METHODS OF EXPRESSION-STYLE

METHODS OF EXPRESSION-STYLE

STYLE.

METHODS OF EXPRESSION—STYLE.

The style is of the math—Brno/4.

Style is the gossamer on which the seeds of truth float through the world. —

BANC “CIFT.

W

E speak of style in architecture, in painting, in music, or in any of the fine arts, meaning thereby

the mode of presentation; of style in manners, meaning the characteristic way of conducting one's self; of style in dress, meaning the prevalent fashion, or that peculiar to an individual. So style in discourse is t__U special manner in which thought is expressed. Note the points of difference and resemblance in the following. Observe the Anglo-Saxon simplicity of some, and the classical stateliness of others. One shows a decided preference for short sentences, another for long. Here the movement is calm and regular; there, disjointed, jerky, volcanic:

A certain man had two sons. And the younger of them said to his father, Give me the portion of goods that falleth to me. And he divided unto them his living. And not many days after, the younger son gathered all together, and took hi. 3 journey into a far country, and there wasted his substance in riotous living. And when he had spent all, there arose a mighty famine in that land; and he began to be in want. And he went and joined himself to a citizen of that country; and he sent him into the fields to feed swine. And he would fain have filled his belly with the husks that the swine did eat: and no man gave unto him. —Bible.

Were I ambitious of any other patron than the public, I would inscribe this work to a statesman who, in a long, a stortnyoulx&Nsis.

length an unfortunate administration, had many political opponents almost without a personal enemy; who has retained on his fall from power many faithful and disinterested friends, and who under the pressure of severe infirmity enjoys the lively vigor of his mind and the felicity of his incomparable temper. —Gibbon.

A foolish consistency is the hobgoblin of little minds, adored by little statesmen and philosophers and divines. With consistency a great soul has simply nothing to do. He may as well concern himself with his shadow on the wail. Out upon your guarded lips. Sew them up with pack-thread —do. Else, if you would be a man. speak what you think to-day in words as hard as cannon-balls, and to-morrow speak what to-morrow thinks, in words as hard again — though it contradict everything you said to-day. ' Ah, then, * exclaimed the aged you shall be sure to be misunderstood. ' Misunderstood! It is a right fool's word. —Enterson.

To omit mere prurient susceptivities that rest on vacuum, look at poor Byron, who really had much substance in him. Sitting there in his self-exile, with a proud heart striving to persuade itself that it despises the entire created universe; and far off, in foggy Babylon, let any pitifullest whipster draw pen on him, your proud Byron writhes in torture, as if the pitiful whipster were a magician, or his pen a galvanic wire struck into Byron's spinal marrow! Lamentable, despicable, one had rather be a kitten and cry mew! Oh, son of Adam, great or little, according as thou art lovable, those thou livest with will love thee!—Carlyle.

' Style ' is from the Latin stylus, a steel instrument used by the Romans for writing on waxen tablets. By an easy metaphor it came to denote the method of composition, as pen ' is now frequently a symbol for author or literature.

Subjective Aspect. —As the attire, the behavior, the air, indicate the disposition and habits of the person — whether cleanly or slovenly, tasteful or tawdry, sensible or foolish, refined or boorish — so a writer's style is, in no unimportant sense, the material expression of his soul-life; for his words are but the outward signs, the visible copies, of his ideas. His choice of terms, his way of putting them together, make (to speak conventionally) the garment of his

thought, showing by the fall of the folds (when once you have learned to read) what he likes, what he can do, — his clumsiness, his cleverness, his imagination, his delights. If the words carry too much ornament, you may know that he is greedy of pleasure; if too little, that he is hard, dry, insensitive, and the like; if too great bulk, that he is affected; if full of conmionplaces set forth with solemnity or flourish, that he is silly; if volubly uttered, with volume of sound, reaching us as sounds and nothing more, that he is unreal and hollow; if niurkv or obscure, that he has a confused habit of mind, vagueness and indirectness of purpose. At root, the virtues of style are moral. Hence the saying of Milton, that he who would write good poetry must make his life a poem. It is partly, no doubt, because style is the unconscious revelation of the hidden self, that men are influenced by language as much as by ideas.

Objective Aspect. —Though style receives its peculiar form chiefly from the mental movements of which it is the expression, it is greatly modified by external conditions—as fullness and force of vocabulary; the choice, number, and arrangement of words; frequency of practice in composition; completeness of preparation, and carefulness of finish; the nature of the subjects treated, the end sought, and the power of persons addressed. The inner and the outer, the original and the acquired, blend and reveal themselves in the result.

Diversities. — Style, then, varies with many considerations, but preeminently with character. In literature as in painting, Orientals are more fanciful or picturesque than Europeans; savages than civilized men. The Italians are warm and passionate; the French, rapid and sparkling; the Germans, clumsy and unwieldy —Lessing, Richter, and a few others, excepted.

Again, the manner of one age differs from that of another. No Englishman now writes in the style of King Alfred or of Bacon. The literary garniture of the Elizabethans, like that of their bodies, was stiff and elaborate — in keeping with their peaked beards, starched collars, trunk hose, and quilted doublets. In Pope's day—the day of powdered queues, cocked hats, and lace ruffles — style was highly artificial, even finical, like the manners and fashions of society. To-day the stately periods of Johnson would not be tolerated.

The individual writers of any age, indeed, bear to each other a general resemblance in the method of expressing their thoughts, as they do in their dispositions and tastes; yet, as with the leaves of the forest, there are _never two indistinguishably alike. The more original and creative the writer, the more distinctive his style. Where is he that could wear successfully the livery of Carlyle ? Men will have similar or dissimilar styles, according as they have similar or dissimilar natures and environments.

Obviously there are many possible divisions of style, to be expressed by a great variety of adjectives, according to the quality which serves as a principle of division. Thus with respect to the number of words, it may be called concise, sententious, laconic, terse, copious, diffuse, verbose, etc. ; with respect to arrangement, natural, inverted, loose, periodic, smooth or flowing, easy or graceful, etc. A composition abounding in anyone of the figures would be described by a derivative from that figure; as metaphorical, antithetical, epigrammatic, ironical, elliptical, etc. The use of ornament in general would be designated, according to the amount of imagery present, by such epithets as elegant, flowery, ornate, imaginative. A style characterized by misplaced and overwrought finery is said to be florid; if marked by commonplaces floridly expressed, with more or less of mock or

real enthusiasm, it is said to be stilted or sentimental; if very extravagant and enthusiastic, ranting; if studiously clothing plain and simple matter in long, ponderous words, pretentious; if gaudily and deceitfully ornamental, meretricious; if high-sounding— big, with little or no meaning — pompous, grandiloquent, sophomoric, bombastic. If the writer is constantly thrusting forward his own personality, he is egotistic. If he abounds in common forms of expression —if he is familiar, yet rises in some degree above the conversational, he is idiomatic and simple. His diction is seemingly artless. He writes so easily that the reader imagines he can write as well himself. If his words are swelling, if his sentences are long and involved, if his tone is constrained, he is labored. Either if he alludes frequently to the literature or history of Greece and Rome, or if he writes in accordance with the best standards, he is classical. If he conveys by hint or implication much that is not actually expressed, he is suggestive. If he possesses much human interest, warmth of heart, he is sympathetic' or humane. Possessing humanity in a high degree, he will usually be popular. If he exhibits a ready flow of words and great ease of composition, he is fluent. If rich in thought as well as copious in diction, he is affluent. If he has vivacity, accompanied by novelty and wit, he is racy. If his imagery is refined, his suggestions delicate, and his expressions tenderly graceful, he is spirituelle. A style which has some ornament and considerable polish, is neat; if destitute of figures, wit, humor, and blood, it is dry—tolerable in didactic writing only; if clear and simple, not harsh, yet without mere embellishment, it is plain.

Many of the features denoted by the above and other adjectives will not seldom be found to coexist in the same author, while one or more may be especially prominent. Thus Milton is massive, dignified, classical,

etc. ; Locke and Swift are plain, idiomatic, etc. ; Macaulay is brilliant, etc. ; Thackeray is vivacious, open, etc. ; Addison is flowing, elegant, etc. ; Goldsmith and Irving are graceful, humane, etc. ; Carlyle is rugged, vehement, etc. ; Ruskin is stately, affluent, etc. ; Shelley and Keats are spirituelle, suggestive, etc. ; Emerson is concise, energetic, terse, etc. ; Tennyson, correct, polished, ornate; Hawthorne, pure, delicate, flowing, placid; Shakespeare, versatile, forest-like. The perfect writer's style will be, not a pipe, but an organ, with many banks of keys.

Primary Qualities. —No absolute standard is to be set up. The style demanded in any composition depends upon the man, the theme, and the end. That will be good, relatively to the individual, in which his peculiarities have full and free play. That will be good generally in which proper words are put in proper places, and are vitalized by the thought. All good styles, whatever their minor differences, should possess certain leading properties. If a writer would be easily understood, he must be clear. If he would secure the highest adaptation of form to the object proposed, he must please: and if he would please, as well as inform, he must be refined or choice. If he would impress himself upon others, he must be vigorous. Thus the great excellences of method — the characteristics in which reputable methods ought to agree, are perspicuity, elegance, and energy. Of these three, the first is the most essential. Without this, which is as light to the eye, the effect of the others is lost. The second, which assumes various positions in the different kinds of prose, ranging from the lowest degree to the highest, from the mere lustre of clearness to the beauty and grace of life, is, in some of its elements, a supplementary cause of force, and is always necessary to give pleasure to taste. It becomes the more imperative as culture increases. The third, in its several aspects of thoroughness, rapidity, and

directness, or of strength, vivacity, and vigor, stands intimately connected with the will, and is only secondary to the first, whether the purpose be to instruct, to convince, or to persuade. If the presentation be feeble, dull, and heavy, the thought cannot excite the mental powers of the reader or hearer.

Fundamental Principles. — Underlying all these varieties and all rhetorical maxims, are two laws, forever to be regarded by whoever wishes to write or to speak words that will be felt —the economy and the stimulation of attention. The former may be thus stated and explained:

Regarding language as an apparatus of symbols for the conveyance of thought, we may say that, as in a mechanical apparatus, the more simple and the better arranged its parts, the greater will be the effect produced. In either case, whatever force is absorbed by the machine is deducted from the result. A reader or listener has at each moment but a limited amount of mental power available. To recognize and interpret the symbols presented to him, requires part of this power; to arrange and combine the images suggested requires a further part; and only that part which remains can be used for realizing the thought conveyed. Hence, the more time and attention it takes to receive and understand each sentence, the less time and attention can be given to the contained idea; and the less vividly will that idea be conceived.

To prevent unnecessary waste is, then, an important secret of effect. Another mode of reaching the same result is to stimulate mental action by appeals to the imagination, by variations of method, and by intensity of feeling. To charm the fancy by a figure, or to please the sense of melody by a cadence, is, often, to deepen the impression of the sentiment. The declarative form is quite as economical as the interrogative; LNIx. . a. Vesamwt, scyzN

is listless while assertions only are made, will be upon the alert when he is appealed to by a question. Words which come from no deeper source than the lips, lack a most potent element of effectiveness. 'Logic set on fire ' is one of the recorded definitions of eloquence. 'Heat is life, and cold is death, ' says the scientist. Unction marks furrows in hearts. Unbroken uniformity, again, becomes offensive. If a flower be held to the nose too long, we become insensible to its odor. Few read the authors that always seem to sound the self-same note.

Importance. —If style is the rendering more or less justly the inward life, if that thought which is your concern can reach the mind completely and with all its advantages only when it is well expressed, it ought not to be necessary to insist that style is a great matter. How many are there who know how to think that do not know how to write? 'To write well, ' says Buffon, is at once to think well, to feel well, and to render well. ' To neglect form is thus to neglect, in some sort, the life and the faculty of communication.

Style is the artistic part of literature, hardly less valuable than the substance, if the product is to be permanent. It is the principal feature in which the writer can be original. Out of the same stones may be reared a Parthenon or a tavern. Shakespeare's power lay not in finding out new material, but in imparting new life to whatever he discovered; Carlyle's, not in the novelty of what he has said, but in the way in which he has said it. In Shelley's verse, in Hawthorne's periods, in Ruskin's grand harmonies, who is not sensible of influences quite distinct from the matter? The same thought, expressed by one author, will make us yawn, by another will startle us. An inferior work may obtain passport to futurity through witchery of form, while a work of merit may fail of success through lack of formal excellence. Said

Napoleon: What is called style, good or bad, does not affect me. I care only for the force of the thought. ' As well might he have said that he cared nothing for the arrangement of his soldiers in battle —only for the energy with which they would fight. The fighting power of soldiers, ' says Dr. Mathews, 'depends upon the tactical skill with which they are handled; and the force of ideas depends upon the way in which the verbal battalions that represent them are marshaled on the battle-fields of thought. '

Cultivation. —Style, since it partakes of the characteristics of the individual, is, like any other quality, improvable. Think and read closely, with the steady direction of the mind to one thing. Clear, concise, and vigorous expression must spring from a well-furnished mind, having a full grasp, a distinct view of the subject, the end, and the means. Whoever is master of his thought, is master of the word fitted to express it; while he who only half possesses it, seeks in vain to torture out of language the secret of that inspiration which should be in himself. It was the boast of Dante that no word had ever forced him to say what he would not, though he had forced many a word to say what it would not. Nor can the most brilliant intellect do without an accumulated fund of facts and ideas. Before Johnson began the Rambler, he had filled a commonplace-book with materials. Addison amassed three folios of thought and illustrations before he began the Spectator; and after the Guardian was finished he replied to the suggestion of a friend, must now take some time pour me dglasser, and lay in fuel for a future work.

Compose frequently and deliberately. Excellences of mind are less the gift of nature than the rewards of industry. It is only by the discipline of energetic action that the veteran accomplishes with etze wzt. extek. .

impossible to the raw recruit. It was after years of labor that Raphael was able to throw his conception upon canvas, perfect and complete, without the necessity of realizing it by piecemeal in intermediate attempts. It was because Gibbon had long written studiously, that he could send the last three volumes of the Decline and Fall to the press in the first draught. The style of an author, ' he says, should be an image of his mind, but the choice and command of language is the fruit of exercise. ' Says Quintilian: enjoin that such as are beginning the practice of composition write slowly and with anxious deliberation. Their great object, at first, should be to write as well as possible; practice will enable them to write quickly. By degrees, matter will offer itself still more readily; words will be at hand; composition will flow; everything, as in the arrangement of a well-ordered family, will present itself in its proper place. The sum of the whole is this: by hasty composition we shall never acquire the art of composing well; by writing well, we shall soon be able to write speedily. '

Revise carefully. The best writers and the ablest speakers have devoted great labor to the correction and refinement of details. Swift tested the intelligibleness of his sentences by reading them to the unlearned. Burke's manuscript was covered with interlineations and alterations. When a lady asked Johnson, after an elaborate revision of his early papers in the Rambler, whether he could now improve any of them, he replied: Yes, madam, I could make even the best of them better still. ' Sterne spent six months in perfecting a diminutive volume. Buffon made eleven draughts of his Nature before he sent it to the press. Cervantes took twelve years to write the second part of Don Quixote. Gibbon gave most critical study to the formation of his style. Many experiments, ' he says, were made before I could hit the middle tone between a

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dull chronicle and a rhetorical declamation: three times did I compose the first chapter, and twice the second and third, before I was tolerably satisfied with their effect. ' Prescott, at the age of twenty-five, resumed the study of rhetoric with assiduous perseverance. Having written several chapters of Ferdinand and Isabella, he said: 'Two or three faults of style occur to me in looking over some former compositions. Too many adjectives; too many couplets of substantives as well as adjectives, and perhaps of verbs; too set; sentences too much in the same mould; too formal periphrasis instead of familiar; sentences balanced by ands, buts, and semicolons; too many precise, emphatic pronouns, as these, those, which, etc., instead of the particles the, a, etc. ' Says the terse and vigorous Webster: My style was not formed without great care, and earnest study of the best authors. I have labored hard upon it, for I early felt the importance of expression to thought. I have re-written sentence after sentence, and pondered long upon each alteration. " It shall not less but more strenuously be inculcated, ' says Carlyle, that, in the way of writing, no great thing was ever, or ever will be, done with ease, but with difficulty. ' Plato wrote the beginning of his Republic many times in a great variety of ways, filially reaching a style so perfect that it seems artless. The ancients thought it worthy to be called divine.

Read thoroughly the standard English and American authors. As the young painter or sculptor, not content with text-books and lectures, spends months or years in the galleries of Florence and Rome, in order to learn how the great masters of form and color wrought their miracles of art, so the student of style should devote himself to the masterpieces of literature, in order to enrich his vocabulary, to acquire in some degree the secret of their power, to detect his own defmieuCkiet, eNkmax. %

refine his taste. Evil communications corrupt good

manners. ' One's words, like his manners, depend largely on the company kept, and are learned largely by unconscious imitation. Choose the best, whether of newspapers or of books. 'To write well, ' says Dryden, one must have frequent habitudes with the best company. ' Quintilian advised his pupils, also, to practice what is called paraphrase with reference to prose, and metaphrase with reference to poetry. They consist alike in translating passages from good authors into other words in the same tongue. Franklin added the converse of paraphrase. He laid aside his version of Addison, for example, until he had forgotten the phraseology of the original, and then turned it back, with as close conformity to Addison's style as he was able to command. Even better, perhaps, is the practice of translating from one language into another. The learner is thus guarded against becoming a servile copyist. He paints a similar picture, but with different pigments.

Bear in mind the principles and maxims set forth and illustrated in preceding chapters, with special reference to the choice, number, and arrangement of words.

Remember, also, that splendid phrases and swelling sentences can form no substitute for knowledge and reflection. Dr. Whately's advice is excellent: Let an author study the best models— mark their beauties of style, and dwell upon them, that he may insensibly catch the habit of expressing himself with Elegance; and when he has completed any composition, be may revise it, and cautiously alter any passage that is awkward and harsh, as well as those that are feeble and obscure: but let him never, while writing, think of any beauties of style; but content himself with such as may occur spontaneously. He should carefully study Perspicuity as he goes along; he may also, though more cautiously, aim in like manner

at Energy; but if he is endeavoring after Elegance, he will hardly fail to betray that endeavor; and in proportion as he does this, he will be so far from giving pleasure, to good judges, that he will offend more than by the rudest simplicity. ' If you would be accurate, be true; if clear, write with sympathy and a desire to be intelligible; if powerful, be earnest; if pleasant, cultivate a sense of rhythm and order. 'Struggle unweariedly, ' says Carlyle, to acquire what is possible for every God-created man, a free, open, humble soul: speak not at all, in any wise, till you have somewhat to speak. '

'Altogether, ' says Goethe, the style of a writer is a faithful representative of his mind; therefore, if any man wish to write a clear style, let him first be clear in his thoughts; and if he would write in a noble style, let him first possess a noble soul. '