common order,
would have said, "The pure in heart are blessed." But
by departing from this order, he has conveyed the same
thought with increased force and vivacity - "lllcssed are
the pure in heart."
In thef'e and other expressior.s of the same kin<l, it is not
diflicult to account for the effect of the change in the order
of the words on the vivacity of the expression. "\'Vhat is
most prominent in the mind, is thus made to occupy the
first place in what calls forth the attention. The imploring
look of the beggar had asked for silver an<l gold, and Peter
iu his answer discovP-rs, that he fully knew the mrnning of
that JoQk, and lets the attention first rest on that, which ia
first in the mind's view. In the same manner, it is to the
olessedness of th pure in heart, that the Saviour would di

173

ON STYLE.

ON STYLE.
1

ect the attention, and tl)is is effecte~ by,the arrangemeµt of
the words in his declaration.
, ,, ,, . , .
,
'J '°"'1
The alteration of .the arrangement of the words for the
attainment of vivacity of expressiox;t, is ·not confined to ·words
of primary importi,m ce in a sentence. It is exteuded to ad..
rerbs and conjunctjons, and ,t he whole class of secondary
words. On the same principle also; in the arrangement of
the clauses and members of complex sentences, that clause
or mem her, which is most prominent in the view of' the
mind, is niade to hold a conspicuous place. ·
3. Vivacity is promoted by the omission: of ~nnecessary
words and phrases.
.
' . .. .
· This is what is• called precision, and 1.s opposed bpi}} to
Tautology, or the repetition of the same sense in different
words, and to Pleonasm, or the use of superfl~ous w.or.d~:
The nature of precision may be ,Ie1unt fr<;>m ,tJ1e .fol.~owipg
'3xamples :
·""•l
~- ..

~

" It J~ clear and obvious, that religious worship and adoratio~
aho:tlJ . . e regarded with pleasure and satisfaction by all men.'1 .d
" It is obvious that religious wors~ip ~hould be regit.r<;le(,i with
>leasure by all men."
·
·~ ." He sat on the verdant gr~en, in the ~mbrage,ous ~h~de ',0
woody forest."
·
· · ,
·
'' ? ~
-'
" He sat on the gre~n in the shade of the forest/' ·
', •-,,•;
· -· •
·" He succeeded in gaining the universal love of all men.'' ·
" He succeeded in gaining the love of all men."
"They retun:ied back ~gain: to the ~ame city fro111 whe.11ce :f.P~J
'ame forth."
.
.-- ?!_
" They returned to ~he city whence ther came.

/ili;

•

)>.

....

In the corrected form · of these examples, those words ·are
~mitted, which are redundant, or add noth~ng .to the me!ln- , ,.
mg of the sentence. That the effect of ~hos,e ,al,terations ' .on

tne vivacity of the style is favorable, ~.ill be readily ,allowe<i
As a general rule it tnay be said, tpat t.h e fewer the worch.

15.

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174

---------used, prorided pers}>icuity be not violated, the greater wil
be the vivr.city of the sentence.
It may occur, that there are instances, where the repeti·
tion of words nearly synonymous in their meaning, adds
force and strength to the expression. Of this many examples are to be found in tragedies, and wherever exhibitions
of strong feelings are made. Such is the following passage ·
"Oh Austria'
Thou slave, thou wretch -thou coward,
Thou little valiant, great in villany,
Thou ever strong upon the strongest side."

This and similar expressions are the language of passion.
The mind is full - the feelings too stroug to find utterance,
and we may truly say, that out of the abundance of the heart
the mouth speaketh. These passionate expressions are of
course free from the law, by which, in more sober composi·
tions, we should be governed.
It is important here to remark, that in reviewing our
writings for the purpose of striking out redundant words and
phrases, we should remember that every expletive is not to be
<itruck out. There ·are some, which, instead of impairing,
increase the vivacity of an expression ; and others, the
meaning of which we can hardly define, that cannot be
omitted without giving an air of stiffness and awkwardness
to the sentence. Of the form er, do, in the following declaration of Othello, is an example.
"Perdition seize thee , but I do love thee "

Of the same nature are the redundant forms of specc~
which are found in ancient writers; - "I have seen witt
mine eyes." "I have heard with m111e cars."
As examples, where the removal of an explctivr. ~nda11-

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~ers the smoothness of the style, the many sentences .,in
which the expletive there is found, may be mentioned.
•111.q
4. Vivacity is sometimes attained by the omission of con•
junctions and the consequent division of .the discc '.lrse into
1hort sentences.
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A single example will show what is int'1nded by this ,re,
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" As the storm increased with the night, the sea was lashE.d into
tremendous confusion, and there was a fearful, sullen sound of rushing
waves and broken surges, while deep called unto deep."
" The storm increased with the night. The sea was· lashed intq '
tremendous confusion. There was a fearful, sullen sound of rushing
waves and broken surges. Deep called unto deep."
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In the second form of this example, the conjunctions are
omitted j and instead of one long sentence, as in the first
form we have several short sentences. The effect on the
' of the passage will be perceived by every one. · · The
vivacity
reason of the increased vivacity is also ,obvious. · What< is
thus expressed in short sentences, stands out more prominent
and distinct to the view.· There is also more of conciseness,
since all unnecessary words are omitted, •especially those
which are injurious to vivacity. But it is not here meant,
that short sentences ~re to be preferred to long ones. The
most important direction that can be given on this subject
is, that there should be variety. Long sentences and short
ones should be intermingled, since the continued repetition
of either becomes tedious and wearisome. Besides, it is
"umetimes the case, that conjunction~ · cannot be omitted
without danger to perspicuity, which, as a quality of a good
etyle, ranks higher than vivacity. But when conjunctions
\nay he better omitted than expressed, a/ in the example
~iven, and when the division into short ~ntrnces is not con

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tinue<l too far, such a division of a discourse is to be rec
ommended as conducive to vivacity.
5. Vivacity is sometimes attained by the use o{ certain
forms of sentences, which might in distinction be called fig.
ures of sentences. Of these I mention the Climax, Antithe.
sis, Exclamation, Repetition and Interrogation. Some ex·
amples with accompanying remarks will be given.
The following instance of the Climax is from a write.t
against infidelity.

air 'of something artificial, and instead of exerting an infhv
ence favorable to vivacity, it will have a different effect
Of the Antithesis, I give the following example. The
. .. t
subject if! the steam engine.

'
''Impose upon me whatever hardships you please; give me nothing
but the bread of sorrow to eat; take from me the fri end in whom I
had placed my confidence ; lay me in the cold hut of poverty and on
the thorny bed of disease ; set before me death in all its terrors; do
all this, only let me trust in my Saviour, and I will fear no evil -1
will rise superior to affliction - I will rejoice in my tribulation."

In this example, and other sentences of a similar construction, one clause is accumulated npon another, each surpassing in importance and power the preceding, till it seemir
as if nothing cou1...: resist their united force. As an illustra, ti on, I wou Id refer to a deep and full flowing ri i·er, opposed
to whose current some obstacle has been placed. The resisted waters are heaped on each other, and each successive
wave bring an addition to their power, till the collected
mass can no longer be withstood- the obstacle is sw.ept
away, and the river resumes its course with the rapidity and
momentum of a torrent.
There can be no doubt, that this form of sentence is
highly conducive to vivacity. It should, however, be but
rarely introduced, and never, except when it seems required
by the occasion and subject. It is evidence of an excited
:nind, and should seem to result from this excitement. If
the subject does not require it- if the form of se11tence doe11
not ham its foundation in the thought itself, it will have tht>

"It can engritve a seal, and crush ~aS!!f!S of _C>hdurate metal before it; draw out, without breaking, a thread as fine as gossa~e~,
and lift up a ship of war like a bauble in the air. It c~n embroider
. muslin and forge anchors - cut s~eel into ribands:, and impel loade<d
vessels against the fury of the wmds and waves.

·.

A second example, m<;>re finished in · its . composi~ion, is
from Beattie on poetry.
x
"In the crowded city and howling wilderne~s; in the cultivated
province and solitary isle; ·in the flowery lawn and ·crngged moun·
tain. in the murmur of the rivulet and in the uproar of the ocean;
in
radiance of summer and gloom of winter; in the thunder. of
heaven and in the whisper of the breeze ; he still finds som~ thmg
to rouse or soothe his imagination; to draw forth his affection l\nd
P.mploy his understanding."

the

This form of sentenc~ is founded on the principle of op
position or contrast. A figure in black is never m9re di8tinctly seen, than when placed upon a white gro1,1nd-.~ork.
Campbell has very happily illustrated the eff~ct of Ant~the­
sis, by an allue· on to a picture, where. the d1.fferent objects
of the group are not all on one side, with their faces turn~~
the same way, but so placed that .they are made to confront each other, by their opposite position. He s~·s, that
in such instances, there is not ,<;>nly the originfll light
which is suited to each object, but that als9 which is re~iJl­
rocally reflected from the opposed members. _.In the .exall)ples of the Antithesis that have beeµ given, / it will ,\Je noticed, that there is a balancing of ,the c~~uses. Not wily
is there opposition in the thought, but m the form .and
'length of the clauses in which this opposition is expre~d

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In connexion with this remark the caution against the ap•
pearance of an artificial construction, which was given in
reference to the climax, may be repeated. Let the form of
the sentence always arise from the thought itself, and not
be the result of an attempt after vivacity. Of the two examples given, though the latter is more perfect and finished
the former is to be preferred as most natural au<l ea!'ly.
'
The Interrogation and Repetition are the la11guage of an
excited mind. Where the former is used, the writer seems
so impresse<l with the truth of what he asserts, that he is
not content to state it in the cold form of a proposition but
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utters it m a manner, that challenges any one to regard it
with doubt.
The Repetition also gives evidence of a full conviction of
the truth of what is asserted, and of a deep sense of its importance, and is well calculated to convey these impressions
to the reader in a striking manner. Iloth these form 8 of
sentences are more frequently found in discourses intended
for delivery, than in those designed to be read only, and
when well pronounced, are often powerfu~ in their effects on
'the hearers.
The Exclamation is to be regar<le<l as the mere burst of
:feeling, and will rarely be found in the pro<! .~ctions of good
·writers. Writers of inferior order sometim~.· 3ttempt to crive
an air of animatiori and feeling to their sty .e by the us; of
it; hut such artificial means must fail of success, and by
the man of good taste will be regarded with disgust.
6. Vivacity is promoted l1y the use of those forms of
construction, which represent past actions and evc1 1ts a~·
transpiring at the present lune, and absent in<lividuals as
present, speaking an<l listening. This has been called
Rhetorical dialogue, and is foun<l most frequently in narra
~ ... e writing.
'The following example, the latter form of which is that ol

ON STYLE. ·

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Rhetorical dialogue, both illustrate§ this remark, and •fur·\
nishes evidenca of its justness.
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" Two hereditary enemies, among the Highlands, met foce to face.
on a narrow pass. They turned deadly pale at the fat11l rencontre.
Jlendearg first addressed his enemy, and reminded him, that he ' wail
first at the top of the arch, and called on him t6 lie down that he
might pasf! over. Ile was answered by an assurance from Cairn, that
when the Grant prostrates himself before a Macpherson, it must be
with a R\\ )rd through his body. Bendearg then . proposed to him to.
turn back , if he liked it.'
first'

- - They turned deadly pale at the fatal rencontre. ." I was
at the top," said Bendearg, " and called out first; lie down that I may
pass over in peace." " When the Grant prostrates himself . before
Macpherson," answered the other," it must be with a sword through
his body." "Turn back, then," said Bendearg," and repass as you
came." "Go back yourself, if you like it," replied .Grant.
·' "

Though several circumstances have !teen thus mentioned
as conducive to vivacity of style, it should be remembered,
that the foundation of this quattty of style is in the mind of
the writer. What has now been said is designed only to
point out some of the different ways in which the excited ..
feelings manifest thems~lves.
The best direction, .then, '\
which can be given for the attainment of vivacity of style, ~~
to become interested in the discussion of the subject itself.
EuruoNY, or smoothness of sound, is the ,next quality of
a good style to be considered. This is attained by the us~
of such w~rds as in themselves, and in their succession . iIJ
the sentence, are grateful to the ear.
There can be no doubt that this quality of style is acquired more by imitation than by the observance of rul.es.
Jlence, any directior.s for its attairiment are, of little pract1,
t:al importance. Still it may be useful for ' the writer to remember, th it ti"" intermingling of long and short syllables,
1he frequent .,~!Ji· en~,f> of open vowel sounds, md the ~void·

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ing of those successions of conso11ants which are difficu]
of utterance, are favorable to smoothness of style. He
should know also, that certain successions of syllables are
well suited to that cadence, or faJling of the voice, which
marks the close of the sentence. And, as a general remark
it may be said, that what it is easy to read, is smooth in its
eound to the ear. But the best and most practical direction,
which can be given, is, to attune the ear by the fr equent
reading aloud of those writings in which this quality of style
is found.
It should make no difference with respect to the attention
paid to the smoothness of style, that our writings are designed to be silently read, and not pronounced aloud. .So
.closely is the sound of words associated with their appearance to the eye, that, though no voice is uttered in reading
.them, they are mentally pronounced, and the ear passes its
.ju-dgment on the smoothness of their sound.
The attention of writers is rarely directed to this quality
of style any further, than to the avoiding of faults. But it is
sometimes found to that extent, that it becomes a positive
excellence and a high recommendation. The following
sentence of Sterne has been pronounced one of the most
1musical in our language :

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"The accu!'ing spirit, which flew up to heaven 's chancery with
· the oath, blushed as he gave it in, and the recording angel, as he
.wrote it down, dropped a tear upon the word, and blotted it out forever."

Young writers, in their attempts after harmony of style,
sometimes fall into a measured manner of writing, which
may here be noticed. It is characterized by the occurrence
of successive sentences, and sometimes parngrnphs, which
may be scanned, the regular return of the accented syllaole
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ON STYLE.

, tially is this the case in those passages, where the writer,,hecomes excited, and thoughts .are conveyed, which are fitted
to affect the feelings and call into exercise .the imagiriation;.
This measured manner, since it ·violates one of the distincthe differences of prose and poetry, ·is a fault in prose ' wri~
tings, as much so as the absence of :it is .a defect in poetry.·
And when, as is sometimes the case, it is united 'vith -ex•
travagances of thought and bombastic forms of expression,
it is to a high degree disgusting. · In such ·instances there
I
is a radical deficiency of literary taste. But sometimes_pas- .')
sages thus measured will be found in the writings of those; ~
whose style is not otherwise to be censured; and her~ it ,W,ill
generally be a sufficient remedy to .direct the attention ;to
the fault.
'·
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The epithet natural is frequently applied to style. Our -. _,
works on Rhetoric want a noun to express the .quality :here
:mplied. Simplicity is sometimes used; but as this wor:d ·is
more frequently found in a .different sense, I shall introduce
the term naturalness.
,--- ;.< 1~ !"'-'
NATURALNESS as · quality of st:Yle, implies ·that a writer;
. -. in. :the form of his .sentences ~: in the choice of his wordsin the ornaments he uses, and in his 'turns .of thought and ex.1;
pression, commends himself to .every man ,o f.good sense '~and ;
good taste, as 'h aving pursued the ' course. best-suited to his
subject and occasion. In this way ·it is :opposed to affecta-:
tion of every kind. But the following illustrations will aid .
in more fully stating in what SP.use the word is used. - '' ·~•lWhen we look on some of the beautiful remains of an-:
cient statuary, ,we pronounce them natural in .their app.ear·
ance By this expression we mean nothin_g more,thall' that
1heir appearance is such, as, m ·our opinion, it should ·-bP ~
such as is in consonance with our experience iand observS.:
un. There is no violent contortim{ :ot 1tne reature~ 111\'
brr.eci attitude with the design of producing ,effect; but :th!,
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image stands and appears as a man should do, in \he circum·
stances and situation in which i.t is placed. In the same
manner, we say of a graceful dancer, who from long prac·
tice has learned to move gracefully and apparently without
effort or rule, that he moves naturally, an<l we mean the
same as m the former instance. Now, should we say of the
image, that there is much naturalness in its appearance,
an<l of the dancer, that there is much naturaln ess in hi!
movements, we should use the word in the same sense in
which it is here applied to style. The writer who has naturalness of style, expresses himself in that easy, unlabored
manner, which commends itself to our {°avor. Ile selects
and uses his words, and forms and connects his sentences,
jUSt as we should suppose any man might do, who should
write on the same subject - just as we think perhaps we
could and should do, unless we attempt to imitate l11m. We
seem to hear him thinking aloud, and his thoughts flow forth
'o us in the same order, and with the same clearn ess, with
which they sprung up in his own mind. He appears 11ever
to stop for a moment, to consider in what way he shall express himself, but thinks only of what he shall say. Let but
one far-fetched expression, one forced comparison, or one
extravagant thought be found, and the charm is gone;
The inquiry may here be made, whether by naturalness
of style may not be meant that mode of writing, which is
suited to the intellectual habits and attainments of an author
- a style in which a writer shews himself, whatever his intPllectual character may be. To this it may be answered,
that, if this were the correct use of the term, naturalness,
instead of denoting the highest excellences of style, would
often express its greatest deformities and faults .
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ON STYLE.

183

ferring to the · illustration before . introduced. Every one •
while looking on the performance ' of a ' graceful dancer 1
would say that his movements are easy and natural. Bu i
should one unacquainted with the . rules ' and practice of the
art attempt to dance, his movements might be natural ' to
him, but no one would think of applying to them the word
natural in the same sense as in the former · instance. :·In ·
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the same wu.JJ ... manner of writing may be natural to a \Pi·
ter, when we should not think of ascribing to him the merit
of naturalness of style.
·· ,·. · · ·
' ;. ' " This illustration may be still further continued, with .. the
view of shewing in what way this quality may be obtained.·;
Were it asked · in what way the awkward dancer may at·
tain the easy and graceful movements of the other, it would
be answered, by pursuing a similar course of instruction
and practice. Some, either from the form of their bodies · o'r
their previous habits, would acquire these easy and natural
movements more readily than others, and a few perhaps
might need but little practice and little aid from the rules of
the art. But these would' be regar9.ed as exceptions to what
ts more generally the case. · In the. same manner, to acquire .
. naturalness of style, there is need of. iii~tructfon :and practice
A few, either from the original constitution of !hefr minds;
or their previous habits of thought and conversation, faW into it easily. Others, in thei.r first attempts, are far frorµ · it
and it is with thew. _the fruil oT Ieng · priicJice in writing and.
a careful observance of rules. . It may appear varadox1cal,
that ~hat is called. natural sh~u d be the result of art and
labot· But this difficulty is removed, if we remember, that
.he objed of this art and labor is to bring us back to nature ,
Naturalness of style is not confined to any spedes of:wri-:
ting. It is found alike in the most art,less narrations,. and
m the most elevated descriptions - in the story that is open
lo the understanding of a child, and in the sublime raptures.

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of .Milton. The best examples of it are amo11g anci ent wn
ters. This is the spell which binds us to the page of II<>
mer, of Sophoc!es aud Theocritus, of Xe11opho11 and He·
rodotus. And a reason may easily be assigne<l, why naturai.
ness of style should be found in these an c ient writers
They live<l, as it were, near to nature. vVith them all is
originality. Their thoughts and expressions are th eir own.
"\Vith most modern writers it is otherwise. It is often remarked, that in modern times there are few original ideas,
We tell in different words what has often been told before
and, that we may avoid a coincidence of expression, we'
leave the natural, and seek after the more labored forms of
speech. Hence it is, that less of naturalness of style is
found in modern writings.
The following are instances in which naturalness of style
is most frequently violated;
I. When there is an eddeut attempt afier ornament
What are called the ornaments of style should ever appear
to be naturally suggested, and to be most intirnately connected with the subject and occasion. They sh0Hld offer
themselves for our use, and not be sought after.
2. ·when the writer seeks after elegances of expression,
or, as they are sometimes called, felicities of diction. Some,
with the design of being thought elegant writers, studiously
avoid old, genuine English words and idioms, introducing,
so far as practicable, those which have been derived from
other languages. Others hav~ what may be called a sentimental manner of expressing themselves.
3. Some violations of naturalness of style ari se from at·
tempts to be forcible. Under this head are included extravagances of expression, sweeping assertions and forced illus
~rations.

4. Writers still further affect a fulness and flow o,. exprell!llCJn. Because some men of powerful minds and strong

feelings, have expressed themselves ,in long; .flowing, full ,
sentences, many, the current of whose thoughts is neither.
strong nor deep, would have them flow forth m an equally
full and irresistible stream.
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Sr:cTION 2
On tltc rnodes of writing, wlticli cl1aractenze
.:.·
Cite productions of different individuals.

It is the design of this section to treat of the d1lferent
modes of writing, which characterize the productions .o f dif.
ferent authors. These, it has been stated, atise from diver•.
sities in their :ntellectual habits, in thei.r tastes, and in their
skill in the use of language. They are denoted by different
epithets, which are applied to style; a11d while the mean·
ing of these epithets is explained; the attention should b£
directed by the instructor to such ~xamples as furnish illustrations.
It is sometimes said of a style, that it js ID.JO!IIATIC AND
EASY.
These epithets are general.Jy found in connexion,
and where the former is justly applied , the latter denotes a
natural consequence. A style which is idiomatic,. will a}>'.
pear to hr..ve been easily written, and will be easily under·
stood ; and this is all that is meant by ease as a quality of
style. By an idiomatic style is meant a manner of writing
111 which, in addition to purity in the use of words, the
phrases, forms of sentences, and arr.a ngement of the words
and clauses, are such as belong to the English language.
Every language, as has been already stated~ hiis peculiarities
of this kind by which it is characterized, 1a11d th~ style in
which they abound, is said to be idiomatic. /
. • · __ · .
Dr. Pal-ey's style may be mentioned ,as l. idiomatic. The
t;.,llowing sentence is from his writings ; ".A Bee amidst

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the flowers of spring is one of the most cheerful objects tha
can be looked upon." This expression is just what wQ
should have used in conversation for conveying the same
thought.
A writer whose style is less idiomatic, would
have said, "Of the different objects, which, amongst the
flowers of spring, arrest the attention, the beP is the most
cheerful that can be looked upon." This mode of stating
the thought is more formal and stately, bnt less easy and
idiomatic. In another place, when speaking of the fry of
fish that fr equent the margins of our rivers and Jakes, he say!O,
"They are so happy, th at they do not know what to do ffith
themselves." Every English reader fully knows, and, I may
say, feel s, what is here expressed. It is a form of every
day's occurrence, and its introduction shows the style of
the author to be idiomatic.
It is not meant, that expressions like the last, would be
proper on all occasions and subjects. "Ve vary the forms
of expres:;:ion in conversation. In conversing on grave subjects, we should not use the lively and familiar forms of expression ; which are suited to an hour of gaye ty; and we
should be ec1ually far from imitating the stat ely ancl involved
modes of expression, which characterize a foreign language
There are idiomatic expressions in English which are su ited
to the grave style, as well as those which are suited to the
li,•ely. In the writings of Dr. Paley , those of either kind
are to be found, when required by his su hjcct.
There is danger, lest a writer, in seeking to be idiomatic.
become careless in his style. \Ve often use expressio ns in
conversation, which are incorrect in constn• »ti o11, and oho
scure in their meaning. But they are umlerst0od from the
accompanying look, or some attending circumstance, and
the incorre~tness is forgiven, because of the hurry of the
moment. But when the same expressions are found in a
written dist:oursc, they are justly censured An idionrntic

18l

ON STYLE.

' 11tyle is most strictly correct in construction and perspi<mou11.
u1 its meaning
' ' _, . M,.~.
; It has been said, that an idiomatic style is the style of.
conversation. Still it must be confessed, that there is hardly
any one, that has not more formality in his writings, than
in his familiar, oral intercourse. · The · distinction may · be
illustrated by referring to reading aloud. · ·A good reader
will, on the one hand, be far removed from artificial, or, as
they are called, " reading ton es; " on the other, though his
tones are natural, they will differ in some respects from · the
familiar tones of conversation. ,, Iri. the · same manner, a style.
may be idiomatic, and rise in some ·degree · above · the .;tnost.
common forms of conversational intercourse.
· : ·. + ·· 0u
An idiomatic style is always grateful to the reader.~ ·: fr
requires no labor to understand a writer of this class. "l His',·
forms of expression are those with which we are familiar those which we use in the most artless, free communication
t>f our thoughts, and we collect his meaning from a glance
at the sentence.
;\ · ' •''
An abuse of the idiomatic style; to which nv particular
epithet has as yet been applied, is someti1~es found at the
present day. It is in fact rather · the want of style, than a
well-characterized manner of wri~ing. · Like the conversa:.
tion of a man who is hasty in his conclusions;..ai1d all · whose
thoughts and views are ill defin;d, this style is loose · ~nd
rambling, utterly disregarding all smoothness and ' polish
and often violating the most common principles both ·of
Rhetoric and Grammar. There is a mixing together of low ·
cant words and phrases, with foreign, abstruse and strangely •
· compounded terms, and sometimes with lofty and imposing
forms of expression. The figurative larlguag~ especially,
and all that is introduced with the design of illustration
11 nd ornament, wants consistency a1id uniformity. '. ' Odd
tonce', ts, vulgar illustrations, and undignified figurative ex• '
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pressions, are found in the same sentence with figures an ..
anguage, striking and pertinent, and sometimes chaste antl
beautiful. The same inequalities mark different passageg
and parts of the composition. One paragraph is trite and
common-place both in thought and expression. The next
is original, bold, startling and impassioned.
An analysis of this mode of writing shews us that it is an
unsuccessful attempt to be idiom atic and striking. It is in
fact a species of literary coxcombry, and those who affect it
would pass themselves off as men of superior powers and
attainments. Their leading motto is, "Never thiuk twice,"
and the first thoughts and expressions which they give us,
are such as might be expected. It is not 11eccssary to state
the remedies, which should be a1 plied to the faulty sty~e
that has been described .
Opposed to the easy and idiomatic manner of writing,
which has now been described, is the labored style. This,
as the epithet imports, appears to have. been written with
much pains on the part of the writer, and requires close attention and effort that it may be understood. The arrangement of the words and clauses is often inverted, and the
whole composition of .!~e sentence is artificial. A labored
style, when carried to excess, will be highly faulty. It will
want perspicuity, smoothness, and naturalness. But it is
often the case that a style, which is in some degree labored,
has redeeming qualities, which recommend it, and give .
some degree of reputation to a writer. The style of Dugald
Stewart may be mentioned as an instance of this ld11d. His
manner of writing is evidently labored; but there are qualities to be found.in it wJ1ich save ·

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180

with the thought to be comrrliiriicated, will best convey · this ~
thought to others; especially is this thP- case, when a writer's
views Of his subject are clear and · well defined. · But the
labored writer is not willing to tisei this obvious and easy
form of expression. He must stop to select less .conurtoti
words, less simple and~ obvious phrases, to invert' his clauses·
and new model his sentences; But a habit · of writing with
~ r en t e r rapid ity, will tend to correc tltl prop ~tisit}" and th .
conse!111e1:it faults of stJ1e. ·
'" ...,-,, · • ~. · •·
-··· ''
. There are some kinds of composittotii .the (requent
practice of which ' wiila id in the · attainment·~f ea~e ·of•style1
Epistolary writing may particularly be mentioned. ' He who
often communicates his thoughts to · his friends in the ea.sj1'
artless style of letter Writing, will insensibly be led to ttsethe same forms of expression ori other occasions. · The wri-- ·ing of a jotirnal, or the noting down of out casual thoughts
tnd feelings, or the sketching of short descriptions of scenes
a.nd occurrences presenting themselves to our notice, when;
done simply for our own amusement and benefit, without
any intention of submitting what we write to the inspecti6tl~
of others, will be of service in the same way.
•' ' 1 ;;
3. Aid will be obtained in the correction of. a l:tboted
style from a familiarity with those writers, Who are distin~ ·
guished for their easy and idiomatic manner · of writing.·
Goldsmith, Addison, Steele, Swift, and many of their contemporaries, are of this class.
The epithets CONCISE and DIFFUSE are often applied td .
style. It may be said generally, that these qualifying terms
. refer to the number of words used by a \Vl'iter for conveying '
his thoughts; but these different kinds of style llierit a mote•·
particular description.
·
\·. / · · .; ·
,;·,·1.'f: ""
A writer whose Rtyle is concise, expresses his thonghtidri ·'
few words. There is a vividness and distinHness in his views;·, ,
\nd he endeavors by a single and sudden effort to exhibit' -

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these views t:} o,hers. His words are well chosen, and hi111
turns of expres~!on short and bold. No unnecessary exp le·
tive, no redundant phrase is found. Grammatical ellipses
are common, and his sentences are usually short. Tl1e
thought is presented in but one light, and much is left to be
inferred. As to ornament, there is no room for it. Sometimes a short, plain comparison, or a bold metaphor is found.
These, however, are always highly illustrative, and seem
designed to save the necessity of a fuller statement.
A diffuse style is the o lp,,osite (th concise. The thought
is expressed in comparatively many words. It is not meant
by this, that a diffuse writer employs more worJs than are
of use in comeying his thoughts. A writer may be <liffuse,
and be free from the charge of Tautology ~nd Pleonasm.
But he does not, as in the former case, leave any thing to be
supplied. The statement is not only clear, bnt full. He
dwells on the thought presented, exhibits it in different lights,
and enforces it by repetition in different languagfJ, with many
an<l varied illustrations. His words are poured forth in a
full and uninterrupted stream, and his sentences, though
long, are usually harmonious and flowing.
1
These different kinus of style are respectively suited to
different subjects and occasions. The concise style is often
used in short biographical notices, or what is sometimes
called character painting - in the detail of facts, anrl m
riverbs and sententious remarks. The diffuse, on the
contrary, is used in the statement and discussion of novel
opinions, especially on subjects that are uncommon. It is
also well suited to discourses, which are designed to be
delivered, and not to be read. Still it is often diflicult to
determine the degree of conciseness or diffuseness which is
desirable.
On the one hand, an excess of conciseness
endangers the perspicuity of the style; on the other, an ex~
cess of diffuseness renders it heavv and tiresome. Whately
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r,ecommends to combine the two - to state the thought first :
in a'diffuse manner, expanding the sense so that it may bei
distinctly understood, and then to convey the same idea in ,
a more compressed and sententious form. . This expedient.
produces the effect of brevity, and . at the same time, what is,
said is fully comprehended, or, as he .has well expressed .it,.
" the reader will understand the longer expression and re~ member the shorter." Passages in the wi;itings of Durke
and Johnson illustrate this remark.
.
The epithets BARREN and LUXURIANT are applied to style
to denote defective modes of writing nearly allied to con•;
ciseness and diffuseness. The . former epithet implies ,, a·
nakedness and want of connexion in the thoughts and ex-.
pressions. The trains of thought which are started, are but'
partially followed out, and the production has in this respect
a half fin~a?ed appearance. The expressions, too, wa1,1t fulness and t'fow. Repetitions of the same words and phrases
are frequent, and all that pertains to the use of words . and
.
the forms of expression, is common place. .
What is thus described as barrenness of style, may .owe,
its origin, either to a want of fertility . of.invention or to a
deficiency of ideas or of words. Where there is a deficiency .
of ideas, when the subject is within the compass of the . writer's powers, further research and reflection are needed.
When barrenness of style arises from want of copiousness of ,
expression, or command of language, it is a defect, which
much reading of good English authors and persevering .
efforts after improvement will overcome. This defect . i11 ·
. mo~.t frequently found in those whose acquaintance -with .
. itierature has commenced late in life, and .such.. ,especiaHy .
need make persevering efforts to supply thei defic1encies of ,
their early education. In other jnstancefl, .barrenness .. of
l!tyle arises from a want of fertility. of inventi~n, . The wri·
~r is unable to trace the relations b~t,.een_,,his thoughts, to,
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make inferences and draw conclusions, to expla111 and ex·
hibit. Barrenness of style, when arising from this source,
will be remedied by increased maturity of the mind and 1m·
prornd discipline of its powers . It may be of se rvice alsu
to direct the attention to the modes of amplification used by
those, who in this respect excel.
A bnuriant style, which is the opposite of that just described, is characterized by a redundan cy of words and
phrases, especially Ly a profusion of imagery and e xuberance
of figurative language. The writer, inst ead of selecting
that which is choice and best fitted to the subj ect and occ a·
sion, seems to give us all his thoughts, and the different conceits, both as to form of expression and ornam ent, which
have offered themselves to his mind. Sometimes, also, there
is an attempt to write in a commanding and imposing manner, which manifests itself in many and extravaga,nt epithet~
and figures, and an affected fulness and flow of expression
Luxuriance of style, in young writers, is ascribed to the
glow and excitement of mind natural to the early period of
life. It is looked upon as the overflowings of youthful feelings, and often pronounced to be ominous of g ood; for it i~
anticipated, that when more maturity of mind sh all have
been obtained, and the ardor of youthful fe eling cooled,
what is exuberant and extravagant will give place to richness and force of expressiou.
Another cause, to which this mode of wntmg is sometimes ascribed, is the temperament of the individual writer
He belongs to a class of men who are wont to be easily and .
strongly e xcited. Hence, whatever may be the subject or
occasion on which he writes, he becomes at once impassioned
in his style.
[n other instances, and those in which perhaps a remedy
may most easily be applied, luxuriance of style may be traced
to some erroneous impressions as to wherein a good styl~

ON

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rn:n
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·< ,. ·~

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consists. An undue importance is .ascribed to figures ·11nd
orn~ments, and the writer prides himself on his command o(.ei
_language and the rapid and ready flow of. .his expree~ions;~:
Having been struck with the fervency and imposing cnru;a~ .
ter of some admi:-ed passages in ·his favorite authors, ., he '
endeavors on n.l occasions and suLjects to manifest an . eq~al . ·
"'.armth and power of expression. , Thus": the rules and prin·~1plcs of good taste are violated, and the . wri~r bemmes

r:

e~tr.avagantandverbose. · · ,.
.
·'
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'Io correct the faults of a luxunant style, a 1 stnct;. ~hd )f" "~ ·
carefu '·revi'Sipn }s enjoined. Not only should all unnec~ , , · '
sary words and phrases be struck out, but in some instance~ ~!
,.
it may be required to recast the whole sentence . . Particula~ :--;
attention should also be given to whatever is of a figurative !i
,.
nature in the composition. Nothing of this kind should
introduced, · which is not strictly chaste ·and fitted to the ;
subject and occasion. It may further be recommended to "'
the luxuriant writer, occasionally to select some familiar and
common topic as the subject of his composition. fo thiE
way the impropriety of any uncommon elevation and Juxufi-.-'. '
ance of style, will become obvious to· the writer himself.• .,.11.•:. ..., ..· ·
FoncIRLE and VEHEMENT. We apply, ,the epithet fore£...·.
ble to a sty e of writing, which, in a plain, distinct and irre-~
I
sistible manner, urges upon us the opinions . and views of. .
the writer . . It is an evidence of excitement. ,. The 'writer-· :
...
is interested m his subject, and is desirous that others may
have the same feelings with himself. But it more especially. '' ... · . "
implies a full persuasion of the truth and ~mportance of what.,;~"
. is said, and such an exhibition of the reasons of this persu~ ,...
Bion, as cannot fail to produce conviction on. the part ofi th~ ·..·
t"eader. Hence it is dependent in a great 1degree on . ·ti,!" ' ,
mtellectual habits, and implies a wel disciplined . mind 7 .
a mmd accustomed to co~r~henslve, methodical. and strong y, ·
. ·" views of subjects. It requires also .·skill .,in the use of J~-

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becomes vehement.
The forcible and vehement styles are well suited to the
discm1sion of political subjects; and in the past history of
our wuntry,' especially about the time of our revolutio~,
ma:1y e~nmples are to be found. Among othe rs, the wntings of Patrick Henry, of James Otis, and of President
Adams mtty be mentioned. Controversial writings on other
subj~ct~ are also often forcible, and our age h:1s ftir~1i~hed
some good examples of the vehement style among d1vme~
Chalmers may be mentioned as a writer of thi s class.
Opposed to the forcible and the vehement style, .is that
manner of writing which is call e<l feeble, and langmd. A
distinction may be made between these epithets, similar to
that made between forcible and vehement. The former has
referei1 ce to strength of reasoning, and energy of thought:
the )alter to the degree of excitement which is manifested.
Hence it is, that a feeble an<l languid manner of writing if!
indicative of the whole character of the writer. The man
whose style is feeble and langui<!,, is usually slothful. in _hi9
habits, and ineflicient in his plans and conduct. Ili.3 view
~f his subject is cold and indistinct. His wore' s are general1

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·
11'ttle a1'd from what are called the orna
guage, 1mt d enves
ments of style.
When to sound and convincing arguments, clearly and
forcibly exhibited, is added a highly excited stale of feeling
vehemence of style is the result. It is frorn this deeper
current of feeling, .implied by the latter term, that the shade
of difference between a forcible and vehement style arises.
This excitement of feeling may spring from the greater
importance of the subject, or from the more intense interest
felt in it by the writer. An able political writ e r, in a pro·
duction on an electioneering question, might he forcible iTJ
nis style. But let this same writer be calle<l to treat on some
subject deeply affecting the welfare of his country, and he

--·...-,

destitute of thal vivacity which r~sults from the use:..of..
mor~ specific terms. · His sentences are often long, and th~
clauses and members loosely conne<;-ted . ., ~ The parenthesis
is much used; and not unfrequently we find at ,_the , close , o(
a sentence an appendage, which is .evideqtly designed to·
1
save the trouble of forming a new sentence. ,-·~ .. ·. ,.'.( ,:.'f,'li:;; ~·
Attempts after force and vehemence of style, when un~·
11upportcd by strength · of thought and real feeling, become
rant and declamation. In such instances, ins~ead of, str~ng
reasoning, we have confident assertions; . and for cleat,
impressive views of the subject, we have frequent repet.i_ti~ws;'°
and bold <lecla~ations of its clearness. -· Inst~ad of being left .
ourselves to discern the depth of the writer's feelings, -r.~e ·
are told how deeply he feels ; and all the artificial helps . of
vivacity, as exclamation, interrogation, antithesis and clim ax.
are called to his aid. Ilut while force and vehem11nce , of
style, like a deep and powerful current, sweep every obstacle bei'ore them, rant and declamation are fitly represented
by ti1e broad and shallow stream, specious . and . noisy, but
powerless.
·
,
:
. ., .-->• ELEVATED and DIGNIFIED.
The ,foundations of an '. ~le-­
vated style are laid in the thoughts. And these have m~re :
of s>riginality and sublimity about them, than those which.1 .
flow through the minds of less gifted men, There is also a
fervor by which the writer seems to be urged onwards not an impetuous and violent feeling, but calm and powerful: .
Ordinarily, in reading a production in an elevated style~ -.-,
our attention is too much engrossed by the thoughts, to per·· · ~
mit us to regard the language in which th6y . are cortve)'~u ·
and if at any time we stop with this_object in _view, it ·is: but•
o feel and express lur admiration; , ;The ';.w~r<ls , used are. ·
· those, which, from the associations. connected ,with them, ·~re
::·: well suited to the feelings and thoughts !h~t have ;possession
words,seems
not the ·'
· of our minds. Bunhe selection of these
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result of effort an J care. They ha\'e sprung up in the mind
simultaneously with the thoughts themselves, and we regard
lhem as the language in which the author ordinarily thinks
a id converses.
The sentences are full and flowing, but at the same time
unlabored, and simple in their composition. There is also
a uniformity about them, which is characteristic of an elevi:ited style. In more common stylr-s you will fin<l here and
there a striking thought, or a bol 1l expre ~ si011, while other
parts are thrown in as subsi<liary or as connecting the more
prominent thoughts. Ilut in the elevated style, P,very sen·
tence has its meaning an<l its impqrtance. The whole
aboutHls in thought, and there is a majesty and grandeur in
the quiet but resistless power, with which it holds its undisturbed and even way.
We can hardly with propriety speak of the ornaments of
an elevated style. This word implies something put 011 with
the design of pleasing; but in the kind of style I am dt· ~:crib­
ing. figurative language, and all that is ir;cludetl undt-~ the
head of ornament, seems rather to arise from a kind of inspiration, than from any design of pleasing; and the effect
produced in the mind of the reader is a grateful exaltation
of feeling.
The definition which Longirrns has given of
sublimity, is in such instances happily exemplified. 'Ve
seem to put ourselves in the place of the author, and as if
the thought were our own, we glory in the' grandeur and
nobleness of the conception.
Tn applying the epithet dignified to style, th e re is a refer.
·ice to true dignity, in di stinction from the nir of i111portanc"'
which sometimes assumes this name. Considered in this
light, it is allied to the elevated style, but differs from it, in
that here . is less of ease and naturalness in its character.
The attitudes and movements of dignified men, are often
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ON STYLE.

J.97

rou11d in the style of the dignified writer. Ile seems con11c1ods, that he is treating of weighty matters, and layi,1g
dow11 importanl conclusions, and there is something in hil ·
very arr, which tells us it is a great work he is carrying on.
Hence uncommon and learned words are chosen, and there
is a slttteliness and. formality in his .s entences. The phrase,
which me idiomatic writer would select ~as most h<1.ppily
expressive of his meaning, the dignified .writer rejects · _1u1
beneath his style. Instead of distinctness and ease of .~1,1;­
pression, there are inversions and 'involut,ions . of clause_s,
Many circumstances are introduced, ,_which ."give · precise~el!s
to the meaning, but which break up .the co1~tinuous flow ~f
the sentence. A tiresome uniformity in the length and ·for~
of the sentence, is also found, giving to the whole. prod~c­
tion the appearance of the enunciation of successive, distinct
propositions.
. ·:
The dignified style admits' of ornament, and that of a high
kind. But there is something of parade attending its µ~e.
Instead of the sprightly metaphor, . or wel.I timed allusion,
·we have the protracted allegory, or the formal comparison: ·
But then the images which are '.brought .to view, are nol
only illustrative, but often.ennobling and exalting. It is ~of
a common pageant that passes before the mind, but on~ . :Of
those splendid scenes that can give pleasure to the ·great.
_
For examples of the elevated style, I may refer · to tht
writings of Robert Hall of England, and of Dr. Channing
of Boston. Of the dignified style, the philosophical writings
of Dugald Stewart may be mentioned.
.. ·' ,
lJ nsuccessful attempts after the elevated or dignifieci
manner of writing, result in what is called the pedantic • .or
pompous style. A pedant is one fond of 1 ~howing . bo~k.
Jtnowledge ; and a pedantic style _ is chara~terized by · the
.
/
.
use of such terms and phrases, as are obsolete, uncommon,.
. Dr derived from the dead languages. , · The pompo_us style . _i1

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usually as.,;ociated with the pedantic , and 1s ch aracterized
by tlie use of long and sonorous words, by circumlocutions;
by the frec1u c11t use of synonJmes, an<l by the repetiti on of
the same thought in different words. Instead of any further
description of these styles, it may be suffici ent to refer
~o Weems's Life of Washington. · There are plants which
in the languagb of husbandmen, grow rank in certain
soils. They spread wide their branches, and are covered
with thick folia ge. But it is only after a long and wea·
ried search, that any fruit can be found, and th en it is not
of sufficient value to repay the toil. These plants ae ap\
emblems of the productions of pompous writer s.
-EAT and ELEGAN 'l'.
Tl· c:1> epithe ts ar e appli c1l to stylt
with particular reference to what is c alled th e turn of ex·
pression. They denote al so, especi ally the latter, th e n atun
of the ornament use<l. ·'Ve well und erstand th eir force, at
they are applied to a production in the arts. By the appli
cation of the form er to any article of ornament or use, we
declare th at it is not only fr ee from faults, but th at it if'
executed in a manner th at pleases us, and shows skill on
the part of the artist. In applying the othe r epithet, we express admiration. The work is no.t only faithfull y and skilfully executed, but in a mauner whic h excels. They have
the same meanin g when applied to style. In say ing that a
.styl e is neat, we mean th at tl1 e turn s of expression are such,
as happily conv ey the thoughts, and are well suited to the
subject au<l occasion. In saying th at a style is elegant, we
decl are that there is the same happy and well ad apted mode
of conveying the thoughts, and to a dcgre<:> that is uncommon.
The turn of expression must necessarily depe nd both on
the choice of word s, and the composition of th e sentence
It is also clo>ely conn ected with the thought that is con·
re.yeti Thus in the forcible and vehement style, we have
0

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,bold turns of expression;...,- in ;the elevated and dignifiedt
we ,have sublime and grand . turns ~f expression. , In -~th~
neat style, there is sprightliness , and .justness ,, ii;i ,~ the'
·.'_
thoughts, and . a vivacity and finish 1. in ,;the . mode - .oL -cofu.
veying them. At the same time; the writer ·!is ~ carefub' t~
avoid every fault. The neat , style, , as ,.thl,ls · e::cplained~Y l~· ·
·'
ever pleasing, and to some . classes of w.riti1ig pecuJiari.Y
well suited. But it differs essentially from the .easy -. and
idiomatic style before described, in that .it . gives . evidenc~
of
labor in its construction. , It seems . the
.
. . . result ' to which
- .
mediocrity of talent h as attained, by, patient an~ praisewprtliy ..
•
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exert10ns.
. .
. , , . , . :, t ·; ; ; ;: ·; ~- ;, i ,~ 4;)Ej .
Elegance, as has been stated, implies that which is"' choit~
and select. In this sense it may be appli~d to words, ··
of sentences, and - the various ornaments of. style. ;, Espe; .cially does it require that all coarse .and · homely words 1and
...,.,.
phrases should be avoided, even though their use might giv~
more vivacity to the ,expression. The sentences also · are
.·
harmonious and flowing, and while they are polishecl, . ~nd
.j
easily understood, they are alike : removed from the . stiff~ess ' -·
and awkwardness of the labored style, and the looseness..arid
...,1
familiarity of the idiomatic. But it is in the imagery th ~t
the charact eristi~ trait of the elegant style is found. ' ·Beau1
tiful , and expre.s'sive epithets and turns of expression; ~ith
embellishing comparisons, and other formal ornaments_
style, often occur, and excite emotions of taste. It is rr:ani~
fest that all is fitted and designed to please.' Writing~· cif:
~ this class are referred tO under the next head of ornamented ·
styles, w~ere the import of· elegance, as applied ~o the orna.:
men ts of style, is more fully exhibited. . , . . "~ , / ; ·~:.ff?1
.- . )
In considering an author's manner of writing as addressed
·to .the imagination, or as designed . to plea~/, we say, that~ his.
~tyle is PLAIN, or that it is ORNAMENTED. _; As the words
.01}\'_iously imply, the former of these epithets refers to a des..:;-t-~:::~-

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titution of ornament, and the latter to its prest., nce. Du
between an absolutely plain style and one highly ornamented.
there are various degr ees ; and different epithets have beev
applied to different kinds of writing, according to the nature
and amount of ornament used.
In attempting to explain the most common of these cp1·
thets, I shall direct the attention to different authors in
whose writings the ornaments of style abound.
W. Irving, .. whose literary productions have acquired a
deserved celebrity, may be first mention ed. Most of his
works are addressed to the imagination, with the design of
pleasing rather than of instructing. This k111d of writmg
admits of much orn ament, and the reader of the Sketch
Book and of Bracebridge Hall will find th at his expectations of pleasure from this source are not di sappointed. But
though in these writings there is a profusion of ornament,
it is of that modest, ch aste, unobtrusive kind, that never
cloys. It does not dazzl e the mind, nor fill it with admiration, but excites emotions more calm and permanent. It is
eithet the unstudied metaphor, or the embelli shin g and illustrative comparison, which are alw ays welco me, as they cast
new light and beauty on the objects of our view. Sometimes also a metony my, or a syn ecdoc he, or a perso nification
of the humbler kind, gi ves increased vivacity to the expression1 In reading the worki; of this author we seem not to
be passing through a region, where gorgeo us pal aces, artificial parks and lakes and shrubbery, are successively meeting
our attention, till we are wearied by their uniform spl endor i
but it is rather a land of rural elegance, and we look upon
the neat vill as - the highly culti\•ated fi elds with their haw·
thorn hedges, while ornr the whol e country is 1'(Head , in rich
profusion; those simple but graceful ornaments, wit.h n·hich
nature knows how to deck her own fi elds. I wouM then
call the style of Irviug, in reference to its orna111cut, simpli

, and elegant ; - simple, as . free from all that 1s affected ~
el~gant, as being choice in its sele<;tion of orn'a ment. ·.' Thi'
is · one of the most grateful forms .of the _ornamented style,
and denotes both delicacy and refinem~t of taste.
".:,. '}'~:' As an example of an ornamented style, in'· which elegance
is found, but not in connexion with simplicity, that .of Aliso ~
. may be mentioned. lh his writings, as in ·th?se of lrvi11;g,
there is a profusion of ornament, and it m.ust be _said, that
this is less acceptable In sermons and philosophical treatises
than in fictitious writings. There is also manifestly some.:
thing of art in the ornaments of Alison's 'st?l~:'' T.1~,~ y"h'av~
been put on, and ar:e not a part of what they adorn. 'n ~he~ ·
are flower~· that have been planted, and not tho,se that · h~ve
sprung up 1>pontaneously. .Still no one will deny that Ali~o~
excels in the figurative use of language, and that the . orn~:
mental figures of style that he introduces, are often b~autiful
and striking; and he justly bears the name of .an eleg~~
writer.
·
. : ;.:\ The style of Phillips, the orator, afforqs .an ex~mpl.,e p(-~!'
ornamented style differing from ' _tho,s e :~vhich ' J:iave )>E!~~
uentioned. From the m1ture 0(1 ,hi~ · prod_?~t.i~ns .. w~ . ~~0.,1!-~,~
expect to find in them figures .of the . b9l<ler .,kin~ ; ,imd m, !lny ·
splendid passages are found. But_too o,~e~ it is the , c~s~;
that it is all splendor - mere show withput solidity . . .M.~3
of his figures are figures of words, and ,nothing more.. '. . 1(we attempt to bring up before _the mind th~ image .h<;J. pr,e..
sents, and to see whether it be distiw·• ,and perfect, . w~ .t,?g
often find that we have something glittering ,before tus, }J~,t
- it is without form or comeliness. His style may be-. psiJ.led.
brilliant but specious. ,We are r~ady to apply,. t~j~ 1t.~,e ;~W·•t:
,mon proverb, " It is not all gold that sh~n~s.',' . , , ('. :; :::.;.: f,·~,
' Hervey, the ,authQr .of Meditations, ~s~ oft~n ,mention13d, as,
·.a florid writer. This epithet denotes 1 ,a _, s11per:abuµdan.~ · 9!,
..arhament, and . not of t.he · choices} kind. His work ;!',,!~
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mass of metaphors and comparisons. There is evidence of
rm active imagination, but it wants the guidance of taste.
There is also inge nuity, but it manifests itself in strange
conceits and far-fetched illustrations.
From these instances we learn what is meant by the epi.;
thets simple, elegant, specious, and florid, as applied to
style; and these epithets denote the most common qualities
of those styles in which ornament abounds.
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SECTION 3. On modes of wrilinE[ suited to different subjects and occasions.

!

It is the design in tl1e preceding chapters to treat of the
principles and rul es of goo<l writing. An ex.um .nation of
the different classes of literary productions, an<l of the style
suited to then, may form a second part of this work. All
that will now he atte111pte<l, is to give in a short section
some practical directions, which may aid the writer in those
kinds of composition which are most common . Such are
Epistolary writings, Essays, Historical and Fictitious wri·
:tings, Argumentative Discussiorrn, and Orations.
EPISTOLARY WIU'PlNGS are communication s between indi·\iduals, which serve as a medium both of fri e nJly intercourse
and of transacting the business of life. Th ey hrild a middle
rank between the unrestrained flow and carel essness of conversation, and the preciseness and formality of dignifietl
composition, approaching, however, nearer to the former
·than lo the latter.
Authors sometimes assume the form of letters in their
publications when nothing more th:'!.n the form is designed
to be used. Such letters, though addressed to individuals,
·1:1re in fact written for the public, and dropping the addresses
prefixed to them, differ in rio respect from the essay or dis"l!!ertation. These are not included in the class of writings
.I am now describing.

of · friendly ~ intercourse 1 ~hould "' be ; writleri ' .iti ni.n -~.=~
t-11sy /artless style.t-< Sprightliness off thought '. ~tld :~ivacity of'. ..-· .. ·~
expressi0n, are appropriate to this class of writings; . but the
.. -~
more formal ornaments of style she>uld be rarely :introduced. __._· · - ~
At least, it may be said, that such ' ornamertts tnust ,be mah- ... -~c :Ji
aged with uncommon skill, not to injure the . eimplic1ty that
':~
is required . In the ·convers.ation of the . tnan '~ of. taste · aad
.. ·:i
intelligence, .we. l~ok for a 'c orrect use · and happy. choice ~f'
words, and for an .easy, idiomatic and. simple p_hra~eology 1
avoiding- alike the cant of t ~e · vulgar / th~; v~rb_osity of the
pedant, and the ·sicliening · refineme rif ·c,r the :sentimentalistt-The same propr iety · in · words, th~ same "'artiessness:· i~~ ~~"'.
pression, are · required in his letters;: with ; the· ad«;l_itiQ,nal
care which ttmst ~I ways be caused by . tP,~ : thought.( ~~~~.n.~
s.cripta:
-*-"
·" · ·
·
.. , . ··
, , · '. · ,. : .-· •,1, 1'~r·:
. '
The letter of business should have strictness of method
, and perspicuity of style . .· Its object should be prompt}~
· stated, and nothing unnecessary be introduced.
.,
. 1;..
It is not sufficient to insist upon a simple ; and ·artless
style, and to caution the writer against a stiff and labored
manner of composition. There is danger of negligence ' ~~d
carelessness. Some, presuming on the good :· nature of .their
·;j
friends, write their letters in a hasty,. disc~nnected. manner
.. ·~
as to · the thoughts, ·while their words are_often ...incorrectly
·.'·.~
used, and their expressions : are ' slovenly1/" ·Such: may be • · -~
called rattlers. · They run on from one subject to another.<-:"."
their words and ·sentences but half written out,. and their let,;
ter, from its beginning to its · close, is a perplexing enigrn;.
· To such a letter, the lines of Cowper may .be applie~ ;,,.,,:r;i;
·:i. Letters

'. One had need ·" .:. ;· ·;:;·' ;;.;tiJ ·
Be very much his friend indeed 1 .'y,~ t.. 1 • : : . .-; ..: 1'Jri '
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It may be added that the man who can . wri'te f>etter,-;'1s
.hus ·doing injustice to himself. ' Ari i111proper expr~ssionjn

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conversation may be forgotten, an awkward me vement ma;
be overlooked, but a carelessly written letter is an abiding
witness against its author.
· English literature furnishes many good mod els in th1!'
species of composition. Cowper may be mentioned a!'! a
writer · who excels. His soli<l common sense, his judicious
reflections, his li vely ~it, his playful poetical fancy, his
warm affections, his melancholy but deeply i11tercsti11g feel·
ings of piety, all conspire to give a charm to his letters. Add
to this a style, chaste, simple, and sometimes elegant, and
it is no wonder, that his productions of this kind are ever
read with interest.
are usually addressed to the
public periodically, and which are briel in th eir exteut and
humble in their pretensions. The Essayist does not prom..
~se a full view of his subject; nor does he seek to exert a
strong influence over the minds of his readers. His arrange·
ment is professedly desultory; his arguments are probabilities and inferences from facts that are stated. He makes no
appeal to the passions, but tells his story and leaves his
reader to his own feelings and reflections. The character~ 1stics which recommend writings of this kind to public
•attention are the following :
'l .
thoughts should have novelty and importance.
can hardly be expected, that readers will direct their
attention to so humble a class of writings as the Essay,
un'i ess they are to be compensated, eith er by the plen sure of
novelty or by an Increase of valuabl e knowledge. H ence the
difficulty of ably conducting periodical publications. To <lo
this successfully, requires a mind well furni shed with rich
and varied stores of knowledge. Addi son has .said, that it
is more difficult to write a series of periodical essays, than
to compose a book on some definite subject; and he spoke
from experience He is said to have spen', mnch time in

preparation, and to have collected three manuscript v.olumet1
of ifltcresting facts and references, before he .commence$!
lhe writing of the Spectator. The issuers of proposals for .
publishing periodical essays, who with limited resources are
wont to make ample promises, should know thi~ anecdote
of Addison. ·
·\
A
,. ...
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..,..,...""-""._T. he flow of thought in the essay should be discursive
and animated. To writings of this kind; the maxim ars est
celare artern, may be well applied . . Every well disciplined
mind will form its plan, but as it has been already remarked;
it is not necessary in all cases, that . this plan be formally
stated. Much skill is also required in the frequent transi-:tions from one subject to another. By dwelling too long-on
one part, the production becomes tedious; . by passing too
rapidly from one to another, it appears sterile and abrupt.
Wit and sprightliness are also expected in the Essay. We
look for the efforts of the active, playful mind, rather thar.
· for the deep-laid and well-matured ·reflections of the philosopher. Sprightliness ·and discursiveness are so essential .to
productions of this kind that those, who from their inteHec~
tual habits, or from the constitution of their minds, are des;
titute of these qualities, 'should abstain from all attempts ,i~
this species of writing.
·.. ;.._~.
3. The style of the Essay may be easy and 1diomatic, or
more labored and neat. I have already explained what is
denoted by these qualifying terms.
The absence of those adventitious causes, which excite 11
strong interest and arouse the attention, is a reason, why
writings of this class should in some degree be addressed ,to
the imagination. There are few minds ·'Yilling to seek after
knowledge, unles3 some peculiar . interest1ir( the 'subject :of
inquiry, or some striking charms in :its re_r,r~sentation, ailure
them to the task. Hence, so far ,. as ;is /qnsistent ·with the
ealm and -simple manner of the essay/ the alh1sions shOuld
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be freqnent and happy, the illustrations pertinent, and thd
figuratirn expresf;ions profuse and pleasing.
In the literature of no country, do we find more perfect
and numerouc: specimens of Essay writing, than in that of
England. F1 )m some favorable circumstances, this species
of composition early became p )pular in that country. The
minds of those who devoted their time and talents to it, were
well suited to the employment, while the state of morals,
manners and literature, afforded fit and copious subjects.
Hence the Spectator was well received, had a wide circu·
lation, and became a part of the literature of the country.
Numerous, and some of them able periodical publications of
this class, have since been issued and well received.
.,....____H1sTORY is the ·record of. past events. It may treat separately of the government and political re ations of a country,
-- of its literature, or of its religi on; and may hence receive
the epithet of Civil, Literary, or Ecclesiastical History. As
examples, we have Pitkin's Civil History of the United
States,- Dunlop's History of Roman Literature, and Mosheim's Ecclesiastical History. So intim ate, however, is the
connexion between civ il government, lite1;ature and religion,
and so great is their reciprocal influence on each other, that
writers most frequently view them in connexion, and give
us the General History of a country; - such is Hume's
History of England.
A further division of histoncal writings, is founded on
the. different modes of stating events. One is a simple relation of facts; the other views facts in their connexion with
each other, as cause and effect. The former is termed Narrative History; the latter Philosophical History.
In examining the merit of a historical production, we
direct our attention, I. To .the 3kill shown in the selectioia
and arrangement of facts. ~. 'Io the fidelity of the writer.
:J. 'l'o the style. Each of these topics will now be briefl7
noticed.

in the selection and arrangement

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'. No emplcyment perhaps requires; such various and exteu·
sive knowledge, as the writing of. history. °;Ix The historian is
to view the actions of men in connexion with their causes:
and to do tbis, he must well know. the: secret springs of
·human action . He is to judge also of occurrences as affect•
ing communities, and this requires an intimate knowledge
of the different forms of government, and of the pr'i nciples of
ci~il polity.
Ile needs further · to be .familiar with literature
in its different departmentsi and with J religiort ·~ in . its various
forms. But all these are but remote · and · indirect prepata•
lives for the work. ' -With the particular country and portion
)f time, which · are the subjects of -his history, the , writer
'Ilust have a thorough and intimate acquaintance. · He must
seek access to the ·fountain sources of knowledge,......._ must
examine authentic documents and ; original authorities, ; and
' become familiar with - the institutions, and - manners, ! and
opimons, of the age and people of whom he writes. • :. ; '- ;1.,.
'Vhen, as the result of patienti ' continued - research; : and
careful investigation, the writer has collected the ;materials
of his work, his attention is in the next place directed to the
selection and arrangemen~ · of facts; ' and ' here he i wiU -- be
guided hy the proposed object of his work : ·if- it be his design to write a narrative history simply, he will place before
us such facts, as may fu II y in form ' us of whatever of impor·
lance pertains to the people of whom he writes. He wi..
also have reference to 'vhat is fitted to 'excite interest in-his
readers, to gratify their curiosity and furnish them profitable
instruction. - But ill philosophical · history, ' the -writer ' has
some leading design in his work . .,, Ile ' \Vo,u ld show·· us ~'. the
origm and progress of certain civil and reJigious imititutions;
1
or he would trace the effects. of-:opposing opinions on a: com·
munity, anJ show us in what mann.er/ pu.blic ' mea<iures hav~

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been infiuenced, and the welfare of the nation affected
contending parties. Any definite object of this kind, must
~v1dently become a ruling principle to the histonan in the
•election of his facts.
The success of a historian, will also depend much on the
clearness of his method and the strictness of his arrangemenl
In narrative history, the order of time will be principally
observed. In philosophical history, the arrangement, as
well as the selection of facts, will depend on the leading
design of the writer. His statements, like the different parts
of an argument, must all be brought to bear on some com·
mon point. .
Some writers divide their histories into successive eras,
and give a full and distinct view of the con<lition of a nation
at these epochs. Such is the arrangement of Henry's History of England. Divisions of this kind are favorable to
perspicuity, but, by breaking up the natural connexion of
events, they diminish the interest of readers.
Many of the ancient historians are deficient in their plan.
Herodotus, the father of Grecian history, though possessing
great merit as a narrator, observes but little order in his
narrations. He passes hastily from one nation to another,
and often introduces in a parenthetical form, the events of
many years. Thucydi<les also has in this parficnhr shown
li!tle skill, and often, that he may strictly observe c hronological order, interrupts in a painful manner the course of
.his narrative. After recording the events, which have occurperiod of time in one part of the world. he
red <luring
breaits off abniiitly, and proceeds to the narration of what
has taken place, during the same period, in another part.
A more skilful writer would have found some connecting
\ink. Livy and Tacitus have more merit in this respect,
and, as narrative historians, are good models in the selectio1
and arrangement of ~<lets.

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.....,_~· Fidelity as a trait of the historian. ':
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Cicero ha!I said that two things are incumbent on the his.
ioriau- to avoid stating what is false, and fully and fairlr
~o place before us the truth. These two things the historian ·
professes to do, and fidelity implies that he is · true to his ·
professions. He promises us the results of careful thorough
fair mvestigation; and if he is faithful, he . seeks' access ·to'
every possible source of knowledge, and free from carelessne~s and indolence, makes a fair use of the materials he
may obtain. Fidelity further implies, that a writer does not
,)
designedly deceive us. It is indeed hardly to be supposed;"'
. that one wishing to obtain confidence as a writer ·of histoty 1'.
should designedly deceiv~. But it is not enough that a his ,. ,
tor.ian may not have laid to his charge designed misrepresen·;i> .. ·
tahons. He must be free from the · mfluence , of prejudice,•,·
" and his statements must be fairly made. In philosophical
history, there is often strong temptation to misrepresent, and
so various .and apparently unimportant are the ways in which
this may be do_ne, that there is· much need of w~tchfulness
The selection of some facts in preference to others - the ,,
dwelling on favorite views of subjects - the manner of representing facts, even the epithets used, may give - a dec ided ;
cast to a historical statement, and strongly manifest the bias
of the writer's mind. We almost expect., that when a his- ,
torian writes of his own country, or attempts to account for
the origin and to exhibit the nature of those political or reli- :
gious opinions, which he himself is accustomed to maintain .
,~· or oppose, he will be partial. From this source~ no doubt; :
,, arise the g1eatest defects in Hume's History of England. ·
Sometimes, also, the infiuence of cherished opinions will ·be .
felt, when writing the history of a nation · extinct, and with ,
which the historian himself has no . connexi~n. ·· Thus Gib•;. ,
hon's infHe~ity has colored his representations of what per· ~·
la.ins to the Christian religion. In the , same manr er; Mifi. 1. ,

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ford's monarchical priuciples are seen in the account, giveq
in his History Jf Greece, of the <lernocracy of Athens. In
fact, such are the subjects on which the philosophical historian is c&lle<l to pronounce an opinion, so connected are.
they, either directly or in<lirectly, with his owu private vie NS
and opinions, that we can hardly expect more than an
approximation to uncorrupted truth. The hi storian should
be a man of no party, either in politics or religion, of 110
partialities or aversions, with no avowed or secret aim but
naked truth; and rarely indee<l can such a 111a11 be found.
3'!' St;Yk of bistorcical
· i g:s.
n examining a historical · production of mo<lerri times,
we find that there is a diversity in its different parts, requiring variety in the style in which it is written. Some por·
tions are simply narrative; others argumentative. There
are found relations ci' striking an!l imposing occmrences,
and descriptions of natural scenery and of works of art.
Some histories also contain descriptions of men, or character-painting. Here evidently is occas ion for rariety of style.
Narration and argument require chasteness ancl simplicity.
Descriptive writing allows a freer range to the imagination.
This is in fact a speci es of historical painting; and though
it must be true to the original, it a<lmits the adornings of
fancy.
It may be said, in general, of the style of history, that it
shoulJ have simplicity and gravity. Instruction is the appropriate employment of the historic mu se; still she would
nllure us to· the study of the lessons which she teaches. She
may well be styled a matron among the muses; and the
words which she utters, and the aspect which she wea1 s, are
those of maternal simplicity and endearment. It is \Ul1
known, that ancient historians proposed the amusement of
their readers as a prominent ouject of their efforts. When
Herodotus wrote, he had in immediate view the assembled
throng at the Olympic games. In<leed it may be said, that

ON

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' histories are among the most polished and elegant ·produc;
tiohs of ancient literature. · And even now. that History and
Philosophy are found in alliance,• much , of the· polish : and
elegance of former times is retained. v· ' . .,, , "· . · •
"°;-t~:,.
· In tracing the progress of historical writingA, we are -led
to notice varieties in their form, which occur at successive
periods. The earliest records of nations · belong to their
poetry, and the connexion between epic poetry and narrative
-history is close. This is seen, not only in the style, but in
the incidents narrated. Such .are the marvellous exploits of
heroes, uncommon and striking· occurrences, . and events,
both in the natural and moral world, approaching the ~ rni­
raculous. Amusement, and not • instruction ; is ' evidently·a
leading design of the writer: The resemblance :· between
ancient histories and modern historical novels, is . striking.
Both aim to carry us b.a ck to former periods, ·and ' to make
present to us the scenes which . then transpired. Of these ·
ancient histories, but ' few have come ' down to us; · , Herodo
tus is usually placed in this class" though the accuracy of hiR
geographical statements, and the amount of' true information which he gives, might entitle him· to a higher .rank. k<~,
In the next period, are placed ·'. those ' rightly ~tyled . narrative historians. In · these writings,:we find .true accounts
of occurrences distinctly and fully. stated in reguLi.r rncces·
sion. The col'rse of the narrative and the style are natural and easy. · There has apparently been little effort on the
part of the writer, and little is required on our part in fo).
lowing him. It is a plain, easy route, and we advance in :it
pleasant! y, gathering instruction as we proceed. r>, Xenophon
among the G :eek, and Livy among the · Latin ' historiiltis,·.
may be mentioned as · excelling : in this \, ~oi:m of historical
writing. The easy, artless, natural mam1ei', which chara~
terizes their works, - the simple story/which they tell, are_
fitted to excite grateful emo•ions; and recommend them high- ·
ly to all their readers.
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In the third class of historical writers, we see the beginnings of philosophical history. The writers allow themselves in some remarks on the events which they relate
They begin also to regard occurrences in their connexion
with each other. Still there is not found any guiding, leading principle, which runs through their works; 11either is
there displayed that knowledge of politics and of man,
which is found in philosophical hi~tory . . Thucydides ann
Tacitus, especially the latter, are admirable instances ot
this class of historians.
The transition from such writers as Thucydides and Tacitus to philosophical history, is easy. Some of the Italian
writers lay claim to be regarded as the earliest philosophical historians. Macchiavelli particulo.rly is mentioned, as
uniting the elegance and poetry of ancient history with the
wisdom and gravity of philosophy. But it is to Engli sh literature that we are to look for models in historical writing.
Hun1e, Robertson, and Gibbon, are masters in the art.
~---~-"10 'RA£ IY is branch of Historical writing, being designed to place before us the characters and important events in
the lives of distinCTuished
individuals. It is a kind of writb
ing, which, from . the subjects on which it is employed, excites much interest. The reader expects to sec how one
has conducted in scenes, the same, perhaps, or similar to
those, with which he himself is conversant. At least, he i~
to have exhibited before him the workings of the hum a i
1oind, the views and feelings of one of like passions with
himself. Ile is to learn something of the private character
and of the retired hours of orie, who as an actor in the mort!
public scenes of life, or as an author ancl a scholar, ha1
.oeen the object of his admiration. The following practica
directions may be given, to aid those who attempt comp<>
1itions in this ciass of writings.
1. In the selection of incidents to be narrated, the writer

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of Biography should restrain himself to what is closely cort..
nect~d with the subject of his memoirs. ·,.Jn this way, the
13xpectat10ns of the intelligent reader will be met. He does
not take up a biography, that he may ·read a collection of
anecdotes, or that he. may acquaint himself with the history.
of a particular period. He expects to learn the history and
views of an individual, and to acquaint · himself with the
history of the times, so far only as · this individual is con•
cerned.
" ·. ·
.,,~
The effect of neglecting the caution now given, and of;
introducing notices of other individuals merely because they
lived at the same time, and narrations of other · events; be-\
cause they happened at the same period, is to render-« a
biography tedious and uninteresting. ·.' ...
1 .. ·, ,~..:;\
2. A second direction is, to present a just · statement of ·
· facts and a fair view of character; - let neither partiality
. nor aversion be discovered.
' ·· 1.,_:
Memoirs are most frequently written by the particular
friends and associates of th?se, whose characters are .dC4
scribed. The public are aware of this circumstance, and
make allowances for the partialities of friendship. :'· But if
the eulogium is excessive, and the writer indulges himself
: in praise and high commendation, an effect is often produced
different from that designed. It is much safor to state facts,
and leave the reader to make his own inference and reflections. We always suspect weakness, where there is an effort
_to appear strong.
.~
3. The style of Biographies should be characterized by
.ease and perspicuity. The story should need no allurements
of style, to arrest and fix the attention of the re:tder . ..· .,_ .:.~,,Character-painting is often regarded as a ~ifficult species
of writing, and he who attempts it, seems }o gird himself
tor s~me great effort. Hence productions of this kind are
tften unnatural and labored. The . sentences · are ~hort and

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214

ON

STYLl':.

abrupt. There are striking contrasts and strong expre!!<
sions. The picture is exhibited before us in bold relief
and there is more effort that it may be striking, than that it
be just. This kind of writing requires a skilful l1an<l, and J"
rarely attempted with success. In some of the best rno<lerr
biographies it is not found.
.
Frn1.'1Tlou-s\ vRITINGS are extended fahles, or tales, writ
ten with the professed design of combining instruction witl
amusement. Some are of a historical kiml, and are drsignec'
to acquaint us with the manners and customs of a .by
gone age. Others lay claim to be considered of. an et~1ca·
nature; they profess to detect and. expose the sprm~s o ac·
tion ; they shew the rewards of virtue and the eVJl conse
quences of vice; and thus they would be auxiliaries to those
who seek to improve and reform men. There are others
that are mirrors of the passing age : they catch and reflect
back to us the fashions as they rise.
In estimating the merits of fictitious wntmgs, our attention is directed to three particulars, - the plot, the characters, and the moral. Each of these will now be briefly
considered.
Ily the plot of a ficti~ions work, is meant a connected
series of incidents and actions, leading to some important
and decided result. It is essential to success, that the
course of events be not too obvious and direct. At leastJ
there must be enough of intricacy in the story, and of uncertainty as to the final result, to awakr11 curiosity on the
part of the reader, and lead him to form conjectures as to
the event. Probability is another essential trait of a well
formed plot. Men in fiction must feel and act ns men in
Mal life are wont to feel and act. It must be seen, that lhf.'
iorce of circumstances is the same, and events must turn
on universally recognized causes and principles of action
Unity is a third requisite of a good plot. By unitv, it is

'1N s·rYLE.

·_;. 21li ·.; -•.

, meant, that every occun ence and every 'event mentioned• ~.
sh6uld be a part of a connected series of events ha\'ing sonH!
bearing on the object .of the story.c .1 But ·While · it is · essen~
-' tial that unity be preserved, and probability be not violated, ·
the story must be somewhat removed ' from the common cur•
rent of human affairs. · It must be full of: incident, and ·. giv~
room for the free workings of the imagination. We must
be lrnrried forward from one situation to another ; - unlooked
for events and frequent changes must_occur. '!'his is justly'
.regarded as a most difficult part · of fictitious 1writingf<'.1lt
is no small task, to take beings, with the passions, opinions;
and varieties of character, which may be found and imagined
among men, and set them to work, subjecting them only to
such influences,' as the ' nature of the human mind and heart
• '
allows.
. 1· < ·:t ·~;:,.
' Next to · the plot, the characters represented become
o\)jects of attention. And here it is requisite to success;
that the characters be prominent, distinct and well supported;
" ..As the story goes forward, and different individuals are , in•
troduced to our notice, we must see in each · one those dis-o
tinct traits, which, as in real life, may cause him to be , r~ '
, membered and readily recognized, whenever afterwards met .
with. And further, there must be uniformity and · consi~V
ency of action. After our acquaintance has been formed
with the different characters introduced, we must · be able
to predict how they will act, under auy given circumstances;
in which they may be placed.
·1
' · --,··,; ) ~'
To conceive in this way, and exhibit a marked, decided
c·haracter, acting with uniformity .. and · consistency, ·· when ·
;" subjected to the various influences bearing· upon . it in the ·
.:. ' pi'ogregs of a long continued etory, requires ryo' small ingenuity
and skill. It requires also a thorough an4'intimate ·acqurint~ ·
1
anc;-e with human nature. It .. jg to · this ; source, · that the ·
novel writer is to look for the modifying · influences . on· hi• •'

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~TTLE.

power. Under the limitations thus prescribed, he mn.y com·
pound the ingredients of human character at his will. He
may form new and unknown characters, but not absurd and
unnatural ones. It is an argument often brought in support
of the utility of novels, that we thus obtain a knowledge of
human nature. But unless the characters introdused are
natural and well supported, no benefit of this kind will accrue; and it is to be foared, that the mass of fictitious workf!
are in this respect more injurious than be neficial, since they
often present false notions of men and things, and thus lead
their readers astrav.
That every fictitious work should be favorable to good
morals, is universally allowed. At the end of a novel, ns ~t
the completion of the plans of a good moral government, it
should be seen, that virtue has its reward, and that vice is
punished. But it is not enough that such. sl10~ld be ~he
conclusion of the tale. It should be borne 111 mmd durmg
its progress. In fact, the moral effect dPp ends more on the
impression made in the development of the st? ry~ than ~n
a formal annunciation of some sound moral prmc1ple at its
close. It is believed, that if the moral ten<len cy of many
novels were teste<l in this manner, th ey wo1ild be found to
exert no favorable moral influence. There are and ever
have been writers of fiction, an<l those too who profess themselves friends of morality and religion, who shew, in the
course of their works, that they have not themselves strength
of principle enough to resist temptations to a1i1use I heir readers, at the expense of what to every upri ght man is sacre~.
The style of fictitious writings, since works of this clas11
are addressed to the imagination, and are designed to please,
may have both ornament and elegance. In an e~tcnded
work, however, it must vary with the character of different
parts. Some portions are simply narrative, requiring ll plain.
didactic manner. Others are descriptive, requmng more or

~-~

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STYtE.

217 '

-------

.-1

le~s · e 1evat10n of.style. ·· Occasionally also; as· in ancient hi:f~·
·'
torie's, letters, speeches, and discussions : of · various kinds;·i
are mtro<luced, requiring · com~spondent changes in ~h-~ ~tyle' .
; ll'ictit10us writings in ·some form :' have : been ·known: in · ·
almost every age and nation . . More than any other class bf literary prod actions, they exhibit to us ·the manners, and
feelings, and opini0nri, of the times when they were written.
.. Like an extended river, flowing through varieties of soil ·and
.
/ '
\ scenery, they show us the peculiarities of the region throtlgh ·
... which they pass. English literature · has : its '. full ·share of
h
'}. ;:' fictitious w-ritin~. It has been ·reserved . to~· a':writer · of our;=;.-_ _:,_';'_~
~- ( own age, to present it to us in a · form, which;:whether ~e ;:.··
-'.~l .,
~.t:.·;;·~
~·: .' regard the skill and power with which · it is executed, or it(
, , '·~
, value as combining instruction · with . amueetnent, · has · not ~.. - . :El
·< been surpassed.
. _
· ·· ·· ···· " ·" • - . t~~.i~:·_~=]
· ' · :A:n ARGtJMENTATIVll D1scuss10rl .is' the · examination of ·
-· ~, a uuject with the design of establishing some position that: ·
:
··.:; has been t~ken, Or of ;filaintaining · sOme opinion that haft · .
·'~
·'·' been advanced: It'requites powers of research·and investi- '· .
'"
.1 gation, joined with comprehensiveness an~ ' strength of in tel- ' · .
·
·~· lect. 1-Vhen succ_essfully executed, it' ·is the effort of a well
s~ disciplined mind, as it takes up a subject worthy the exer~
',, tion of its powers, and placing facts and principles in due ··. order and connexion, presents before us a full and . impre3-<;
.,.
, tnve view.
·;. 1
'·'· •
.·:,
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·:- The -most important directions to be =observed in this :
-~
kind of writing are, l. 'J.' hat' the subject of discussion be • ·
~·~
fuHy stated and explained.!.. 2. That strict method be ob--.
·'
.served in the arrangement of the several 1 parts of the di~·-c-- ~:-::~
course, and the object of the · writer be kept:..constantly..:. in; __---_,-0-~
~- ~iew. So much was said on these topics in i th~ first chaplet'.'"
:~
o( this work, that it is unnecessary here to enlii.rge_upon them. :-:- -- --~ s:;
'./' Tl:e style of the discussion should be dig~ified and manly;
~ii
''. forcible, rather than elegant: ' E;cpressiohs; which from the,:
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figurative use of language are bold and striUng, may ~e
happily introduced; and the production should abound m
illustrations and interesting facts.
An ORATION may be defined a popular address on Rom.e
-in_t_e-restincr and important subject. In listening to a per0
formance 0 f this kind, we expect the miml to be informed,
the reasoning powers to be exercise d, the imagination to be
excited, and the iaste improved.
In compositions of this class, much depe nds on the happy
selection of a subject. Many err in supposing, that an oration should have declamation rather than argument, ornament rather than sense. In opposition to this, it should
always be remembered, that it is a production addressed hoth
to the under standing and the imagination. Instead then o~
selecting a subject, which may afford opportun.ity fo1 contesting some disputed point, it should be one which reqmr~~
a statement and elucidation of interesting facts and prmc1ples - a course of calm, digni'led and persuas'.\·.e reas~ning.
At the same time, it should allow of fine wntrng. There
should be opportunity for defcription and pathos; for his
torical and classical allusions and illui-trations, and for comprehensive and ennobling views. It should admit alsc unity
of plan. The style of orations should be elevated anJ elegant; the forms of expression manly and <lig~ifie~, and at
the same time characterized by force and v1vac1ty. The
ornament should be of a high kind - such as ennobles ahd
exalts the subject. Diffuseness, as has been remarned, is
also desirable.
Selections from different authors, shewing the qualities of
ntyle mentioned in the different sections of this chapter, are
found among the Exercises. (Ex. on Chap. 5.)

: !

In concluding the attempt, ~hat has now '. ,een made, to
the principles and rules of compositirn in English, l

ON

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STYLE,
"

' .would enforce the following gene:r~I directions for JonJ!t!lg
a 409d style.
•. ,
. . : ·.i· ::J~1<­
:·. 1., _De familiar with the best .models of style . .'
. :'li ·:.
· In ol5serving this injunction, the attention should no ·
doubt be principally directed to the best ~riters of the p~e&o
en·t· day. There !are peculiarities of style, which characterize the product ons of different periods, no less than '
different individua ~; and to · be . esteemed a good writer :
some regard must IJe··paid to the literary taste of the age
/.)''.
The inquiries may here arise, what is the character of th·
' · prevalent style of our times, and .where ,may:the best~odels; , -:J
·Of writing be found 1 With the view' of more fully ans~er- , ,.
· · ing these inquiries, I shall here introduce a short account
of some prominent changes in the style of English writers. ·
. '
···
If
we
go
back
to
the
time
·
of
Hooker,
and
Barrow
and
.
.
.
·Taylor, we find prevalent a rough, plain and energetic man•·
ner of writing. The literary men of that period were men
· of thought. Having but few books, and those difficult of
· access, they relied chiefly on the · resources
their own
minds. Hence their conceptions were distinct, and thefr
expressions are marked by the freshness ' and strength:· of
originality of thought. ' At the same "time, from their famil.
iarity with Greek and Latin literature, and ·from their occa
eional1y composing in the latter of these languages, ' they, .
' ttcquired a harshness and stiffoess of' expression. Hence the
style of the period may be characterized as forcible and .
often elevated, but at the same time harsh and labored . ...~'"·
Another period in the history of English style, worthy of.·
our particular notice, is · the reign of Queen Anne . .· ThEi
writers of ,that golden age were finished scholars - meri of
knowledge, wit and· refinement,. and , we admire their skill ;
, in the use of words, their rich figurative )angt age, and the
·:'. l!lnooth.ness and harmony of their periods: We are pleased ;
;(.
.Uso \Hth the thoughts , wh;ch they convey, to us, .and

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ON STYLE

STYLE.

the allusions and happy illustrations, with which these
thoughts are embellished. At the same time, we discern a
marked diff0rence between these writers and tho~e beforn
mentioned in their intellectual resources and energies.
There is less of boldness of conception, less of comprehensiveness and exaltation of view, less of freedom of expression.
The style of the latter period seems formed in <me uniform
mould, and the different writers exhibit not so much the
characteristic marks of their own peculiar manner of thinking, as they do a conformity to some established standard.
That the influenec of the polish and refinement of this
period was most favorable, cannot be doubted. English
style acquired an ease an<l elegance, which it had neler
posse~sed. Its forms of expression were idiomatic, it!' ornament had simplicity and beauty. The permanent influence
of this progress has been felt in the improvement of our
language itself.
But if we admit that the improvements in our language
made at this period, and the ease and beauty of expression
int~oduced, compensate for want of boldness and vigor of
thought and expression, it must still be allowed, that the
effect of th!>: close imitation of these polished writers was 111jurious. For many years following the period of which we
have last spoken, there was manifestly too great ambition
umong writers, to form their style on the model of Addisonr
ian e11se and simplicity. Hence freedom from faults, a negative sort of excellence, was the object at which they aimed;
ami 111 their painful efforts for polish and refinement of style,
they forgot to think for themselves, and nobly speak their
though ts. Such, with few exceptions, wns the character of
English writers for many years following the time of Addison
Within the last thirty years, another change in Englis1'
l'\tyle has J:>eei1 gradually making progress. The nervelesir
polish and refinement of the former period, have heen giving

22J

,place to dire~tness, and manli~ess, and strength of expresl5ion~
I_n ~hese traits of _style, we seem to be going back to ' th~ .
~1mes of Hooker and Darrow. ·· ,..Qµt , the ! improvements of .
intervening periods have not been , lost. rr ·Our ; language has
be~ome more definite in the use of .wo.r ds, more harmonious
m its sounds, and more copious
its terms. · . : , .
~ . :,: ~~;
11· · The good writer of .t he present day seems- ev~r to w~it"°
1 U~der a degree of excitement. He is full of his subjec~; a.nd
. his attention is directed to what he shall say rather th · ·
•' h
·,
,
an to
t e mann~r of c~n.vey~ng his thoughts. ·His expressions
I
have an air of ongmal1ty about them. . There is no·: t 01 j,.. •,. _.1
. some sel~ction of words, no labored composition of .sent'en;
ces, no high wrought ornament ; but the words, and sente~:
ces, and ornaments, are such as most ·naturally and obvious ' _
ly present themsel\'es to the excited mind .. If a word ~ is
more expressive of his meaning than any other he . u
't :
h
h ·
.
,
ses 1,
t oug it may never have been introduced to. so good com:.: - ..,..
pany before. If a form of sentence occurs to him which. ·
'
IS
more easy a~ d 1.'d'10matic than· another, he . adopts
~t, "and
stops no~ to mquue whether it end in a trisyllable or a tnon•
·;
. osyllable. If a figurative expression . strikes~ hi~ . as . perti~.
-.
·.
~ent and happy, he uses it 1 and leaves : it for others to. exatn~­
:1; me, whether it be fo.und in ~he. numbers of the Sp~cta~o;, ·
. and have .the authon.ty. of. classical writer~ for. its support,!.
. In s~ort, .mstead of 1m1tatmg the style of any other writer-.
as ~1s guide, he has a style of his own, and observes t.h e .
_
maxim of Horace in the literal use of the term,

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Nullius add.ictus jurare in 'IJerha magistri.

; The most char~cteristic faults of the ptevalent tyle ~(..tJ~- ~-·
pres~nt Cf a_y, are mcotr~ctnel!I arrd ffectatio..o oyq:_engt_h, ·
Though ~v~ could ~ot condemn. the writer, . ,v,ho, borne along ·
by the ra~1d and 1~petuous flow of his thoughts, disoains
,. th~ r~st~amts of mmor rhetorical · rules, 1yet there . are cer;.
·"· .AJo hm1ts, br.yond which no ,one cari pass ·w ithout censure. '

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No one can be esteemed a good ·writer, whose nrnn,1er of
writing is not perspicuous. Hence no rule, the observance
of which is essential to perspicuity, can be violated without the charge of incorrectness. If a writer uses words in
a foreign or iinproper signification, no excellence can atone
for these defects. If, in the composition of his sentences,
he neglects to observe those rules, which require unity and
a right arrangement of the several clauses an<l parts, to that
degree which produces o'oscurity, he cannot receive the name
of a good writer. It is too often the case, that modern writers, in the haste and ardor with which they compose, are
guilty of violations of these rules.
.'The other fault which lias been mentioned, is an affectation of strength of expression. This arises from the propensity, so natural to man, of going to extremes. llecause
strength is a characteristic of the style of the good writer of
the present day, many are evidently laboring hard, through
their whole composition, for its attainment They are ever
seeking after new and forcible forms 0f exprcss1cn, ai1d
tiearching for strikinQ" an<l d:i.zzling illustrations. What is
lhus unnatural and forced must ever be disgusting.
In answer to the inquiry, where these moods of writing
1trr. to be found, the study of which may aid in acc1uiring
the style of the present <lay, I would first direct the atten·
tion to the literary Reviews of the time. This class of
writings not only contains the best part of the literature of
the acre but has done much towards the irn1>rovement of
b
'
our style. Especially has the Edinburgh Review contribu·
ted much to this object. It was the first to lead the way
in that fearlessness and boldness of thought and expa~i:;sion.
wt11d1 have succeeded to the tameness and excessive poli,;h
oi a former period. The Orations and popular Au dresses of
the day, may he mentioned as another class of writings fur.
n ishincr models of rrood writincr. Ilut I would recon• . ~nd
.,

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22a ·:c · .
\

'='·

.

o him who would acquire a good ·style,. that instead of. con•
i ·l
5rung the attention to models or" g~od writing of the present
day, he go back to an earlier per,iod in ,English literat~r~
Let him study the works of those great men of former ciays;
'· who, conscious .of an intellectual supre~acy, stood forth witli
a tiobli:: spirit of indep~ndence and self-reliance,· as ·: the:
guides and instructors of their times; and wh<;>, feeling 'the
responsibility attached to their . high gifts and attainmentsi.
sought not the praises of their contemporaries only/ but./ Jo'
.,:,
use the noble language of Milton, "that lasting fame ' an~t-'~/;-perpetuity of praise which God a.n d good men· have consented,: / )
shall be the reward of those ·whol?e pt1blished labors adva'nce·
the good of mankind." He will ' indeed find in ·these\vri~';
tings inelegancies and inaccuracies of expression; i.:.....;, he '\vill
· meet words and phrases which ·will appear to him strange 'iihd'. -~
uncouth ; but these deficiencies are amply compensated b{J·'
noble freedom and strength of thought, and a richness and '.di·'
· ·. rectness of expression. Let him then study these mo<lels, 'that
his mind may become assimilated to theirs;;_ that he ma'y _b~'
actuated b the same spirit, and shew fort~ !he same energy,.~
.. 2 .'.ComRose freq_uently ,and ith .<'.are• 2;( '.:
: - .1 ' : ' ; ;~.·;.~~.
It should be remembered oy all .those who would attam·
a good style, that . every good writer has ,~ made himself s~ch: i
1
Instructors an°d works on Rhetoric ·may, point -out ex cell en~'
~es, and give cautions, but tJ:tey can never make good 'wri_-;
.. ,
•
ters. A good style can be attained only ..'bJ. · ~rig_ng_ _~r,~·:
ntl and wit care.
.
.
, , ·
·, · · ~ \
But it is not enough that efforts be~ade ; · they should be..
well-directed. The first object of attention should be. to'· 8.C..<
quire a distinct and ~ell-matured view ' of . the subject. '';; lri ,
t~is way a degree .of interest in it will be , excited, and ~the '
'.1
words and expressions, which offer them's.ef ves to "the exci: ,
.. l
•j'
ted mind in conveyiPg what it .distinctl{sees, will ordinari.. ·
·_, "'
1f be the best , Thei:e will, it · is true, in 'the efforts of the
·'.<1
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224

ON STYLE.

young writer, be inaccuracies and viol atious of rules, bu
these may be remornd in revisal. There is da11ger, howev
er, lest, in this revisal, an attempt to refine and polish de.
stroy the force and originality of the expressions. It is bet·
ter merely to correct inaccuracies, and t:> leave a higher
degree of polish to be attained by an impt ovemen~ of the
taste, resulting from the study of good models. Let not
then the young writer direct his efforts for improvement solely t~.the choice of his words, or the composition of his sentences, or waste them in a search after figurative expres- ·
sions and the ornaments of style. JJet him rath er aim at the
attainment of distinct views. of . his subject, a11d the clear
and forcible exhibition of these views to others.
When a good style has been formed, it is still of impor
tance to compo~e occasionally with care and attention
The style of an individual in some respects resembles· th6
hand-writing . ... If he acquires the ability of writing a fair
and legible hand, and afterwards, in the hurry of Lusiness, is .
led to write rapidly and carelessly, his hand-writing will de·
teriorate. If he continues to bestow on it a usual share of
attention, it will remain the same. If occasionally he
writes with attention, and labors to improve it, he will irn·
prol'C it. The same is true of style; aud si!1cc, i11 the dis.'
charge of the common duties of a profession, it may be dif.
ficult to devote attention to the manr~cr of composit'on, it
may be well occasionally to discuss and exhibit some subject with more than Jsual care.
A good style is an attainment, which amply repays aH the
effort that is here enjoined. It is to the scholar, a co11sum·
mation of his intellectual discipline and acquirements. Ile,
who in this land of free institutions holds an able pen, has a
weapon of powerful efficacy both for defence and attack ·
and if this weapon be wielded with honest and patriotic motives, he who wields it, may become a public benefactor

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EXERCISES ON CHAPTER I
~

EXERCISE I.
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.1 •·[" .t' ·r-~~ L~ ·,. (;' l,i .!:, r ~;" J•:is::
.t'1R11T, die~fore; every morning, make your private prayer unto
Mmighty God, give him thanks for his protection of you the nighi
l)ast, and that he hath brought you to the morning, and desire him ·
~o bless and direct you by his gr11.ce and providence that day, and to
preserve you from the evils and dangers or it, and to keep you . in
obedience to him. ·.
.·
·/
· ·,. : '• .,. ,.
· ·
.;_,.:~.i
·. Secondly, a little before .you go to bed, make ag\\in your. priv.ate
prayers to God, returning him thanks . for his protection, .and J for ,
bringing you to the end of the day; desire him to forgive you the
sins and failings of the day 1 and beg his protection over ·yob. the night
;
•
• r
;
.following.
·
· ·
Always be attentive t~ your prayers; and keep your mind upon•
the business you are about, with all due seriousness and solemness,
without playing or staring about, or . thinking -of other ,matters; for
you must remember th.1\ in prayer you are speaking to the great
God of heaven .and earth, that doth not only see and observe your
outward car,riage, but also the very thoughts of your hearts , and .
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· · ·; t; · ,.;.
mind.
·
J...et no occasion whatsoever hinder you from your private) con>
stant devotion toward. Almighty God;. but .be ' l!fteady and. fb:ed, ,and
resolved in it; an<l not go about any business of importance (but .
only re~ding of a chapter, whereof in the .next) till yo~ have perfon~~
this duty; and although it he upon. the Lord) ~Day, when you go
to public prayers, morning and allernoon 1 and though there be morn.ag nnd evening prayers m the schools or colle~e where yoa U.e
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2'17 ;,. , ·

EXERCISES.

EXEHCISEt;

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yet this must not make you omit your private devotions; for it must
be a solemn and sacred employment, as a great and necessnry mean1
of your protection, and blessing, and snfety, the ensuing day or
night. I was ever distrustful of Vie success of that business wl1ich
I undertook before I commended myself and affairn to AlmightJ
God in my private morning prayers.
Let all your thoughts and words be full of reverence; think no\
:Jf him lightly, nor speak of him, nor use his name vainly; consider,
1t is he by whose mercy and goo<lnes! you live and have all the
blessings and comforts you enjoy, and that can call them away from
you at his pleasure; it is he that knows nil your thoughts, words
and actions, and· discerns whether they are such as are decent, becoming, and suitable to his will and presence; it is he that sees you
thougn you see him not, and this is the reason of the third command;nent, whereby you are forbidden to take his name in vain.
Sm

MATTHEW HALE.

Analysis. 1. An injunction te pray every morning, with a br1Pf
statement of the objects of morning prayer.
2. An injunction to prny in the.evening, and the objects of evenina
prayer.
3. Directions as to the conduct during time of prayer, with a reascn
assigned.
4. Injunction to be uniform and strict in the obaervance of th~ duty,
' enforced by Ii reference to the writer's experience.
5. Injunctions as to the general state of the thoughts and feelings
' towards God, with the reasons assigned.
In looking at this analysis, it is obvious, that though the different
paragraphs are distinct from each other, they are connected together
by their general bearing on the leading design of the writer; - they
a.II tend to enforce the constant and right performance of the dutv
of prayer. We are also led to notice the directness and simplicitj,
which are found both in the thoughts and expressions. The arnpli
fication is for the most part explanatory ; so far as reasons are assigned, they are briefly stated, and are such ns commend tl1em!Jelvei
to the good sense and the moral feelings of the reader. 'l'hE- passage
'9:r.tracted s an .examole of didactic preceptive writing.

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Daily Prayer - Evening. . · .
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ue now consider another part of the day which is favorable to •'
th~ duty of prayer; we mean the evening. ·, This season, like the
mornivg, is calm and quiet. Our ,labors are ended. · The bustle of
life is gone by. The distracting glare of .the · do.y has vanished. ,
The darkness which surrounds us favors seriousness, composure, and .
solemnity. At night the earth fades from our sight., and nothing of .~~
: creation is lefl. to us but the starry heavens, so vast, so magnificent. ·:
so serene, as if to gaide up our thoughts above all ·earthly things ~ ::
God and immortality.
'
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··
Tlwi period should in part be given to prayer, as it furnishes a
variety of devotional topics and excitements_. The evening is' the
. close of an important division of time, and . is therefore a fit and nat '
ural season for stopping and looking back on the day. And can we ·
ever look back on a day, which bears no witness to God, and Jaye .
no claim to our gratitude? Who is it that strengthens us for dnilv .
labor, gives US daily . bread, continues . our friends and commo~
pleasures, and grants us the privilege of retiring, after the cares of
the day, to a quiet and beloved home ?
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The review of the day will often suggest ~ot only these ordin~;'../
· t benefits, but pe!<uliar proofs of God's goodness,· unlooked for s~~. cesses, singular concurrences of favorable · events, singular blessings'
sent to our friends, or new and po.werful aids · to our:·own virtue,
which call for peculia.r -thankfulness. Arni shall all these benefit.
pass away unnoticed? Sha!! we retire to repose a:i insensible as the
wearied brute ? · How fit and natural is it to close with pi!lus a()knowledgment that day which has beeri filled with divine benefi- ·
cence !
.
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But the ev-:>ning is the tim'e to review, not only our blessings, but
om nctions. A reflecting mind will naturally remember at thi1
liour that' another day is gone, and gone .t o testify 'of us to our Judge •
How natural and useful to inquire what report · it has carried to ;
heaven! Perhaps we have the 13atisfac~ion of lo9king back on n day ·
whicli in its general tenor has been innocent ''' and pure, which,: ·
11aving begun with God's praise, has been sp~nt _ as in his presence;
LET

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which has proved the reality of our principles in tr.rnptation; ar.d
shall such a day end willvrnt gratefully acknowledging llim in whose
strength we have been strong, and to whom we owe the powers and
opportunities of . Christian improvement?
Hut no <lay will present to us recollections of purity unmixed
with sin. Conscience , if suffered lo in spect faithfully and speak
plainly, will recount irregular desires and defec tive moli ves , talents
wasted and time misspent; and shall we let the day pass from us
without penitently confessing our offe nces to Him who has witnessed them, and who hris promised pardon lo true rcpe11lnnee ? Shall
we retire to rest with a burde n of unlamented and unforgive n guilt
upon our consciences? Shall we leave these stains to spread over
and smk mto the soul ?
A religious recollection of oJr lives is one of the chi ef instruments
of .piety. If possible, no day should end without it. ff we take no
account of our sins on the <lay 011 which llH'Y rue com111illc<l. can we
hope that they will recur to us at a more di stant peri od, that we shall
watch against them to-morrow, or that we shall gain the strength tc
resist them, which we will not implore ?
The evening is a fit time for prayer, not only as it e nds the day,
but as it immediately precedes the period of repose . The hour of
activity having passed, we are soon to sink into insensibilitv and
sleep. H ow fit that we resign ourselves lo the care of that Being
who never sleeps, to wh om the darkness is as the light, and whose
orovidence is our only safety! How fit to en treat him that he
~ould keep us to another day; or, if our bed should prove our grave.
; that he would give us a part in the res urrection of the just, and
.. awake us to a purer and immortal life! L e t our praye rs, like the
ancie nt sacrifices , ascend morning and evening. L et our days begin
.and f" .u with God.

Remarks. This passage is an exampl e of didactic persuasive
. writing, but it is n ot sufficiently extended to bring to view the plan
and other peculin.rities of this class of compositions. In the remarks
made upon it, the . attention will be principally directed to the ampli
fication.
1. The evening is a part of the day in itself fav orable to the duty
of prayer. Under this head, the amplification is of t.he nature of
proof, bemg an enumeration of th ose circum sta nces favorable t~
_devotion , whic:h are peculiar to .the .close or the day. These cHoum

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.
•tnncee are matters of common observation, and do not require ".t oJie
substantiated by ·authorities or arguments of any kind. The bare
s 1ggestiun of them is all that is necessary and all that is attempted
2. The evening. offers several topics and _excitements. favorable '> tt,
1
'. ilevotion. · ·
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• Of these topics, the review of mercies common and special received,
· during the day, is first mentioned . . The amplification here co·n siett
of a brief enumeration of these mercies, with appeals to o.ur gratitude · '".,
. and to our· 11ense of what is fit and natural to man in the relation
which he sustains to his Heavenly Benefactor.
~.,.
Another topic which offers itself is a review of our actions. ·, Here
, I
a reference is made to our ·condition as. accountable . beings, a~d we
)
are led to consider what report respecting our conduct, the _' ~lay, hil.a, '
borne to Heaven. Wherein we have been kept from wrong and llnabled to do right, we are gratefully to acknowledge Him, in whose,
1trength we have been strong. Wherein we haye done .wrong, we ..
1ue penitently to confess our sins and to seek forgiveness . .-Here
lllso the amplification consists of an appeal to our emotions of grati
' · tude, to out' conscience, and to our self-interest. In connection with
the last consideration, the writer is led to speak of a religious reco1-.
lection of our lives ae an instrument of piety.
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Another distinct topic is now mentio.n ed . The evening precede•
the period of repose. Thie lays the foundation of an appeal to what,
1s fit - to what our own safety and welfa.re require. We are to' sink
into a state of insensioility and sleep. · Shall we not commit .'our·.
irelves to the care of that Being, who never slumbers nor. sleeps _?·,,; ;.:~~

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EXERCISE III.

Defence of Literary Studies in Men
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of Business.
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AMONG the cautions which prudence and worldly ·_
wisdom inculcate
on the young, or at least among those sober tr,uths which experience.
often prete nds to have acquired, is that danger .w hich is said to result
from the pursuit of le tters and of science, in me,/ destined for the la· .·
bore of business for the active exerti~!ls of ,professional life . . _T he,
abstract •on of learning, the speculations · of science, and the visionary
excursions of fancy, are fatal, it is said, . IP the steady pursuit of com.;:

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mon objects, lo the hauils of plodding indu stry whi ch ordinary husi
ness demands . The fin eness of mind which is created or increased
by the study of letters, or the admiration of the arts, is supp0sed tlJ
incapacitate a man for the drudgery by which professional erninence
is gained; as a nicely tempered edge applied lo a coarse and rugged
material is unable to perform what a more common instrument
would have successfully achieved. A young man destined for law
or commerce is ~dvi se d to look only into his folio of precedents, or
his met hod of book-keeping ; and dulncss is pointed to his hrmrnge,
as that benevolent goddess, under whose protection the honors of
station and the blessings of opulence are to be attained; while
learning and genius are proscribed as leading their votaries to bar
ren indigence and merited neglect.
In doubting the truth of these assertions, 1 think I shall not entertain any hurtful degree of skepticism, because t.he ge neral curnrnt
of opinion seems of late years to have set too strongly in the contrary
direction ; arid one may endeavor to prop the falling cause of literature without being accused of blamable or dangerous partiality.
In the examples which memory and experience produce of idleness, of dissipation, and of poverty, hrought on by indul ge nce of
literary or poetical enthusiasm , the evidence must necessarily be on
one side of the question only. Of the few whom learning or genius
has Jed astray, the ill succe~ii or the ruin is marked by the celebrity
of the . sufferer. Of the many who have been as dull as thev were
profligate, and as ignorant as they were poor, the fa.le is unknown,
from the insignificance of th ose by whom it was endured. If we
may reason a priori on the matter, the chance, I think, should be on .
the side of litera ture.
In young minds of any vivacity, there is a natural aversion to the
urudgery of business, which is seldom overcome , till the effervescence of youth is allayed by the progress of time and habit, or till
that very warmth is enlisted on the side of their profession, by the
opening prospects of ambition or emolument . From this tyranny.
as youth conceives it, of attention and of 11tbor, reli ef is commonly
sought from some favorite nvocaEon or amuse ment, for which a
young man eiU1er findR or steals a portion of his time , either patiently
plods through his task, in expectation of its a pproach, or anticipates
its arrirnl by deserting his work before the legal period for amuse
ment is arrived. It may fairly be question ed, whether the most innocent of those amusements, is either so honorable or so s!lfe BB the

avor,ation of learning or of science, Of minds uninformed , and
1
gross, wh~m youthful spirits agitate, but fancy and .feeling hav~. no.1
power to impel, the amusement will generally be either . boisteroull .
or effeminate, · will either dissipate their .' attention or weaker, , their
force. The employment of a young man's vacant hours is often too'.
little attended to by those rigid masters, who exact the most scrupu- .
louP observance of the periods destined for business: · The waste of
time is undoubtedly a very calculable loss ; but the waate or the . "
depravation ·or mind is a loss of much higher denomination . .. The
votary of study, or the enthusiast of fancf, may incur the first, but the
latter will be suffered chiefly by him whom ignorance .or want -of, . j '
imagination has left to the grossness of mere sensual enjoyments. ;, :.. ~ . )
In this, as in other respects, the love of letters is friendly · to sober
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manners and virtuous conduct, which in.every profeskion . is the road
to success and to respect. Without adopting the common-place ,- retlectilms against some particular departments; it mti.st be . a.Ho.w ed ·
that in mere men of business there is a ·certain . professiona.l . rule of.:
right, which is not always honorablel and though meant to be se.lfish, ,
very seldom profits. A superior education generally corrects , this,
by opening the mind to different motives of action, to the feelings of .
delicacy, the sense of honor, and . a ~ontempt of wealth, when. earned.
by a desertion of those principles. · .,, ;. , ;,
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To the improvement 0£ our faculties as · well ·RS of our principles,°.
the love of letters appears to be favorable .. ·• Letters require a ,certain ..
sort of application, though of a kind perhaps very different from :. thai
which business would rec.o mmend. ' Granting . that they .are unprof'.-1 ;
itable in themselve11, as · that word is used in the language of, the ..
world, yet, as developing the powers bf thought and reflection, they..
may be an amusement of some use, as those sports of children )n
which numbers are used to familiarize . them to the · elements . of,
arithmetic. They give. room for the exercise of that · di scernment;
that comparison of objects, that distinction of causes which is to
crease the skill of the physician; to guide the speculations · o~ the_
merchant, and to prompt the arguments of the lawyer; and though_
eome professions employ but very : few faculties of t~e-., mind, • yei
there is scarce ariy branch of .business in which a man who can think
will n~t excel him who can only labor . . We shall'' accordingly' find, .
'n mirny departments wh13re learned informatioIJ,-Beemed of' all qual-:
ties the least rfecessary, that those w~o . po~sessed it in a degree.

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EXERCISES.

above their fellows, have found, from that ve1y circJ111~lance, the
road to eminence and wealth.
But I must often repeat, that wenlth does nut necessarily crP r1te
happiness , nor confer dignity; a truth whic h it may be tlwnght dc1:•
lamation to insist on, which the present tim e see 111 s particularly to
require being told.
'l'he love of le tters is connected with an independ ence and delicacy of mind, which is a great prese rvative against th at serv ile hom·
age which abject men pay to fortune; and th(•re is a CC' rlain clas81·
cal pride, which from the society of Socrates nnd l'bto , Cice ro and
Atticus, looks down with an honest disdain on the weallh-blown insects of modern times , neither e nlightened by know ledge nor e nnobled
by virtue.
In the possess!on, indcr. d, of what he has attained, in that rest and
retirement from his labors , with the hopes of which his fatigues were
lightened and his cares were smoothed, the mere man of business
frequently underg0es sufiering, instead of finding enjoy ment. To
be busy as one ought is an easy art; but to know how to be idle ia
'l very superior accomplishment.
This difficulty is much increasea
with persons to whom the habit of e mployment h as made some active
exertion necezsary; who cannot sleep contented in the torpor of' in
dolence, or amuse the mselves with those lighter trifl es in which he,
who inherited idle ness. as he dis fortune from his ancestors, has been
accustomed to find amusement. The miseries and misfortunes of
the " retired pleasures" of men of busi ness have been fr equently
matter of speculation to the moralist, and of ridicule to the wit. llut
he who has mixed general knowledge with professional skill, and
literary amusements with professional labor, will have some stock
wherewith to support him in idleness, some spring for his mind
when unbent from business, some employment for those hours which
retiremen t or solitude has left vacant and unoccupied. lndepe n·
den ce in the use of one's time is not the least valuable species of
freedom . This liberty the man of le tters enj riys; while the ignorant and the illiterate often re tire from the tlu? ;dom of business on'y
to b!!come the slaves of lan g uor, intemperance or vice.
But the situation in which the advantages of that endowment of
mind, which letters bestow, are chiefly conspicuous, is old age, wltei;.
a maii°'s society is necessarily circumscribed, and his pawns of ao•
tive enjoyment are unavoidably diminished. Unfit for the bustle ot·
offairs, and the amusements of his youth, an old man, if he has nc

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1<>urce of mental exertion or employment, . ~fien settles int~~~th;··- ..

glo~m of. mel~ncl~d'ly a~<l peevishness, or petrifies his feeling~": by:~

,,

nab1tual ~ntox1cahon. From an old ID!J.n whose gratifications . were -,
1olely derived from those sensual appetites which time h:is blunted ·
or from those trivial amusements of .which youth : only can share' '
age has cut off almost e.very source of enjoyment. But to hi~ . wh~,J
h~stored . his mind with the information, and can still employ .\ t )~ ,
the amusement .of letters, this blank of life is admirably fillea · up,,.,
He. acts, he tlunkR, and he feels . with that literary world w_hose.:
society he can at all times enjoy. There is perhaps no state more,.
capable of comfort to ourselves, or more attractive of veneration from
~
~there, than that which such an old age aflords; i.~ is then the twi· '
hght of the pass.ions, whe~ they are mitigated but not . extinguished,:.:., ,.' )
an~ sprea~ their geqpe mflucnce over the evening .of our . _day, .io · . . ·
allumce with reason and in amity with virtue. ~ ...~.~- ,: .. MAc~EN,Z_I!C~~J: ·

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. " Remarks ~na .117!°'.lysis. In examining the preceding exampl~ of,.
. ~rgumentative wntmg, our principal object of attention .will be., the,.
p an ?r management of the subject.
:
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· , · ·
The l~troduction consists of an indirect statement of th~ qu~sti~n .
to be agitated. We are told how those have thought and reasoned .
whose opinions are opposed to the opinions of the writer. · Th' ··
statement
is. distinctly, . and fairly
ls~
.
.
, and skilfully made . Ou r l'te
1. rary
taste 1s gratified by the illustrations and ornaments of language which,
are found . Our •Curiosity is roused, and we are ready to enter with .
intere~t on the proposed investigation. ' It should be noticed, that;
. there is no for~al .statement of the proposition which is to be sup- .
ported, but that 1t 1s clearly and happily_implied iQ the introductor .
paragraphs.
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· After the introduction, follows the . refutati~n . of an objecti 0 .
That this is the proper place for considering the objection staled
evident, since, had it been unnoticed, or its refutation defer~ed' to.
the clo8e of the Essay, the minds of readers micrht have bnen
i.
pre-,
vented by its influence from giving due weight to the arguments ad·
duced. The~e are two ~odes of refuting objections; one, by deny-~
mg the prenuses from .which a conclusion is drawn - the oth
b ,
h ·
er, y
I owmg that the conclusion does not truly follow from the premises • .
. . ·. The objecti~~ here considered is - that facts establish the opp~·
1
' 1nte of the opm10n advanced by the writer- of course, the opini.l}O
1an have no good foundation. To refute the obJ'ect'1on, tlie· prP.m1se:.·
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EXEltciSEl'J:

1s denied. Facts are otherwise, says the write r, and a satisfnclorf
reason is assigned, why a different impression as 'to the bearing of
facts on the case has prevailed . H aving assigned this reason, thfl
writer lea' es the point at issue a1: to facts in the case, to be determined by the obs..,rvation and the g Jod sense of his reade rs.
Having thus introduced his subject to our attention, stating by
&ruplication thP proposition to be examined, and having removed an
objection, which presented itself at th e threshold, the writer now
ente rs on the direct examination of his subj ect.
The following proposition is supported. Men of business may
advantageously devote a portion of their time to lite rary pursuits.
1st Argument. Young men of business should engage in literary
studies, since in them i~ found a pleasant relaxation and securitr
against hurtful indulgences .
2d Argume nt. Young men of business should engage in litc>rary
atudies, because in this way they acquire a refinement and exa ltatioll
of mind which raises them above grovelling and selfish principle!
and conduct.
3d Argument. Young men of business should engage in lit~ a r.r
studies, because the cultivation of letters is fav omble to the improvement of the mind.
4th Arg ument. A man of busin ess shou ld engage in literary pursuits, because in this way he acquires an ind epe ndence of fee ling
which prepares him to e njoy his wealth. ·w ithout c ultivation of
mind and a literary taste, the re tirement of the man of wealth is wearisome and disgusting to him.
5th Argument. Men of business should cultivate le tters that they
may find in the m grateful employment for old nge.
This is the plan. Upon examination, we find that it conforms to
the directions given in the text-book. The several heads are distinct
from each other. They have a similar bearin g on the leading proposition to be supported, and taken together, they give a unity to the
subject.
The kind of a gument here used, is the argument from cause to
effect. Diffe reot reasons are stated, which account for and support
the assertion that is made, and which forms the leading propoe1twn.
Let us now take a nearer view of these diffe rent argume nts, and
Under the first argument, tha
11ee in what way they are supported.
reasoning is as follows: 1. Young men in business will have relax

ation and amusement: 2. Unless tliose of a salutary kind are pro-~.
Tided, they will fall into such as are hurtful. . Hence the importance ·.
of their being directed to literary pursuits; which may interest and
benefit them. It may be askM, On' what ~authority do these assertions of the writer rest? How do we know that young men thus
will have relaxation and amusement? and that unless those of a salutar; · kind are provided, they will fall into such as are hurtful? I
answer, that these assertions rest on the common observation and
experience of men. Hence the writer takes it for granted that those
whom he addressee will ·yield their ,a ssent to ,his premises, and
consequently, if hie conclusion is correctly drawn, will acknowledge
the reality of his argument.
·
In analyzing the second ·argument, ~he inquiry arises, How is it ,
.known that literary studies give refinement and elevation to ,the .
mind, raismg it above low and grovelling · pursuits? ' Here the appeai'
is to -consciousness. Men, who have thus cultivated their intellcc , ·.
tual powers are conscious, when they look in upon the operations
of their own minas, that these salutary influences have been exerted
·upon them.
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The third argument, which asserts that ·the love of letters is favor•
able to the cultivation of the intellectual powers, rests principally
upon experience an<l. observation. There is also found an illustration, which is of a_n analogical kind. It is where the writer refers
to those sports of children, which familiarize them with the elementtl
of arithmetic. This argument from analogy may be looked upon a11
an appeal to the common se nse of the reade rs.
·
. The remaining arguments rest in like manner on appeals to experie nce, observation, common sense and consciousness, and it is not·;
necessary to a~alyze them, The student, in · the analy!!Is which hu
been made, has had an opportunity of seeing some of lhe grounds on .·
• ?ich Msertions and teasrinings are founded. .
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EXERCISES.

E X E RC I S E IV.
Fortitude of tlte Indian Cltaractcr.

llown those who stood in his way, sprung off, · and plunged into · the
water, swimming underneath like an otter, only rising to talr 1 breatn;·
till he reached the opposite shore. ' f.: : '
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He ascended the steep bank, but though he . had good reason . to be:
m a hurry, as many of the enemy were in the wate1, anci: othera
ru~~ing, .like hlood-ho~nds, in . pursuit of him, and tl~e b.u11ets flymg
.aound hm1 from the time he took to the river,' yet his heart aid ·not
11Iow him to leave them abrup tly. He chose to take' leave in a for·'
mal manner, in return for the extraordinary favors they had done
and intended to do him. So 11topping a moment, he bid them deli~
ance, in the genuine style of Indian gallantry, he ·put up the shrill
warwhoop, as his last salute, till some more convenient opportunity·
tffered, and darted off in the manner of a beast broke loose - from iis'•' ·•~, ~· . ·~:' 1 "\ 1- 1 1:~;. 'Vt>~
rorturing enemies.
· He continued hrs speed, so as to tun, by about midnight of ·the :
.ame oay, as far as his eager pursuers were two days in reaching :
I'here he rested, till he happily discovered five of those Indians who~
bad pursued him!~ he lay · hid a little way off their camp, ' till they;
were sound asleep. Every circumstance of his situation occurred . to
,f~ him a~d inspired him with heroiRm, He was naked, torn, and hungry.'
[!!~ 1.nd his enraged enemies were come up with him; but there was now'. .
·:~~ every thing to relieve hie wants, and a fair opportunity to save hie lire,·
'
JLnd get great honor and sweet revenge by cutting them off. - Resolu- ,
<don, a convenient spot, and sudden surprise, would effect the main'.
vbject of all his wishes an_!) hopes.
• •
,.... -. · .
· ':' •;.,.~n
He accordingly crept, took one of their tomahawks, and killed them ,
itll oa the spot- clothed himself, .a nd took a choice gun, and as much'
ammumtion and provision as he could well carry in a running march;
tie set off afresh with a light heart, and did not sleep for several sue-·
ee.ss1v~ mghts, except when he reclined as usual, a little before day,l
-. . -,.;:" ..-,
- - .
with hrs back to a tree.
As it were by instinct, when he found he was free from the purl!lt'I<- ·,
ing enemy, he made directly to the very place where he had been
f.llken prisoner and doomed to the fiery torture, aftet havin1;r killed
.reven of his enemies. The bodies of these he dug up, burnt them"
" to asheR, and went home in safety with singular triumph. Other
?Ursuing enemies came, on the evening of the s~cond day, to the
eamp ?f their dead people, when the ,sight gave them a greater
thork than they ever had known before. In their chilled war coun-"
eil thP-v concluded that as he had done such surprising things in h11
0

A PARTY of the Seneca Indians came to war against the Kntawbll8
bitter enemies to each other. In the woods the former discovered
a sprightly warrior belonging to the latter, hunting in their usual
light dress: on his perceiving them, he sprang off for a hollow rock
four or five miles distant, as they intercepted him fro.m running
homeward. He was so extremely swifl and skilful with the gun,
as to kill seven of them in the running fi ght before they were able
to surrou'ld and take him. They carried him to their country in sad
triumph; hut though he had filled them with uncommon grief
and shame for the loss of so many of their kindred, yet the love of
martial virtue induced them to treat l1im, during their long journey,
with a great deal m~re civility than if he had acted the part of a
coward.
The women and children, when they met him at their severa:
t11wns, heat him and whipped him in as severe a mannc>r as the occasion required, according to their law of justice ; and at last he
was formallv condemned to die by the fiery tortme. It might reasonably be imagined, that what he had for some time gone through,
b,Y being fed with a scanty hand, a tedious march, lying at night
on the bare ground, exposed to the changes of the weather, with his
1trms and .legs extended in a pair of rough stocks, and suffering sur.h
punishment on his entering into their hostile towns, ns a prelude t<
those sharper torments to which he was destined, would have so 1mpain~ d his health, and affected his imagination, as to have sent him
to his Jong sleep, out of the way of any more sufferings.
Probably this would have been the case with th e major part of
white people under similar circumstances ; but I never knew thi11
· with any of the Indians; and this cool-headed, brave warrior, did
not deviate from their rough lesi;ons of martial virtue, but acted his
part so well as to surprise and sorely vex his numerous enemies: for when they were taking him unpinioned, in their wild parade, to
1J1e place of torture, which lay near the river, he suddenly do.shell

I

I)

'

,.

,1

,
238

EXERCISES.

EXERCISES.

defence before he was captivated, and even nll:er that, in his naked
condition, he must surely be nn enemy wiznrd; and that, as he wu
now well armed, he would destroy them all should they continue the
pursuit : - they therefore very prudently returned home.

~ '.'

\~r.'

...
:;',.'' ;.1 .

'; .•

··~:~

,;;· , ··-

d'',,.;;:;i; :;
·: ., .. •. "t;;~

E X E R C I S 1'1 V · · ,
.

- "~~ :,.,

fr· .. \·

·:~1~1.~cr·;·

1.

· . , ..

, •

•

:;.*1.

r~~

ADAIR.

'l'he first and last Dinner.
Remarks. In analyzing this example of narrative writing, · CXJr at.
tention is first to be directed to the leading purpose of the write:.
rhis evidently is to I.ell us of the successful escape of n young Indian
warrior from his enemies. Diflerent facts are mentioned connected
with this leading fnct, - such nre the circumstances of his captivity,
of his being conducted in triumph through the towns and villages of .
his enemies, of his revenge on those from whom he had suffered ills,
11.nd of his triumphant return to his own tribe. These severnl facts
are stated in the order of their occurrence, and dwelt upon according
to their relative importance. Another purpose of the writer, which
i.s incidentally ai;id skilfully effected, is the mention nnd illustration
of several traits of Indian chnrncter. Such are fortitude, manifested
m the patient endurance of extreme hardships and sufferings, - re•
spect for martial l'irtue, rising nt Inst to n superstitious reverence, •
the strong thirst for revenge, gratified at nn imminent risk and
under the most perilous circumstances, and further, that cunning
and duplicity, by which lhe escape and flight were effected. Every
observ-ing render will also notice the deep interest, with which the
story is rend, increasing will~ the progress of the narrative, and evidently to be ascribed to the m1tnrnl connexion of the events narrated
We learn then from this example, that the plan, in narrative writingis simply the statement of ev!'nts in the order of their occurrence ,
and further, that the amplification is the mention, with varying degrees of minuteness in their statement, of the different circumstance1
~onnected with these events, accompanied by irc!dental remt rks an"
,_.,flectioJJe

'

•

.

•

:: 1

\

·~i-t.'

l7rtr1

f~1ends,. much about . the same age, and fixr-id by , their
11urswts, t11P1r. family connexions, and . other local interests, as ~ permanent mhab1tnnts of t11e metropolis, agreed one day when they
were drinking wine nt the Star and . Garter at Richmond' to mstitute
. ~n ar.mual dinner .among themselves, , under .the follo~ing :.. re""gul~~
' bons: -That they should dine alternately at each other 8 ·houses on
the _f,rst and last day of the year; .and. tl~e first bottle .of 'wine ~n4
· e~rk~d 11t ·~e first dinn.~r ,shQyjd be_ ~_ecoiked~~and~·pu_t\way ~ .t~ ~
drur.rt: oy him wh~ should ~b~ , the la~t of. ~heir .numbei:, ·,. t~at .·..they
rhould never admit a new member· . that when one di'ed ·el ·
h
·• .
'
'
.
, evPn
'! ould meet, and when another died, ten should meet, and so., on;
a~d when only. one remained, he . should, on these two days, dine by
~1mself, and sit the usual hours at his solitary table; but the first
time ~e had so dined, lest it should be the only one, he should then
uncorK the first bottle, and in the first glass, drink to the memory of,
all who were gone.
· ·
' Some thirty years hnd now glided ~~aj; and only ten r~~~l~e~:,\ '
Du~ the stealing hand of time had written sundry changes in ,moe;
legible characters. Raven locks had become grizzled; two or three
heads
had not ns many locks as mny be reckoned in .a -walk 0 f 1IllIf 11.
'l
m1 e a.lo~g the Regent's Canal- one was actually c~~ered with a
~rown wig-the crow's feet were visible in the corner of the eye".good old port and warm Madeira carried it against hock claret red
ourgundy, and champagne -..,. stews, hashes, · and ragouts: grew' into
favor- crusts were
rarely called for to relish the cheese after d'111
•
11er - conversation was lees boisterous, nnd it turned chi'efly u
T
d
pon
, poll 1cs a.n the state of the f1:1nds, or the value of landed propert
· - nnolog1es were made for coming in thick shoes· and .warm stoc:.
mgs - the doors nnd windows were more care~~lly provided . with
list. and snnd-ba5s - the fire is in more request--:- and a quiet game of
1Vh1~t filled up the hours that were wont to . be 1 devoted to drinking,
smgmg, and riotous merriment. Two rubbers, a cup of coffee, and
at home by eleven o'clock, was the usual cry, when the fifth or sixth
· fW.!:LVJI:

/

' \

,,--- .
'I

.,

EXERCl:'!ES

240

EXERCISES

glass had gone round after the removal of the cloth. At parting, too;
there was now a long . ceremony in the hall , buttoning up grea.:
coats, tying on woollen comforters, fixing silk han<lkerchiefs over
the mouth and up to the ears, and grasping sturrly walking-canes tc;;
support unstea<ly feet.
Their fiftieth anniversary came, and death hail : ndeed bee n busy
Four little old me n, of withered appearance and d'.!crcpit walk, witr1
('.racked voices and dim, rayless eyes, sat down by the mercy of heav
en, (as they tremulously declared,) to celebrate, for the lilli eth time,
the first day of the year, to observe the frolic compact, which half
a century before, they had e ntered ini.o at the Star and Garter at
Richmond. Eight were in their graves ! The four that remained
stood upon its confines. Yc;t they c 1rpeil chee ily over their glass,
though they could scarcely carry it to the ir lips, if more than half
full; and cracked their jokes, though they articulated their word~
with difficulty, and heard each other with still grei..ter difficulty.
They mumbled, they chattered, they laughed, (if a sort of stranglecf
wheezing might be called a laugh,) and as the wine sent their icy
blood in warmer pulses through their veins, they talked of thcit
past as if it were but a yesterday that had slipped by them, and of
their future as if it were but a busy century that lay before them.
At length came the LAST dinner; and the survivor of the twelve
upon whose head four score and ten winters had showered their snow,
ate his solitary meal. It so chanced that it was in his house , and a1
his t able, they celebrated the first. In his celln.r, too , hn.d re mained
or eight and forty years, the bottle th ey had then uncorkrd , recorked,
and which he was that day to uncork again. It ~tood beside him
\Vith ·a feeble and reluctant grasp he took the " frail memorial"
of a youthful vow, and for a moment memory was faithful to her
office. She threw open the long- vista of buried y en.rs; and his heart
travelled through them all: Their lusty and blithesome sprin!!,t.heir bright nnd fervid summer, - their ripe und temperate autumn,
-their chill, but not too frozen winter. He saw, as in a mirror,
how one by one the laughing companions of that merry hour, at
Richmond, hnd dropped into eternity. ]Jc felt. the lonelin ess of l11e
conditi on, (for he had eschewed mn.rriagc, and in the veins of no
living cre ature ran a drop of blood whose source was in his own;)
and ns he drained the glass which he had filled, " t0 the memory of
those who were gone," the tears slowly trickle<'. down the deep fur·
rows of his nged face.

2-t f

·. '

· ~~~~~~~~~~-

He has thus fulfilled one part of his vow, a.nd he pnpar~d himself to .
discharge the other by sitting the usual number of hours at h"
table. With a heavy heart he resigned himself t.o the gloo:
of his own. thoughts-a lethargic sleep stole over him-his head
fell upon his. Losom-confused images crowded 'nto his mind-he
babbled to himself-was silent-and when hi~ ~ervant 'lntered thEroom alarmed
by a noise which he heard , he "1oun d h 1s
. ma11ter
.
stretched. upon. the carpet at the foot of an easy chair, out of which
he ha<l sli.pped in an apoplectic fit. He never spoke again, nor once
0pe'.1ed l11s eyes, though the vital spark was not extinct till the fol
lowmg d'ay. And this was the-I..A.ST DINNER.
·
!hiA
writing is justly admired. The
point, to which 1t 1s designed to direct t!ie attention of the st d t ·
ti
I f
f .
u en , 111
1e se ec ton. o circumstances. Let any one, after reading the extr.ac.ts, especially the second and third paragraphs, notice with • what
d'.slmctness an_d fulness the scene described is brought before his
view-how, as 1t were, he is placed in the midst of the little group,
'ln~ s~e.s them, .and hears them, and is made a~_quainted with their pe-:uhant1es. This, which in another part of this work is called truth
~o nature, . is evidently effected by the skilful selection and arrangement o~ :1rcumstances, _and constitutes the amplification of descripl1ve wnt1.ng: ln some mstances, especially where it is desirable :.hat
lhe descnpt'.on should be bold and striking, the enumeration of cir
cumstances 1s less full and minute. But on thia point, good sense and
good tn.i:it.e must decide.

desol~te

exa'.11pl~ ~f de~criptive

o~l~

....'

.~

EXF.RCISES ON CHAPTER . III.
.-

In this exercise are found examples of the various orna• .
m.ents of style which are brought to view in the chapter on .
T.1tnary Taste. In examining t.hem the student should insti..
.ite the following inquiries : /•
·
I How is the example to be classed?
.
' 2 Viewing it in itself, and in its connection' is it to be a~
· oroved or condemned 1
'
·
21

242

EXERCISES.

EXERCISES.

In answering this f:eco n<l inquiry, the pri1icipl es on winch
t.he attempt to excite the emotions of taste is foun<le<l 1 sh(luld
be fully brought to view.

tempest."

Example 2. The attentions of a re$p ectful and affec·
tionate sou to his mother are thu~ rlescri Le<l by an anon ymou&
writer:-

Example 3. Say, in his Political Economy, when <le- '.,,,
scribing the condition of the laborer in a manufacturing : (
establishment, whose ouly occupation has been to fabricate a
part of some article -the head of a pin perhaps - uses the
following expression:"H.e is, when sep<trated from his fellow-laborers, a mere adjective,
without inrlividual capacity or substantive importance.''
Example 4. "P raye r must be animated. The arrow that would
pic1ce the clouds, must part from the bent bo1V and the <1trainEd
f\rn1. ' '

Example 5.

Example 6. Webster in his addr
ette has the 10
r II
·
'
ess to General La Fay.
'
owmg passage : •

" s·ir, we have become reluctant to
t
.
-our highest and last honors fi ti
gran monuments and eulogies
t b k
- ur ier. We would I di h Id
ye ac from the little remnant f th t .
g a y o them
r !.deas."
o
a immortal band. Serus in crelum
Example 7.

" Th e mm
· d is the great lever of all things."

Example 8.

"They are the n<ttive courtesies of a fe elin g mind, show m g them
selves amidst ste rn virtues and masculine energies, like gleams of
light on points of rocks."

The following passage is from W. Irving:-

"1 recollect hearing a traveller, of poetical te mperament, expressing the kind of h orror which he foll in be holll'ing , on the banks of th(
Mi!i~ouri, an oak of prodigious s11:e, which }tad been in n manne·

043

1>verpowered by ·an. enormous wild r
.
.
.
k
g ape-vme. Tn£ vme had clasped
its !mere folds round th t
"'
e run and from the
J d
every branch and twi
t"l h'
•
..nee ia wound about
g, un J t e mighty tr
I d
.h
embrace. It seemed l"k
L
ee ia wit ered in its
1 e
aocoon struggr
· ffi
hideous coils of the mo te p h
mg me ectually in the
ns r yt on It
th r
in the embraces of a vegetable u
,:
was e ion of trees ptrishing
.uoa.

E xample l. Presid ent Kirkland, after mentioning the ex·
citement which attended the public efforts of the late Fishe.r
A mes as a speaker, says :- ·
"This excitement continued when the cause had ceased to ope·
rate . After debate his mind was agitated, like the ocean after n
storm, and his ne rves were like the P11rouds of a ship to n hy the

.

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

The following passage is addressed to time ...:

" Go, bind thine ivy o'er the oak
And spread thy rich embroidered,cloak
Around his trunk the while.
Or deck with moss the abbey ~all
And paint grotesque the Gothic h~II
And sculpture, with thy 'chisel smali
The monumental P,ile.
'

Example
9. " Tlms s Iie (the vessel) ke t
.
lessenmg and leii11~ning in the eve .
p on~ away up the rive.,
from sight, like ll little
h'te I nmg ~unshme, until she faded
sky."
w I c oud meltmg away )n the. summer.

Example LO. Ferguson, the Scotch poet
and di.stress. A friend sent relief but it d''dwas m poverty
1'fter his death. Of this generous ~ct it is sa:d, not arrive till
"It fell a sunbeam on the blasted bl ossom .". '
'u
' E:tumPl·~ 11 · " The h uobandman sc>es all his
i
.; t
. . ' tovered with the beauteous
.
.
fields and gurden1
creat10ns of his own . ind1.1stry ' and 11ee•,
" ' . ike God thu t II I . .
':,..
'
a us works arc good."
'
.'
D

EXERCISES.

EXE!l C ISF.S.

245.

" Miss E~geworth has atretched forth a powerful hand to the tm·
potent J!l v.1rtue · and had she added, with the apostle, in the name
.of J esus of Nazareth, we should almost have expected miracles from
•ts touch."

"Lill ~ rnry immortality is a 11H'rC t.1• 111pnrn ry rn mn r .
Li ke the tone of a bell, it fill s th e ea.r for a 111oment-li11ge rin g tra nsiently in echo-and then passing a way, like a thing
that was not ! "

E xample 12.

a local sound.

E :cwnplc J 3. Dr. Appleton thus closes an ad<lress to a
Peace Society : -

E xample IQ. The same writer, describing the influence
of the poems of nyr on, says : -

" This soc ie ty , and oth~ rs formed for the same objcd, both in this
country an d in Eu ro pe, may now be compare d to li ght clouds, far
distant fr om each other, and no 'bigge r th an a man 's hand .' It is
for di vine wisdom to determine, whe ther these clouds shall be
spee dily atte nuated a nd dissolved; or wh e the r th Py sfiall be thick
cned and e nl arged, and unitin g with others, ye t t0 be fo rmed in the
intermedi ate s paces, shall cover all the hea ve ns, nncl shall di stil the
de w of heave n ; 'the de w that descended on the mountairn; of
Zion .' "

"1:hey are the acenes of a Summer evenmg, where all is tender, and
!Jeaut1ful, and grand; but the damps of disease descend with the de
of H eaven, and the pestilent vapors of night are breathed in with t~;
fragrance and balm, and the delicate and fair are the surest victims of
the exposurq."

E xamp le 14. The following is fr om Canning's speech at
P ortsmouth, Euglan<l : -

E xample 18. In a poem of Haley's, the following Jines ~r*'
aadressed to Mr. Gibbon : .

•' Our prese nt repose is n o more proof of in ability to net, than
the El.al e of ine rtne:"s and inactivi ty , in w hich I have seen those
mi g hty masses, tlmt fl oat in the waters above your town, is a proof
th at th ey a re devoid of stre ng th and incapable of bein g fitted for
action . You we ll kn ow how soon 011e of these stup Pndous masses,
now re posin g on their shadows with perfect stillness-how soon, upon
any call of pa trioti sm or of necessity, it would ass ume the like ness
of an an imatrd t hing, instinct with li fe and motion ; how soon it
would ru1He, as it we re, its swelling plum age ; how quickly it would
put fo rth all its beauty and bravery; collect its scatte red elements
of stre ng th, and awaken its dormant thunde rs . Snch i~ on e of thosern a.g nifice nt mac hines, when springing from inaction into a display
l)f its might- suc h is En gland he rself; while npp nre ntly passive and
nl'Jtionless, she sil ently concentrates the power to be put forth 0 1
• .lequ11te occasion ."

~f

B r.ample 15. The following is from the inaugural address
Professor Fri ~hie : -

/

Example 17.
11 o 't'
.
'
IS
A goodly night! the cloudy wmd, which blew
From the Levantf hath crept into his cave,
And the broad moon hath brightened."

"Humility herself, divinely mild,
.
Sublime Religion's meek and modest child
Like the dumb son of Crrosus in the strife '
When force assailed his father's sacred life'
Breaks silence, and with fili al duty warm
Bids thee revere her parent's hallowed fo:m."

T.

Example 19.

'fhe following is fro~ ~ennilworth : -

mind of England 's Elizabeth was like one· of th ose ancient
rmd1cnl
called Rocking-stones. The finger of,,
I · monuments,
·
vupt·d , hoy
: .is 1e 1s pamted, could put her feelings in motion, but the power of
Hercules could not have destroyed their equilibrium."
· · " ·

· o "The
··

Eur.mple 20.

Another from the same autho~ : -

"The language of Scripture gave to Macbriar's exhortation a ricil
and solemn effect, like that which i's produced by th e , bearns of the

21•

·~

'"'"'"<
.;;.<t:

".":·--·~
-~

EXEltC ISE S.

sun, streaming thrc ugh the stori ed representation of sainl1> and mart' r1
on the Gothic wmdow of some ancient cathedral."

Example 21.

The following is from P ercival : -

"The quiet sea,
That, like a giant resting fr om his toil,
Sleeps in the morning sun."

Example

~2.

"Yon row of visionary pines,
By twili ght g limpse discovered : mark ! how they flee
From the fierce sea blast , all their tresses wild
Streaming before them ! "
·

Example 23.

The following is from Smoll et's history:-

"The bill underwe nt a great variety of altrra ti ons and anH'nd111e11te
w lic h were not effected with out violent co ntests. At le ngtn , how
e1 er, it was floated through both houses on the tide of a g reat mnJority
and stee red into the safe harbor of royal approbation ."
Example 24 . "We are now advancing from the starl1got ot cir
cumstance to the day light of discove ry; the sun of certainty 11
melting the darkness, and we are arrived al facts admitted by both
parties."

EXERCISES,

5 ' He came afterward and apologized.
; ;-: ·;;;~,J
f. He dare not do it at present, and he need not.
· !1" 1 _;11!> ...4
I.
Whe ther he will or no, I care not.
:'i-:
8. He is vindictive in his disposition.
:•:1·; <i 'U~
9. These conditions were accepted of by the conquerors. ' 1 ·'·i1':··~i'
10. I have followed the habit of'. rising early in the mornmg till it !
·as become a cu11tom with me.
,, . , ·•·
.it! "
1 l. You have not money responsible to your views.
.,•' "'4;,;
rn. They hold their own fortunes eynonymoul! with thoee of the11 i
lountry.
•
.~" :li,t'>'l
13. Though eome men reach the regions of wisdom by thi!t path, it
•s not the most patent route.
.
',
~ . , "f _ / '
14. He succeeded by dint of application, though he is _n ot now ·a , )
whit better.'
· - .,_. ._.r
· th e d u t'1es. ofh'1s avocat10n.
. ·.
. W
I vr;. He was e nffage d m
. hi:m
·
.

.

..;@I.> ..

It was impossiblf! not to suspect the veracity of h:e st~ry. · '1'11 1' "
The c_o nscience of approving one's eelf a benefactor to mankind, ·· "' ·
best recompense for being so.
·
i. .; ' . J'! •i1ff
·Tlle servant must have an undeniable character.
. " "
The calamities of children are due to the neglige~ce' '~t ~;,:;._
· ''- ~, '' •
There soon appeared very apparent reasons for his partiality ;,1·:·'
No man had ever lP9a friends and more enemiee
: · ..... ,;
The reason will b" 'Ir.counted for hereafter. · ~
" _v\;.<,;w.~
They wrecked tbf'i• vengeance on all concerned.
,. '• ~·+•\{~
·; f( '~ ·;,I.;,·
I expect he WP'-' llir man you eaw.
25. The church WM ~"'Wed after the old fashion,
26. I will have mercy, and not eacrifice.
~I·· l
- 27. We do those thing-s frequently, that we repent of afterwaros. 1" ,,1
28. It would appear, that for the ca11Se of liberty, though paradoxi:"
·. .
.
• . ,,1
eal, neither hopes nor fears can be too eanguine .
29. A clergyman is by the militia act exempted from both serving
and contributing.
· . : ;J"
30. How few there 11•11 at the present day, who are willing· to ,
make any sacrifice of tl11•: • feelings or property for the public 'good. 1.
When by eo doing the.r might ultimately benefit themselves and ·
!IOCiety .
. ••.
31. I have settled the ' "TJeaning of those pleasures of imagi~~tion·;~:
IVhich are the subject of my present undertaking, by way of ·intro-';
foctio11, in this paper.
.1
·~' '"
32 AP :tis necessary to have the head clear as well as the com- ·1 ~
16.
17.
s the
18 .
19.
·en ts.
20 .
21.
22.
23.
24 .

'

EXERCISE ON CHAPTER IV.
The examples in this exercise are designed tu illustrate
the rul es and cautiuns, which ar e fo nml in t 1e selections ,,;1
Verbal Critici sm, and on Sentences.
l . You stand to him in the relati on of a son ; ot consequence yol
should obey him.
2. He came toward me, and immrcli~t.P ly frll backward.
3 His sermJn was an extempore performan ce .
4. lt is e xcee1ling dear, and scarce to be obtained .

Ir'• ..

EXERt'I SE S.

plex1on , to be pc rfoc t in thi s part of learni ng, J rarely mi11gle with th~
men, but freque ntl y the ten-tabl es of th e ladies.
33. Many act so directly c ontrary to this met.hod, tlrnt from a habil\
of saving time and paper, which they acquire d at the uni ve rsity, they
write in so dimmutive a manne r, that they can hardly read what they
have written .
14. Dr. Prideau x used to relate, that when he bro ug ht th e copy of
.t.;11 "Connexi on of the Old and New T estn.men ts " to the boolrneller,
he told him it was a dry subject, and the printing co uld not be safely
ventured upon unl c~i:i he could enlive n the wo rk with n little humor.

From the foll owing example, the stu<le11t may learn in
what manner long and in volved sentences may be broken up
and made more pl ain, and also th at th e same i<leas may be
expressed in different forms, as the occasion may requir e.
11
Since it is better to e nter on the unaccus tomed sce nes of the worla
with that sorrow and dejection, which will make us hee dful to our
ways, rather than with an elation and g id diness w hich is careless of
the prese nt, and looks not to that whi c h is to co me, it is we ll th at t he
breaking up of th e attachments of our yo ut h shou ld fo r a time give us
pain, and th at thus we s hould be warn ed to prPpare ourse lves for the
pursuits of li fo in such a manner, that we may obtai n to ourselves other
sources of h appiness, which shall recompense us in a degree for tnose
which are lest."

This sentence is long and involved. It mn y be unproved
by breaking it up into distinct sentences, an<l still furth er by
changing the arrange ment of its different clauses. I shall
first divide it into several sentences.
"It is better fo r us to e nter on the un accus tome d sce nes of the
world with th at sorrow and dejecti on, whi ch w ill ma ke us heedful tc our ways, ra th er than with nn ela tion an d g itl dinern, whi c h is ca rcl1•ss
of the prese nt, a nd looks no t nt llrnt whi ch is I.t i co 111 f'. JI P11 ce it. i~
well, perha ps, th at we are subjecte d to th at pnin , whi ch atl.f' rnl s the
breaking up of the attac hme nts of youth . \Ve a re thn s warn ed tr
prepare ourse lves fo r the pursuits of li te. vV e arc thu s taug ht t11
obtain fo r ourse lves othe r sources of happi nes'! , whi c h mav recom
pe nse us fo r those whic h are lost. "

249 '-.

EXERCISES.

The sentence may assume another fo.r m by changing .~.he·,
order \)fits members.
· · ",- '!.
"It is well perhaps that the breaking up or the attachments of."
.touth should for a time give us pain . . We then Enter on tt.e unac• l
customed scenes of the world with that sorrow and dejection, which
will make us heedful to our ways, instead of an elation and giddiness, ;
which is careless of the present, and looks not at that which is to •
come. We are warned to prepare ourselves for the pursuits of life '
in such a manner, as that we may obtain to ourselves other sourcet
of happiness, which shall recompense us in a degree for those -which .
. ·.-

~·,

i

,.

.

/.\

'!)t

The sentence may assume another for.m, should t~e occa-::<
sion and nature of the performance, in w:hich ~t is fot,tn<J,
!j.,• if \
n~quire it.
I

\(•

'

'

•

' ••

~y

"The breaking up of the attachments of youth gives us pain. 'l'h1.1
is well . We are warned to prepare ourselves for the pursuits of life. ,
We are incited to obtain for ourselves other and Jifferent sources of .
' happiness. Who would enter on the unaccustomed scenes of life with ·
an elation anti giddiness careless of the present and of the future? ·_
Better is it that we be familiar with sorrow and dejection, and thu1 "
take h:ed to our ways."

...
..;!

.~

.

; ;

EXERCISE ON CHAPTER V.
The examples in this Exercise ate particularly designed
to lead the stud~nt to notice the characteristic traits . of
dif'
'
7..
ferent styles; and have been selected with reference to .
what is said on this subject in __the chapter on style. They · .
are arranged miscellaneously, and without naming the au• ,
~, thors, that the examination may call into exercise the knowJ. ~'
edge and i,ikill of the student
:' ·· .
'· ~...-'.'<!'.;

.

,

.'
250

EXERCISES.

EXERCISES.

2r.1
r
v .. ij<

~•

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

Ex(l,mpfo 1. "From him also was deriv ed the wonderful workman.
i;hip of our fra:ncs-the eye, in wh ose orb of bea uty is pencill ed tht
whole orbs uf heaven and of earth, fo r the mind to peruse and know,
and possess an d rej oice ove r, even as if th e whole unive rse we re her
own-the ear, in whose vocal chamber are ente rtaine d harmonious
numbe rs, the melody of rej oici ng n ature, the welcon1es aud the saluta·
tions of fri Pnds, the whisper ings of love , the voices of paients a nd
of children , with all th e sweetness a nd the powe r that dwell upon
the tongue of man. His also is the gift of the beating hea rt, fl ooding
all the hidde n recesses of the hum an frame with the tide of 1:ie_ -his
tlw cunning of the hand, whose workmanship turns rude and raw
materials to such pleasan t forms and wholesoll!e uses-his the whole
vital frame of nia n, which is a world of wonders within itse lf, a world
of bou nty, and, if ri g htly used, a world of t he fin est enj oy ments. - '
Jlis also are th e myste ries of the Stlul within-the judgment, which
weighs in a balance all contend ing thoughts, c xf.racling or<ler fr om
confusion; the me mory, record er of the soul, in whose books are
chronicled the accide nt!' of the changing world, an d the flu ctu ating
moods of the mint! itse lf; fa ncy, I.hf' eye of the so ul, which scales
the heavens and circ les round the ve rge a nd circuits of all possible
existe nce ; hope , th e purveyor of happ in ess, w hi c h peoples the hidd en
future with brig hter forms and liappit> r acc id e nts th a n eve r possesse<l
the prese nt, offe ring to the soul the foretaste of e very joy, whose foll
bosom can cherish a th ousand objects without being impoveris hed,
but rather replenished, a store house inexhaustible towards the
. brothe rh ood and siste rhood of this earth, a.s the sto rehouse of God is
· inex haustible to the universal world; and consc ie nce, the arbitrator of
•the soul, and the touchstone of the e vil and the good, whose voice
· within our breast is the echo of the voi ce of God.
"These, a ll these, whose varied ac t.ion and movemen t constitute the
maze of thought, the mystery of' li fe, the co11ti11uous chain of be in gGod h ath given us to know that we hold of' hi s hand, ano during h is
pleas ure , a nd out of the fuln ess of his care ."
Example 2 . "On e' great cause of onr in se nsibility to the g nnrlnes11
c f the C reator is the VC' ry c.?·t c11.sivc1wss of his bo11 11ty . \Ve prizC' !ml
litt.l e what we share only in com111011 wit.h th e rest, or with t.he ger.
erality of our species. When we hear of blessings, we think forthwitl!
of s uccesses, of prosperous fortun es, of honors, ri ches, preferme nts.
i. e . of those advantages and superiorities over othe rs, whic h we Imp·
pen either to possess, or to be in pursu it of, or to covet. The com·
mdn benpfifs of our nature entirely esca pe us. Yet these rue the

great things. These constitut.e , \\· hat · most properly ought to __be -af.,,,
counted blessings of Providence; what alone, if we might so speak,·.:
are worthy o~ its care. Nightly rest and daily bread, the ordinary ')
use .of our hmbs, and senses, and understandings, are gifts which .t
admit of no comparison with any other. Yet, because almost every
man we meet with, possesses these, we leave them out of our enu•
meration. They raise no sentiment, they move no gratitude: Now •.
herein . is our judgment perverted by our selfishness. A blessin~ .':
ought m truth to be the more aatisfactory, the bounty at least of the .,
donor is rendeted more conspicuous, by its very diffusion, its com~ .:.
mon11ess , by its falling to the lot, and forming the happmess of the ';"
great bulk and body of our species, as well as of ourselves. Nay,
even when we do not possess it, ought to ' be matter of thankfulness, ., )
that others do. But we have a different way of thinking. We court ..
distinction'. !h~t I don't •4uarrel with: ·hut we can see nothing but;;
"'.hat has d1stmct10n to recommend it. This necessarily contracts our
view of the Creator's beneficence within a narrow compass; and most -unjustly. It is in those th ings which are so common as to be no dis-.,.
tinctio_ns, that the amplitude of the divine benignity is perceived:" . ~.,
E xample 3. "When public bodies are to be addressed on momen •, ·
tous occasions, when great interests are at stake, and strong passions
excited , noth ing is valuable in speech, further than it is connected ,
with high intellectual and morai endowments. · Clearness, force, and .f
earnestness, are the qualities w~ich produce · conviction . . True - el~ ,
~ue nce, indeed, does not consist in speech. It cannot be brought ;
!r~!Il far. Labor and learning may toil for it, but they will toil in , ·
vam. Words and phrases may be marshalled in every way, but they ; .
. 1:annot compass it. It must exist in the man, in the subject, and in
the occasion. Affected passion, intense expression, the pomp of declamation, all may aspire after it-they cannot reach it. lt come•
if it comes at all, like the outbreaking of a fountain from the earth: .
or ~he bursting forth of volcanic fires, · with spontaneom1, original,
native force. The graces taught in schools, the costly ornaments
and studied contrivances of speech, shqqk and disgust men, whe~
their own lives, and the fate of their wives, their children, and their
country, hang on the decision of an hour. Then , words have' lost
their power, rhetoric is vain, and all elaborate 9ratory contemptible •.
Even genius itself then feels rebuked and subdued, as in the presence of higher qualities. Then, patriotism _is eloquent; then, self,
dernt10n is eloquent. 'l'he clear conception, outrunning the deduo,.
lion of logic, the high pnrpose, the firm resolve, the dauntless spirit;

252

EXERCISl':S.

i:;pe<tking on the tongue, beaming from the eye, infor111i11g eve ry feature,
11 nd m·rrin.,. the whole m;in onward ri ght onward to his ohject-thi11,
this is eloquence; or rather it is something g reater and higher thaP 1111
eloquence,-it is action, nolile, sublime, and godl ike action."
0

,,

,

E xample 4. "Conceive a man to be stnnding on th e margin of thi1
green world; a nd that, when he looked toward s it, he s~, w abundanc~
!!miling upon every field, and all the blessings which rnrth can afford
sc11tterecl in profusion throughout every family, and the li g ht of thf'
sun swee tly resting upon all the pleasant. lmbitatio11s, a11d the .joys oi
human companionship brightening many a ha ppy circle of society,conceive this to be the general character of the scene upon one side
of the contemplation; and that on the other, beyo nd the V!'rge of the
goodly planet on which he was situated, he coulJ descry nothing but n
dark and fathoml ess unknown .
"Think you that he would bid a voluntary adi eu to nil the brig-ht
ness and nil the beauty that were hi.id before him upon earth, and
commit himself to the frightful solitude away from it? ''V ould he
leave its peopled d welling-places, and become a solitary wanderer
through the fields of nonentity? If spacP. ofTere<l him nothing but n
wilderness, would he for it abandon tl1e home brc d scenes of life and
cheerfuln ess that lay so near, and exerted such a powei of urgency
to de tain him? Would he not cling to the regions of sense, and of
life, and of society ;-and shrinking away fr om the desolation that was
beyond it, would he not be glad to kee p hi s firm footing on the territory
. of this world, and to take shelter under the silver canopy that wa9
-stretched over it?
"But if, during the time of his conte mplati on, some hap py island of
•the blessed floated by; and there had burst upon his se nses the li ght
of its surpassing glories, and its sounds of sweeter melody; and he
clearly saw, that th ere , a purer beauty rested upon evrry fie ld , and
11 more heartfelt joy spread itse lf upon nil the families; and he could
di scern there a peace, and a piety, and a benevolence, which put a
moral gladness into every bosom, and united the whole socie ty in a
rejoicin g sympathy with eac h other, and with the ben!'ficent Fathe1
of them all ;-conld he furth er sec that pain and mortality were the re
unknown; above all, that signals of welcome were hun g out, and
11 n avenue of communication was made for him ;-perceive you not
that what was befo re the wilderness, would become the land of invi
tation; and that now the world would be the wilderness? What
.Ul)peoplcd space could not .do, can be done by space tee ming witJ.

EXERCISES

··-·- - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - '·.

~:atific scem~s, and beatific society. And let the existi;g tcndencie• ~
nf the heart be what they may to the scene that is near and :dsibly .~
around us, still, if another stood revealed to the prospect of man, eithei r:
through the cl}'lnnel of faith, or through' tlie channel of hit! 11enses,.,...>;
then, without violence done to the constitution of his morn! nature :.
may he die unto the present world, and live to the lovelier world thaf
stands in the distance away from it." ·
. • ~'
Ezample 5. "Such was Napoleon Bonaparte. But, some will say
he was still 11 great man. This we mean not to deny. But we woula
. have it understood, that there are va;ious · kinds or orders of great·
ness, and that the highest did not belong to Bonaparte . . There · are
different orders of greatness. Among these the first rank is unques•
tionahly due to moral greatness, or magnanimity ; · to that sublime
energy, by which the soul, smitten with . the love of virtue, binds
itself indissolubly, for life and for death, to truth and duty; espouses .
as its own the interests of human nature; scorns all me!l.Dness · and ·
defies all peril; hears in its own conscience a voice louder than
threatenings and thunders; withstands all the powers ,of the universe, which would sever it from the cause of freedo1h , virtue; and
religion; re poses an unfaltering trust in God in the darkest hour, ·
and is ever' ready to be offered up' on the altar of its country or of
mankind. Of this moral greatness, which throws all other forms of
greatness into obscurity, we see not a trace or a spark iri Napoleon
Though clothed with the power of. a God 1 the thought of consecra ··
ting !1imself to the introduction of a new nnd higher era:, to -, the .
exaltation of the character and condition of .his race, seems never .•
to have dawned on his mind. The spirit of disinterestedness and
self-sacrifice seems not to have waged a moment's war ~ith self-will ··
a.nd 11mbition. His ruling passions were singularly at variance with •.
magnanimity. Moral greatness has too much simplicity, is too un , .
ostentatious, too self-subsistent, and enters into others' interests with
too much heartiness, to live a day for what Napoleon always lived,to mnke itself the theme, and gaze, and wonder, of a dazz.ed world.Next to moral comes intellectual greatness ; or genius in the highest .
nensc of that word; a11d by this we mean that sublime capacity of !
t,hQ11 ~ht, through which the f:loul, smitten with the love of the true
anJ taP beautifU.., essays to comprehend the universe. soars into the
1.eaveus, penetrates the earth, penetra.tes itself/ questions the past, =
Lil ti iipates the future, iraces out the general and all-comprehending
.- Jiws of nature, binds together '>y innumerable affinities nnd rel1tliqnr ..

22

/
' .'1

.

\

EXERCISES.

---- ----- - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - 11.ll the olijcc1s of its knowledge; and, not satisfied wiln what is finite
frames to it.self ideal excelle nce , lo veliness, and grandeur. This 1s
the greatness which belo11gs to philosophers, inspired poets, and to
the mast.er-spirits in the line arls.-Ncxt corncs the greati1esfl of
auwn; and by this we mean the subli1ue powe r of conceiving and
executing bold and exte nsive plans; constructing aud bringing to
bear on a mighty object a complicated machinery of nl!'ans, energies,
nnd arrangeme nts, and acco11111lishing great outward efl<,clfl. To tbo
heacl bPl ongs the grentrlC'ss of llo111tparlf', and that hP po~scRsc d it
we nee d not prove, and none will be hardy enoug h lo deny. A
man who raised himself from obscurity to a throne, who changed
the face of the world, who made himself felt through powerful and
~ iv ilized nations, who sent the terror of his name across seas nnd
oceans, whose will was pronounced and feared ns destiny, wh ose
donatives were crowns, wlw .e antecha111her was thronged by sub
mi ssive princes, who broke llown the awful barr ier of the Alps and
made them a highway, and whose fame wns spread hcyo nd the
boundaries of civilization to the steppes ol' the CossacJ, and the
de se rts of the Arab; a man who has left this record of himself in
history, has taken out of our hands the question whether he shall be
called great. All must concede to him a sublime pow er of ac tion, an
energy equal to great effects."
Example 6. "The taste of the Engli sh in the cultivation of the
land, and in what is called landscape gardening, is unrivalled. Th ey
have studie d Nature intently, and disco vered an e xquisite sr• rrne of her
beautiful forms and harmonious combinat ions. Those charms, which
in other countries she lavishes in wild solitude, are here assembkd
round the haunts of domestic lifo. They seem to hav e caught her
coy and furtive graces, and spread th em, like witchery, about tlwi~
rural abodes.
"Nothing can be more imposing than the magnifice nce of English
park sce nery. Vast lawns that extend like sheets of vivid g-r ee n.
with he re and th ere clumps of gigantic trees, heap ing up rich piies
of foliage. The solemn pomp of groves and woodland glad es, with
the dee r trooping in silent herds across I.he m; the hare, bound.in~
away to the covert; or the pheasant, s11dde11ly bursting upon the
wing. The brook taught to wind in natural meande rings, or e ~
panded into a glassy lake; the sequestered pool, refl ecting the quiv·
ering trees, with the yellow leaf sleeping on its bosom, and the troul
roaming fearlessly about its limpid waters; while some rustic teniplEi

EXEl!CISE!J.
·----------~-------'-----

255 '~
-· ·--~~ ·

or sylvan statue, grown green and dark with age, gives an air of ...I
classic sar.ctity to the seclusion.
'} ; h _
11 These are but a few of the features of park scenery ; but what' i
most delights me is the creative talent : with which the English I
decorate the uno!ltentatious abodes of middle life. The rudest hab·
.t alion, the most unpromising and scanty portion of land, m the ;
n:rnds of an Englishman of taste, becomes a little paradise . VVith ~
a nice, discriminating eye, he seizes at once upon its capabilities, and
pictures in ·his mind the future landscape. The sterile spot grows.
into loveliness under his hand, and yet the operations of art which
·produce the effect are scarcely to be perceived. The cherishing and
training of some trees; the cautious pruning of others; the nice distribution of flowers and plants of tender and graceful foliage; the I
introduction of a green slope of velvet · turf; the partial opening to a '
peep of blue distance, or silver gleam of water,-all these are managed
with a delicate tact, a pervading · yet quiet assiduity, like the magic
touchings with which a painter finishes up a favorite picture. · ' ' ~ ~·
"To thifl mingling of cultivated and rustic society ·may also be al ·
tributed the rural fe eling that runs through British literature; the ·
frequent use of illustrations from rural life, those incomparable ·de· .,
scriptions of nature, that abound in the British poets-that have con.
linued down from the 'Flower and Leaf' of Chaucer, and have
brought into our closets all the freshness and fragrance of the ' dewy
landsc ape. The pastoral writers of other countries appear as if they
ha<l paid nature an occasional visit, and ~ecome acquainted with he!l
· general charms; but the British poets have lived and revelled with "
her-they have wooed her in her most secret haunts-they , have
watched her minute caprices. A spray could not tremble in ·the
bree ze-a leaf could not rustle to the ground-a diamond ' drop could '
not patter in the stream-a fragrance could 'not exhale from the hum-~~
ble violet, nor a daisy unfold its crimson tints to the morning, but it c
has been noticed by these impassioned and delicate observers, ~and ·
wrought up into some beautiful morality." · I · ··
." ', ,;,-,,

Example 7. "Every thing looked smiling aoout us as we embarked . .
The morning was now in its freshness; and the path of the breeze ,.
might be traced over the lake, wakening up its .: waters from their
The gay golden-winged birds that haunt the •
1 Jeep of the night.
bhore$, were in every direction shining along -the lake, while, with
a graver consciousness of beauty, the swan and pelican were !leen ·
1hessing their white plumage in the mirror of its wave. To add . to ·

/

, I

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256

EXERCISES

EXERCISES. ·

.

the a ninmtion of the scene, a swee t tinkling of mn sicnJ in strurr , r:i\.1
came, at inte rval;i, on the breeze, from boats at a di stn nce, e mpJ.,yed
thus early in pursuing the fish of the waters, that suffered th e mselves
to be dec:lyed into th e nets by music.
"The banks of tlte ca nal were the n luxuri antly woodrd. Under the
tufts of the lig ht and towerin g palm were see n th e orange and the
c it ron, interlacing their boug hs; while , here nnd th ere, huge tama .
riR ks thickened the shade, a nd, at the vPry C'dge of the bank , the
willow of Baby lon stood hc ndi11 g its gmccfnl bnrn chrs inf.o tlw wnf.er.
Occasionally, out of the depth of these gro ves, the re f> ho11 e a smal1
tem p1e or pleasure house ;-wi1ile now and the n an ope ning in their
l:ne of foliage allowed the eye to wander over ex te nsive fi elds, all
covned w ith beds of those pale, sweet r oses, for which the d istri ct of
Egypt iR so celebrated. The activity of the morn in g hour was visible
evf'ry where. Flights of doves and lapwings we re flutte ring among the
lea ves; and the white heron, which had roosted all nig ht in some dntetree, now stood sunning its wings on the green bank , or fl oated , lik e
living silver, over the flo od. The fl owers, too, both of la nd and of
water, looked fr eshl y awake ned ;- and most of all, the superb lotus,
which had rise n w ith the su n from the wave, and was now holding up
her chalice fo r a full dra ug ht of his light.
"Suc h were the scenes which now passe d before my eyes, and min
e;led with the re veries th at floated through my mind , as our boat, with
its capacious sail, swept over th e flood. *
* * * *
"Meanw hile the sun had reac hed his meridian . The bnsy hum of
the morning had died gradually away , and a ll around were sleeping in
the hot stillness of the noo n. The Nile goose, folding her sple ndid
wings, was lyi ng motionless on the shadow of the sycamores in th<'
water. Even the nimble birds upon the banks see med to move more
lnn g uishing, as the light fe ll upon their gold and azure hues . Over·
come as I was with watching, and weary with thought, it was not long
before l yielded to the becalming influence of the hour. I felt my
eyes close, a nd in a few minutes fell into a profound sleep."
E1;a1117ilc 8. "Nearer the houAes, we pe rceive an ample spread of
branches, not so stately as the onks, but more amiable for their nnnu11.1
services. A littl e while ago I beheld them, an d all was one bea uteous,
boundless waste of blossoms. The eye marvelled at the very sight.,
and the he:Ltt rejoiced in the pros pect of au tumnal plenty. But
now the blooming maid is resigned for the useful matron . The
flower is fallen, and the fruits swell out on every twi g .-Breath@

-

25i~···

soft, ye winds! 0 spare the tender fruitage, ye surly blasts! Lei..:
the pear-tree sue de her juicy progeny, till they drop int" our hands, .,
and dissolve in our mouths. Let the plum hang unmolested upon "
~er boughs, till she fatten her delicious flesh, and cloud her polished \
skin with blue. And as for apples, that stapl~ commodity of our
orchards, let no injurious shocks precipitate them, iinmaturely to the "
grou_nd; till rernlving suns !}ave tinged them with a ruddy com· .·
plex10n, and concocted them into an exquisite flavor. Then, what ...
C0•1iou_s hoards of burnished rinds, and what delightful relishes will T'
re~len1sh the store-room! Some, to present us with an early enter· •.
,., tammeut, and refresh our palates amidst the sultry heats. Some; ',
" fo borrow ripeness from the falling snows, an~ carry :autumn into .
I.he depths of winter. Some, to adorn the . salver, make a part of _the_.,.
dessert, and give an agreeable close to our feasts • . Others, to fill c.ur ~·
vats with a foaming Hood, which, mellowed by age, may sparkle in ...
the glass, with a liveliness and delicacy little inferior to the blood ot . ,
" .
the grape.
" If it be pleasing to behold their orderly situation ,and their mode~~ .·.
b:aut:es, how much more ~elightful, to consider the advantages they
yield . What a fund of choice accommodation is here! What a source .
of wholesome dainties ! and all for the enjoyment of man . Why does .•
the parsley, with ~er _frizzled locks, shag· the border? or why the
celery, with her wl11tenmg arms, perforate the mold, but to render. his' ,
soups savory? The asparngus shoots its tape1ing stems, to offer him
th e ~rst fr_uits of the season; and the artichoke spreads its turgid top,
to grv~ him a treat of vegetable marrow. The tendrils of the cu .
cumber creep i~1to the sun, and though basking in its hottest rays, they ,
~e~ rete for the1_r master, and barrel up for his use, tlie most cooling 'r'
1
JlllCes of .he BOii. The_beans sta~d firm, like files of emb~ tUe d troops; . '.
the peas rest upon their props, like so many companies of invalids• ,,,
while both re_plenish ~heir pod's with the fatness of the earth , on pn/ •...
pose to pour 1t on their owners table . Not one species, among all thir ,
..
variety of herbs, is a cumberer of the ground." .

Exnmple 9. "And now what shall we say to theAe things? Artthey the dreams of a fervid imagination, .or are they the words of .
truth and soberness? Will our blessings be perpetuat~d, or shall ours .
·be adde d to the ruined republics that have been? I Are we assembled .,
to-day to bvstow funeral honors upon departed glory, or with united
i:ounse!s and hnarts to strengthen the things that remain? Weak

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indeed must be the faith that wavers now, and sinks m11id wavPs lest
re rrific, and prospects more cheering, than any which our fath en
ever saw. Were it dark even as midnight, and did lhc waves run
high, and dash loud and angry around u~, still our faith would not
be dismaye I; still with our fathers we would belie ve, ' Qui transiu
lit sustinet,' and still would we rejoice in the annunc iation of Him
that siltet.h upon the throne, 'Behold, I create nJl things ne w. Our
anchor will not fail-our bark will not found er, fur the means of
prese rvation will be used, and the God of our fath ers will make
them effe::tual. The memory of our fathers is becoming more pm ..
cious. Their institutions are commanding a higher estimati on. Dee p ·~·'
er convictions are felt of the importance of religion ; nnd more extended
and vicrorous exertions are made to balan ce the te mptations of pros·
t>
perity by moral power. Christians are ceasing fron1 their jea.lousics,
and concentrating their energies. The nation is moved, and bt>ginning
to enroll itself in various forms of association, for the e xtPn sio11 oi
religion at home and abroad. Philosopl1ers a nd patrio ts, statesmen
and me n of wealth, are beginning lo fo el that it is righteo usness
only which exalleth a nation; and to give to the work of morai
renovation their arguments, the power of th eir example, the impulse of
their charity. And the people, weary of political collision, are dispose d
at length to build again those institutions which, in times of con ten·
tion, they had either neglected or trodd en down . Such an array
of 1noral influence as is now comprehende d in the great plan of
charitable operationo, was never before brought to bear upon the
nation. It moves onward, attended by ferv ent supplications, and
follow ed by gloriou s and unceasing effusions of the H oly Spirit. The
god of this world feels the shock of the onset, and has com1~encea
his retreat; an,d Jesus Christ is pressing onward from conquenng to
conquer; nor w'ill he turn from his purpose, nor cease from his work,
u·nti. he hath made all things ne w."

Ermnplc 10. "I know not how it happened, but it n•ally see m!!
that, whilst his Grace was meditating his well-considered cens ure
upon me, he fell into a sort of slee p. Homer nods; nud th e duke of
Bedford may dream; and ns dreams (even his gol<len drc>11ms) are
apt to be ill-pieced and incongruously put togeth<'r, hi s Grace pre
served his idea of reproach to me, but took the subject-matter frorr.
the crowt~·grants to his own f11mily. This is 'the stuff of which
dreams are made.' ln that way of putting things togethe r, h:'l Grace
is perfect) y in the right. The grants to the house of Russe l were se

EXl!:RCISES.

259 ~1

enormo11s 1 as not only to outrage economy, but even to stagge{~
credibility. The duke of Bedford is the leviathan among all ' the ;;
.creatures of the crown. He tumbles about his unwieldy bu:k '.·he·"
plays and frolics in the ocean of royal bounty. Huge as he is, and <f
whilst 1 he lies floating many a rood,' he is · still a creature. Hi1 .i
ribs, his fins, his whalebone, his blubber, the very · spiracles through ·.:
which he spouts a torrent of brine against his origin, and covets me •:
nil over with the spray,-every thing of him and about him is from :
the throne. Is it for him to question the dispensation of the royal' '
favor? * ., * •
.~ ·
. " .H ad it pleased God to continue to me the hope of succession, I'
should have been, acfording .to my' mediocrity, and the ~ediocrity of '"
the age I live in, a sort of founder of a family; I should have tell ' a. ~-.
son, who, in all the points in which personal merit can be viewed, in •
science, in erudition, in genius, in taste, in honor, in generosity,' fo '.;
humanity, in every liberal st?ntiment, and every liberal accomplish- ·•
ment, would not have shown himself inferior to the duke of Hediord t ·J
or to any of those whom he traces in his line. His Grace very soon
would have wanted all plausibility in his atfack upon that provision
which belonged more to mine than to me . He would soon have
supplied every deficiency, and symmetrized every disproportion. It •,
would not have been for that success~r to resort to any stagnant
wastmg reservoir of merit in me, or in my ancestry. He had in
·himself a salient, living spring, of generous and ma,nly action. Every
day he lived he wou~d have repurchased the bounty of the crown,
and ten limes more, if ten times more he had received. He was made .•
o. public creature, and had no enjoyment whatever, but in the perform- ·,
ence of some duty. · At this exigent mument, the loss of a iinishe<t'··
man is not easily supplied.
-"But a 1J1sposcr whose power we are little' able to resist, and
whose wisdom it behoves us not at all to dispute, has ordained it m another manner, and (whatever my querulous weakness might
suggest) a far better. The storm has gone over me; and 1 he like ··
one of those old oaks which the late hurricane has scattered about me :
I am stripped of nil my honors; I am torn up by the roots, and liF
orostrate on the earth .' There, and prostrate; I rno!:lt 'unfeignedly .
· recognize the divine justice, and in some degree submit to 1t. But
whilst . humble myself before God, I do not know that it is forbidden ·,
·to rep.'3, the attacks of unjust and inconsiderate fnen. · 'l'he patience '
.f?i Job i! pronrbial. After some of the c.o nvulsive struggles of our ;_
nitable natur i, he submitted himself, and repented in dust and ashes ·'

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Bu' t eve n so, I do not find him blamed for repre hcmli11g, anc. ·V •••
a considerable dPgree of verbal asprrity, those ill -natured w~ ig·r burs
uf h is, whu visited his dunghill to read moral, political, a11d economical lectures on his misery. I am alone. I have none to meet mJ
enemies in the gate. Indeed, my lord, I greatly deceive myself; il
in this hard season I would give a peck of refu se wheat for all that is
called fame and honor in the world. This is the appetite but of a
tew. It is a luxury; it is a privilege; it is an indulgl.' 11ce for those
who are at their ease . But we are all of us made to s hun di sgrnc€
!IS we are made to shrink from pain, and poverty, and di sPasc .
1t i5
an instinct; and under the direction of reason, in stinct is always in
the right. I Jive in an inverted order. They who should hav e succeeded me have gone before me. They who should have bee n to me
ns posterity are in the place of ancestors. I owe to the dearest relation (which ever must subsist in memory) th e net of piety which he
would have perfonned to me; I owe it to him to !d10w that he was
not descended, as thP duke of Bedford would have it, from an unwcrthy parent."

a square, )f which the ruins of the conventual buildings formtd

E xample 11. "They stood pretty high upon the side of the glen.
which had suddenly opened into a sort of' amphitheatre to give room
for a pure and profound lake of a few acres' extent, and a space of
level ground around it. Th e banks th en arose every where steeply
and in some places were varied by rocks-in others covered with the
copse which run up, feathering their sid es lightly and irregularly 1
and breaking the uniformity of the green pasturn-ground . Be neath.
the lak e discharged itself into the huddling and tumultuous brook .
which had been their companion since they entered the glen. At
the point at which it issued from its 'parent lake' stood the ruins
which they had come to visit. They were not of' great extent; but
the singular beauty, as well as wilcl, sequestered character of the spot
on which they were situated, gave them an inte rest nnrl importance
superior to that which attaches itself to the architectural remains of
greater consequence, but placed near to ordinary house~, and posSt'l!8ing . less romantic accompaniments. The enstern window of the
1:hurch rennin ed entire, with all its ornaments and tracery work
and the sides upueld by light flying buttresses, whose airy support,
~~ e tached from the wall against which they were placed, nnd ornamented with pinnacles and carved work, gave a vari ety nnrl light·
ness to the building. The roof a nd western end of' th e church we~t
eompletely ruinous, but the latter appeared to have made one side n

other two, rmd the '\'ardens a fourth . The side · of these .buildingt
...-hich overhung the brook, was partly founded on a steep and pre.
~ipitous rock ; for th" place had been occasionally turned to military
purposes, and had been taken, with great slaughter, during Mon·
!rose's wars. The ground formerly occupied by the garden was still
marked by a few orchard-trees. At a greater distance from tne build•
mgs were detached oaks, and elms, and chestnu~s, growing singly,
which had attained great size. The rest of the space between the
mins and the hill was close-cropt sward, which th~ daily pasture cf
. the sheep kept in much finer order than if it had been subjected to
the scythe and broom. The whole scene had a repose, _~hich was
still and affecting without being monotonous. The dark, deep basin
in whtch the clear blue lake reposed, reflecting the water-lilies which
grew on its surface, and the trees vrnich here and there threw -their
arms from the banks, was finely ', ontrasted with the haste and tu•
mull of the brook which broke away from the outlet, Ill! if escaping
from confinement, and hurried down lhe glen, wheeling down the
Dase of the rock on which the tuins were situati:d, and brawling in
foam and fury with every shelve and stone which obstructed its pas·
sage. A similar contrast was seen between the level green meadow
in which the ruins were situated, and ·the large timber-trees which
were scattered over it, . compared with the precipitous banks which
arose at a short distance around, partly fringed wilh light and feath•
ery underwood, partly rising in steeps clothed with purple heath,
and_ partly more abruptly elevated into founts of gray rock, chequer
ed with lichen, and those hardy plants which find root in the most
arid crevices of the crags.
.. . . .,

Example 12: " It is nearly impossible for me to convey to my
readern· an idea of the 'vernal delight,' felt at this period, by the
Lay Preacher, far declined in the vale of years. My spectral figure,
pinched by the rude gripe of January, becomes ·as thin as that 'dag•
ger of lath,' employed by the vaunting Falstaff; and my mind, : af- '
fected by the universal desolation of winter, is nearly as \tanant bf
jcJ ana bright ideas, as the forest is of leaves1 and the grov" is of
wn~
·· y
•• 1''ort'.lnately for my happiness, this is only . periodical spl~en
fho11gh in the bitter months, surveying my exte~uated body, I .ex.
ela1m with the lnelancholy prophet, ' My leanness, my leanness; 1:v·oe
mto me! and though adverting to the state of my mind, I behold .jt

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'all in fl robe of darkest g rain,' ye t, whe n A p1 ii and May re igl\ ia
sweet vicissitude, I g ive, like ] lurace , care lo tli e winds; and perceiv11
the whole syste m e xcited, by the potent stimulus of s unshine.
"An ancient brtrd of the happiest de.icriptive powers, and who
noted objects, not only with the eye of the poet, but with the accuracy
of a philosopher, says in a short poem, de voted to the prat8f'.S ot
mirth, that
'Young and old come forth to play,
On a sunshine holiday.'
'' (n merry spring-time, not only birds, b.MC melancholy c Id fellows
like myse lf, sing. The sun is the poet's, the invalid 's, anc th e hypochondriac's friend.
Under cle ment skies, und geni al sun shine ,
not only the body is corroborate d, but the mind is vivified, and
the heart becomes 'ope n as day.' I may be conside red fa nciful in
the asse rtion, but I am positive that many , who, in November
D ece mber , J a nuary , February , and Marc h, read nothi 11g but Mande ville, R oche fou cault, and H obbes, and cheri sh mali g nant thoughts,
at the expense of poor hum an nature , abjure their e vil books ana
sour theories , whe n a softer season succee ds. I ha ve myself, in winter , felt hostile to those whom I could smile upon in l\fay, and clasp
to my bosom in Jun e. Our moral qualiti es, as well as natural objects , are affected by physical laws; and I can easily conce ive that
oenevolence, no lees than t he sun-flower , flouri shes and expands
unde r the luminary of the day.
" \Vith un affecte d eam eRlness, I hope that none of my rcnd r rs will
look upon the ag reeable visitation of the s un , at this beauteous season , as the impertinent call of a crabbed monitor, or an importunate
dun. I hope that n one will churlishly tell him ' how they hale his
beams.' I a m credibly in fo rm ed that se veral of my city fri ends,
many fin e ladies, and t.he worshipful society of loun ge rs, conside reci
tne early call of the above red-faced pe rsonn ge , ns downright intruRion. It must be confessed that he is fond of pry ing into cha mbers
nnd closets, but not like a rude searc her , or libertine gallant, for iujnrious or li ce ntious purposes. H is designs are beneficent, and he is
one of the warm est fri ends in the world .
"Notwithstanding his looks arr sometim es a lilt e smpici ous, and
tie presents himself with the fi ery eye and flu shed chet!k of a JOH}
toper, y et this is onl y a new proof of th e fall acy of ph y ~ iog n o my , fo r
he is the most regular being in the universe . H e kee ps admirable
hours, and is steady, dilige nt, and punctual to a prnverb . Conscious

.26'.l

~f his shining merit, and dazzled by his regal glory, 1 must rigidlv
inhibit all from attempting to exclude h~s person . I caution slug
garc:lt1 to abstain from the use of shutters, curtains, and all other ·VII·
!anous modes of insulting my ardent friend. My little garden, my
·mly support, and myself, are equally the objects of his care, .and
were it not for thf! constant loan of his great lamp, I could not
always see to write ."

Exa;mple 13. " There 1s great equability, and sustained force, in
eve ry part of his writings. He never exhausts himself in flashes
~nd epigram, or languishes into tameness and insipidity ; at first
sight you would say, that plainness and good sense were the predom
inating qualities; but, by the by, this simplicity is enriched with the
delicate and vivid colors of a fine imagination-the free and forcible
touches of a powerful intellect-and the lights and shades of an imerring, harmonizing taste . ln comparing it with the styles of his
most celebrated conte mporaries, we should say that it was more
uurely and peculiarly a written style--,-and therefore rejected . those
ornaments that more properly belong to oratory.
"It has no impetuosity, hurry, or vehemence; no bursts, or sudden
turns, or ab~uptn e ss, like tlw.t of Burke; and, though eminently
~m ooth and melodious, it is not modulated to a uniform system of
~ ol P mn declamation, like that of Johnson, nor spread out in the richer
and more voluminous elocution of Ste wart; nor still less broken into
that •mtchw ork of scholastic pedantry and conversational smartness
whic~ has found its admirers in Gibbon . It is a style, in short, of
great freedom, force, and beauty; but the deliberate style of a man
of thought and of learning; and -neither that of a wit, throwing out
his exte mpores with an affectation of careless grace-nor a rhetorician, thinking more of his manner than his matter, and determined
to be admired for his expression, whatever may be the facts of his
sentiments" llut we need dwell no longer on qualities that may be gathered
he reafter fr om the works he has left behind him. They who lived
with him mourn the most for those which will be traced in no such
me m irial; and prize, fa: above these talents which gained him hi11
high name in philosophy, that personal character which endeared
him to his friends, and shed a grace and a dignity over all th~ sodety in which he moved. The same admirable taste which is con•picuous in his writings, or rather, the higher principles fr om which
that taste was b11t, an . emanati on, !!pread a !!im1lar change ove r his .

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whole life and conversation, and gave to the most learned philo!!o·
plter of his day the manner and deportment of the most perlect
gentleman ."
Extimple 14. "HE IS FALLEN!
"We may now pause before that splendid prodigy, which towered
amongst us like some ancient ruin, whose frown terrified the glance
its magnificence attracted.
" Grand, gloomy, and peculiar, he sat upon the throne, n Fceptred
hermit, wrapped in the solitude of his own originality.
"A mind bold, independent, and decisive-a will despotic in his
dictates-an energy that distanced e.'l:peclition, and a conscience plia- '
ble to every touch of interest, marked the outline of this extraordi
nary character-the most extraordinary, perhaps, that, in the annals
of this world, ever rose, or reigned, or fell.
" Flung into life in the midst of a Revolution that quickened every
energy of a people who acknowledged no superior, he commenced,
his course, a stranger by birth, and a scholar by charit.y !
"With no friend but his sword, no fortune but his talents, he rushed
into the lists where rank, and wealth, and genius had arrayed the mselves, and. competition fled from him as from the glance of destiny .
He knew no motive but interest-he acknowledged no criterion but
success-he worshipped no God but ambition, and with an Eaet.e rn
devotion he knelt at the shrine of his idolatry. Subsidiary to this,
there was no creed which he did not promulgate; in the hope of a
dynasty, he upheld the Crescent; for the sake of a divorce, he
i10wed betore the Cross; the orphan of St. Louis, he beca111e the
adopted child of the Republic; and with a parricidal ingratitude,
on the ruins both of the throne and the tribune, he reared the throne
of his despotism.
"A professed Catholic, he imprisoned the pope ; a pretended patriot, he impoverished the country; and in the name of Brutus, he
grasped without remorse, and wore without shame, the diadem of
tho Crefnrs.
"Through this pantomime of his policy, Fortune played the clown
o.f his caprices
At his touch, crowns crnrnbled, beggars reigneci,
'Jystems vanished, t'.1.e wildest theories took the color of his whim,
o.nd all that was novel, changed places with the rapidity of a drama.
Even apparent defeat assumed the appearance of victory-his fl1gM
from Egypt confirmed his destiny-ruin itself only elevated him to
<!mpire .

~· 8nt, if hie fortune wil11 gn•rJ, hi11 genius was transcendent; de-

eunon flashed 11pon his counsels; and it wa!i the 11ame to decide ancl
.o perform. To inferior intellects, hi3 combinations appeared per•
fectly impossible, his plans perfectly impracticable; but,. in his hand
1implicity marked their Jevelopment, and success vindicated thei;
\doption.
''His person partook the character of his mind; if the one never
vieldec in the cabinet, the other never benl in the field.
"Nature had no obstacles that he did i{ot surmount, space 110 opposi
llon that he did not spurn; and, whether nm1d Alpine rocks, Arabian
~a.nds, o.r P?lar snows, he seemed proof against peril, and empowered
with ub1q~1ty. ~he w.hole continent of Europe trembled at beholding
th~ audacity of l11s designs, and the mirocle of their execution. · Skep-"
uc1sm bowed to the prodigies of his performance; romance assumed
the air of history; nor was there aught too incredible for belief. or too ·
fanciful for expectaticn, when the world saw a subaltern of Corsica
waving his imperial flag over her most ancient capitals. All ihe vis
· ions of antiquity became common-places in his contemplation; kingt
were his people; nations were his outposts; and he disposed of court. 1
• and crowns, and camps, and churches, and c11binetll, as if tbev Ml'lll
\lie titular dignitaries of the cbesf ·hoar~.''
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HISTORICAL DISSERTATION.

HISTORICAL DISSERTATION

ENGLISH STYLE

lN the selection and arra11geme11t. ol' the follow111g flam
pies, it is designed to present a brief and com~ected. ou l~ ine
of the history of English style. To carry tins design mto
foll execution, would obviously require far more extended
limit5! than those here prescribe<l.
Of Englis!t Style before tltc Revival of" Lcttr.n
There are few remains of English prose writers pnor to
the revival of letters, about the middl e of the fifteenth century. Of the few productions that belong . to early p e rio~ls
in English history, most are written ~ ither in Sax~n or m
Latin. Indeed, the origin of the English langunge IS dated
about th e commencement of the fourteenth ce ntury, Sir John
Mandeville being the first prose writer in the ln.nguage
It is not, then, to be expected, that selection s made fr om wnters before the middle of the fdlce nth cc11tu ry, will be of
rnuch interest or importance, as specimens of style. In these.
compositions, as in the first efforts of young ..niters, there IS
no distinctly formed style,-at least, no traits so well defined,
and 30 prevalent, as to give a character to the style of the

267

age. Still it will he noticed, that many of the · words and
phrases are idiomatic, and in common use at the present day
To the student of the English language, however 1 these
early writings are highly interesting. , He sees, in them aa
.
.
-.
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hey become more and more intelligible; and bear a nearer
resemblance to writings of later periods, the gradual formation of the language. He finds, also, an illustration of the
remark, that the English language is a combination of different languages, or, in other words, that it is the Anglo-Saxor.,
· wi1h copious additions from the Norman, French, Latin 1
Greek, Italian, and German languages. He is further · led
to notice, that, during the time in which these additions·
and infusions were made, the language is in a . transitionstate, passing from the Anglo-Saxon to the English. Several
causes conspired, duriug the fourtPenth century, to bring
about this change. A few distinguished poets appeared at
this time, whose writmgs contributed much to the improvement of the language. .Chaucer and Gower are especially
worthy to be mentioned, the former having been styled the
" father of the English language."· Many translations were
also made from the French and other languages; and in this .
way, new word~ and forms of expression were introduced~
Trevisa's Translation of the Poly-chronicon, and other tran~­
lations, made and printed by William Caxton, the first Eng· ·
lish printer, are examples. Several r::>mances were also, at '
this time, either written originally in English, or ti anslated :
from other languages; and this species of writing, as it called ,
\he attention of a new class of readers to the literature of
the times, led to the advancement of the languag~. 'fhus
poetry, history, and romance, in their rud~ forms, aided by,
the mftuence of a greater familiarity with f9reign languages
and nations, led to the gr idual formation and improvement .
1
:>f native English.
·
·· ·
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J have made but three extracts from writers_of thi11 period .:

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HISTORICAL DISSERTATION.

HISTORICAL DISSERTATION.

268

one from the Travels and Voynges of Sir .lohn !\Jar deville,
wr\tten about 1370; the second, from the Poly-chro11icon of
Trevirn; and the third, from a romance entitled l\'lorte Ar·
thur, translated and published by Caxton, about 1475.
The following extract from l\lan<lcville, gives us some
knowledge of the philosophy of his times : "Ye have heard me say that Jernsah~ 111 i1'1 i11 the mid,; t of' !he
world and that many men prove and shew there, by a sphere, that
'
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pightc* in to tlte earth, upon the hour of mid-day, wh r n 1~ 1s so eqm·
noctial, that shcwetl1 no shadow on no side. And that it should be
m the midst of the world, David witnPsseth in the Psalkr, where
he saith, D eus operntus est salute in medio terrrc. Tl11~ n they that
part from the parts of the 'Vrst lo go to~vanls .Jt>rnsalc111, n.s ma'.1y
journies as they go upward for to go thither, in as many JOUr'.11~B
may they go from Jernsale m, unto other confines of the superficmh·
ty of the earth beyond. And when rnen go beyo nd tlio 1 journeys,
towards J nd, and to the foreign isles, all is curyronyngc t the round·
n ess of the earth an;! the sea, unde r .Jnr country on this half. And
therefore hath it befallen many times of a thing, that 1 have heard
counted when I was young; how a worthy man dt'parted sometime
from our countries, for to go search the world. Allll so he passed
Ind and the isles beyond Ind, where bcn mo than 500 i ~les; and so
Ion<~ he went by sea and land, and so environed th e world by many
sea~ons, that he found an isle, where ·he heard s peak his own lar;guag_e,
calling 011 oxen in th e plough such words, as m e 1~ speak to beasts m
nis own country; whereof he had great marvel; for he knew not how
it might be. But I say, that he had gone so long by land ~nd by_ sea,
that he had environed all the earth, that he has come vgam environ·
ing, that it is to say, going about unto his own m.arch~s, if he would
have passe d forth, till he had found his country and his own know!from th ence from whence
he was come
Bu
!
o
.
.
er.ge.
. t he turned arrain
fro; and so he lost much painful labor, u.fl hiir;self Raid'. u great while
after, that he· was come home. But h ow tl secmet.h to simple men un·
learned, that men n.c may go nf\der the earth, and also that men slnuld
fall towal'd the heaven from under. But that may not be, unless that
we may fall toward heaven from the earth, where we be. For

---------"' fix e r!.

t

pa"91ng round

from what part of the earth, \l·here men dwell, either ab(ve or be~ ,
neath, it seemeth alway to them that dwell, that they go more right
than any other folk. And right as .i.t aeemeth lo us, that they are ,
.,. under us, right so it seemeth to them that we be under them. : Fo~
;f a man might fall from the earth inti> the. firmament, by greater ;
reason the earth and the sea, that bcn ·so heavy, should fall to' the
6rmament; but that may not ~; and therefore saith our Lord God,.
Non timeus mei qui suspendi terram ex niliilo.

.

/\

The following passage from Trevisa relates to the different languages of the inhabitants ?~ Britain_ ~~ ,
. ... ··

•

.. ~ .. t_ -.. . . . .

. "As it is knowen how many manner people ben in this island ·
there bcn also many languages Netheless, Welshmen, and Scots that
hen not mcdled * with other nations, keep nigh yet their first laDguage
and speech; ~ut yet tho Scola that were aometime confederate, nnd
dwelt with Pich. , draw somewhat afler their speech. But the Flemmings that dwell in the west side of Wales, have lefl their strange
speech, and speaken like the Saxons. Also, Englishmen, tho they
·· had from the beginning three manner speeches, southern, northe;-nt
and middle speech, in the l'Hiddle of the land, as they come of three
manner people of Germania, netheless by commixyon t and 111edling1
first with Danes, and afterwards with Normans, .i n many things
the . country language is appayred. § This appayring of the language cometh of two things; one is ·by cause that children that go ·:
to school, learn to speak first the English, and then ben compelled ,
lo construe their lessons in French; and that hath -ben used syn
the Normans came into England. Also gentlemen's children · hen
learned from their youth to speak French; and uplandish men·, will
co•mterfeit and liken themselves unto gentlemen, and are besy II to
BpP.ak French, for to be more set by. Wherefore, it is said by a
common proverb, "Jack would be a gentleman if he could 1peak
\
Prim cit."

..

. ., ..

:

;/~}.

The following passage from l\:lorte Arthur has been ofte~
as the perfect character of a knight-errant : -· ..;11 f," ~

~noted,

* mixed.

t commixture

23*

t

mingling.

· ~ inspired.

II

'
busy .,

,

270

HISTOllJ CAL DI SS E ltTATION.

"And no w l dare say , 1hat Sir L a nce lot, there th ou li est that
wern ne ver mat ~ h e d of none earthly kni g hts hand s. And thou were
the curliest knight that ever bare shield . And th ou were the truest
fri e nd to thy lov er that ever bestrode h orse; and thou were the truest
!over of a sinful man, that ever loved woman. And thou were the
llindest man that e ver stroke with sw ord . And th ou were the
~oodli es t pe rson that e ver cam e among prece * of kni ghts.
And thou
we re the mee kest man, and the gentlest, that e ver ate in ha II am ong
ladies. And thou were the ste rnest knight to thy mortal foe that
eT1:r put spear iu rest."

Prom tlic Revival nf Letters to t!t c R cig n of Elizabet It.
Several causes conspired, durin g thi s peri od, to the progres9
of society, and the advancement of E11glish literature. The
zeaJ with which the study of thP. Latin and Gr ee k classics
was pursued, led to a familiarity with these model s of good
tast<', which could not fail to enri c h and am eli orate the Ian·
guage, and improve the style. It was also th e era of the
Reformation-a time of great intell ectu al actirity and power,
and whe n writers, deeply inte rested in th e subj ects which
they di scussed, wrote with directn ess and simpli city. There
app eared, al so, in connexion with these great events, several
individuals of learning and of sup erior minds, who thought
with clearn ess and power. Such men were Sir Thomal'I
More, Bi shop Latim er, Sir John Cheke. a11d Bi shop Fisher.
It sho.uld be furth er mentioned, th at. th e tran slation of the
Bibl e, m ade, during this period, by T yndal e and Coverdale,
especially th e latt er, which bears a near rese mbl ance to that
now in use, contributed much to the perm anency nf the lan·
guage, a11<l the simpli city of style.
From th ese , and, perh aps, other c auses , th e re are found,
partially d ~·v e l op e d, some of th e more valuabl e trait s of style.
There is a degree of simplicity, stre 1gth, and directness
--- - - --- - - - - -- - - -- - - -- - -- - " press

HISTORICAL lJlSSERTATION.

..

: 211

which not ouly makes the writings of this period intelligible,
,. , ,.1.
but renders them grateful to the taste of even the present' age;
Still these excellencies ar~ foun_d united with many'. striki~'~{
defects ; and, looking at them as connected with the history
of English style, they are rather to be regarded as favorable
,indications, than as established traits of style.
· ··• '"·\~,,
Sir Thomas More, who was a strenuous Papist, thus · dis-·
. .
. ..... ,. .. 1
courses on the writings of Luther:_. ;; ~;,.,
"But the very cause why his books be not suffered to be rend 1s,
because his heresies be so many and so abominable, and the proofs
wherewith he pretended to make them probable, · be so f1;lr fr~m'. ·
reason and truth, and so far against the right understanding of holy
S,cripture, whereof, under color of great zeal and affection, he labor~;
eth to: destroy the credence and good use, and finally so fo.r stretch-.
eth all things against good manner and virtue, provoking the ~~rid'
to wrong opinions of God, and boldne~s in sin and wretchedness;
that there can be no good, but much harm, grow by the reading
For if there were the substance good, and of error and oversight
some cockle am~ng the corn, which might be . sifted out, and the
remnant stan<l instead, men w_ould have been ; content · there* ith;·
as they be with such othe,r. But now is his not besprent with 1 a
fe w spots, but with more than half venom poisoned the whole wine,
and that right rotten of itself. And this done of purpose ' and malice; not without an evil spirit in such wise walkkig with h.is · ~~~ds,:
that the contagion thereof were likely to infect ~ feeble soul, 'a~ "the ·­
savor of a sickness sore infecteth a whole body. Nor the truth is
not to be learned of every man's mouth; for as Christ was not ~oh·
tent that the devil should call him God's son, though it were true, so
1
is he not content a devil 's limb, as Luther is, or Tyndale, should
teach his fl~ck the truth, for infecting them with their false devili1h
heresies besides."

-·

I

'\

)

From the sermons of Bi.shop · Latimer much might be ex·
.meted to interest and amuse. The following passage is ar.
l!Xample of his peculiar manner of writing:::.._. ,
, 1 : r., i
-,/

"We be many preachers here in · Eng:land, and we preach many
'on!! sermons, yet the people will .not repent nor convert. This ~Ill
.:·1

272

HISTORICAL DISSERTATION

the fruit, the effect, and the good, that Jonas's Sf'rrnon did, Omt an
whole city at his preaching con vrrted, and amended the ir evi.
loose living, and did pe nance in sackcloth. And yet he1e in this
sermon of Jonas is no great curiousness, no great clerkliness, no great
affectation of words, nor painted eloquence ; it was none other but
udltuc quadrttginta dies et Nineve subvcrtetur; Yet forty days, Nineve
subvcrtetur, and Ninevy shall be des troyed; it was no more . Thi!
was no great curious sermon, but it was a nipping sr rmon, a pinching sermon, a biting sermon; it had a full bite, it was a nipping Rermon, a rough sermon, and a sharp biting ser mon. Do you not here
marvel that those Ninevi tes cast not J onas in pri son, that they \lie
not revile him n or rebuke him? They did not revile him nor rebukt
him. But God gave them grace lo hear him, ancl to convert and
n.mend at his preaching. A strange matter so noble a city lo give
place to one man's sermon. Now, England cannot abide this gear,*
they cannot be content to hear God 's minister, and his threatening
for their sins, though the sermon be neve r so good, tho it be ne ver so
true. It is a naughty follow, a seditious fe ll ow , he maketh trouble
and rebellion in the realm, he lacketh discretion."
~he

Little remains to us of the wntmgs of Sir John Cheke
He is principally known from his zeal in the cause of ancient
classical learning; and the i11flue11 ce of his familiarity with
these writers is evidently seen in his sty le. The following
passage is from an address to certain sed itious persons, \vho
disturbed the peace of England in 1549 : "Ye rise for religi on. What religion taught you that? If ye were
offered persecution for religi on, ye ought to fl ee. So Chri st teacheth you, and yet yon inte nd to fight. lf you would st.and in the truth,
ye ought to suffer like martyrs, and ye wou Id slny lik e tyrants. Thu!I
for religion, ye keep no religion, and ne ithPT will follow the council
of Christ, nor the constancy of martyrs. vVhy rise ye for rdigion?
Have ye any thing contrary t.o God's hook ? YPn, have ye not nil
things agreeable to God 's word? But the ne w (re ligion) is <lifforent
from the old; and therefore ye will have the old . Ir ye measure
the old by truth, ye have the oldest.. Jf ye mens11re the old by fan cy,
then it is hard, because men's fancies change' to rive that is old

*

matte r.

HISTORICAL DISSERTATION.,

273-:
' ' ...

Ye will have the old sty!~. Will ye .hav.e any older than thaLal! j
Chtist lefl, and his apostles taught, and the first church did use? ,;q- Ye ,
will have that the canons do establish. 'Vhy, that is a great deaf
": younger than that ye have of latter time, and newlier invented; yet
that is it that ye desire. And do ye prefer the bishops of Rome afore_.
Christ? Men's inventions afore God's law? , The newer sort of.;
worship before the older ? Ye seek no religion; ye be deceived ; ye ;
see k traditions . They that teach you, 'blind Y'-'\!-, that so instruct
you, dece ive you. Jf ye seek what the old doctors say, yet look what
Christ, the oldest of all; saith. For he saith, 1 Before Abram was
made I am.' If ye seek the truest way, he is the very truth. If ye
seek the readiest way, he is the very way. , If ye seek everlastiQg
life, he is the -..·ery life. What religion would ye have . other now ,
than his religion? You would have the Bibles · in again. It is no
mervail, your blind guides should lead you blind still.
· ':1 ..., :
"Ilut why should ye not like that (religion) which God's word ea."
tablisheth, the primitive church hath authorized, the greatest learn•.
ed men of this realm have drawn, the whole consent of the parliament
hath confirmed, the king's majesty hath set forth? · Is it not t_ruly
set out? Can ye devise any truer than Christ's apostles used?, Ye
think it is not learnedly done. Dare ye, commons, take upon you
111ore learning than the chosen bishops and clerks of th_is. rea'm
have?
,,,,
" Learn, learn to know this one point of religion, that God will ha
worshipped as he hath preacribed, and not as we have devised . . · And .
that his will is wholly in the Scriptures, which be full of God's Spirit.
an"d profitable to te~ch the truth."
.
·
·
. , ; '·~- '

/

)

. .: '-l"·-;-..1"

Reign of Elizabetlt
In directing our attention to English literature, during the
reign of Elizabeth, we see more fully displayed the effects of.
those causes, which, as connected with the Revival of Letters
and the Reformation, were in operation during the reigns of
her immediate predecessors. Writers now appear, whose
style is . more distinctly marked, and whose works ·. are. more
valuable. Still it must be acknowledged, that the literature
of this period is not characterized by any well-defined ancl

;
-L, :.

····,

274

HISTOJtICAL DISSEHTATION.

HISTORICAL ·DISSERTATION• :\

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

pl)rva<liug traits of style. ThP,re is no standar<l to which
li1e literary taste of the age is co11fonned. Each indivi<lual
author, of intellectual power, writes in accordance with l11s
own taste; and his influence is felt, in a greater or less degree,
by tl1e literature of the times. 111 noticing, therefore, the
style of this reign, the attention will be directed to indiri<lual
writers.
The first an<l second extracts are fr um the " Rhetoric " of
Thomas "\Vil son, and the " Schoolmaster" of Roger Asch am.
I have been induced to insert them, rather from the information they give us of prevailing notions respecting language
an<l criticism, than from any marked peculiarity in the style
Still it may be noticed, that th.ere is a good degree of perspicuity and vivacity of expression. "Wilson callle into 11otice
in the preceding reign : his work, from which the following
extract is made, is the first regular treatise 011 Rhetoric in the
English language, and was deservedly, for many years, in high
repute. Roger Ascham is well known as the tutor of Elizabeth. Doth these individuals contributed much by their precepts, and their zeal for good learning, to the ndvancemcnt of
,English lnnguage and literature.
"\Vilson, treating on plainness of style, has the following
1ju!?t remarks :-"Among other lessons, this should be first learned, that we never
affect any strange inkhorn terms, but t<i speak as is commonly re ·
ceived; n either seeking to be over-fine , nor yet living over-careless .
using 0111 speech as most men do, and orde ring our wits as the fowest have done. Some seek so far for outlandi sh English, that tl1Py
furge t altogether th eir mother 's language. And I dare nflirm this,
if some of their mothers were alive, they were not nble to tell
what they say: and yet these fine English Clrrks will say ~hat they
speak in their mother tongue, if a man should charge them with
counterfeiting the King's English. Some for journicd gentle men,
n.t their return home, lihe as th ey lov e to go in for r ign apparel, so
·#.hey . wiH powder th~ir ta k with over-sea language. He thnt comet~

I

lately out of France, will ta~k F~ench-En_glish, ~nd never blush . ~t. \ .
thcl matt.er. Anotl.er chops m with English Italianated, and apph·,·;
eth the Italian phrase to our English speaking; the which is, a11 if,, ·
au orator that profosseth to utter his mind in plain Latin would need1 ;-.
speak poetry, and for-fetched colors of strange antiquity. The law- :
yer will store his stomach with the prating of pedlers. The fine
courtier will talk nothing but Chaucer. The mystical wise men and
poetical clerks will spenk nothing but quaint proverbs and blind alle~ !
gories; delighting much in their own darkness, especially -when .
none can tell what they do say. The unlearned or foolish fantastical, that smells but of learning, (such fellows as · have seen learned
mr~n in their day,) will so Latin their tongues, that the 'simple can ~ ·
not but wonder at their talk, and think surely that they speak by
some revelation. I know them that think rhetoric to stand wholly '.,
upon dark words; and that he who can catch an inkhorn term . by ;
the tail, him they count to be a fine Englishm~n and a good .r~etor_i ~

.18.TI, "

'

,; · (

} ... !.;.(·

;: ,
J

..

-!+-

Ascham, in his "Schoolmaster," thus remarks on the iii ;•
fluence of Italian manners and books : '. : Vi

•

·!''

"If some do not u::iderstand what' i~ an Englishman Italianated, .1,
will plainly tell him. He that by living and travelling in Italy,
lbringeth home into England, out of Italy, the . religion, the learning, _
the policy, the experience, the manners of Italy. ,That is to say,.foi
re-ligion, papistry, or worse; for learning, less commonly th~ they.'
carried out with them; for policy, a factious heart, a discoursing
head, a mind to meddle in all men's matters; for experience, plenty of '
new mischief never known in England before; for manners, . variety
of vanities, and change of filthy lying. ;
. .·
'
.
., '. ...,, ~ ·
"These be the enchantments of Circe, brought out of Italy to mar.
men's manners in England; much by' example of ill life, but mor~ :
by precepts of fond books, of late translated out of Italian into , Eng ,
li!Jh, sold in every shop in London; commended by honest titles the
~ooner to corJUpt honest manners; dedicated over boldly to vlrtuoue,
1tnd honorablE'I personages, the easilier to beguile simple and innocen~
witll It is pity that those who have authority/ and charge to allow.
and t'h!allow books to be printed, be no more cirr.umspect her11~
.han they are. Ten sermon11 at Paul's cross do not so much g~
for mol'ing men to true doctrine, as one of those .book.s do . h8:~t ,

'.
.'

·.. ·

2i6

HISTORICAL

DISSERTATION.

with enticinir men to ill-li ving. Ye a , I say furth er, tlwse books d~
not so mucn lo corrupt hon est living, as they <l o to st bv crt true relt
gion. 1\lore papists be ma<le by your merry books of Italy, than bv
your earnest books of Lourain .' '

The Arcadia of Sir Philip Sidney was written about 1580.
R egarding the time in which it was produ ced, it must bP.
pro11ounced a work of uncommon merit-the produ ct of a
mind in advance of its age in elegant attai11111ents a11<l intellectual polish. To the re ader of th e present day, its faults
are obvious. There is a Jo,Jseness in the sentences, ~nd a
puerility in the thoughts, which beloug to the childhood of
literature. Yet with these faults is united much to interest
and to please : a pl ay of fancy, a sportiv eness and sprightliness of thought, which offor a gratefi1I relaxation to the mi11d.
Something of his manner may be leanu~d from the following
specimen:"The thir<l <lay after, in the time that th e morning <lid stre w roses
and violets in the heave nly floor against the CJming of the sun, the
nightingaies (striving ,one with the oth er, which could in most <lain
;ty variety recount their wron g cause d sorrow) made th e m pnt off
:their sleep, and rising from under a trPe (which that nig ht had beer.
:their pavilion) they we nt on their journey, whi ch by an<l by we!
: corned l\1usadora's eyes (wearied with the wasted soil of L aconia
.with delightful prospects. There were hills which g arnished thei
,.proud h 'O'i ghts with stately trees; humble vallie'l whose low e ~
· tale seemed comforted with the refreshing of silver ri ve rs, rn ea.dow1
enamelled with all sorts of eye -pleasing flow ers ; thi ckets, whi c,
being line d with most pleasant shades we re witnessed so too, by th·•
chee rful disposition of many we ll-tmlf' d bird s ; eac h pa sture stored
with sheP,p fee ding with sober security, whil e th e pre tt.y lambs with
bleating oratory craved the dam's comfort. H ere n sh ephe rd 's boy
piping as though he should neve r be old ; the re a youn g she pl1Prde£d
knitting, and withal singing, and it see med that he r voice comforted
he r hands to work, and her hand s ke pt time to her voice-mus ic. As
for the houses of the coua.try (for man y houses came und ~ r thP,ir eye)
.\ hey were all scattered, no two . being one lty the othe- and ; e t nl)'

HISTORICAL DISSERTATION, ·

a

BO far off, as that it barred mutual succor j
show, as it Were, of 8il, .
- accompaniable solitariness; and of a civil wilderness."
' · ·"·' "' '!~".<
·.t,i

Sir Walter Raleigh, following the order of time, next of. ,,
fers hizilself to our notice. In this distinguished .individual ;
are found united the activity 'and enterprise of the adventurer and military leader, the practical common sense of the
statesman and man of business, and the learning of the 'scho\ar. His sty le has those traits which his pursuits and the ,.
cast of his mind would lead us to anticipate. It is manly ' /
and forcible, and to a good degree natural ·and per_spi~uous ; · i
more like the style of later writers of good repute, than that
of any of his contemporaries. . Indeed, wherein it falls short
of what in later times is esteemed a good English style, 'the
defects are manifestly the faults of the age, above which he
has partially and not entirely risen. His principal work is
a History of the World; but his miscellaneous writings are
numerous, showing him to have been a man of extensive ·
knowledge and uncommon intellectual powers.
-: ., -,,. '
The following extract is from a work entitled the ."Cabinet
Council." It shows us the free use of classical authoi:ities
w_hich at this period began to prevail. . '
,, . "'l' ·.: ~ ~

..

<

".A.II virtues be required in a prince ; but justice and clemency
are most necessary; for justice is a habit of doing thlilgs as justly as
well to himself as to others, and giving to eviery one so much :as to '
him appertaineth. This is that virtue which preserveth concord among
men, and whereof they be called good. Jus et requita.s vincula civiea;..;
tum. Cm.
· '' . ~
,~

•

4

~·

_,.

·:~

"It is the quality of this vii:tue also to proceed equally and temperately. It informeth the prince not to surcharge the subject wit)l
infinite laws, for therefore proceedeth the impoverishment of the
subjects and the enriching of lawyers, a kind or' men, which in ages
more ancient, did seem of no necessity. Sine 1 causidicis satis felicis,
/ '
.
olim fuere futurreque sunt urbes. SAL.
' ,.

"The next virtue required in princes is clemency, being an in-

24

278

279

HISTORICAL DISSERTATION.

HISTORICAL DISSERTATION

clmai.1on of the mind to lcnity and compasswn, yd tempered with
severity and judgment. This quality is fit for all great personages
out chiefly princes, because their occaswn to use it is most. Uy ii
Qui vult rcgnarc, la.nguida rcgneJ
also the love of men is gained
ma11u. Sv.N.

PLilantus; afte.,·wards he became enamored of English
l;eauties, mid is thus reproached by Philautus : " Stay, Euphues, I can level at the thoughts of thy heart by the
words of thy mouth; for that commonly the tongue uttereth the
mind, and outward speech bctrayeth the inward spirit. For as a
good root is known by a fair blossom, so is the substance of the heart
uote :J by the shew of the countenance. I can see day at a little hole;
tLou must halt cunningly if thou beguile a ,cripple ; but I -::annot
choose but laugh when 1 see thee play with the bait, that I fear thou
hast swallowed, thinking with a mist to mak~ my sight blind, because l should not perceive thy eyes bleared. "A ~urnt child dreadeth the fire; he that stumbleth twice at one
3lone · is worthy to break his ·. shins ; thou mayest happily forswear
• thyself, hut tohou shalt never delude me; 1 know thee now as readily
-.by thy vizmtl as by thy visage; it is a blind goose that knoweth
not a fox from a fern l•ush, and a foolish fellow that cannot discern
craft from conscience, bei1 ~once cozened . llut 'why should I lament
thy follies with grief, whe1. thou seemest to color them with deceit? Ah, Euphues, I love thee well, but thou halest thyself, and
seekest to heap more harms on thy head by a little wit, than thou
shalt ever claw off by thy great wisdom. All foe is not ' auenched
tiy water; thou hast not love in a string; affection is not tl;y slave
'.!hou canst not leave when thou listest. With what face, Euphues,
c:i.nst thou" return to thy vomit, seeming with the greedy hound to
lap up that which thou didst cast up? I am ashamed to rehearse the
terins that once thou didst utter of malice ag1.inst women, and art
thou not ashamed, now again, to recant them ? Thev must needs
lhink thee either envious upon small occasion, or a~orous upon a
tight cause; and then will they be all as ready to hate thee for thy
~µite, as to laugh at thee for thy looseness. ·
·
"No, Euphues, so deep a wound cannot be heal~d with so light a ,
Glaster; thou rnaye~t by art recover the skin, but thou car.st neve 1
cover the scar; t!10u mayest flatter with fools because thou art wise,
out the wise will ever mark thee for a fool."

"A Iler clemency, fidelity is expected in all good prmces, which
is a certain performance and observation of word and promise . Thi1
virtue seemeth to accompany justice, or is, as it were, the samt';
and therefore most fit for princes. Sanctissimmn gcncris h111111Pli bonum. Liv.
"As fidelity followeth justice, so doth modesty accompany elem·
ency. Modesty is a temperature of reason, whereby the mind of
man is so governed, as neither in action or opinion, he overcl~emeth
of himself, or of any thing that is his-a quality not common in fortunate folk, and most rare in princes. Superbia cnmmnnc nobi/.itat:"s
malum. SAL.
" This virtue doth also moderate all external demonstrations of
insolence, pride, and arrogance, and therefore necessary to be known
of princes, and other, whom fortune or favor hath advanced. bn
pone felicitate tu<E framos, facilius il/arn rcges ." Cu1lT.

John Lilly, a poet and romance writer, was esteemed m
his day an unparalleled wit and scholar, "the darling of the
Muses." His manner of writing, which is in a high degree
affected, foll of antithesis and quaint sayings, recommended
him to the fashionables of his age. He was a favorite at
court, "was heard, graced, and rewarded by Elizabeth'
Such indeed was his celebrity, that a manner of writing ar.d
speaking in imitation of his style, was called Euplwism.,
from the name of his most popular romance. I have thoug11t
bim worthy of mention, since his celebrity, ,.t hough short.
lived, must have given his writings some influence on Eng·
lish style.
The follo\ving extract is from the romance before men•
tioned. Euphues had inveighed against woman to his friend,

During the reign of Elizabeth appeared several distin·
antiquarians and historians. Those writings of this
cb.~s which acquired the greatest celebrity, and which still
•emam to us, are Ho1inshed's Chronicles, Stow's Survey of

~u·,shed

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HISTORICAL DISSERTATION

London, and Camden's l3rita11nia. These works di sc _1vt...
gren.t industry and research, a11d are the rnurces frt•m wi1ici
modern historians have largely drawn.
The only extract I shall make, is from lloli11shec.l's Chronicles, a digression on the use of Venetian glas::::cs.
"It is a world to see in these our days, wherein gold nnd s1 lve<
most nbound e th, that our gentility, as Jothing those metal s, (because
of the pienty ,) do no<v generally choose rathe r the V e uice glasHt'!
both fur our wine and beer, th an auy of those metals or sto ne where
in be fore time we have been accustomed to driuk; but sucb is ti1e
nature of man generally, that it most covC'lelh thin gs difli t: ull lo be
attained; and such is the estimation of this stuff, that many b eco me
rich only with their ne w trade unto Murana, (a town nea r lo Venice
situate on the Adriatic sea,) from whence th e very bt st arr daily fo
be had, and such as for bea uty do well 11car match th e crysta l or the
an1:icnl Jtfurr!tina vasa,, whereof now no man hath ku owlcdge. A11ci
as this is see n in the gentility, so in th e wealthy co111111 u11ally the
like desire of glass is not neglected, whereby the gai n go tte n by
th<'ir purchase is much more increased . to th e ben efit of th e me rchant. The poorest also will have glass if" they may, Lnl si th the
Venetian is somewhat Loo dear for them, th ey content themselv es
with such as are made at home of fe rn and burnt stone; but in fin e,
nil go one way, that is, to shards at th e last; so that our grea t expe nses in glasses, (bes ides that th ey breed much strife towards those
who have the charge of them,) are worse ot all bestowed, in mine
opinion, because th e ir pieces do turn unto no profit. Jf th e philosophe r's stone were once found, and one part h ereof mixed witi:i
forty of molten glass, it would induce such a me tallic to1:ghness
thereunto, that a fall should nothing hurt it in such a manne r, yet
it might pe radventure bunch or batter it ; n e11e rth eless that in conv e nienr ·:~ were quickly tc be redressed by the hammer.
But whitl!f't
nm J slipped? "

!'here yet remams to be mc11tioned, among the <list111
guished men of his reign, the venerable llookcr. And it is
pleasing evidence of the advance of th e English nation in
Intelligence and learning, that a work written with the abi!
\ty, the sound thought and extensive knowle1lge, found in

the Ecclesiastical Polity was rightly appreciated at the time
of its 11ublication; while its continued reputation is evi<lence
ho\\ justly this celebrity was deserved. Perhaps the most
fit encomium ever passed upon this work, is that of King
James. "In it," says he, " there is no affectation of language: It is a clear, grave, and comprehensive manifestation
of reason. As a piece of composition, it •is injured by the
. nversion of clauses, and the imitation of foreign idioms,
which cause it to. appear rough and unpolished, and at time!
i11tricate and obscure. But in the midst of these faults are
found a dignity, and force, and elev::i.tion ·Of style, which are
redeeming exceL~ncies.
There are also occasional pas• st1ges of striki11g beauty and sublimity."

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These peculiarities of the style of Hooke.r may be seen in
the following p:.i.ssage, in which he speaks of those who
would dispa:-age the light of reason:-

1

" But so it is, the p a me of the light of reason is made hateful with .
rn en; the star of reason and learning, and all oth er such like helps,
begi nn e th no otherwise to be thought of, than if it were a n unlucky
comet; or as if God had so accursed it, that it should neve r
shine, or give light ·in things concerning our duty in any way to.
wa rds him, but be esteemed as that star in the R evelation, tailed
Wormwood; which being fallen from Heaven, maketh riv e rs _and
waters in which it fall e th, so biller, that me"t tasting th e m- die
the reof. A number there are , who think that thP.v cannot admire
ns the_v ought, the powe r and authority of the worrl of God, if in
things divine, they should attribute any force to m!lTJ's reaso n. For
whi :::h cause they n e ver u se reaso n so willingl;r :ts to disgrace
reason. The ir usual and common discourses are to V1is dfa.c t. The
naturor. rn:tn perceiveth not the thin gs of the Spirit of G,;ct; for they
nre foolishness unto him, neither can he know them, hr.r..l11se they
nre spiritually discerned. By these and the like dispulP.", an opin·
1;·. n hnth s1 ·read itself very for into the world; as 1f the w;iy tn he ri~
in faith, were to be raw ;n wit and judgment; as if reason were an
enemy unto religion, child ·sh simplicity the mother (,{ ghostly and
d»vine wrs<lom."
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DISSERTATION.

The following passage on death has more of simplicill
aud smoothness :" Is the.re any man o ·worth and virtue, though not tnl:ltructed in
the school of Christ, or ever taught what the snunduess of religion
mrnneth, that had not rath r end the <lays of this transitory lite, as
Cyrus in Xenophon, and in Plato Socrates, arc described, than to
sink down with them, of whom Elihu hath said, rnomc1tlo moriuntur,
there is scarce an instant between their flourishing and 11 ot being?
But let us, who know what it is to die as Absalom or Ananias and
Sapphira died; let us beg of God, that when the hour of our rest
1s corne, that patterns of our dissolution may be Jacnh, Mn~ps,
Joshua, David, who, leisurely e nding their liv es in peace, prayed
for the mercies of God to come upon their posterity; reple nished
the hearts of those n earest unto them with words of memorable consolation; strengthened men in the fear of God, gave th e m wholesome instructions of lifo, and confirmed them in true religion ; in
sum, taught the world no less virtuously how to die, than th ey had
done before how to live."
0

If now we look back on the Examples of style during the
reign of Elizabeth, we see that there is o"ccasion to repeat
the remark, that English style had not as yet assumed any
distinct and well-defined character. It is not form ed on any
one model. And when we notice the prevalent faults of the
best writers of this period, \•.:ho are characterized eit her by
a rambling, forceless manner of expression, or by intricacy,
harshness, and obscurity, we must be convinced, that it is
well this is the case. "Vhile, then, different wnters have each
contributl\d something to the advancement of English style,
there is no one, who could with advantage have been looked
upon as a standard.
Reign of James I .
l\fost of the writers who flourished during this reign, Lear
a resemblance to each other, not in any common excellen-

HISTOIUCAL

DISSER'l'ATION.

cies of style, OJ.. __ _ ·ertain pcrva<li11g defects. Unnatural
conceits, antitheses, and false ornaments, are characteristic
traits. Especially do we find prevalent -the absurd custom
of introducing, on all occasions, Latin quotations, thus often
exprt·ssing common thoughts in an imposing, affected manner. I propose therefore to make several extracts illustrative of these peculiarities of style, with slight notices of the
authors quoted.
The first extract is from a work, which may well be called
;t literai·y curiosity, showing the most rare variety and extent
of literary attainments, and an uncommon, though eccentric
genius; I may add too, a work, 'the style of which, though
,etrongly marked by some of the faults just mentioned, possesses valuable traits. I refer to Ilurtonjs Anatomy of Melancholy, from which the following extract is made:-

"Thus much I say of myself, and that I hope without all susp1c10n
.:if pride or self:con.ceit; I have lived a silent, solitary, private life,
mi/a et muses, in the University, as long almost as Xenocrntes in
Athens, ad senectam Jer e, to learn wisdom as he did, penned up most
r~rt in my study.
Thirty years I have continued (having the use of
1s ~ o od libraries as ever he had) a scholar, and would be therefore
[nth, eithPr by living as a drone, to be an unprofitable or unworthy
rnr111her of such a society, or to write th,tt. which would be any ways
1
dishonorable to such a royal and ample foundation. Something I
ha vc done, though by my profession a divine, yet turbine raptus inf!Cnii, n.9 he said, out of a running wit, and inconsistent, unsettled
mind, I had a great desire (not able to attain to a superficial skill in
any) to have some smattering in all, to be aliquis in omnibus, nullus
in singnlis; which Plato commends, out of him Lipsius approves,
antl further "as fit to be imprinted in all curious wits, not to be a
elav0 ol' one science, or dwell together in one subject, -as mnst do, but
to rove abroad, ccnlum puer arlium, to have an oar in !!very rnnn's
boat, to taste of every di sh , anJ to sup of every cup;' which, saith
Montaigne, was well performed by Aristotle, and !tis J,.arned coun··
\I'Vman, Adrian Turnebus. This roving h~mor (though not with
"ke succcs~) I have ever had · 1.nd like a ranging spaniel, titat bmks

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HISTORICAL DISSERTATION.

at every bird he secs, leaving his gamP • · , J.;·~ fiilluwc<l all, saving
that which I sho11!d, and may justly complai i and truly 7ui 11biquc est,
which Gestncr dirl in rnorlcsty, that I have read many buullS, but tf'
little purpose, for want of good method; I have confusedly turned
over divers authors in our libraries, with snall profit, for want of' art,
order, memory, judgment. And thus amidst the gallantry and misery of the world, jollity, pride, perplexities and rare.• , simplicity and
villa'ny, subtlety, knavery, candor and integrity, 111ut. •.1 <t.ly 111ixed and
offering themselves, I rub on 11rivus privo.tis; as I have still li\·ed,
eo I now continue, slalu quo pri11s, lefl to a solitary lifo and my own
discontents; saving that sometimes, nc quid mcntiar, as Diogenes
went into the city, and De mocritus to the haven to see fashions, I
did for my recreation now and the n walk abroad, look into the world,
and could not choose but make some little obsnvations non lam sagax obscrvalor, ac simplex rccitator, not as they did, to scoff or laugh
at all, but with a mixt passion :

Bilern sccpe jocurn vcstri nwvcre tumul.lus."

Strange as it may seem, this quai11t, conceited, witty manner of writing, found its way into the pulpit, alJ(I, u11it.ed with
the theological quibbling and the metaphysical subtilties of
the age, became the prevalent style of preaching. Such a
preacher was Bishop Andrews, a man of some learning, and
of high repute with his conternporaries-Lei11g styled sfrllrr
emitted by this lu111i11arv.J ' \\'e
11rcdicantiwn. Of the lirTht
0
may judge from the following extract, the subject of which
is a comparison between men and angels : .I

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" vVhat are angels!' Surely they are spirits ; g lorious 8pirit ~ ,
heavenly spirits; immortal spirits. For their nature or substr.uce,
i<pirit.s; for their quality ar property, glorious; for the ir p!ace or
abode, heavenly; for their durance or cont.innancr , immortal .
And what is the seed of Abraham hut as A bra ham hi ,1se!P And
w iinl is Abraham?
Let him answer himself: I am du cl t und aslws.
\V hat is the seed of Abraham ? Let one answer in tl1e persons of
all thP rest: diccns putredini, etc., saying to rottenness thou art my
mother, and to the worms, ye are my brethren. ThEy are spirits,
oow what are we, what is the seed of Abral.am' Fl esh . And
what is the very harvest. of this sef'd of flesh? what l nt corrnption
.uul rottenness, and worms? There i~ I.he substancr of our bodies

1'hey, heavenly spirits, angels of heaven; that is, their phce of abode
JS in heaven abo1·e, ours is here below in the dust, mter fmlices et
wlices, tinws arancas cl verrnes; our place is here among fleas and
tlieP, moths and spiders, and crawling worms. There is our place•
of tlwelling.
"They, immortal spirits; this is their durance. Our time ii! proclaimed in the prophet; flesh, all flesh is grass, and the glory of 1!
ne the flower of the field, (from April to June.) The scythe cometh,
nay, the wind but bloweth, and we are gone, withering sooner than
the grass, which is short; nay, fading sooner than the flower of the
graf:?s, which is much shorter; nay, (saith Job,) rubbed in pieces more
easily than any moth.
·
"This we are to them if you lay us together; and if you weigh us
upon a balance, we are altogether lighter than 1Janity itself; this ie
.. ~ur weight. And if you value us, man is but a thing of nou.gltt; th!s .
rs our worth. Hoc is omnis liomo; that is Abraham, and this is
Abraham's seed; and who would stand to compare these w\th angels?
Verily, there is no comparison; they are incomparably far better than
the best of us."

. Dr. Donne is another preacher, who belongs to the same .
class, but he was a poet as well as a divine, and there. is
evidently more refinement of taste, than in the style of
Bishop Andrews.
•
The following is the introduction to a sermon from the
text, "For where your treasure is, there w.ill your heart be
also."
"I have seen minute glasses; glasses so short lived. If I were
to preach upon this text (10/iere your treasure is, there will your heart
be also) to such a glass, it were enough for half the sermon; enough
to show the worldly man hrs treasures, and the object of his heart, to
call his eye to that minute glass, and to tell him, there flows, there
flies your treasure, and your heart with it. But if I had a secular
glusR, a glass that would run an age; if the two · hemispheres of th e
'vorld calcined and burnt to ashes, and all the ashes, and sands, and
&toms, of the world put into that glass, it would not be enough to
tell U1e godly man what his treasure and the object of his heart is
~ parr0t or a sta1e, docile birds, and of pregnant imitation, will
1oone1 be brought to relate to us the wisdom of a c:ouncit table, thaTJ

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Dl~SEHTATTON,

"--·-- - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - 1tny Ambrose, or any Chry sostom, llJPD t.lmt. havP rro ld and ltnnf'•
m their hames, shall tell us what the sweetness, wh:lt th e tn•nsure
of heaven is, and whnt that man's peace , that hath set his h eart upon
thnt treasure.'

Another short extract is perhapR a better exrunple
usual mode of writing : -

0)

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"'l'heudas rose up, diccns se csse aliqucm; he said he W:ls som-::body, and he proved nobody; Simon Magus rose up, diccns sc css~
a.liqucm magnum, saying he was some great body; and he proved ·M
little. C hrist Jesus rose up, and said himself not to be somebody,
nor some great body; but that there was n obody else , no other
name given under heaven, whereby we should be sav e d, and he waa
believed. And, therefore, if any man think to destroy this general
t>y making himself a wof'ul instance to the contrary-Christ is not
belieYed in all the world, for l never believed in Christ; so poor
an objection requires no more answe r, but that that will still be true
in the general ; man is a reasonable creature, though he be an
unreasonable man."

Of the few writers of this age, who acquired any celebrity,
the dramatist, Ben Jonson, may he mentioned. He has left
but one piece of prose composition; and this, while it has in
some degree the pecu!iiuities of his time, has more good
Rense than is found in most of his contemporari es. I have
selected the following passage becam;e of the snbjt>ct nn
which it treats: "Language most shews a man; speak, that J may see thre. ft
springs out of the most retired and inmost parts of us, anrl is thr
image of the parent of it, the mind. No glass re nd er B a man 's form
or like ness so true, ns his speech. Nn.y, it is likcnr.d to u 11irm; anti
ns we consider feature nnd composition in a man, so words in Ian .
guage; in the greatness, ap.t ness, sound, stmclnrP , :rnrl lrnrm0ny r;f
it. Some men are tall and big; so som e l:m i~un g e rs high and
great. Then the words are chosen, the sound ample, the cornposi·
hon full, the absolution plenteous, and poured out., all graci~, sinewy
and strong. Some are little and dwarfo; so of speech, it i.'I I umb!0

rnd low; the words poor and 'flat; the members and periods thir
and weak, without knitting or number. The middle are of a just
stature . There the language is plain and pleasing: even without
stopping, round without swelling; all well turned, composed, elegant, nnd accurate. The vicious language is '\"ast and gaping; swell·
ing and irregular; when it contends, high, full of rock, mountair:,
and pointedness; as it affects to be low, it is abject and creeps, foJ
of bogs and holes. And according to their subject, these styles vary,
and lose their names; for that which is high and lofty, declaring
excellent matte r, becomes vast and tumorous, speaking of p!'tty
and inferior things; so that which was even and apt, in a mear;
and plain subject, will appear most poor and humble in a high
argument.
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"The next thing to the stature, is the figure and teature of Ian"' guage; that is, whether it be round and straight, which consists ot'
·short and succinct periods, numerous and polished, or square and
firm, which is to have equal and strong parts, every thing answerable,
1tnd weighed .
"The third is the skin and coat, which rests in the we_ll Jommg
cementing, and coagmentation of words; when as it is smooth, gentle,
and sweet; like a table upon which you may run your finger without
r ubs, and your nails cannot find a joint, nor horrid, rough , wrinkled,
gaping, and chapt; after these, the flesh, blood, and bones come in
question. We say it is a fleshy style, when there is much periphrasis,
!Ind circuit of words; and when with more than enough it grows fa~
nnd corpulent. It hath blood and juice , when the words are proper
rmd apt, their sound sweet, and the phrases neat and picked There
be some styles again that are bony and 11inewy." ·

From these writers of vitiated taste, we turn o the
illustrious Bacon, who is not only to be regarded as an
ornament of this reign, but of English literature. ,This is
not the place to enumerate his various works, or to speak of
their influence on the advancement of science and good
learning. We look only at his style. In this, as seen in his
philosophical works, and in his miscellaneous productions,
especially in his Essays, there is a striking difference Jn
he former, there is evidently an improvement on preceding

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iters. ·while the style has dignity, elevation, and force,
nncl is free from the bad taste of his time, it has Jcsa; of
harshness and of that involution of clauses, and co11sequent
111tricacy, than are found in hi~ imnw<liate prndecessors.
St!l'., to modern readers, it often appears rigid and un lrnr·
rnonious. It wants, also, that compactness and strength of
expression, to which good writers of the present day attain
ll11t these defects disappear in many of those passages, in
which the intellectual greatness of the writer, his power of
tb.m ght, and grandeur of conception, are displayed. The
style of his Essays differs widely. The sentences are short
and antithetic, and devoid of ease and elegance. They are
a collection of striking thoughts and wise sayings, set forth
in sparkling expressio11s and illustrations.
\\'1

o.dion, that end before mentioned of the applJing of knowledge to
lucre and profession; for 1 am not ignorant how much that divtrteth
and interrupteth the prosecution and advancement of' knowledge, like
unto the golden ball thrown before Atalanta, which, while she goeth
lll!ide and stoopeth to take up, the race is hindered,

' Declinant cursus, tiurumque fJolubile tollit.'

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Neltntr ts my meaning, as was spoken of Socrates, to call philosophy
down from heaven to converse upon earth; that is, to leave natural
philosophy aside, and to apply knowledge only to manners and policy. But ns both heaven and earth do conspire and contribute ·'to
lhe use and benefit of man, so the end ought to be, from both phi·
losophir.3 to separate and reject vain speculations, and whatsoever is
ernpl] and void, and to preserve and . augment whatever is solid a11d
fruitful."
·

Charles L and the Commonwealth.
The following passage from his Advancement of Learning~
is an example of Bacon's better style: -

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"But the greatest error of all the rest, is the mistaking or mis
placing of the last or farthe1;t end of knowledge, for men have
entered into a desire of learning and knowledge, sometimes upon a
natural curiosity, and an inquisitive appetite; sometimes to entertain their minds with variety and delight; sometimes for ornament
anrl. reputation; and sometimes to enable them to victory of wit and
contradiction; and most times for lucre and profession ; and seldom
sincerely to give a true account of their gifl of reason, to the benefit
and use of men; as if there were sought in knowledge a conch,
where to rest a searching and restless spirit; or a terras, for n wandering and variable mind to walk up and down with a fair prospect;
or a tower of state, for a proud mind to raise itself upon; or a fort
or commanding ground for strife or conte ntion; or a shop for pre fit
and sale; and not n rich storehouse for the glory of the Crcnt..-,r,
11nd the relief of man's estate. But this iA t.hnt which will indeed
dignify and exalt knowledge, if contemplation and action may be
more. nearly conjoined and united together than they have been· a
conjunction like unto that of the two highest planets, Saturn, the
planet of rest and contemplation, and Jupiter, the planet of civil so
~ietv and action; howbeit, I rfo not mean when I speak of use anrl

This is the age of polemical and political controversy,
the very foundations of society seemed to be shaken. Or
rather, it was a period, when men of intellectual energy
and daring spirits came forth _to the work of laying anew,
and with skill and solidity, these foundations. The first
principles of morals, of politics, and of ecclesiastical rule,.· .
were subjected to examination, and the whole era, in church :
and state, is one of revolution.
As might be expected, these commotions called forth th~ ·
intellectual energies of the most apt minds, and whatevel"'
was written had a direct bearing on the interests of society. .
Literature became more manly and practical in its character.
English style also felt most sensibly the change. Not that
fhe writers of this period are entirely free from those faults
'fflnch were 10tated to be characteristic of the last age. There ·
arc remains of that affectation of manner and quaintness of
expression, which are indications of a taste wanting chasteHP,RS and rt'finornent
Few also have laid aside the Latin.
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HISTORICAL DISSERTATION.

idioms and forms of construction, and none attn in to 1ha
unity, and compactness, and easy flow of the sentence, whie
are found in later writers.
Of the ecclesiastical writers of this period, two are pal
ticularly conspicuous-Bishops Hall aud Taylor.
Bishop Hall attained some celebrity as a controversia
w~iter. He was the antagonist of Milton, and a strenuom
aupporter of episcopacy. Besides controvcrsi;tl writings, hE
a work entitled "Occasional .Meditations," wl1ich, from
some resemblance in the turns of thonght and expression to
the .Morals of Seneca, gave him the name of the Christian
8eneca.-The following Meditation is upon the sight of a
great Library.

"Now, none but the wilfully blind can plead darkness; and blessed
be the memory of those his faithful servar1ts, that have left their blood,
their spirits, their lives in these precious papers; and have willingly
wasted themselves into these during monuments, to give light unto
1thers '

.eft

"What a world of wit is here packed up together 1 I know not
whether this sight doth more dismay or comfort me; it dismays me
to think that here is so much that I cannot know ; it comforts me
to think that this variety yi elds so good helps to know what 1 should
There is no truer word than that of Solomon :-th ere is no end of '
making many books; this sight verifies it; there is no e nd; indeed
it were a pity thert: should; God hath given to man a busy soul
the agitation whereof cannot., but through time and experience,
work out many hidden truths; to suppri>ss tl1 ese "·ould be no
other than injurious to mankind, whose minds, like unto so many
candles, should be kindled by each other; the thoughts of our deliberation are most accurate ; these we vent into our pape rs; what
a happiness is it, that, without all offence uf 11rcro111a11cy, I may
here call up any of the ancient wcrthies of learning, whether human or divine, and confer with them of all my doubts 1 th.tt I calf:
at pleasure summon whole synods of reverend 1itth,.rs, and acute
doctors from all the coasts of the earth, to give their well-studied
judgments in all points of question which I propose! Neither.·
can ·1 cast my eye cnsunlly uron nny of these Hilent nmsterR
but I must learn somewhat; it is n wantonness to C(•mplain of
choice.
"No law binds me to read all; but the more we can take in and
digest, the better liking must the mind's need be; \>lessed be Gnd tha.•
!J.e hath set up so many clear lamps in 11is church

The intellectual character of Bi.shop Taylor .adapted him
to different times frnm those in which h s lot was cast. and
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rndeed, it was not till the restoration of Charles II. that
Mil be said to have acquired his celebrity.
His distinguishing trait is the richness of his fancy; and his intellectual
attainments are such as are connected with this faculty of
the mind, and adapted to its display. He was a fine classical
scholar, familiar with the learning of his times, thus possessmg great resources for illustration, and an uncommon flow
of language. His sentences, though long and crowded, luxuriantly abounding in ornament, are often well modulated;
and hence the merit of contributing to the smoothness and
elegance of English style is ascribed to his writings.
I have selected, as a specimen of his style, the well-known
passage in ·which he speaks of anger as a hinderance to
prayer.
.:

" Prayer is the peace of our spirit, the stillness of our thoughts,
lhe evenness of recollection, the seat of meditatiqn, the rest of our
cares, and the calm of our tempest; prayer is the issue of n quiet ·
mind, of untroubled thoughts; it is the .daughter of charity and the
sister of meekness; and he that prays to God with an. angry, that .
s, with a discomposed spirit, is like him that retires into a battle to
meditate, and sets up his quarters in the outposts of an army, and
chooses a frontier garrison to be wise in. Anger is a perfect alienation of the mind from prayer, and therefore is contrary to that atten
tion which presents our prayers in a right line to God. For so have
l seen a lark rising from his bed of grass, and soaring upwards,
einginr. as he rises, and· hopes to get to heaven, and climb above the
clouds; but the poor bird was beaten back with the loud sighings
of an eastern wind, and his motion made irre~ular rmd in.constant, ,

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HISTORI CAL DISSERTATION.

descending more at every breath of the tem pest, th an it could re·
::over by the libration and frequent. weighing of his wings; till the
little creature was forc ed to sit down and pant, a nd stay till the
storm was over, and then it made a prosperous fli g ht, and did rise
and sing as if it had learned music and motion from an al!gcl, as he
passed sometimes through the air about hi s mini stri es here below;
RO is the prayer of a good man; when his affairs hav e rP.IJUired
business, and h is business was matter of di sei!•lin e, and his di sc ipline
was to pass upon a sinning pers on, or had a dl·s ig n of chari ty , his
duty me t with the infirmities of a man, 01111 an g1•r wa~ its instrume nt, and the in strument became stron ge r than th e prim e age nt,
and raised a tempest and overruled the man ; and the n his prayer
was broke n, and his thou g hts were troubled, and his words went
up towards a cloud, and his thoughts pnlled them bac k again, and
made the m without intention; and the good man sig hs for his infirmity, but must be content to lose t he pra yP r, an d he 11111 Rt n·cover
it, when his anger is remove d, and hi s spirit is bPcaln1 Pd, 111ade eve n
as th e brow of Jes us, and smooth like the heart of G od; nnd then it
asce nds to heaven upon the wings of the holy d ove , an d dwells with
God, till it returns like the useful bee , loaden with a blessin!! and the
:le w of heaven."

The philosophical wntmgs of this periu<l constitute an
imp0rtant part of the literature of th e times, a11<l without
doubt contribute<l mu ch to th e a<lva11ceme11t of style. In
this class Herbert, Hobbs, and Ilarriu gton, arc most prominent, especially the philosop her of l\l almes bury, who in
clearness of thought has rarely been surp asse<l. I have
room but for a single extract fr om his Leviath an. Ila\' iug
given a description of a commonwealth, he thus discourses
on the manner of its formation: "Th e only way to erect such a common power as may be able to
tlefend men from the invasion of foreigners, and the injuries of one
n.nothPr, and thereby to secure the m in such sort, as t.hnt by their
own industry, and by the fruits of the earth, they may nouri sh them·
11elves and Ii ve contentedly, is to confer nil th eir pc·wer a.nrl strength
O'l one man, or upon one assembly of me n, that m ny redu ce all theu

HISTORICAL DISSERTATION .

tv1lls, by plurality of voices, under one will; which is as much as to
Bny, to appoint one man, or asse mbly of men, to bear their person;
and every one to own and acknowledge himself to be a.utl- or of
whatsoever he that so bea.reth their person shall act, or cause to be
acted, in th ose things which concern the common peace and safety;
and tlierein to submit their will every one to his will, and the ir judgments to his judgment. This is more than consent or concord; it
is a real unity of them all in one and the same person, made by
covPnant of every man with every man, in such manner, as if every
man should say to every man, 1 I authorize and give up my rignt of
gove rning myself to this man, or to this assembly of men, on this
condition, that thou give up all thy right to him, and in thorize aP
Jiis actions in like manner.' This done, the multitude so united in
011c person is called n commonwealth, in Latin civitas. Th is is the
generation of the great Leviathan, or rather (to speak more revere ntly) of that mortal God, to which we owe, under the immortal God,
our pence and defence. For by this authority, given him by e very
p1rticular man in the commonwealth, he hath the use of so much
power and strength conferred on him, that by terror the reof, he is
cuahlcd to perform the wills of them nil, to pence at home, and mutual
aid against their enemies abroad. And in him consiste th the essence
of the commonwealth; which (to de.'ine it) is one person of whose
nets a great multitude, by mutual covenants one with another, have
made themselves · eve ry one the author, to the end he may use the
strength and means of them nil, as he shall think expedient, for thei1
peace and common defence."

It will readily be inferred even from this short extract that
tl1 e effect of writers of this class, must have been to give to
style in creased clearness and strength, both of thought and
express10n.
Ilut withcut doubt, the most favorable specimen of prose
composition, during this reign, is found in the writings of
l\'lilton. These productions, from the nature of the subjects
(111 which they treat, and of the occasions which called them
forth, are now but little read, yet they c1 mtain passages,
which, for !oiliness and strength, and · even melody of style,
ue unrival.ecl in the literature 0f any age or any language
25•

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HTSTOitI CAL DIS S ERTATI ON.

HISTORICAL OISSEltTATION.

Tl1e inspmng mind ri ses auove the faults of tli e age a1td
of tl1e individual, a11d e1'ell the stiff au<l inrnl\' cd idi oms of
the Latin language, which abo und i11 his writings, are so
much in accordance with the dignity and greatnesg of his
thoughts, that they do not seem so unnatural and cumber·
some, as in the writings of other men of less gifted mind s.
Instead of selecting a passage from the writi11gs of l\lilton,
which might exhibit his style in his mom e nts of poetic i11spi·
ration , I prese nt the foll o wing , which owes it s ong111 to the
troubled times in which he lived : -

!Htve reigned within hirriself in full sovereignty of soul, no mr.n repining, but that his outward and imperious will must invade the
civil liberties of a nation? Did we therefore not permit him to use
his reason and his conscience, not permitting him to bereave us the
use of ours? And might not he have enjoyed both as a king,
governing us as freemen by what laws we ourselves would be
governed?
"It was not the inward use of his reason and his conscience that
.vould content him, but to use them goth as a law over all his subjects, in whateve r he declared a~ a king to like or dislike, which use
of tt'ason, mos t reasonless an d unconscionable, is the utmost that any
1yrant ever pretended over his vassals."
·

-·
"Putting off the courtier, he (the king) now puts on th e philoso
phe r, and sententiously di s putes to this eflect : that rl'a so n ought to
be used tn mE'n, forcf: and terror to beasts ; that he de serve s to be a
slave who captivates the rational sovereignty of his so u. and lib
erty of his will to ~• · mpulsion; that he would not. forfe it that frE>e·
dom, which cannot OP. denied him as a king , because it. belongs to
him as a ma n a nd a Christ1a;1, th ough to p re se r ve hi s kin g dom;
but rath er di c e n1 nyi1'1g th e e mpire of his so ul , tn an liYe in such a
vassalage, as n ot to use his reas on and consc ie nce to like or di slike
as a king-whi ch words or th e·mselvr-s, as far as th ey are sense,
good and phil osophical, yet in th e mouth of him wh o, to eng ross this
common liberty to himself, would tread down all oth er m Pn into the
condition of slaves a11d br asts, tlu•y 11uitc lose th e ir co1111m·11dation.
He confesses a rati onal sovereig nty of soul, and fr eedom of' will, in
every man, and yet with an implicit rcpui:rnan cy would have his
reason the sovereign of that sovere ignty, and would captivate an4
make useless that natural freedom of will in all oth e r me n but him·
self. Hut th e m that yield him this obedie nce he so we ll re ward s, ns
to pronoun ce th e m worthy to be slaves. They who have lost all to
be his subjects, may stoo p and take up th e rew ard. ·what that fr ee·
dnm is, ,,·hi c h cannot l•c dPnied him as a kin g , hecausP. it llf'lon ge
to him as a man n11d a Christian, I understand not. Jr it he his nrg
ative voice, it concludes all men who have n ot su ch a nr g nt.ive ae
his against a whole parliame nt, to be ne ither me n nor Chri stians;
and what was he him self th e n all this while, tlia.t we de nied it h1111
ll~ a king? 'Viii he say that he enjoyed within himsPlf" I.he less
f ~ e dorn for that' Might not he, both as a man and a \.hristian,

Of a kindred spmt in his devotedness to republican
principles, was the patriotic and · highminded Algernon
Sidney. His mind was not indeed cast in the same mould
with that of Milton, but his "Discourses on Government,"
which is the principal work he has left, discover an extent
)f knowledge, and a power of thought, which ·entitle him
to ~ high rank as a philosopher and a scholar. His style
also, though less glowing than that of Miiton, is marked by
purity, propriety, and strength.
The following passage, considering the period of the
world in which it was written, evidently comes forth from
a mind that thinks for itself, and dares to avow its thoughts.
"Such as have reason, understanding, and common sense, will
and ought to make use of it in those things that concern themse lv e ~
and th e ir posterity, and suspect the words of such as are intereste<i
m dece iving, or persuading tl1em not to see with their own eyes,
that th ey may be more easily deceived. This rule obli~es us so far
to 8carc h into matters of state, as to examine the original principle1
1f' gove rnment in general, and of our own in particular. We can·
not ciistinguish truth from falsehood, right from wrong, or know
l\·hat obedience we owe unto the magistrate, or what we may justlf
expect from him, unless we know what he 1s, and why he is, and
~J whom he is m:tde to be what he is. These may be perhaos ca!Jea
Mysteries of State,' and some would persuade us they are to

296

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HISTORICAL DISSERTATION.

HISTORICAL DISSERTATION.

be esteemed 'Arcana;' but whosoeve r confosses himsdf to 1.i,~ 1g;
norant of them, must acknow ledge that he is incapable of giving
any judgment upon things relating to the supe rstructure; and in l!C
doing evidently showR to others, that they ought not at all to hearket
to what they say."

Hang early plummets upon the heels of pride, and let ambition have
but an epicycle or narrow circuit in thee."

I shall close the account of the writers of this age, witli
the mention of one, who, from the time of his birth, is to be
ranked in this period, though, as was remarked of Bishop
Taylor, he might with some propriety be enumerated among
li1e writers of the next reign. I refer to the poet Cowley.
Iu the few comments, that have been made on the style of
most of the writers who have been mentioned, there has been
occasion to speak of their harshness and stiffness of manner.
The poet Cowley, in the brief specimen of prose writing
which he has left us, exhibits to us a style of the opposite
character. The following passage from his Essay on Agriculture, is written in his usual manner:-

In the preceding reign, I spc ke of the style of Burton as
a literary curiosity; that of Thomas Brown, the author of
"Religio Medici," may be ranked in the same class. Brown
possessed an eccentric genius, and we fi11d in his writings
many original and striking thoughts. ·what, however, par·
ticularly arrests our attention, is the extravagance of his
style. Many of his words are strange and u11heard-of com·
pounds, or exotics, newly introduced from for eig11 l:rng11;iges.
There is also so much of circumlocution and of u1111at11ralness in his forms of expression, that it is often diflicnlt to
divine what he would say. Two or three short extracts wil.
exhibit his peculiar manner better than any description.

"The first wish of Virgil was to be 11. good philosopher; the seconu,
good husbandman; and God , (whom he seemed to understand
I.Jetter than most of the most learned heathens) dealt with him just
as he did with Solomon; because he prayed for wisdom in the first
place, he added all things else which were subordinately to be de·
sired. He made him o:ie of the best philosophers and best husband
men; and, to adorn both those faculties, the best poet; he made him
besides all this a rich man, and a man who desired to be no richer.
O forlunntus nimium, ct bona qui s1ta novit. To be a husbandman is
but a retreat from the city; to be a philosopher, from the world; or
rather, a retreat from the world as it . is man's, into the world aR it
1s God's. But since nature denies to most men the eaµacity or ap·
petite, and fortune allows but to very few the oppnrtunities of
possibility of applying themselves wholly to philosophy, the best
mixture of human affairl' that we can make are the employmente of
a country life.
" \V c are here among the vast and noble scenes of nature; we are
there (alluding to courts and cities) among the pitiful .s hifts of policy
we walk here in the light and open ways of the divine bou.nty; we
grope there in the dark and confused labyrinths of human malice
our senses are here feasted with the clear and genuine taste uf their
~bjeets, which are all sophisticated there, and for the most part over·
L

"\Ve hope it will not be unconsidered, that we find no open tract
or constant manuduction in this labyrinth, but are ofltillles feigned
to wander in the America and untravelled parts of truth. We are
often constrained to stand alone against the strength of npi11ion, an<!
to meet the Goliah and giant of authority, with contemptible peb
hies and feeble arguments, drawn from the script and slende r stock
of ourselves."
1

- - - "of lower consideration 1s the foretelling of strangers, from
the fungus parcels about the wicks of candles; which only s1gnificth
a moist and plurious air about them, hindering the avolation of th~
li/!ht and parillous particles; whereupon they nre forcPd to Hett.le
upon the 5nnst."
"Persons lightly dipped, not grained in gf'ner'Jns honesty, are
but pal~ in goodness, and faint-hued in sincerity; but hP tho~· ,y}m
thou virt.11ously art, and let not the ocean wash away thy tincture
stand mag-nPtically upon that axis where prudent si 1nuli~it.y haa
fixed thee, and let no temptation invert the poles of thv honrstl

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299

--- ----------- ------------whelme I wit h their contrarieties . Ilere pleasure looks (methinks) like
a beaut1f'ul, cu11sta11t, a11<l modest wifo; it is there an unpru<lent,
fie Ide, an<l painted harl ot. Here is harmless and cheap plenty, the re
guilty c.nd expensive luxury.
"l shall only instance in one delight more, the most natural and
best natured of all others, a perpetual com panion of the husbandman,
nncl that is, the satisfaetion of looking round about him, and seeing
nothing but the (' ffects and improvements of his own art and diligence:
to he alwayA g:tt.lll'ring of soll!e fruits of it., and rtt the sa111e time to
behold others ripPning, und othern budding; to see alt his ticlds and
gardens covered with the beauteous creations of his own industry;
and to see, like God, that all his works are good."

In this passage, we find an easy flow and an unaffected
simplicity of expression. The words are happil y chosen,
the sc11te11ccs perspicuous and well modulated ,-11ol crowded
aud clogged by unnecessary clauses, as in most other writi11gs
of the tiu1e, but having unity an<l naturnluess.

Reign of Charles II.
Our attention ts now to be directtd to writers, who
:,appeared during a different state of public affai rs, and
•tvhose style, when compared with that of the preceding age,
corresponds to the c hange which ha<l taken place in the
condition of the community. The Restoration gave to literature tlrnt eourt inf.ucnce, which in almost every period of
English history has been powerful. In this instance, too, it
w,1s of a kind so much in contrast to the preceding state of
ti1e nation, t.h<tt its effects are pro111ine11t. To the austerity
and affected plainness and coarseness of the corn1no11wealtl;
succeeded the voluptuousness and elegance of the court of
Charles ll., and the effects of this change are at once seen
m the style. The harshness and stiffness of former periods
give place ·to a smoother and more T)Olished manm~r of

writing. The influence of an increased intercourse with tho
l"rench nation had a similar tendency.
During this reign, the church offers to our notice sHeral
distinguished writers. Of Taylor I have already spoken;
South, Barrow, and Tillotson, also require to be mentioned.,
Dr. South is a favorable specimen of a class of writers
who may be called witty preachers. Hardly any one is led
to read his sermons for the religious instruction which they '
give, and for the cultivation of practical piety. They are
read rather as a book of amusement, and many are the satirical an<l witty turns of expression, which excite a smile. It
irnust be acknowledged, however, that there is often wisdom
united with his wit; and some passages are found of great
power and beauty. One of this class I have selected. . It is
::i description of the passions before the fall of · man

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''And first for the grand leading affection of all, which is lov~
This is the great instrument and engine of nature, the bond and
ceme nt of society, the spring and spirit of the universe. Love is
such an affection, as cannot so properly be said to be in the soul as
the soul to be in that. It is the whole man wrapt up into one desire;
ttll the powers, vigor and faculties of the soul abridged into one in
clination. And it is of that active, restless nature, that it mu!lt of
necessity exert itself, and like the fire, to which it is so ofien compared, it is not a free agent, to choose whether it will heat ~r no, but
' it streams forth by natural results and unavoidable emanations; so
that it will fasten upon an inferior, unsuitable object, rather than none
at all. The soul may sooner leave off to subsist, than to love; and
like the vine, it withers and dies, if it has nothing to emhrace. Now,
,his affection in a state of innocence was happily pitched upo'n its
right object; it flamed up in direct fervors of devotion to God, and in
colhteral emissions of charity to its neighbor.
"Next for the lightsome passion of Joy'. It was not that, which
r..lw of\en usurps this nutne; that trivial, vanishing, superficial thmg.
that only gilds the apprehension, and plays upon the surface of the
fll.ul. It was not the mere crackling of thorns, a sudden blaze of tl1n
•l'iritR, the exultation of a tickled fancy or 11 pl1?11sed appetite. Jov

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HISTORICAL DISSERTATION.

TIISTOlllCAL DISSERTATION.

was then a masculine and a severe thing; the recreation ol the judg
ment, the jubilee of reason. It was the result of a n ·al good, AnitablJ
applied. It commenced on the solidities of truth, and th e substanc~
of fruition . 1t did not run out in voice, or indece nt P.rupt1ons. but
filled the soul, as God does the universe, silently and withvut noise
.lt was rt> freshing, but composed; lik e the pleasantness uf yo uth tempere d with the gravity uf age ; or the mirth of a festival 11ianaitcd with
the silen~e of contemplation."

.. gwus performances; we shall have none at all, or a very languiel
1.nd meagre piety .
"To maintain in us a constant and steady disposition to obedience,
to correct our perverse inclinations, to curb our unruly passions, to
stre ngthe n us against temptations, to comfort us in anx;eties and
di stresses, we do need continual supplies of grace from God; the
which ordinarily are communicated in devotion, as the channel
which conveyeth, or the instrument which helpeth t£1 procure it, - or
the condition upon which it is granted. Faith, hope. love, spiritual
co111fort and j oy , all divine gr:i.ce,1, are chiefly elicited, expressed, exer·
e.ise d the rein and thereby; it is therefore needful that 1t should fre· •
q11e ntly be used ; seeing otherwise we shall be in danger to fail in
: di s<:lrnr.g ing our chief duties, and to want the best graces . .
" It is frequency of devotion, also, which maintain,.th that friendshi-p with God, which is the soul of piety. As familiar conversation
[where in men do express their minds and affections) mutually
brec de th acquaintance, and che risheth good-will of men to one ariothrr ,-hut long forbearance thereof dissolveth, or slackeneth the bonds
of arnity, breaking their intimacy, and cooling their kindn ees,-so is
it in res pect to God; it is frequ ent converf!e with him which begette th a particular acquaintance with him, a mindful regard of him, a
hearty liking to him, a delightful t aste of his goodness, and, consequ e ntly, a sincere and solid good-will toward him; but intermission
there of produceth estrangement or enmity towards him . If we seldom come at Goel, we shall little know him, not much care for him,
sea.rec remember him, rest insensible of his love, and regardless of
his favor; a coldness, a shyness, a distaste, an antipathy toward him,
will, by c!Pgrees, creep upon us . Abstinence from his company and
prese nce will cast us into conversations destru ctive or prejudicial to
'our fri endship with him; wherein soon we shall contract familiarity
and fri endd1ip with hii< enemies, (the world and the flesh,) which are
inconsiste nt with love to him, whic h will dispose us to forget him,
or to dislike and loathe him."

The name of Barrow is known to us as beinO"'.:'.! associatE!d
with that of the illustrious Newton, in his contributions to
the advancement of science. His sermons al so g ive him a
claim to be ranked among the most emiucnt preachers and
divines of the English church. Ile is ::aid to have devoted
more than usual attention to the perfectin g of his styl e, and
his freedom from some prevailing faults give ev id ence that
his efforts of this kind were not in vain. Not only are th ere
passages of great power and beauty, which indi cate an elevated mind and refined taste, but in his writings generally,
there are a purity of dic~ion, a correctness of constnt cti on
and a richness and copiousness of language, whi ch are
rarely surpassed. And of the theological writin gs of this
:period, it may be safely said, there are non e read with more
,interest and profit at the present day, than the sermons of
:Barrow. ' The following extract is from a discourse on
Devotion:"Frequency is indeed necessary for the breeding , the nouri shment,
the growth and improve ment of all piety. Devotion is th at holy and
heavenly ·fire, which dartPth into our minds the light of spiritu al
knowledir•» ·\d1ich kindle th in our hearts the warmth of hol y des ires,
·if, therdi.1rt', we do continue lung absent from it, a ni g ht of dru kn PS!
will overspread our minds, n deadening c•>lclnesa will sr iw upon nm
aflec~1unA.
It is the best food of our souls, which prr se rvdh thei1
life and health, which re pairelh the ir strength and vi gor, whi ch ren
derell1 them lusty and active: if we tl!Pre fore long abstain fr om it,
.we s11all starve or pine .away; .we shall be fo int and feebl e in all r<'

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Of an entirely opposite style to this forcible a11d impres1ive manner of writing, are the sermons of Bishop Tillotson.
Drake has thus happily contrasted these two contemporary
w1 iters : " Whilst ri ~hness, vehemence, and strength, char1cterize the productions of Barrow, simplicity, languor 1 and
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IIISTOlllVAL DISSERTATION.

enervation, form the chief features in the diction of Tillotsou
To the former belong a ferv1<l fancy and a poetic ear, giow
ing figures and harmonious cadences; to the latter, persp'
cuity an<l smoothness, verbal purity, and unaflectcd ease. H
Barrow be occasionally involv ed, harsh, or r edu11da11t, Tillot·
io;on is too generally loose an<l feeble; and he sel<lom cli cplap
much either of beauty or melody in the arrangement ur con.
struction of his periods."

books on tlte Advantage of Truth an<l Sincerity, is, puhaps,
a fairer specimen of his style.
If 1101~ we turn from these dignitaries of the Engli31
.~ hurch to the non-conformists of this reign, we fin<l a class
of writers of different, but not inferior , claims to our considf'ration. I r efer to such men as Howe, Ilatcs, Ilaxter, and
B1111yan; men who, for intellectual vigor, for rich11ess and
originality, and, I may add, for poetical beauty of thought
and l<lnrr11arre are not suri:i.assed in any J>Cr iod of English
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l1ter;it11re. It is true their tastes had not hce11 fully suhjecttn the refining influences of classical lc:imi11g, (some of
them were uneducated men,) nt·ither hart they the s<ime rirh
itcrary stores for illustration aml or11a!lle11l, as were possesseJ by othe rs; but these defe cts \\'ere \1·ell supplied Liy nati\'e zcnius, aa intimate knowledge of men, and of thin:;:s
around them, an<l, above all, of the workings of their own
hearts. They stand forth to • ur view, not as refined scholars, but as witnesses of the enlarging and exalting influence
.. r the Chri,,tian religion on the minds of men. The \\'ritings
of Ilaxtcr anr1 Bunyan arc famiiiar to ali; i shali therefore
c,1111liuc tli c specimens gi •·cn of this class of \niters to two
short extracts from Howe and Bates. The following is fr om
Howe's "lllcsscdncss of the Righteou~": -

The following passage ts a favorable 1'pccirncn of the sty I e
of Tillotso11: "Give me lea.ve to recommend to yon this new eo111111and111f' llt
that ye love one another .; whi c h is almost a 1ww i:rn11111:uHl1111 : nt
still, and hardly the worse for wearing; so seldom is it put on. antl
so little ha.th it been practisc<l among Ch ristians for seve ral ages.
"Consi<ler seriously with youn;dves, ought llot tl1e gre'tl 111attt-r"
wherei n we are agreed,--our union in the doctrines of the Christian
religion, and in all the necessary articles of that faith which 1cas once
1hlhaed to tlie saints,-in thr. same sacraments, and in aJl the s11h
si.anf.ial parl.s of God's \Vorship~ and jn the great dutiL·S and virtue~
of the Christian li!e,-to be of ,'!realer force to nnite m. th;in di!frrence
m doubtfui opinions, and in iiltie rites and circumstances of worship.
to divide and break us?
"Are uot the thing;; aboul wi 1id1 we Jiflier, in tlwir llalure iuJifthrc!1t? lhn.t i3, thint;s nbcut ~...~hich th e re ought to !le no dif!'"e re nce
among wise m en? Are they not at a great distance from th e lifo and
es~ence of religion, and rather good or bad, as they tend to the pcac'!
and unity of the church, or are made use of to schism or facti on .
than either n ecessary or evil in th emselves? And shall little scruples weigh so far with us, as, by breaking the pPace of the c:mrch
about them, to ~ndanger th e whole of religion? Shall we take one
another by the throat for a hundred pence, when our commliln a.elver
11ary stands re:i.dy to clap upon us an action of te n thousand talents'

This passage has more vivacity than is usually found in
the. writings of Tillotson. The extract found in the school

'

P;l

\

"To live destitute of a divine presence; to discern no heam of the
· heavenly glory; to go up and down, day by day, and perceive nothing ol' God, no glimmering, no appearance ;-this is disconsolate as
well as sinful darknPss. What can be m3.de of creatures, what of
th e daily events of providence, if we see not in them the glory of a
n.. it.y? if we do not contemplate the divine wisdom, power, and
go.1dness, diffused every where? Our practical atheism, and inohser
\·n nce of God, makes the world become to us the region and shadow
of death, states us as among ghosts and spe~tres, makes all things '
look with a ghastly "race, imprints death upon every thing we see,
tmcircles us with gloomy, dreadful shades, and with uncomfortable
apparitions ... " " * * * SurPlV there is little heaven in / all · this

.

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a

r

j

304

II .
I

HISTUJllCAL DISSERTATION,

But, if we now ope n ou r eyes up on thnt all-co111pr£'11endi11g g lory
npply the m to a steady intuition of Goel , how heavenly a J. fo sha)
we then live in the world! To have God always in view, as the
director and end of all our actions; to make our eye crave leave of
God to consult him before we venture upon any th ing, am! implore
his guidance and blessing; upon all occasions tn direct our prayers
to him, and to look up, to make our eye wait his cor 1ma 1Hling ]o(·k,
ready to receive all mtimations of hi s will ;-that is an angdic li fe.
* • * * This is to walk in the light, nmidst a sere ne, placid, mild
light, that infuses no unqu.et th oughts, admits no gui lty fea rs,
nothing that can disturb or annoy us. To eye God in all our com. forts, and observe the smiling aspec ts of hi s fa ce, w he n he disppn ses
the m to us,-to eye him in all our alfiictions, and consicle r the fraternal wisdom that instructs us in them,-how would this in crPasP
our mercies, and mitigate our trouble! To eye him in all his creatures, 11.nd observe the various prints of the Creator's g!ory sla111pPd
upon the m,- with how live ly a lustre would it clothe tl1 t world, and
make every thing look with a pl ~asa nt face! Whal a hPaven were
it, to look upon God as filling all in all! and how sweet ly wouid it,
erewhile, raise our soul~ into ~ oriop such sweet, sera phic strain3,H oly, holy, the whole earth is foll ·_f his glory!'"

Bates, in a sermon O!l "Ileanm," thus speaks of th e pleasures that spring from knowledge in the regions of th e blessed:
"\Vhen the soul opens its eyes to the clear discoveries of the first
truth, in which is no shadow of error, and its breast to the dear nnr.
intimate e mbraces of the suprelllc good , in which is no 1nixlure o1
evil, and beyond which nothing re mains lo be kr.own, noth·n!! t o he
enjoyed, what a deluge of the purest and sweetest pleasure wLJI ovnfl ow it ! We cannot ascend in our thoughts so high , as to conr,eive
the excess of joy that attends those operations of tlH· glnrified sou l
upon its proper object. But something we may conjecture .
"Those who · are possessed with a noble passi on for lrnn\l IC' dgr,
how do they d r~ pise nil lowe r plensnres in comparison of it' I l ow
do they forget themselves, neglect the body , and retire into th P mind ,
the highest part of man, and nearest to God ! The bare apprch r;- n
sion of such things, that, by their internal nature , have no attractive
influence upon the affections, is pleasant to the unirrstar:d ing. A
tJ1e appearance of light, though not attended with nny visible heau

IllSTORICAL DISSERTATION.

30!) -

------- ------------------------li ~s, refreshes the ey-e afier long darkness, so the cJear discovC'ry
of truths, how abstract soever, that were before unknown, is grateful
lo the intellective faculty. * * * >' * *
" But here are many imperfections that lessen this intel!f'!ctual pleas- ·
urc, whi ch shall cease in heaven. H ere, the acquisition of knowll'dge is ofte n with the expense of health; the flower of the spirits,
nPcessary for natural operations, is wasted by intense thought. H ow
uflcn are Um learned sickly! As the flint, when it is struck, give ~
not a spark without consuming itself, so knowledge is obtainea by
studirs that waste our faint, sensitive faculties. But there our knowl·
edge shall be a free emanation from the spring of truth, without our
labor or pains. Here we learn by circuit, and discern by comparing
things; ignorant darkness is di~pell e d by a gradual succession of
li g ht; but there perfect knowledge shall be infused in a moment.
H ere, afier all our labor and toil, how little knowledge do we gain'
Every question is a labyrinth, out of which the nimblest and moet
Rcarching minds cannot extricate the mselves. How many specious
errors impose upon our understandings! "Ve look on things by false
lights, throu gh deceiving spectacles; bnt then our knowledge shall
lie certain and complete. There is no forbidden tree in the celestial
parad ise , ns no inordinate affection. We shall see God in all hi~
exce llencies, the supreme object and end, the only felicity of the soul.
Uow will the sight of his glorious perfections, in the first moment,
quench our extreme thirst, and fill us with joy and admiration! It
is not ns the naked conception of treasures, that only makes rich in
idea; but that divine sight gives a real interest in him . The angels
are so ravi shed with the beauties and wonders of his face, they ncv e_r~
divert a moment from the contemplation of it."

While the theological writers of this period were thus con·
tributing, in different ways, to the advancement of English
style, there are found, in other departments of literature, writings of the same tendency. Sir William Temple, who flourished during this reign, may be ranked among the elegant
writers that adorn the literature of England. He is said to
have made the improvement of his style an object of special
effort and study; and his uncommon purity of language, hi!'
!ase and simplicity of expression, the rich ornaments which

26*

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.'·.':i

J06

HISTORICAL DISSERTATION.

embellish his style, an<l the beauty an<l melo<ly of his periods
are evidence of his success. The following description of
lwroic virtue is a fair specimen of his ~tyle: -

!

l

"Though it is easier to describe heroic virtue by the e fletls and
examples, than by causes or de finitions, yet it may · be said to ariE'e
from Rome great and native excel!ency of temper or ge nius, transr,ending the common race of mankind, in wisdom, good11rss, am! r,;r .
titude. These ingredients, advantaged by bir~h, improved by edu cation, and assisted by fortune, seem to make that nobl e composition ,
which gives such a lustre to those who have posscssr<l it, as made ·
them appear to commcn eyes something more than mortal s, and to
have been of some mixture between divine and human rncr,-to l1avo
been honored and obeyed in their lives, and, afler the ir death s, b••
wailed and adored.
"The greatness of their wisdom appeared in the exce llency ot
the ir inventions; and these, by the goodness of the ir n <l ture, were
turned and exercised upon such subjects as were of' gen eral good lo
mankind, in the common uses of life, or to their own countri es, in the
mstitutions of such laws, orders, and governments, as were of most
ease, safi>ty, and advantage, to civil society. The ir valor was e 111pl oyed in defending the ir own countries from the violi>nce of' ill men
at home , or enemies abroad, in redu cing the ir h<lrharous nri ghbn rs
to the same forms and orders of civil liv e~ and institutions, or in relieving others from the cruelties and oppressions of tyranny and vio·
Jenee. * * * * * *
".I have said that this excellency of genius must be native, be
cause it can never grow to any great height, if it be only acquir<'d 01
a.fleeted; but it must be ennobled by birth, to give it more lu strr, esteem , and authority; it must be cultivated by education and in strnc
tion, to improve its growth, and direct its end and application; nnd
it must be assisted by fortune, to preserve it to maturity; becatrne
the nobl est spirit or ge nius in the world, if it falls, thou g h llWv<'r flO
bravPly, in its first eutcrpris<'s, ca nnot dese rve enough of' 111n11kinct
to prete nd to so great a reward as the esteem of heroic virtue. Am'
yet, perh aps, many n perso n has died in the first battle or adventure
he achieved, and lies buried in sil ence and oblivion, who, had he outIi ,.ed as many dangers as Alc~ xand e r did, might have shined ns bright
i11 honn: and fame
.~ow, since so many st<lrs go to the mak ing 11~

307 .

HISTORICAL DISSERTA'tION.

Df this constellation, 'tis no wonder it has so seldom appeared in the "
worid; nor that, when it does, it is received and followed with so
muoh gazing and veneration."

I close the specimens of prose writers of this reign, w1tn
short extracts from " Dryden's Essay on Dramatic Poetry." The prose of this c'elebrated poet is ch'.lracterize<l by ·
' oncrinality and freshness of thought an<l language. We percei~e at once in his style his intellectual superiority. He
. di<l much for the improvement of the language, and justly
• rnnks high among the prose writers of English literature.
tv.:o

~

.

•'To begin with Shakspeare. He is the man, who, of all modern,
11.ncl perhaps ancient poets, had the largest and most comprehensive
soul. All the images of nature were still present to him, and he
drew them not laboriously, but luckily; wL2n he describes nny
thing, you more than see it-you feel it. Those who accuse him
to have wanted learning, give him the greater commendation; he
was naturally lenrned; he needed · not the spectacles of books to
read Na tu re; he looked in wards, and found her there. 1 cannot say
he is eve ry where alike; were he so, 1 should do him injury to com·
pare him with the greatest of mankind. He is many times flat,
j 115 ipid; his comic wit degenerating into cle nches, his serious sw~ll·
ing into bombast. But he is always great, when some gr~at o~cas1on
is prese nted to him; no man can say he ever had a fit subject for wit,
and did not raise himself as high above tile rest of poets. ·

quantum lenta solent inter viburna cupressi.
"The consideration of this made Mr. Hales of Eton say, that there
was no subject of which any poet ever writ, but he would produce
it much better done in Shakspeare; and however others are now
ge nerally preferred before him, yet the age wherein he lived, which
lrnd contemporaries with him, Fletcher and Jonson, never equalled
them to him in their esteem.
"Of Chaucer, he says, as he is the father of English poetry, su
[ hold him in the same degree of veneration as the Greciuni< held
Homer, or the Romans Virgil. He ~s a perpetual fountain of good
,ense; learned in all sciences; and therefore speak!! proper 1y on all
Jl.lhjects As he knew wh11.t to say, so he knows also where to lea\°£

iL.•.u . .

308

IIISTOilICAL DISSERTATION.

off; a continence wh ich is practise d by few writers, and scarcely bJ
any of the anci e nts, exceptin g H ome r and Virg il.
"Chaucer f r !lowed nature every where; b ut was ne ver sc bold to
go beyond her; and there is a g reat difference of bei11 g 71o'cta, anrl
'tl.imis poeta, if we may belie ve Catullus, as muc h 1 8 betwixt R
modest behavi or and affectation.' The verse of Chau ce r, J. confess,
;s n ot harmon ious to us; but it is like th e e loqu e nce of one whom
Tacitus co mme nds-it was a1tribus istius temporis orcumm odota.
They who live d with him, and some time aftf'T, th oug ht it mu sica l ,
and it conti11ues so even in our judgme 11t, if compared with the
numbers of L y dgate and G ower, his coi1ternp oraries; th e re is a fud e
sweetn ess of th e Scotch tune in it, which is natural and pleasing,
th ou g h not perfect. * * * * vVe ca n only say, th at. he li vt' d in th e
infan cy of our poe try, a nd that n othing is brou g ht to pr. rfection at
the first. 'Ve must be children before we can grow me n. Thr re
was an Ennius, and in process of time a Luci lius and a Lucretius
before Virgil and Horace."

My limits will not allow of continuing <lown, through later
periods, this outline of the history of English style. N either
is it necessary, since the productions of more modern writ e r~
of eminence are well known, an<l the peculi ar traits of thei1
styles have often been pointe<l out. In lookin g back upon
the specimens th at have been given, we are able to trace
the progress of English style fr om its ea rly and ru<l e state,
towards the refinement and perfection it has since attain ed.
At successive periods, writers have appeared, wh ose influence
h as been felt, and who have, individually, contribute<l something to the improvement of their native langua ge and styl e.
P erhaps their excellences have been unite<l with many faults:
but while the beu"efici al tendenci es of th e former have been
felt, and become incorporated with the langu age and lit e ratun~
of tl1e country, the latter have disappeared befo1e the improve.
rnents of succeeding ages. There have also been periods,
when , fr om th e influence of some unpropitious ca uses, taste ha~
become corrupt, and th e .progress of style has bee n stayed .
hut even in th ese perio<ls, indivi<luals have :ipr eaHd, ' 'ho han!

HISTORICAL DISSERTATION.

risen above the prevailing faults of thP-ir times, and exerted
an jnfluence, which, if not felt by their own age, has been
powerful on the age which has followed.
To present a more connected and condensed view of. the
influence of different writers upon the progress of English
sty]P,, I shall attempt a classification of them founded upo~
the <lifferent qu ~lities by which they are characterize<l, and
which they may have contributed to impart to the style of
their age.
l. The first class consists of those to whom English style
is indebted for its copiousness and dignity; copiousness, as
they introduce many new words and forms of expressions;
an<l <lignity, as the words and phrases, thus introduced by
them, were more elevated than those in common conversational use. In this class are to be enumerated those who
flouri shed about the time of the Revival of Letters. Such
are \Vilson, Ascham, Cheke, .l\Jore, and others of this date.
In some of the succeeding reigns also, especially in that of
James I., there were writers who were devoted to · classical
pursuits, and whose influ ence was of the same nature. In
i;ome of these writers, hmrever, are found gross defects of
style-harshness, obscurity, and what at the present <lay
woul<l be accounte<l downright pedantry.
2. The next class of writers is composed of those whose
style is in some degree easy and i<liomatic. These are
either clas!5ic-.al scholars of more than usual purity of taste,
or unedur.atP<l, self-made men, of strong common sense and
practical viPWS. These are the writers who have give n
p e rsp icn~ty, ease, and naturalness to English style, and ·their
producti on~ continue to ~his day to have a charm,' both with
the Je:nned and with common readers. · It is pure English
un<le.filed, flowing in its own native -channel, ar d reflecting
homie ohjects an<l scenes. In this rank may be placed Rau
eigh, Cowley, and in latter days Swift and Paley, and also

•,•••rr••lllll!lll-

--- -·- '"""""':llil ·---~-------•rw11111111•••--.

JlO

the writers of th e Buny an school, who alike contribut ed t<>
pr<'serve th e vestal Harne of pi e1y iu th e clrurd1, auJ the
purity of their native lan guage and style.
3. N early allied to this class is a third, con sisting of th ose
who have helped to give simplicity and purity to sty le. Such
are the writers of Chronicles and of Essays and Treatise3
on practical common-place subjects-matter of fa ct men, who
by the simple narrative, or the plain, practical exhiuitio11 of
common truths, have sought to inform and Dr1prove those
' around them. Holinshed, Stow, aud Bishop Hall are of tlu!I
class.
4. I would next refer to those who hm'e given precisior.
and definiteness to style. They are writers of accurate.
discriminating mirnl::;-the philosophers of t.lreir day-close
thinkers and able reasoners-tho::;e whose favorite occupation it was, to search after truth, and either to invent or
investigate the different theories, from time to tim e advanced.
The direct tendency of this class of writers to promote the
attainment of the valuable traits 11f style just mP.ntioned, is
readily seen. Such writers are II~rbert, IloLLes, Iloyle, and
especially Locke, to whom, perhaps, more than t<'l any other
author, English style is indebted for precision and accuracy.
5. Another class of writers embraces th ose who were
men of poetical minds-those who possessed an actirn ,
playful fancy, and who were in no ordinary degree suscrptible of emotions of taste. Their writings abounded ill ri ch
profusion of illustration and imagery, and th eir well-modul ated periods show that they were not inse nsible to t!JP
harm ony of numbers. It is from this source thnt style
derives its richness,"its melody ancl beauty; mid wh en, a!!
has sometimes been the case, such writers h tve :ippeared at
periods in which these traits were peculiarly need eel, their
mfluence has been highly advanta geous. Tir e writings of
Sir Philip Sydney, of Ilishop Taylor, of Cowl ey, and of
Temple, have thus enriched and .•domed Euglish style.

,,
~ t.

I' .

HISTORICAL DISSERTATION.

II ISTORTCAL DISSERTATION.

I.

...... ~......

~v

·'·ft'·!;~·.~·---;

311

6. Liveliness of fancy, where it has existed without the
guiLlance of a chaste and correct taste, has sometimes taken
a different direction. It has manifested itself in quaintness,
in wit, and amusing conceits. Writers of this kind, though
they abound in faults, have, without doubt, contributed
som ething to the advancement of style. Their sentences
are usually short, and their forms of expression striking
and sententious. Thus th ey helped to break up the long,
involved, intri cate periods, which formerly prevailed, and to
g ive to style vivacity and sprightliness. Lilly, Bacon in his
Essays, Donne, Ben Jonson, Burton, and other writers of the
r eign of James I., may be ranked in this class.
7. There have appeared at different periods those, whose
productions are examples of strength, force, and manliness
of sty le. Such are most controversial writings that have
been called for th in times of political or religious revolution.
And wh enever the nature of the subject, or the circumstances
of t he individual, have been such as deeply to interest the
feelings, to stir up the soul, and to put into powerful action
the faculties of the mind, we have writings, in which the
qu alities mentioned above are prominent. The extracts from
Milton, Barrow, and Sidney, are examples of this manner of
wri t ing.
8. The only r emaining class of writers, to whom I shall
r efer, includes those who have given elevation, richness, and
every noble quality of style. They are those who, by their
contcmporarieg, and by succeeding ages, have been esteemed
intellectually great, and who, from their originality, their
ri ch fl ow of thought and expression, and the strength,
comprehensiveness, and clearness of their _views, were .well
fitted to instru ct and improve their race. A few such .names
are found in English literature; and as they have appeared
at successive periods, it is easy to discern, their powerful
influence on the advancement of their native style. Such
men were Bacon, and Milton, and Dryden.

• •

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.......,_ __ _. , . . _ ._ _ _ _ _ _ _Ei111M
.......... .•.. "mt!

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7

5

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I

~ON'l'ENTS.

'
Page.

Chop.

l ' ft gt

14~

On Connel':tive9

I .

e

· As-TE.
41
Emotions of Beauty and
Sublimity
43
Standard of Taste
49
Refinement of Taste
57
Delicacy of Taste
60
Correctness of Taste
GO
Fine Arts
G4

Ill. ON THE NATURE AND
OBJECTS OF A L11'ERA'.UT

Principl es on which atte mpts to please are
founded
Simile on Formal Comparison
Me taphor
or Implied
Comparison
Allusi ons .
Figurative language
Pe rsonification . .
Apostrophe
JlypcrLole

G7

68
77
f:l5
93
102
106
J.12
ll:J

Sect«in }. On th<' qnn j .
ties of n Good Style
Corrf'ctncss
Perspicuity
Vivacity
Euphony .
Naturalness
Section 2. On the Modes
of Wilting which character~ the
productions 'O( different individuals .- ·
Idiomati c aml Easy Style
Conci ge' and Diffu se--' , .
ForciLle and Ve>h cment'.
Ele vated and Dii;nifie>d
Neat/and Eh'gani(. .
Plain and Orname nted
· Section 3. On Modes of
~~iteCl to dif:
fut~:. ets and oc·
casions
Epistobry Writing
Essay Writing .
Historicnl Writing
fli o~ rnphy

l[1tJ
158
15'1
I u4
] 79
Hll

185
185
18!)

rn:i
J!);j

Wt\
lDfJ

202
~2(1 2

205
:W!l
212
214

Fictitious Writing
Argumentative Di sc u~sion .
. 217
Oration
. 218
Direetiw1s fo,r forming a

V Cih SKILL JN TU.E USE OF
LANGU'XGE117
s ~c tion I.
On Verba.
Criticism
117 L--*~G~o?!o~d.~S~t~IJ!el.,_-'-_,__.._.,~~~L.--:--f------------Section 2. On the Comxerc1ses
nosition of flentences 12"
Historical Dissertation
i.

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