THE PHILOSOPHY OF STYLE. 

By Herbert Spencer

PART I. CAUSES OF FORCE IN LANGUAGE WHICH DEPEND UPON ECONOMY OF THEMENTAL ENERGIES. 

i. The Principle of Economy. 

§ 1. Commenting on the seeming incongruity between his father'sargumentative powers and his ignorance of formal logic, Tristram Shandysays:--"It was a matter of just wonder with my worthy tutor, and two orthree fellows of that learned society, that a man who knew not so muchas the names of his tools, should be able to work after that fashionwith them. " Sterne's intended implication that a knowledge of theprinciples of reasoning neither makes, nor is essential to, a goodreasoner, is doubtless true. Thus, too, is it with grammar. As Dr. Latham, condemning the usual school-drill in Lindley Murray, rightlyremarks: "Gross vulgarity is a fault to be prevented; but the properprevention is to be got from habit--not rules. " Similarly, there canbe little question that good composition is far less dependent uponacquaintance with its laws, than upon practice and natural aptitude. A clear head, a quick imagination, and a sensitive ear, will go fartowards making all rhetorical precepts needless. He who daily hears andreads well-framed sentences, will naturally more or less tend to usesimilar ones. And where there exists any mental idiosyncrasy--wherethere is a deficient verbal memory, or an inadequate sense of logicaldependence, or but little perception of order, or a lack ofconstructive ingenuity; no amount of instruction will remedy the defect. Nevertheless, some practical result may be expected from a familiaritywith the principles of style. The endeavour to conform to laws may tell, though slowly. And if in no other way, yet, as facilitating revision, aknowledge of the thing to be achieved--a clear idea of what constitutesa beauty, and what a blemish--cannot fail to be of service. 

§ 2. No general theory of expression seems yet to have been enunciated. The maxims contained in works on composition and rhetoric, are presentedin an unorganized form. Standing as isolated dogmas--as empiricalgeneralizations, they are neither so clearly apprehended, nor so muchrespected, as they would be were they deduced from some simple firstprinciple. We are told that "brevity is the soul of wit. " We hear stylescondemned as verbose or involved. Blair says that every needless part ofa sentence "interrupts the description and clogs the image;" and again, that "long sentences fatigue the reader's attention. " It is remarked byLord Kaimes, that "to give the utmost force to a period, it ought, ifpossible, to be closed with that word which makes the greatest figure. "That parentheses should be avoided and that Saxon words should be usedin preference to those of Latin origin, are established precepts. But, however influential the truths thus dogmatically embodied, they wouldbe much more influential if reduced to something like scientificordination. In this, as in other cases, conviction will be greatlystrengthened when we understand the why. And we may be sure thata comprehension of the general principle from which the rules ofcomposition result, will not only bring them home to us with greaterforce, but will discover to us other rules of like origin. 

§ 3. On seeking for some clue to the law underlying these currentmaxims, we may see shadowed forth in many of them, the importance ofeconomizing the reader's or hearer's attention, To so present ideas thatthey may be apprehended with the least possible mental effort, is thedesideratum towards which most of the rules above quoted point. When wecondemn writing that is wordy, or confused, or intricate--when we praisethis style as easy, and blame that as fatiguing, we consciously orunconsciously assume this desideratum as our standard of judgment. Regarding language as an apparatus of symbols for the conveyance ofthought, we may say that, as in a mechanical apparatus, the more simpleand the better arranged its parts, the greater will be the effectproduced. In either case, whatever force is absorbed by the machine isdeducted from the result. A reader or listener has at each moment but alimited amount of mental power available. To recognize and interpret thesymbols presented to him, requires part of this power; to arrange andcombine the images suggested requires a further part; and only that partwhich remains can be used for realizing the thought conveyed. Hence, the more time and attention it takes to receive and understand eachsentence, the less time and attention can be given to the containedidea; and the less vividly will that idea be conceived. 

§ 4. How truly language must be regarded as a hindrance to thought, though the necessary instrument of it, we shall clearly perceiveon remembering the comparative force with which simple ideas arecommunicated by signs. To say, "Leave the room, " is less expressive thanto point to the door. Placing a finger on the lips is more forcible thanwhispering, "Do not speak. " A beck of the hand is better than, "Comehere. " No phrase can convey the idea of surprise so vividly as openingthe eyes and raising the eyebrows. A shrug of the shoulders would losemuch by translation into words. Again, it may be remarked that whenoral language is employed, the strongest effects are produced byinterjections, which condense entire sentences into syllables. And inother cases, where custom allows us to express thoughts by single words, as in _Beware, Heigho, Fudge, _ much force would be lost by expandingthem into specific propositions. Hence, carrying out the metaphor thatlanguage is the vehicle of thought, there seems reason to think thatin all cases the friction and inertia of the vehicle deduct from itsefficiency; and that in composition, the chief, if not the sole thingto be done, is, to reduce this friction and inertia to the smallestpossible amount. Let us then inquire whether economy of the recipient'sattention is not the secret of effect, alike in the right choice andcollocation of words, in the best arrangement of clauses in a sentence, in the proper order of its principal and subordinate propositions, inthe judicious use of simile, metaphor, and other figures of speech, andeven in the rhythmical sequence of syllables. 

ii. Economy in the Use of Words. 

§ 5. The greater forcibleness of Saxon English, or rather non-LatinEnglish, first claims our attention. The several special reasonsassignable for this may all be reduced to the general reason--economy. The most important of them is early association. A child's vocabulary isalmost wholly Saxon. He says, _I have, _ not _I possess_---_I wish, _not I _desire;_ he does not _reflect, _ he _thinks;_ he does not begfor _amusement, _ but for _play_; he calls things _nice_ or _nasty, _not _pleasant_ or _disagreeable. _ The synonyms which he learns in afteryears, never become so closely, so organically connected with the ideassignified, as do these original words used in childhood; and hence theassociation remains less strong. But in what does a strong associationbetween a word and an idea differ from a weak one? Simply in the greaterease and rapidity of the suggestive action. It can be in nothing else. Both of two words, if they be strictly synonymous, eventually call upthe same image. The expression--It is _acid, _ must in the end give riseto the same thought as--It is sour; but because the term _acid_ waslearnt later in life, and has not been so often followed by the thoughtsymbolized, it does not so readily arouse that thought as the term sour. If we remember how slowly and with what labour the appropriate ideasfollow unfamiliar words in another language, and how increasingfamiliarity with such words brings greater rapidity and ease ofcomprehension; and if we consider that the same process must have goneon with the words of our mother tongue from childhood upwards, we shallclearly see that the earliest learnt and oftenest used words, will, other things equal, call up images with less loss of time and energythan their later learnt synonyms. 

§ 6. The further superiority possessed by Saxon English in itscomparative brevity, obviously comes under the same generalization. Ifit be an advantage to express an idea in the smallest number of words, then will it be an advantage to express it in the smallest number ofsyllables. If circuitous phrases and needless expletives distract theattention and diminish the strength of the impression produced, thendo surplus articulations do so. A certain effort, though commonlyan inappreciable one, must be required to recognize every vowel andconsonant. If, as all know, it is tiresome to listen to an indistinctspeaker, or read a badly-written manuscript; and if, as we cannot doubt, the fatigue is a cumulative result of the attention needed to catchsuccessive syllables; it follows that attention is in such casesabsorbed by each syllable. And if this be true when the syllables aredifficult of recognition, it will also be true, though in a less degree, when the recognition of them is easy. Hence, the shortness of Saxonwords becomes a reason for their greater force. One qualification, however, must not be overlooked. A word which in itself embodies themost important part of the idea to be conveyed, especially when thatidea is an emotional one, may often with advantage be a polysyllabicword. Thus it seems more forcible to say, "It is _magnificent, _"than "It is _grand. _" The word _vast_ is not so powerful a one as_stupendous. _ Calling a thing _nasty_ is not so effective as calling it_disgusting. _

§ 7. There seem to be several causes for this exceptional superiorityof certain long words. We may ascribe it partly to the fact that avoluminous, mouth-filling epithet is, by its very size, suggestive oflargeness or strength; witness the immense pomposity of sesquipedalianverbiage: and when great power or intensity has to be suggested, thisassociation of ideas aids the effect. A further cause may be that aword of several syllables admits of more emphatic articulation; and asemphatic articulation is a sign of emotion, the unusual impressivenessof the thing named is implied by it. Yet another cause is that a longword (of which the latter syllables are generally inferred as soon asthe first are spoken) allows the hearer's consciousness a longer time todwell upon the quality predicated; and where, as in the above cases, itis to this predicated quality that the entire attention is called, anadvantage results from keeping it before the mind for an appreciabletime. The reasons which we have given for preferring short wordsevidently do not hold here. So that to make our generalization quitecorrect we must say, that while in certain sentences expressing strongfeeling, the word which more especially implies that feeling may oftenwith advantage be a many-syllabled or Latin one; in the immense majorityof cases, each word serving but as a step to the idea embodied by thewhole sentence, should, if possible, be a one-syllabled or Saxon one. 

§ 8. Once more, that frequent cause of strength in Saxon and otherprimitive words-their imitative character may be similarly resolved intothe more general cause. Both those directly imitative, as _splash, bang, whiz, roar, _ &c. , and those analogically imitative, as _rough, smooth, keen, blunt, thin, hard, crag, _ &c. , have a greater or less likeness tothe things symbolized; and by making on the senses impressions allied tothe ideas to be called up, they save part of the effort needed to callup such ideas, and leave more attention for the ideas themselves. 

§ 9. The economy of the recipient's mental energy, into which are thusresolvable the several causes of the strength of Saxon English, mayequally be traced in the superiority of specific over generic words. That concrete terms produce more vivid impressions than abstract ones, and should, when possible, be used instead, is a thorough maxim ofcomposition. As Dr. Campbell says, "The more general the terms are, thepicture is the fainter; the more special they are, 'tis the brighter. "We should avoid such a sentence as:--"In proportion as the manners, customs, and amusements of a nation are cruel and barbarous, theregulations of their penal code will be severe. " And in place of it weshould write:--"In proportion as men delight in battles, bull-fights, and combats of gladiators, will they punish by hanging, burning, and therack. "

§ 10. This superiority of specific expressions is clearly due to asaving of the effort required to translate words into thoughts. As wedo not think in generals but in particulars--as, whenever any class ofthings is referred to, we represent it to ourselves by calling to mindindividual members of it; it follows that when an abstract word is used, the bearer or reader has to choose from his stock of images, one ormore, by which he may figure to himself the genus mentioned. In doingthis, some delay must arise some force be expended; and if, by employinga specific term, an appropriate image can be at once suggested, aneconomy is achieved, and a more vivid impression produced. 

iii. The Principle of Economy applied to Sentences. 

§ 11. Turning now from the choice of words to their sequence, we shallfind the same general principle hold good. We have _a priori_ reasonsfor believing that in every sentence there is some one order of wordsmore effective than any other; and that this order is the one whichpresents the elements of the proposition in the succession in which theymay be most readily put together. As in a narrative, the events shouldbe stated in such sequence that the mind may not have to go backwardsand forwards in order to rightly connect them; as in a group ofsentences, the arrangement should be such, that each of them may beunderstood as it comes, without waiting for subsequent ones; so inevery sentence, the sequence of words should be that which suggeststhe constituents of the thought in the order most convenient for thebuilding up that thought. Duly to enforce this truth, and to prepare theway for applications of it, we must briefly inquire into the mental actby which the meaning of a series of words is apprehended. 

§ 12. We cannot more simply do this than by considering the propercollocation of the substantive and adjective. Is it better to placethe adjective before the substantive, or the substantive before theadjective? Ought we to say with the French--un _cheval noir;_ or to sayas we do--a black horse? Probably, most persons of culture would decidethat one order is as good as the other. Alive to the bias produced byhabit, they would ascribe to that the preference they feel for our ownform of expression. They would expect those educated in the use of theopposite form to have an equal preference for that. And thus they wouldconclude that neither of these instinctive judgments is of any worth. There is, however, a philosophical ground for deciding in favour of theEnglish custom. If "a horse black" be the arrangement, immediately onthe utterance of the word "horse, " there arises, or tends to arise, in the mind, a picture answering to that word; and as there has, beennothing to indicate what _kind_ of horse, any image of a horse suggestsitself. Very likely, however, the image will be that of a brown horse, brown horses being the most familiar. The result is that when the word"black" is added, a check is given to the process of thought. Either thepicture of a brown horse already present to the imagination has to besuppressed, and the picture of a black one summoned in its place; orelse, if the picture of a brown horse be yet unformed, the tendency toform it has to be stopped. Whichever is the case, a certain amount ofhindrance results. But if, on the other hand, "a black horse" bethe expression used, no such mistake can be made. The word "black, "indicating an abstract quality, arouses no definite idea. It simplyprepares the mind for conceiving some object of that colour; and theattention is kept suspended until that object is known. If, then, by theprecedence of the adjective, the idea is conveyed without liability toerror, whereas the precedence of the substantive is apt to produce amisconception, it follows that the one gives the mind less trouble thanthe other, and is therefore more forcible. 

§ 13. Possibly it will be objected that the adjective and substantivecome so close together, that practically they may be considered asuttered at the same moment; and that on hearing the phrase, "a horseblack, " there is not time to imagine a wrongly-coloured horse before theword "black" follows to prevent it. It must be owned that it is noteasy to decide by introspection whether this is so or not. But there arefacts collaterally implying that it is not. Our ability to anticipatethe words yet unspoken is one of them If the ideas of the hearer keptconsiderably behind the, expressions of the speaker, as the objectionassumes, he could hardly foresee the end of a sentence by the time itwas half delivered: yet this constantly happens. Were the suppositiontrue, the mind, instead of anticipating, would be continually fallingmore and more in arrear. If the meanings of words are not realized asfast as the words are uttered, then the loss of time over each wordmust entail such an accumulation of delays as to leave a hearer entirelybehind. But whether the force of these replies be or be not admitted, it will scarcely be denied that the right formation of a picture willbe facilitated by presenting its elements in the order in which theyare wanted; even though the mind should do nothing until it has receivedthem all. 

§ 14. What is here said respecting the succession of the adjective andsubstantive is obviously applicable, by change of terms, to the adverband verb. And without further explanation, it will be manifest, thatin the use of prepositions and other particles, most languagesspontaneously conform with more or less completeness to this law. 

§ 15. On applying a like analysis to the larger divisions of a sentence, we find not only that the same principle holds good, but that theadvantage of respecting it becomes marked. In the arrangement ofpredicate and subject, for example, we are at once shown that asthe predicate determines the aspect under which the subject is to beconceived, it should be placed first; and the striking effect producedby so placing it becomes comprehensible. Take the often-quoted contrastbetween "Great is Diana of the Ephesians, " and "Diana of the Ephesiansis great. " When the first arrangement is used, the utterance of the word"great" arouses those vague associations of an impressive nature withwhich it has been habitually connected; the imagination is prepared toclothe with high attributes whatever follows; and when the words, "Dianaof the Ephesians, " are heard, all the appropriate imagery which can, onthe instant, be summoned, is used in the formation of the picture:the mind being thus led directly, and without error, to the intendedimpression. When, on the contrary, the reverse order is followed, theidea, "Diana of the Ephesians" is conceived with no special reference togreatness; and when the words "is great" are added, the conceptionhas to be remodeled: whence arises a loss of mental energy and acorresponding diminution of effect. The following verse from Coleridge's'Ancient Mariner, ' though somewhat irregular in structure, wellillustrates the same truth:

 "Alone, alone, all, all alone, Alone on a wide, wide sea And never a saint took pity on My soul in agony. "

§ 16. Of course the principle equally applies when the predicate is averb or a participle. And as effect is gained by placing first all wordsindicating the quality, conduct or condition of the subject, it followsthat the copula also should have precedence. It is true that the generalhabit of our language resists this arrangement of predicate, copulaand subject; but we may readily find instances of the additional forcegained by conforming to it. Thus, in the line from 'Julius Caesar'

 "Then burst his mighty heart, "

priority is given to a word embodying both predicate and copula. In apassage contained in 'The Battle of Flodden Field, ' the like order issystematically employed with great effect:

 "The Border slogan rent the sky! _A Home! a Gordon!_ was the cry; _Loud were _the clanging blows: _Advanced--forced back---now low, now high, _The pennon sunk and rose; _As bends_ the bark's mast in the gale When _rent are_ rigging, shrouds and sail, It wavered 'mid the foes. "

§ 17. Pursuing the principle yet further, it is obvious that forproducing the greatest effect, not only should the main divisions of asentence observe this sequence, but the subdivisions of these should besimilarly arranged. In nearly all cases, the predicate is accompanied bysome limit or qualification, called its complement. Commonly, also, the circumstances of the subject, which form its complement, have to bespecified. And as these qualifications and circumstances must determinethe mode in which the acts and things they belong to are conceived, precedence should be given to them. Lord Kaimes notices the factthat this order is preferable; though without giving the reason. Hesays:--"When a circumstance is placed at the beginning of the period, ornear the beginning, the transition from it to the principal subject isagreeable: it is like ascending or going upward. " A sentence arranged inillustration of this will be desirable. Here is one:--"Whatever it maybe in theory, it is clear that in practice the French idea of libertyis--the right of every man to be master of the rest. "

§ 18. In this case, were the first two clauses, up to the word "Ipractice" inclusive, which qualify the subject, to be placed at theend instead of the beginning, much of the force would be lost; asthus:--"The French idea of liberty is--the right of every man to bemaster of the rest; in practice at least, if not in theory. "

§ 19. Similarly with respect to the conditions under which any fact ispredicated. Observe in the following example the effect of putting themlast:--"How immense would be the stimulus to progress, were the honournow given to wealth and title given exclusively to high achievements andintrinsic worth!"

§ 20. And then observe the superior effect of putting them first:--"Werethe honour now given to wealth and title given exclusively to highachievements and intrinsic worth, how immense would be the stimulus toprogress!"

§ 21. The effect of giving priority to the complement of the predicate, as well as the predicate itself, is finely displayed in the opening of'Hyperion':

 "_Deep in the shady sadness of a vale Far sunken from the healthy breath of morn, Far from the fiery noon and eve's one star Sat_ gray-haired Saturn, quiet as a stone. "

Here it will be observed, not only that the predicate "sat" precedes thesubject "Saturn, " and that the three lines in italics, constituting thecomplement of the predicate, come before it; but that in the structureof that complement also, the same order is followed: each line beingso arranged that the qualifying words are placed before the wordssuggesting concrete images. 

§ 22. The right succession of the principal and subordinate propositionsin a sentence manifestly depends on the same law. Regard for economy ofthe recipient's attention, which, as we find, determines the best orderfor the subject, copula, predicate and their complements, dictates thatthe subordinate proposition shall precede the principal one when thesentence includes two. Containing, as the subordinate proposition does, some qualifying or explanatory idea, its priority prevents misconceptionof the principal one; and therefore saves the mental effort needed tocorrect such misconception. This will be seen in the annexed example:"The secrecy once maintained in respect to the parliamentary debates, is still thought needful in diplomacy; and in virtue of this secretdiplomacy, England may any day be unawares betrayed by its ministersinto a war costing a, hundred thousand lives, and hundreds of millionsof treasure: yet the English pique themselves on being a self-governedpeople. " The two subordinate propositions, ending with the semicolon andcolon respectively, almost wholly determine the meaning of the principalproposition with which it concludes; and the effect would be lost werethey placed last instead of first. 

§ 23. The general principle of right arrangement in sentences, which wehave traced in its application to the leading divisions of them, equallydetermines the proper order of their minor divisions. In every sentenceof any complexity the complement to the subject contains severalclauses, and that to the predicate several others; and these may bearranged in greater or less conformity to the law of easy apprehension. Of course with these, as with the larger members, the succession shouldbe from the less specific to the more specific--from the abstract to theconcrete. 

§ 24. Now, however, we must notice a further condition to be fulfilledin the proper construction of a sentence; but still a condition dictatedby the same general principle with the other: the condition, namely, that the words and expressions most nearly related in thought shallbe brought the closest together. Evidently the single words, the minorclauses, and the leading divisions of every proposition, severallyqualify each other. The longer the time that elapses between the mentionof any qualifying member and the member qualified, the longer must themind be exerted in carrying forward the qualifying member ready for use. And the more numerous the qualifications to be simultaneously rememberedand rightly applied, the greater will be the mental power expended, andthe smaller the effect produced. Hence, other things equal, forcewill be gained by so arranging the members of a sentence that thesesuspensions shall at any moment be the fewest in number; and shall alsobe of the shortest duration. The following is an instance of defectivecombination:--"A modern newspaper-statement, though probably true, wouldbe laughed at if quoted in a book as testimony; but the letter ofa court gossip is thought good historical evidence, if written somecenturies ago. " A rearrangement of this, in accordance with theprinciple indicated above, will be found to increase the effect. Thus:--"Though probably true, a modern newspaper-statement quoted ina book as testimony, would be laughed at; but the letter of a courtgossip, if written some centuries ago, is thought good historicalevidence. "

§ 25. By making this change, some of the suspensions are avoided andothers shortened; while there is less liability to produce prematureconceptions. The passage quoted below from 'Paradise Lost' affords afine instance of a sentence well arranged; alike in the priority of thesubordinate members, in the avoidance of long and numerous suspensions, and in the correspondence between the order of the clauses and thesequence of the phenomena described, which, by the way, is a furtherprerequisite to easy comprehension, and therefore to effect. 

 "As when a prowling wolf, Whom hunger drives to seek new haunt for prey, Watching where shepherds pen their flocks at eye, In hurdled cotes amid the field secure, Leaps o'er the fence with ease into the fold; Or as a thief, bent to unhoard the cash Of some rich burgher, whose substantial doors, Cross-barr'd, and bolted fast, fear no assault, In at the window climbs, or o'er the tiles; So clomb this first grand thief into God's fold; So since into his church lewd hirelings climb. "

§ 26. The habitual use of sentences in which all or most of thedescriptive and limiting elements precede those described and limited, gives rise to what is called the inverted style: a title which is, however, by no means confined to this structure, but is often used wherethe order of the words is simply unusual. A more appropriate titlewould be the _direct style, _ as contrasted with the other, or _indirectstyle_: the peculiarity of the one being, that it conveys each thoughtinto the mind step by step with little liability to error; and ofthe other, that it gets the right thought conceived by a series ofapproximations. 

§ 27. The superiority of the direct over the indirect form of sentence, implied by the several conclusions that have been drawn, must not, however, be affirmed without reservation. Though, up to a certain point, it is well for the qualifying clauses of a period to precede thosequalified; yet, as carrying forward each qualifying clause costs somemental effort, it follows that when the number of them and the time theyare carried become great, we reach a limit beyond which more is lostthan is gained. Other things equal, the arrangement should be such thatno concrete image shall be suggested until the materials out of which itis to be made have been presented. And yet, as lately pointed out, other things equal, the fewer the materials to be held at once, and theshorter the distance they have to be borne, the better. Hence in somecases it becomes a question whether most mental effort will be entailedby the many and long suspensions, or by the correction of successivemisconceptions. 

§ 28. This question may sometimes be decided by considering the capacityof the persons addressed. A greater grasp of mind is required for theready comprehension of thoughts expressed in the direct manner, where the sentences are anywise intricate. To recollect a number ofpreliminaries stated in elucidation of a coming idea, and to apply themall to the formation of it when suggested, demands a good memory andconsiderable power of concentration. To one possessing these, the directmethod will mostly seem the best; while to one deficient in them it willseem the worst. Just as it may cost a strong man less effort to carry ahundred-weight from place to place at once, than by a stone at atime; so, to an active mind it may be easier to bear along all thequalifications of an idea and at once rightly form it when named, thanto first imperfectly conceive such idea and then carry back to it, one by one, the details and limitations afterwards mentioned. Whileconversely, as for a boy, the only possible mode of transferring ahundred-weight, is that of taking it in portions; so, for a weak mind, the only possible mode of forming a compound conception may be that ofbuilding it up by carrying separately its several parts. 

§ 29. That the indirect method--the method of conveying the meaning bya series of approximations--is best fitted for the uncultivated, mayindeed be inferred from their habitual use of it. The form of expressionadopted by the savage, as in "Water, give me, " is the simplest typeof the approximate arrangement. In pleonasms, which are comparativelyprevalent among the uneducated, the same essential structure is seen;as, for instance, in--"The men, they were there. " Again, the oldpossessive case--"The king, his crown, " conforms to the like order ofthought. Moreover, the fact that the indirect mode is called the naturalone, implies that it is the one spontaneously employed by the commonpeople: that is--the one easiest for undisciplined minds. 

§ 30. There are many cases, however, in which neither the direct nor theindirect structure is the best; but where an intermediate structure ispreferable to both. When the number of circumstances and qualificationsto be included in the sentence is great, the most judicious course isneither to enumerate them all before introducing the idea to which theybelong, nor to put this idea first and let it be remodeled to agree withthe particulars afterwards mentioned; but to do a little of each. Takea case. It is desirable to avoid so extremely indirect an arrangementas the following:--"We came to our journey's end, at last, with no smalldifficulty after much fatigue, through deep roads, and bad weather. " Yetto transform this into an entirely direct sentence would not produce asatisfactory effect; as witness:--"At last, with no small difficulty, after much fatigue, through deep roads, and bad weather, we came to ourjourney's end. "

§ 31. Dr. Whately, from whom we quote the first of these twoarrangements, ' proposes this construction:--"At last, after muchfatigue, through deep roads and bad weather, we came, with no smalldifficulty, to our journey's end. " Here it will be observed that byintroducing the words "we came" a little earlier in the sentence, thelabour of carrying forward so many particulars is diminished, and thesubsequent qualification "with no small difficulty" entails an additionto the thought that is very easily made. But a further improvement maybe produced by introducing the words "we came" still earlier; especiallyif at the same time the qualifications be rearranged in conformity withthe principle already explained, that the more abstract elements of thethought should come before the more concrete. Observe the bettereffect obtained by making these two changes:--"At last, with no smalldifficulty, and after much fatigue, we came, through deep roads and badweather, to our journey's end. " This reads with comparative smoothness;that is, with less hindrance from suspensions and reconstructions ofthought--with less mental effort. 

§ 32. Before dismissing this branch of our subject, it should be furtherremarked, that even when addressing the most vigorous intellects, thedirect style is unfit for communicating ideas of a complex or abstractcharacter. So long as the mind has not much to do, it may be well ableto grasp all the preparatory clauses of a sentence, and to usethem effectively; but if some subtlety in the argument absorb theattention--if every faculty be strained in endeavouring to catch thespeaker's or writer's drift, it may happen that the mind, unable tocarry on both processes at once, will break down, and allow the elementsof the thought to lapse into confusion. 

iv. The Principle of Economy applied to Figures. 

§ 33. Turning now to consider figures of speech, we may equally discernthe same general law of effect. Underlying all the rules given forthe choice and right use of them, we shall find the same fundamentalrequirement--economy of attention. It is indeed chiefly because they sowell subserve this requirement, that figures of speech are employed. Tobring the mind more easily to the desired conception, is in many casessolely, and in all cases mainly, their object. 

§ 34. Let us begin with the figure called Synecdoche. The advantagesometimes gained by putting a part for the whole, is due to the moreconvenient, or more accurate, presentation of the idea. If, insteadof saying "a fleet of ten ships, " we say "a fleet of ten _sail_, " thepicture of a group of vessels at sea is more readily suggested; and isso because the sails constitute the most conspicuous parts of vessels socircumstanced: whereas the word _ships_ would very likely remind us ofvessels in dock. Again, to say, "_All hands_ to the pumps, " is betterthan to say, "All _men_ to the pumps, " as it suggests the men in thespecial attitude intended, and so saves effort. Bringing "gray _hairs_with sorrow to the grave, " is another expression, the effect of whichhas the same cause. 

§ 35. The occasional increase of force produced by Metonymy may besimilarly accounted for. "The low morality of _the bar, _" _is_ a phraseboth more brief and significant than the literal one it stands for. Abelief in the ultimate supremacy of intelligence over brute force, isconveyed in a more concrete, and therefore more realizable form, if wesubstitute _the pen_ and _the sword_ for the two abstract terms. To say, "Beware of drinking!" is less effective than to say, "Beware of _thebottle!_" and is so, clearly because it calls up a less specific image. 

§ 36. The Simile is in many cases used chiefly with a view to ornament, but whenever it increases the _force_ of a passage, it does so by beingan economy. Here in an instance: "The illusion that great men and greatevents came oftener in early times than now, is partly due to historicalperspective. As in a range of equidistant columns, the furthest off lookthe closest; so, the conspicuous objects of the past seem more thicklyclustered the more remote they are. "

§ 37. To construct by a process of literal explanation, the thoughtthus conveyed would take many sentences, and the first elements of thepicture would become faint while the imagination was busy in adding theothers. But by the help of a comparison all effort is saved; the pictureis instantly realized, and its full effect produced. 

§ 38. Of the position of the Simile, it needs only to remark, that whathas been said respecting the order of the adjective and substantive, predicate and subject, principal and subordinate propositions, &c. , is applicable here. As whatever qualifies should precede whatever isqualified, force will generally be gained by placing the simile beforethe object to which it is applied. That this arrangement is the best, may be seen in the following passage from the 'Lady of the Lake';

 "As wreath of snow, on mountain breast, Slides from the rock that gave it rest, Poor Ellen glided from her stay, And at the monarch's feet she lay. "

Inverting these couplets will be found to diminish the effectconsiderably. There are cases, however, even where the simile is asimple one, in which it may with advantage be placed last, as in theselines from Alexander Smith's 'Life Drama':

 "I see the future stretch All dark and barren as a rainy sea. "

The reason for this seems to be, that so abstract an idea as thatattaching to the word "future, " does not present itself to the mindin any definite form, and hence the subsequent arrival at the simileentails no reconstruction of the thought. 

§ 39. Such, however, are not the only cases in which this order is themost forcible. As the advantage of putting the simile before the objectdepends on its being carried forward in the mind to assist in forming animage of the object, it must happen that if, from length or complexity, it cannot be so carried forward, the advantage is not gained. Theannexed sonnet, by Coleridge, is defective from this cause:

 "As when a child, on some long winter's night, Affrighted, clinging to its grandam's knees, With eager wond'ring and perturb'd delight Listens strange tales of fearful dark decrees, Mutter'd to wretch by necromantic spell; Or of those hags who at the witching time Of murky midnight, ride the air sublime, And mingle foul embrace with fiends of hell; Cold horror drinks its blood! Anon the tear More gentle starts, to hear the beldame tell Of pretty babes, that lov'd each other dear, Murder'd by cruel uncle's mandate fell: Ev'n such the shiv'ring joys thy tones impart, Ev'n so, thou, Siddons, meltest my sad heart. "

§ 40. Here, from the lapse of time and accumulation of circumstances, the first part of the comparison is forgotten before its applicationis reached, and requires re-reading. Had the main idea been firstmentioned, less effort would have been required to retain it, and tomodify the conception of it into harmony with the comparison, than toremember the comparison, and refer back to its successive features forhelp in forming the final image. 

§ 41. The superiority of the Metaphor to the Simile is ascribed by Dr. Whately to the fact that "all men are more gratified at catching theresemblance for themselves, than in having it pointed out to them. " Butafter what has been said, the great economy it achieves will seem themore probable cause. Lear's exclamation--

 "Ingratitude! thou marble-hearted fiend, "

would lose part of its effect were it changed into--

 "Ingratitude! thou fiend with heart like marble;"

and the loss would result partly from the position of the simile andpartly from the extra number of words required. When the comparison isan involved one, the greater force of the metaphor, consequent on itsgreater brevity, becomes much more conspicuous. If, drawing an analogybetween mental and physical phenomena, we say, "As, in passing throughthe crystal, beams of white light are decomposed into the colours of therainbow; so, in traversing the soul of the poet, the colourless rays oftruth are transformed into brightly tinted poetry"; it is clear thatin receiving the double set of words expressing the two halves of thecomparison, and in carrying the one half to the other, considerableattention is absorbed. Most of this is saved, however, by putting thecomparison in a metaphorical form, thus: "The white light of truth, intraversing the many sided transparent soul of the poet, is refractedinto iris-hued poetry. "

§ 42. How much is conveyed in a few words by the help of the Metaphor, and how vivid the effect consequently produced, may be abundantlyexemplified. From 'A Life Drama' may be quoted the phrase--

 "I spear'd him with a jest, "

as a fine instance among the many which that poem contains. A passage inthe 'Prometheus Unbound, ' of Shelley, displays the power of the metaphorto great advantage:

 "Methought among the lawns together We wandered, underneath the young gray dawn, And multitudes of dense white fleecy clouds Were wandering, in thick flocks along the mountains _Shepherded_ by the slow unwilling wind. "

This last expression is remarkable for the distinctness with which itrealizes the features of the scene: bringing the mind, as it were, by abound to the desired conception. 

§ 43. But a limit is put to the advantageous use of the Metaphor, by thecondition that it must be sufficiently simple to be understood from ahint. Evidently, if there be any obscurity in the meaning or applicationof it, no economy of attention will be gained; but rather the reverse. Hence, when the comparison is complex, it is usual to have recourse tothe Simile. There is, however, a species of figure, sometimes classedunder Allegory, but which might, perhaps, be better called CompoundMetaphor, that enables us to retain the brevity of the metaphoricalform even where the analogy is intricate. This is done by indicating theapplication of the figure at the outset, and then leaving the mind tocontinue the parallel. ' Emerson has employed it with great effect inthe first of his I Lectures on the Times':--"The main interest whichany aspects of the Times can have for us is the great spirit which gazesthrough them, the light which they can shed on the wonderful questions, What are we, and Whither we tend? We do not wish to be deceived. Herewe drift, like white sail across the wild ocean, now bright on the wave, now darkling in the trough of the sea; but from what port did we sail?Who knows? Or to what port are we bound? Who knows? There is no oneto tell us but such poor weather-tossed mariners as ourselves, whom wespeak as we pass, or who have hoisted some signal, or floated to us someletter in a bottle from far. But what know they more than we? Theyalso found themselves on this wondrous sea. No; from the older sailorsnothing. Over all their speaking trumpets the gray sea and the loudwinds answer, Not in us; not in Time. "

§ 44. The division of the Simile from the Metaphor is by no means adefinite one. Between the one extreme in which the two elements of thecomparison are detailed at full length and the analogy pointed out, andthe other extreme in which the comparison is implied instead of stated, come intermediate forms, in which the comparison is partly stated andpartly implied. For instance:--"Astonished at the performances of theEnglish plow, the Hindoos paint it, set it up, and worship it; thusturning a tool into an idol: linguists do the same with language. " Thereis an evident advantage in leaving the reader or hearer to complete thefigure. And generally these intermediate forms are good in proportion asthey do this; provided the mode of completing it be obvious. 

§ 45. Passing over much that may be said of like purport upon Hyperbole, Personification, Apostrophe, &c. , let us close our remarks uponconstruction by a typical example. The general principle which has beenenunciated is, that other things equal, the force of all verbal formsand arrangements is great, in proportion as the time and mental effortthey demand from the recipient is small. The corollaries from thisgeneral principle have been severally illustrated; and it has been shownthat the relative goodness of any two modes of expressing an idea, may be determined by observing which requires the shortest processof thought for its comprehension. But though conformity in particularpoints has been exemplified, no cases of complete conformity have yetbeen quoted. It is indeed difficult to find them; for the Englishidiom does not commonly permit the order which theory dictates. A few, however, occur in Ossian. Here is one:--"As autumn's dark storms pourfrom two echoing hills, so towards each other approached the heroes. Astwo dark streams from high rocks meet and mix, and roar on the plain:loud, rough, and dark in battle meet Lochlin and Inisfail... As thetroubled noise of the ocean when roll the waves on high; as the lastpeal of the thunder of heaven; such is noise of the battle. "

§ 46. Except in the position of the verb in the first two similes, thetheoretically best arrangement is fully carried out in each of thesesentences. The simile comes before the qualified image, the adjectivesbefore the substantives, the predicate and copula before the subject, and their respective complements before them. That the passage is opento the charge of being bombastic proves nothing; or rather, proves ourcase. For what is bombast but a force of expression too great for themagnitude of the ideas embodied? All that may rightly be inferred is, that only in very rare cases, and then only to produce a climax, shouldall the conditions of effective expression be fulfilled. 

v. Suggestion as a Means of Economy. 

§ 47. Passing on to a more complex application of the doctrine withwhich we set out, it must now be remarked, that not only in thestructure of sentences, and the use of figures of speech, may economyof the recipient's mental energy be assigned as the cause of force; butthat in the choice and arrangement of the minor images, out of whichsome large thought is to be built up, we may trace the same conditionto effect. To select from the sentiment, scene, or event described thosetypical elements which carry many others along with them; and so, bysaying a few things but suggesting

many, to abridge the description; is the secret of producing a vividimpression. An extract from Tennyson's 'Mariana' will well illustratethis:

 "All day within the dreamy house, The door upon the hinges creaked, The blue fly sung i' the pane; the mouse Behind the mouldering wainscot shrieked, Or from the crevice peered about. "

§ 48. The several circumstances here specified bring with them manyappropriate associations. Our attention is rarely drawn by the buzzingof a fly in the window, save when everything is still. While the inmatesare moving about the house, mice usually keep silence; and it is onlywhen extreme quietness reigns that they peep from their retreats. Henceeach of the facts mentioned, presupposing numerous others, calls upthese with more or less distinctness; and revives the feeling of dullsolitude with which they are connected in our experience. Were all thesefacts detailed instead of suggested, the attention would be so fritteredaway that little impression of dreariness would be produced. Similarlyin other cases. Whatever the nature of the thought to be conveyed, thisskilful selection of a few particulars which imply the rest, is thekey to success. In the choice of component ideas, as in the choice ofexpressions, the aim must be to convey the greatest quantity of thoughtswith the smallest quantity of words. 

§ 49. The same principle may in some cases be advantageously carriedyet further, by indirectly suggesting some entirely distinct thoughtin addition to the one expressed. Thus, if we say, "The head of a goodclassic is as full of ancient myths, as that of a servant-girl of ghoststories"; it is manifest that besides the fact asserted, there is animplied opinion respecting the small value of classical knowledge: andas this implied opinion is recognized much sooner than it can be putinto words, there is gain in omitting it. In other cases, again, greateffect is produced by an overt omission; provided the nature of theidea left out is obvious. A good instance of this occurs in 'Heroes andHeroworship. ' After describing the way in which Burns was sacrificed tothe idle curiosity of Lion-hunters--people who came not out of sympathy, but merely to see him--people who sought a little amusement, and who gottheir amusement while "the Hero's life went for it!" Carlyle suggests aparallel thus: "Richter says, in the Island of Sumatra there is a kindof 'Light-chafers, ' large Fire-flies, which people stick upon spits, andilluminate the ways with at night. Persons of condition can thus travelwith a pleasant radiance, which they much admire. Great honour to theFire-flies! But--!--"

vi. The Effect of Poetry explained. 

§ 50. Before inquiring whether the law of effect, thus far traced, explains the superiority of poetry to prose, it will be needful tonotice some supplementary causes of force in expression, that have notyet been mentioned. These are not, properly speaking, additional causes;but rather secondary ones, originating from those already specifiedreflex results of them. In the first place, then, we may remark thatmental excitement spontaneously prompts the use of those forms of speechwhich have been pointed out as the most effective. "Out with him!" "Awaywith him!" are the natural utterances of angry citizens at a disturbedmeeting. A voyager, describing a terrible storm he had witnessed, wouldrise to some such climax as--"Crack went the ropes and down came themast. " Astonishment may be heard expressed in the phrase--"Never wasthere such a sight!" All of which sentences are, it will be observed, constructed after the direct type. Again, every one knows that excitedpersons are given to figures of speech. The vituperation of the vulgarabounds with them: often, indeed, consists of little else. "Beast, ""brute, " "gallows rogue, " "cut-throat villain, " these, and other likemetaphors and metaphorical epithets, at once call to mind a streetquarrel. Further, it may be noticed that extreme brevity is anothercharacteristic of passionate language. The sentences are generallyincomplete; the particles are omitted; and frequently important wordsare left to be gathered from the context. Great admiration does notvent itself in a precise proposition, as--"It is beautiful"; but in thesimple exclamation--"Beautiful!" He who, when reading a lawyer's letter, should say, "Vile rascal!" would be thought angry; while, "He is a vilerascal!" would imply comparative coolness. Thus we see that alike inthe order of the words, in the frequent use of figures, and in extremeconciseness, the natural utterances of excitement conform to thetheoretical conditions of forcible expression. 

§ 51. Hence, then, the higher forms of speech acquire a secondarystrength from association. Having, in actual life, habitually heard themin connection with vivid mental impressions, and having been accustomedto meet with them in the most powerful writing, they come to have inthemselves a species of force. The emotions that have from time to timebeen produced by the strong thoughts wrapped up in these forms, arepartially aroused by the forms themselves. They create a certain degreeof animation; they induce a preparatory sympathy, and when the strikingideas looked for are reached, they are the more vividly realized. 

§ 52. The continuous use of these modes of expression that are alikeforcible in themselves and forcible from their associations, producesthe peculiarly impressive species of composition which we call poetry. Poetry, we shall find, habitually adopts those symbols of thought, and those methods of using them, which instinct and analysis agree inchoosing as most effective, and becomes poetry by virtue of doing this. On turning back to the various specimens that have been quoted, it willbe seen that the direct or inverted form of sentence predominates inthem; and that to a degree quite inadmissible in prose. And not onlyin the frequency, but in what is termed the violence of the inversions, will this distinction be remarked. In the abundant use of figures, again, we may recognize the same truth. Metaphors, similes, hyperboles, and personifications, are the poet's colours, which he has liberty toemploy almost without limit. We characterize as "poetical" the prosewhich uses these appliances of language with any frequency, and condemnit as "over florid" or "affected" long before they occur with theprofusion allowed in verse. Further, let it be remarked that inbrevity--the other requisite of forcible expression which theory pointsout, and emotion spontaneously fulfils--poetical phraseology similarlydiffers from ordinary phraseology. Imperfect periods are frequent;elisions are perpetual; and many of the minor words, which would bedeemed essential in prose, are dispensed with. 

§ 53. Thus poetry, regarded as a vehicle of thought, is especiallyimpressive partly because it obeys all the laws of effective speech, and partly because in so doing it imitates the natural utterances ofexcitement. While the matter embodied is idealized emotion, the vehicleis the idealized language of emotion. As the musical composer catchesthe cadences in which our feelings of joy and sympathy, grief anddespair, vent themselves, and out of these germs evolves melodiessuggesting higher phases of these feelings; I so, the poet develops fromthe typical expressions in which men utter passion and sentiment, thosechoice forms of verbal combination in which concentrated passion andsentiment may be fitly presented. 

§ 54. There is one peculiarity of poetry conducing much to itseffect--the peculiarity which is indeed usually thought itscharacteristic one--still remaining to be considered: we mean itsrhythmical structure. This, improbable though it seems, will be found tocome under the same generalization with the others. Like each of them, it is an idealization of the natural language of strong emotion, whichis known to be more or less metrical if the emotion be not too violent;and like each of them it is an economy of the reader's or hearer'sattention. In the peculiar tone and manner we adopt in utteringversified language, may be discerned its relationship to the feelings;and the pleasure which its measured movement gives us, is ascribableto the comparative ease with which words metrically arranged can berecognized. 

§ 55. This last position will scarcely be at once admitted; but a littleexplanation will show its reasonableness. For if, as we have seen, there is an expenditure of mental energy in the mere act of listening toverbal articulations, or in that silent repetition of them which goeson in reading--if the perceptive faculties must be in active exerciseto identify every syllable--then, any mode of so combining words asto present a regular recurrence of certain traits which the mind cananticipate, will diminish that strain upon the attention required by thetotal irregularity of prose. Just as the body, in receiving a seriesof varying concussions, must keep the muscles ready to meet the mostviolent of them, as not knowing when such may come; so, the mind inreceiving unarranged articulations, must keep its perceptives activeenough to recognize the least easily caught sounds. And as, if theconcussions recur in a definite order, the body may husband its forcesby adjusting the resistance needful for each concussion; so, if thesyllables be rhythmically arranged, the mind may economize its energiesby anticipating the attention required for each syllable. 

§ 56. Far-fetched though this idea will perhaps be thought, a littleintrospection will countenance it. That we do take advantage of metricallanguage to adjust our perceptive faculties to the force of the expectedarticulations, is clear from the fact that we are balked by haltingversification. Much as at the bottom of a flight of stairs, a step moreor less than we counted upon gives us a shock; so, too, does a misplacedaccent or a supernumerary syllable. In the one case, we _know_ thatthere is an erroneous preadjustment; and we can scarcely doubtthat there is one in the other. But if we habitually preadjust ourperceptions to the measured movement of verse, the physical analogyabove given renders it probable that by so doing we economize attention;and hence that metrical language is more effective than prose, becauseit enables us to do this. 

§ 57. Were there space, it might be worthwhile to inquire whether thepleasure we take in rhyme, and also that which we take in euphony, axenot partly ascribable to the same general cause. 

PART II. CAUSES OF FORCE IN LANGUAGE WHICH DEPEND UPON ECONOMY OF THEMENTAL SENSIBILITIES. 

i. The Law of Mental Exhaustion and Repair. 

§ 58. A few paragraphs only, can be devoted to a second division ofour subject that here presents itself. To pursue in detail the laws ofeffect, as applying to the larger features of composition, would carryus beyond our limits. But we may briefly indicate a further aspect ofthe general principle hitherto traced out, and hint a few of its widerapplications. 

§ 59. Thus far, then, we have considered only those causes of force inlanguage which depend upon economy of the mental _energies:_ we havenow to glance at those which depend upon economy of the mental_sensibilities. _ Questionable though this division may be as apsychological one, it will yet serve roughly to indicate the remainingfield of investigation. It will suggest that besides considering theextent to which any faculty or group of faculties is tasked in receivinga form of words and realizing its contained idea, we have to considerthe state in which this faculty or group of faculties is left; and howthe reception of subsequent sentences and images will be influenced bythat state. Without going at length into so wide a topic as the exerciseof faculties and its reactive effects, it will be sufficient here tocall to mind that every faculty (when in a state of normal activity) ismost capable at the outset; and that the change in its condition, which ends in what we term exhaustion, begins simultaneously with itsexercise. This generalization, with which we are all familiar in ourbodily experiences, and which our daily language recognizes as trueof the mind as a whole, is equally true of each mental power, from thesimplest of the senses to the most complex of the sentiments. If we holda flower to the nose for long, we become insensible to its scent. We sayof a very brilliant flash of lightning that it blinds us; which meansthat our eyes have for a time lost their ability to appreciate light. After eating a quantity of honey, we are apt to think our tea is withoutsugar. The phrase "a deafening roar, " implies that men find a very loudsound temporarily incapacitates them for hearing faint ones. To a handwhich has for some time carried a heavy body, small bodies afterwardslifted seem to have lost their weight. Now, the truth at once recognizedin these, its extreme manifestations, may be traced throughout. It maybe shown that alike in the reflective faculties, in the imagination, in the perceptions of the beautiful, the ludicrous, the sublime, inthe sentiments, the instincts, in all the mental powers, however we mayclassify them-action exhausts; and that in proportion as the action isviolent, the subsequent prostration is great. 

§ 60. Equally, throughout the whole nature, may be traced the law thatexercised faculties are ever tending to resume their original state. Notonly after continued rest, do they regain their full power not only dobrief cessations partially reinvigorate them; but even while they arein action, the resulting exhaustion is ever being neutralized. Thetwo processes of waste and repair go on together. Hence with facultieshabitually exercised--as the senses of all persons, or the muscles ofany one who is strong--it happens that, during moderate activity, therepair is so nearly equal to the waste, that the diminution of poweris scarcely appreciable; and it is only when the activity has been longcontinued, or has been very violent, that the repair becomes so farin arrear of the waste as to produce a perceptible prostration. Inall cases, however, when, by the action of a faculty, waste has beenincurred, _some_ lapse of time must take place before full efficiencycan be reacquired; and this time must be long in proportion as the wastehas been great. 

ii Explanation of Climax, Antithesis, and Anticlimax. 

§ 61. Keeping in mind these general truths, we shall be in a conditionto understand certain causes of effect in composition now to beconsidered. Every perception received, and every conception realized, entailing some amount of waste--or, as Liebig would say, some change ofmatter in the brain; and the efficiency of the faculties subject tothis waste being thereby temporarily, though often but momentarily, diminished; the resulting partial inability must affect the acts ofperception and conception that immediately succeed. And hence we mayexpect that the vividness with which images are realized will, in manycases, depend on the order of their presentation: even when one order isas convenient to the understanding as the other. 

§ 62. There are sundry facts which alike illustrate this, and areexplained by it. Climax is one of them. The marked effect obtainedby placing last the most striking of any series of images, and theweakness--often the ludicrous weakness--produced by reversing thisarrangement, depends on the general law indicated. As immediately afterlooking at the sun we cannot perceive the light of a fire, while bylooking at the fire first and the sun afterwards we can perceive both;so, after receiving a brilliant, or weighty, or terrible thought, wecannot appreciate a less brilliant, less weighty, or less terrible one, while, by reversing the order, we can appreciate each. In Antithesis, again, we may recognize the same general truth. The opposition of twothoughts that are the reverse of each other in some prominent trait, insures an impressive effect; and does this by giving a momentaryrelaxation to the faculties addressed. If, after a series of images ofan ordinary character, appealing in a moderate degree to the sentimentof reverence, or approbation, or beauty, the mind has presented to it avery insignificant, a very unworthy, or a very ugly image; the facultyof reverence, or approbation, or beauty, as the case may be, havingfor the time nothing to do, tends to resume its full power; and willimmediately afterwards appreciate a vast, admirable, or beautifulimage better than it would otherwise do. Conversely, where the ideaof absurdity due to extreme insignificance is to be produced, it maybegreatly intensified by placing it after something highly impressive:especially if the form of phrase implies that something still moreimpressive is coming. A good illustration of the effect gained by thuspresenting a petty idea to a consciousness that has not yet recoveredfrom the shock of an exciting one, occurs in a sketch by Balzac. Hishero writes to a mistress who has cooled towards him the followingletter:

"Madame, Votre conduite m'étonne autant qu'elle m'afflige Non contentede me déchirer le coeur par vos dédains vous avez l'indélicatesse deme retenir une brosse à dents, que mes moyens ne me permettent pas deremplacer, mes propriétés etant grevées d'hypothèques

"Adieu, trop, belle et trop ingrate ainie! Puissions nous nous revoirdans un monde meilleur!

"Charles Edouard"

§ 63. Thus we see that the phenomena of Climax, Antithesis, andAnticlimax, alike result from this general principle. Improbable asthese momentary variations in susceptibility may seem, we cannot doubttheir occurrence when we contemplate the analogous variations in thesusceptibility of the senses. Referring once more to phenomena ofvision, every one knows that a patch of black on a white ground looksblacker, and a patch of white on a black ground looks whiter, thanelsewhere. As the blackness and the whiteness must really be the same, the only assignable cause for this is a difference in their actions uponus, dependent upon the different states of our faculties. It is simply avisual antithesis. 

iii. Need of Variety. 

§ 64. But this extension of the general principle of economy--thisfurther condition to effective composition, that the sensitiveness ofthe faculties must be continuously husbanded--includes much more thanhas been yet hinted. It implies not only that certain arrangements andcertain juxtapositions of connected ideas are best; but that some modesof dividing and presenting a subject will be more striking than others;and that, too, irrespective of its logical cohesion. It shows why wemust progress from the less interesting to the more interesting; andwhy not only the composition as a whole, but each of its successiveportions, should tend towards a climax. At the same time, it forbidslong continuity of the same kind of thought, or repeated production oflike effects. It warns us against the error committed both by Pope inhis poems and by Bacon in his essays--the error, namely, of constantlyemploying forcible forms of expression: and it points out that asthe easiest posture by and by becomes fatiguing, and is with pleasureexchanged for one less easy, so, the most perfectly-constructedsentences will soon weary, and relief will be given by using those of aninferior kind. 

§ 65. Further, we may infer from it not only that we should avoidgenerally combining our words in one manner, however good, or workingout our figures and illustrations in one way, however telling; butthat we should avoid anything like uniform adherence, even to the widerconditions of effect. We should not make every section of our subjectprogress in interest; we should not always rise to a climax. As we sawthat, in single sentences, it is but rarely allowable to fulfill all theconditions to strength; so, in the larger sections of a compositionwe must not often conform entirely to the law indicated. We mustsubordinate the component effect to the total effect. 

§ 66. In deciding how practically to carry out the principles ofartistic composition, we may derive help by bearing in mind a factalready pointed out--the fitness of certain verbal arrangementsfor certain kinds of thought. That constant variety in the mode ofpresenting ideas which the theory demands, will in a great degree resultfrom a skilful adaptation of the form to the matter. We saw how thedirect or inverted sentence is spontaneously used by excited people;and how their language is also characterized by figures of speech and byextreme brevity. Hence these may with advantage predominate in emotionalpassages; and may increase as the emotion rises. On the other hand, for complex ideas, the indirect sentence seems the best vehicle. Inconversation, the excitement produced by the near approach to adesired conclusion, will often show itself in a series of short, sharpsentences; while, in impressing a view already enunciated, we generallymake our periods voluminous by piling thought upon thought. Thesenatural modes of procedure may serve as guides in writing. Keenobservation and skilful analysis would, in like manner, detect furtherpeculiarities of expression produced by other attitudes of mind; andby paying due attention to all such traits, a writer possessedof sufficient versatility might make some approach to acompletely-organized work. 

iv. The Ideal Writer. 

§ 67. This species of composition which the law of effect points outas the perfect one, is the one which high genius tends naturally toproduce. As we found that the kinds of sentences which are theoreticallybest, are those generally employed by superior minds, and by inferiorminds when excitement has raised them; so, we shall find that the idealform for a poem, essay, or fiction, is that which the ideal writerwould evolve spontaneously. One in whom the powers of expression fullyresponded to the state of feeling, would unconsciously use that varietyin the mode of presenting his thoughts, which Art demands. This constantemployment of one species of phraseology, which all have now to striveagainst, implies an undeveloped faculty of language. To have a specificstyle is to be poor in speech. If we remember that, in the far past, menhad only nouns and verbs to convey their ideas with, and that from thento now the growth has been towards a greater number of implements ofthought, and consequently towards a greater complexity and varietyin their combinations; we may infer that we are now, in our use ofsentences, much what the primitive man was in his use of words; and thata continuance of the process that has hitherto gone on, must produceincreasing heterogeneity in our modes of expression. As now, in afine nature, the play of the features, the tones of the voice andits cadences, vary in harmony with every thought uttered; so, in onepossessed of a fully developed power of speech, the mould in whicheach combination of words is cast will similarly vary with, and beappropriate to the sentiment. 

§ 68. That a perfectly endowed man must unconsciously write in allstyles, we may infer from considering how styles originate. Why isJohnson pompous, Goldsmith simple? Why is one author abrupt, anotherrhythmical, another concise? Evidently in each case the habitual modeof utterance must depend upon the habitual balance of the nature. Thepredominant feelings have by use trained the intellect to representthem. But while long, though unconscious, discipline has made it do thisefficiently, it remains from lack of practice, incapable of doing thesame for the less active feelings; and when these are excited, the usualverbal forms undergo but slight modifications. Let the powers of speechbe fully developed, however--let the ability of the intellect to utterthe emotions be complete; and this fixity of style will disappear. Theperfect writer will express himself as Junius, when in the Junius frameof mind; when he feels as Lamb felt, will use a like familiar speech;and will fall into the ruggedness of Carlyle when in a Carlylean mood. Now he will be rhythmical and now irregular; here his language will beplain and there ornate; sometimes his sentences will be balanced andat other times unsymmetrical; for a while there will be considerablesameness, and then again great variety. His mode of expression naturallyresponding to his state of feeling, there will flow from his pen acomposition changing to the same degree that the aspects of his subjectchange. He will thus without effort conform to what we have seen tobe the laws of effect. And while his work presents to the reader thatvariety needful to prevent continuous exertion of the same faculties, it will also answer to the description of all highly organized products, both of man and of nature: it will be not a series of like parts simplyplaced in juxtaposition, but one whole made up of unlike parts that aremutually dependent.