The Complete Works of William Walker Atkinson (Unabridged Edition)

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The Art of Logical Thinking
The Crucible of Modern Thought
Dynamic Thought
How to Read Human Nature
The Inner Consciousness
The Law of the New Thought
The Mastery of Being
Memory Culture
Memory: How to Develop, Train and Use It
The Art of Expression and The Principles of Discourse
Mental Fascination
Mind and Body; or Mental States and Physical Conditions
Mind Power: The Secret of Mental Magic
The New Psychology Its Message, Principles and Practice
New Thought
Nuggets of the New Thought
Practical Mental Influence
Practical Mind-Reading
Practical Psychomancy and Crystal Gazing
The Psychology of Salesmanship
Reincarnation and the Law of Karma
The Secret of Mental Magic
The Secret of Success
Self-Healing by Thought Force
The Subconscious and the Superconscious Planes of Mind
Suggestion and Auto-Suggestion
Telepathy: Its Theory, Facts, and Proof
Thought-Culture - Practical Mental Training
Thought-Force in Business and Everyday Life
Thought Vibration or the Law of Attraction in the Thought World
Your Mind and How to Use It
The Hindu-Yogi Science Of Breath
Lessons in Yogi Philosophy and Oriental Occultism
Advanced Course in Yogi Philosophy and Oriental Occultism
Hatha Yoga
The Science of Psychic Healing
Raja Yoga or Mental Development
Gnani Yoga
The Inner Teachings of the Philosophies and Religions of India
Mystic Christianity
The Life Beyond Death
The Practical Water Cure
The Spirit of the Upanishads or the Aphorisms of the Wise
Bhagavad Gita
The Art and Science of Personal Magnetism
Master Mind
Mental Therapeutics
The Power of Concentration
Genuine Mediumship
Clairvoyance and Occult Powers
The Human Aura
The Secret Doctrines of the Rosicrucians
Personal Power
The Arcane Teachings
The Arcane Formulas, or Mental Alchemy
Vril, or Vital Magnetism
The Solar Plexus Or Abdominal Brain
The inner secret

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William Walker Atkinson
The Complete Works of William Walker Atkinson (Unabridged)
e-artnow, 2016
Contact info@e-artnow.org
ISBN 978-80-268-4787-8
Editorial note:
This eBook follows the original text.
Table of Contents
The Art of Expression and The Principles of Discourse
The Art of Logical Thinking; Or, The Laws of Reasoning
The Crucible of Modern Thought
Dynamic Thought; Or, The Law of Vibrant Energy
How to Read Human Nature: Its Inner States and Outer Forms
The Inner Consciousness: A Course of Lessons on the Inner Planes of the Mind, Intuition, Instinct, Automatic Mentation, and Other Wonderful Phases of Mental Phenomena
The Law of the New Thought: A Study of Fundamental Principles & Their Application
The Mastery of Being: A Study of the Ultimate Principle of Reality & the Practical Application Thereof
Memory Culture: The Science of Observing, Remembering and Recalling
Memory: How to Develop, Train, and Use It
Mental Fascination
Mind and Body; or Mental States and Physical Conditions
Mind Power: The Secret of Mental Magic
The New Psychology Its Message, Principles and Practice
New Thought: Its History and Principles or The Message of the New Thought, A Condensed History of Its Real Origin with Statement of Its Basic Principles and True Aims
Nuggets of the New Thought
Practical Mental Influence
Practical Mind-Reading
Practical Psychomancy and Crystal Gazing
The Psychology of Salesmanship
Reincarnation and the Law of Karma
The Secret of Mental Magic: A Course of Seven Lessons
The Secret of Success
Self-Healing by Thought Force
The Subconscious and the Superconscious Planes of Mind
Suggestion and Auto-Suggestion
Telepathy: Its Theory, Facts, and Proof
Thought-Culture; Or, Practical Mental Training
Thought-Force in Business and Everyday Life
Thought Vibration or the Law of Attraction in the Thought World
Your Mind and How to Use It: A Manual of Practical Psychology
The Hindu-Yogi Science Of Breath (A Complete Manual of the Oriental Breathing Philosophy of Physical, Mental, Psychic and Spiritual Development)
Fourteen Lessons in Yogi Philosophy and Oriental Occultism
Advanced Course in Yogi Philosophy and Oriental Occultism
Hatha Yoga or the Yogi Philosophy of Physical Well-Being
The Science of Psychic Healing
Raja Yoga or Mental Development (A Series of Lessons in Raja Yoga)
Gnani Yoga (A Series of Lessons in Gnani Yoga)
The Inner Teachings of the Philosophies and Religions of India
Mystic Christianity; Or, The Inner Teachings of the Master
The Life Beyond Death
The Practical Water Cure (As Practiced in India and Other Oriental Countries)
The Spirit of the Upanishads or the Aphorisms of the Wise
Bhagavad Gita or The Message of the Master
The Art and Science of Personal Magnetism
Master Mind or The Key To Mental Power Development And Efficiency
Mental Therapeutics, or Just How to Heal Oneself and Others
The Power of Concentration
Genuine Mediumship or The Invisible Powers
Clairvoyance and Occult Powers (As Swami Panchadasi)
The Human Aura: Astral Colors and Thought Forms
The Secret Doctrines of the Rosicrucians
Personal Power (XII Volumes)
The Arcane Teachings
The Arcane Formulas, or Mental Alchemy
Vril, or Vital Magnetism
The Solar Plexus Or Abdominal Brain
The inner secret; or, That something within
The Art of Expression and The Principles of Discourse
Table of Content
Chapter I. Expression
Chapter II. Language: Its Beginnings
Chapter III. The Evolution of Language
Chapter IV. Words
Chapter V. Building a Vocabulary
Chapter VI. The Choice of Words
Chapter VII. The Choice of Words (continued)
Chapter VIII. Figurative Speech
Chapter IX. Discoursive Expression
Chapter X. Argumentative Discourse
Chapter XI. Argumentation
Chapter XII. Evidence and Proof
Chapter XIII. False Argument
Chapter XIV. Emotional Appeal
Chapter XV. The Closing Tale
Chapter I.
Expression
Table of Content
IN THE volume of this series entitled “The Art of Logical Thinking,” we have endeavored to point out to you the rules of logical mentation, and the methods best calculated to develop the faculty of logical thought. In another volume of the same series entitled “Thought­Culture,” we have endeavored to instruct you in the principles and methods of developing the several faculties of the mind, so that you may use these faculties as efficient instruments of thought. The purpose of the present volume is that of pointing out to you the approved methods and principles of expression
—the art of expressing the thoughts, ideas, desires and feelings within you.
The term “expression” is derived from the Latin word expressus
, meaning “to squeeze out.” And even in the present usage the idea of “squeezing out,” or pressing out as the wine is pressed out from the grape, is present. “Expression” as used in this connection is defined as: “The act of expressing, uttering, declaring, declaration, utterance, representation; representation by words; style of language; the words or language in which a thought is expressed; phraseology, phrase, mode of speech; elocution, diction, or the particular manner or style of utterance appropriate to the subject and sentiment.”
The Art of Expression is concerned chiefly with oral expression or speaking, but its rules and principles are equally applicable to expression by writing, or composition. As an authority says of one aspect of rhetoric: “It was originally the art of speaking effectively in public, but afterward the meaning was so extended as to comprehend the theory of eloquence, whether spoken or written.*** Campbell considers the art the same as eloquence, and defines it as ‘That art or talent by which the discourse is adapted to the end,’ and states that the ends of speaking, or writing are reducible to four: to enlighten the understanding, to please the imagination, to move the passions, or to influence the will. Broadly speaking, its aim is to expound the rules governing speech or written composition, designed to influence the judgment or feelings. It includes, therefore, within its province, accuracy of expression, the structure of periods, and figures of speech.”
For our purpose we may consider the Art of Expression as the art of efficient and effective communication between individuals by language. It is not a science
, observing, uncovering, discovering, disclosing and classifying, but an art
applying the results of prior scientific investigation and classification. As Hill well says: “Logic simply teaches the right use of the reason, and may be practiced by the solitary inhabitant of a desert island; but rhetoric (one aspect of the Art of Expression), being the art of communication
by language, implies the presence, in fact or in imagination, of at least two persons—the speaker or the writer, and the person spoken to or written to. Aristotle makes the very essence of rhetoric to lie in the distinct recognition of a hearer. Hence its rules are not absolute, like those of logic, but relative to the character and circumstances of those addressed; for though truth is one, and correct reasoning must always be correct, the ways of communicating truth are many. Being the art of communication by language
, rhetoric applies to any subject matter that can be treated in words, but has no subject matter peculiar to itself. It does not undertake to furnish a person with something to say; but it does undertake to tell him how best to say that with which he has provided himself.”
Before one can successfully apply the Art of Expression, he must first have something to express
. In order to express thoughts and ideas, one must first have evolved these thoughts and ideas. As Coleridge well says: “Style is the art of conveying the meaning appropriately and with perspicuity, whatever that meaning may be. But some meaning there must be, for in order to form a good style, the primary rule and condition is—not to attempt to express ourselves in language before we thoroughly know our own meaning
.”
It is not our purpose to attempt to make orators or elocutionists of the readers of this book. The phase of expression which is manifested in public speaking is better taught by the many text books on oratory or elocution, although we shall have something to say regarding the arrangement and general expression of one’s ideas that may be useful to the public speaker. Our purpose, however, is rather to impress upon the ordinary individual the methods and principles of correct, clear and forcible expression of his ideas in the ordinary walks of life. Whoever has communication with his fellowmen should learn to express his ideas and thoughts to them in a clear, correct and forcible manner. Not only the man selling goods to others, but also every one who has social or business dealings of any kind with others, should acquire the art whereby he may impress his ideas upon the others forcibly and clearly.
Correct expression
results in clear impression
; forcible expression
results in distinct and deep impression
. There is a corresponding impression
resulting from every expression
. Campbell’s classification of the four ends of speaking or writing, viz
. (1) To enlighten the understanding; (2) to please the imagination; (3) to move the passions; (4) to influence the will; describes the four classes of expression
. The results arising from these expressions are always found to be impressions
— the understanding, imagination, passions or will, respectively are impressed
by the respective forms of expression
appropriate to each.
Every person expresses himself in some way; often in a very poor way. To some the process of expression is easy and pleasant while for others the words will not flow, and the sentences fail to include the spirit and meaning of the thought or idea behind it. This does not always arise from the fact that the person has no clear ideas or thoughts; for, on the contrary, many very clear thinkers find themselves unable to transmute their ideas into words, and fail to express themselves with the clearness, force and effect to which their mental creations entitle them. There are but few people who do not feel hampered in the expression of their ideas and thoughts by the lack of understanding of the fundamental principles of the Art of Expression. These fundamental principles are simple, and the methods of applying them may be easily acquired.
But it is not our desire or purpose to consider Expression as an art separate and apart from the practical necessities of everyday life and business—as an art concerning itself with grace and beauty rather than with utility. This is a utilitarian age—the test of truth and merit is “what is it good for;” “how will it work;” “what can we do with it;” “what is its practical use?” And so, in our consideration of the Art of Expression we shall endeavor to remember, first, last and always the demand of the age—the what­can­we­do­with­it requisite. It is not enough that one should be able to clothe his thoughts in beautiful verbal garb. It is demanded that the clothing of words shall be adapted to well withstand the rough requirements of everyday wear, and of practical usage. Remembering always that expression precedes impression, and that impression is essential to the practical process of communication with others, we shall endeavor to show the forms and methods of expression best adapted to producing the strongest, clearest and most lasting impressions upon the minds of others.
The salesman who indulges in beautiful speech, but who fails to impress the prospective purchaser with the merits and desirability of his wares is not a successful salesman. The business correspondent, who is able to compose a letter which is a gem of literary style, but which, nevertheless, fails to convince the person addressed of the merit of the proposition discussed, is not a successful correspondent. The salesman is expected to “land the order;” the correspondent is expected to win over the persons to whom his letters are addressed; the advertising man is expected to attract the attention and awaken desire in the minds of those who see and read his advertisements; in fact, each and every person who has anything of importance to communicate hopes to convey his meaning to those with whom he communicates by word of speech or written lines. And so, while “style,” in the sense of beauty and literary merit, has its place, still it is not the important requisite in the practical communication of the world of men and women of affairs of to-day.
In order to apply the Art of Expression to meet the requirements of practical modern life, not only must the form and construction of sentences be considered, but much attention must be paid to the psychology of words and phrases. Psychology has invaded the realm of rhetoric, and is rapidly asserting its right to an important place in the practical management of affairs. Rhetoric asks: “Is this beautiful; is it technically faultless?” Psychology asks: “Will this awaken the requisite understanding and thought in the minds of those for whom it is intended; will it attract the attention, hold the interest, arouse the desire, convince the understanding, and arouse the will of those to whom it is addressed?” Therefore, the Art of Expression is closely connected with The New Psychology, and appropriately is included in the series of books upon the general subject of the latter. This is the keynote of our conception of the subject which we shall consider in this book. We strive not to teach expression for the sake of expression, but rather expression
as a method of impression
. We consider the subject from the viewpoint of psychology, rather than from that of rhetoric. And we make this statement as an explanation— not as an apology.
Chapter II.
Language: Its Beginnings
Table of Content
THE SOCIAL instincts of animals and men have given rise to the necessity for methods and means of communication between individuals. The lower animals undoubtedly employ rudimentary forms of language by which they manage to communicate their feelings to others of their kind. They have their cries of alarm and danger; the food sounds; the love notes; the scream of jealousy. Those who have made a study of bird-life inform us that each species has a number of combinations of notes, each of which expresses some definite emotion or feeling. In some cases these sounds have been recorded so plainly that their reproduction on an appropriate musical instrument tends to inspire in birds hearing them the feelings which originally were expressed by them. Several naturalists have so cleverly recorded the various sounds of the monkey language that men have been able to reproduce them to the bewilderment of the monkey tribe. Those who have raised poultry are fully aware of the nature and meaning of the various sounds and notes of the common barnyard fowls. Lovers of dogs are able to distinguish the various whines, cries and barks of the dog, and to understand the wants or feelings of the animal when he sounds them.
Primitive tribes of men give utterance to crude sounds which serve them as a language. As the race advances in the scale of intelligence, its language evolves and develops accordingly; becomes more complex and complete as the thought of the race demands words by means of which it may be expressed. As the child grows in intelligence its vocabulary increases, and its use of words becomes more exact and comprehensive. The vocabulary of the ignorant man is confined to a comparatively few words, while that of the educated man necessarily is more extensive by reason of the requirements of his thought and his desire for clearer expression.
Perhaps the most elemental form of expression on the part of living creatures is that of gestures
. Movements of the body, or of parts or members of the body, as unconscious expression of the emotions and feelings, are quite common. And even among men, one skilled in interpreting the bodily movements and facial changes may readily read the feelings or thoughts of the individual manifesting them. As the suggestionists say: “Thought takes form in action,” and every mental process is reproduced to some extent in outward physical motion. Among the animals these physical movements are of course most marked. The tossing of the mane, the lashing of the tail, the showing of the teeth, the unsheathing of the claws, the love-strut of the bird, the billing of the dove, the bushy tail and distended fur, are evidences of the existence of certain feelings on the part of the animal manifesting the physical signs which may be interpreted by those familiar with the animals, and by other animals.
We do not intend to intimate that these physical manifestations were, or are, intended as means of communication, for they are usually wholly unconscious and instinctive. But as other individuals of the species, and of other species, find a correspondence within themselves when they perceive these manifestations, it is readily seen that these gestures and movements, being capable of interpretation, serve as a form of language. Not only does man, or the animal, recognize these gestures by reason of having perceived them previously, and usually accompanied or followed by the appropriate and corresponding action, but they awaken in him an instinctive and involuntary imitative action or reaction which tends to produce in him an intimation of the mental feeling behind the physical movement or gesture. For not only does “thought take form in action,” but “action induces feeling” in return, and an instinctive imitation of the outward physical movement arising from a feeling or thought tends to reproduce in the mind feelings or emotions corresponding to those which originally gave rise to the movement or gesture.
Bain says: “Most of our emotions are so closely connected with their expression that they hardly exist if the body remains passive.” Maudsley says: “The specific muscular action is not merely an exponent of passion, but truly an essential part of it. If we try, while the features are fixed in the expression of one passion, to call up in the mind a different one, we shall find it impossible to do so.” Halleck says: “By restraining the expression of an emotion we can frequently throttle it; by inducing the expression of an emotion we can often cause its allied emotion.” James says: “Refuse to express an emotion and it dies. Count ten before venting your anger, and its occasion seems ridiculous. Whistling to keep up courage is no mere figure of speech. On the other hand, sit all day in a moping posture, sigh and reply to everything in a dismal voice, and your melancholy lingers.”
Dr. Woods Hutchinson says: “To what extent muscular contractions condition emotions, as Prof. James has suggested, may be easily tested by a quaint and simple little experiment upon a group of the smallest voluntary muscles in the body, those that move the eye-ball. Choose some time when you are sitting quietly in your room, free from all disturbing thoughts and influences. Then stand up, and assuming an easy position, cast the eyes upward and hold them in that position for thirty seconds. Instantly and involuntarily you will be conscious of a tendency toward reverential, devotional, contemplative ideas and thoughts. Then turn the eyes sideways, glancing directly to the right or left, through half-closed lids. Within thirty seconds images of suspicion, of uneasiness, or of dislike, will rise unbidden in the mind. Turn the eyes on one side and slightly downward, and suggestions of jealousy or coquetry will be apt to spring unbidden. Direct your gaze downward toward the floor, and you are likely to go off into a fit of reverie or abstraction.”
In view of the above facts of psychology, and considering that there is always present a tendency to instinctively imitate, at least faintly, the outward movement and gestures of others, we may see how there may be created or induced in the mind of the observer a sympathetic reproduction of the feelings or emotions experienced by the person giving the outward expression. We know how we are able to interpret in feeling
the outward expression of an actor, or of a person in real life who is experiencing great joy or deep pain. There is a sympathetic state induced in us, by means of which we are able to interpret the feelings or emotions of others whose outward physical expression we may witness. In this way animals and savages are able to instinctively become aware of the feelings and thoughts of those with whom they come in contact. Their perceptive faculties being well trained and developed by use, and their emotional nature being usually unhampered, they have a “direct wire” of instinctive understanding open to them. We may thus understand the important part played by gesture in the early days of language.
It is astonishing how much may be conveyed by gesture, when the parties to a conversation fail to understand each other’s language. There is a universal “sign language” which is understood by all races of men. The rubbing of the stomach and the pointing to the open mouth are the universal signs of hunger and demand for food. Resting the head on the hand and closing the eyes indicate the desire to sleep. Shivering indicates cold. The clenched fist shaken at another indicates defiance and the desire to fight. The uplifted open hands indicate nonresistance. The soft glance of the eye, and the encircling motion of the extended arms indicate love. And so on—these universal signs are understood by all peoples and races. A good pantomimist will be able to go through an entire play, without uttering a word, and yet clearly indicating each thought and feeling so that it becomes intelligible to the audience.
Quackenbos says of the use of pantomime among the ancient Greeks and Romans, with whom it was developed to a high degree, as indicating the power and force residing in this form of emotional expression and impression: “This fact was known and appreciated by the ancient Greeks and Romans, whose action was much more vehement than we are accustomed to see at the present day. On the stage, this was carried so far that two actors were at times brought on to play the same part; the office of one being to pronounce the words, and that of the other to accompany them with appropriate gestures, a single performer being unable to attend to both. Cicero informs us that it was a matter of dispute between the actor Roscius and himself whether the former could express a sentiment in a greater variety of ways by significant gestures, or the latter by the use of different phrases. He also tells us that this same Roscius had gained great love from every one by the mere movements of his person. During the reign of Augustus both tragedies and comedies were acted by pantomime alone. It was perfectly understood by the people, who wept and laughed, and were excited in every way as much as if words had been employed. It seems, indeed, to have worked upon their sympathies more powerfully than words; for it became necessary, at a subsequent period, to enact a law restraining members of the senate from studying the art of pantomime, a practice to which it seems they had resorted in order to give more effect to their speeches before that body.”
The same authority continues: “When, however, the Roman Empire yielded to the arms of the Northern barbarians, and as a consequence, great numbers of the latter spread over it in every direction, their cold and phlegmatic manners wrought a material change as regards the gestures, no less than the tones and accents, of the people. The mode of expression gradually grew more subdued, and the accompanying action less violent, in proportion as the new influences prevailed. Conversation became more languid; and public speaking was no longer indebted for its effect to the art of the pantomimist. So great was the change in these respects that the allusions of classical authors to the oratory of their day were hardly intelligible. Notwithstanding these modifications, however, the people of Southern Europe, being warmer and more passionate by nature, are, at the present day, much more animated in their tones and more addicted to gesticulation than the inhabitants of the North. This is particularly true of the French and Italians.”
Chapter III.
The Evolution of Language
Table of Content
FROM GESTURES and motions man evolved articulate speech, in its lower and higher degrees, and the basis of language was formed. But there must have been a period in which inarticulate sounds or cries formed the connecting link between gestures and speech. In fact, in all primitive languages we find these inarticulate cries and sounds reproduced in crude word-sounds. The sigh, the groan, the laugh, and the scream have their correspondences in the words of the lower races.
There have been many theories and hypotheses advanced to account for the origin of language, all of which are more or less plausible, but none of which seem to fully answer all the requirements. Until the nineteenth century it was the custom of writers to consider language as a direct revelation and gift from the divine being, but the trend of thought along the line of evolution has caused later writers to regard language as subject to the general evolutionary law, and to have gradually developed from the gestures and rude inarticulate cries of the higher animals and lower races of men.
Philologists seek to trace all languages from a few elemental root-words or sounds, but it must be remembered that even these sounds constituted an elementary language, and the beginning must be traced still further back. Monboddo, in his “Origin and Progress of Language,” holds that man being but a higher species of ape began with an apelike language consisting of a few monosyllables, by which they expressed their feelings, desires and emotions. He holds that the sounds: ha
, he
, hi
, ho
andhu
, variously grouped and accented formed the elementary language of the race. Murray, on the contrary, holds that all human language originated in nine monosyllables, namely: ag
, bag
, dwag
, gwag
, lag
, mag
, nag
, rag
, swag
, each of which he says indicated a species of action. Of these monosyllables he says: “Power, motion, force, ideas united in every untutored mind, are implied in them all. They were uttered at first, and probably for several generations, in an insulated manner. The circumstances of the action were communicated by gestures and the variable tones of the voice; but the actions themselves were expressed in their suitable monosyllables.”
Another authority says: “It is now generally conceived that the origin of language was contemporary with the origin or accentuation of gregarious instinct. There is supposed to have been a stage when the human species, living singly or in isolated families, began under the influence of natural exigencies to draw together in tribal companies. Among all gregarious animals we find more or less developed forms of signalling, as among herbivora. Possibly among some there is even complex communication, as the ‘antennal language’ of ants. The human species, subjected to the stress of social organization, similarly developed its first crude community of signs, which, in part because of man’s superior powers of articulation, but mainly because of his intellectual supremacy, gave rise to organized speech.”
While there is a general agreement among the authorities as to the necessities which gave rise to the birth and evolution of language, there is a wide range of opinion among them regarding the nature of the mental impulse which gave rise to the manifestation. One school holds to the idea that language arose from the “desire to communicate” felt by early man—the wish to communicate his thoughts and feelings to his fellows— which caused a spontaneous manifestation of elementary speech. Another school holds that the “desire to communicate” was a secondary and later development, and that speech originated in the natural expression of emotions, joys, feelings, pain, etc., uttered as a natural means of relief through expression which is still familiar to the race, but which was manifested without any desire or thought of communication. An authority says of this view: “It gained the character of language by reason of community of emotion. Thus, a certain cry became a word, either as instinctively interpreted by like-feeling and like-expressing fellows, or as the characteristic expression of a congregation of savages, brought together under social excitement; as, for example, a cry of dance or battle.”
The later authorities hold that the last-mentioned view is the more scientific, and the trend of the latest thought on the subject seems to be in this direction. According to this view the interjection
, as ah! oh! hist! ouch!
etc., was the most primitive form of words used by man, and which arose naturally from emotional expression. As Quackenbos says: “The first words were, no doubt, interjections; for it would be natural for men, however savage or ignorant of the use of words, to employ exclamations for the purpose of expressing their sudden emotions. It is thought probable that these primitive interjections were given various and diversified shades of meaning by (1) syllabic variation; (2) by syllabic repetition; and (3) by a change or variation in pitch. Some have held that this third form of variation gave rise to a “sing-song” or chanting—a form of rhythmic speech, from which the later forms of language were evolved. It is pointed out that even to-day the barbaric races indulge in war-chants, corn-chants, marriage-chants, etc., which consist merely of a rhythmic repetition of a few elemental interjections indicating feelings or emotions.”
The authorities hold that many of the elementary words which succeeded this “sing-song” language were derived from the sounds arising from the natural objects expressed by the words, the impulse arising from imitation. In this way the natural cry, growl or other vocal sound of the animal would become its name. Instances of this may be observed among small children who apply to things the sounds emanating from them, as “choo-choo
” for a locomotive; “bow-wow
” for dog; “ moo
” for cow; “bah
” for sheep, etc. It is a long stride, however, from these simple imitative words to general concepts. As an authority well says: “The stupendous step was the creation of conventionalized or symbolic expressions. An onomatopoetic utterance, as the bird’s call meaning the bird uttering it, is directly incorporated in immediate experience; it is instinctive, as we observe with children. But when such utterances become universalized, meaning all
birds or birds in general
, whether gifted with like call or not, then we have the abstraction which lies at the base of all reasoning and makes intellectual evolution possible. Only the possession of a brain much superior to that of any other animal can have enabled man to develop a language adapted to reason from the primitive and instinctive signal language.”
It is held that after the interjection, the noun
was employed— for names were given to things, as above indicated. Then must have arisen the adjective
, in order to distinguish between different things of the same kind by reason of their qualities; for instance, “large
tree;” “little
bush;” “black
rock;” etc. From a similar need must have arisen the adjective pronouns this
and that
, and later the article the
. Verbs
must have sprung into use early in the history of language, as it is almost impossible to express a thought without the use of words indicating action. Following naturally upon the heels of the verbs must have come the adverbs
.
Personal pronouns are held to have been among the later developments of language, as the need of them did not become evident until the intellectual processes of the race became more complex. Even to-day the savage races do not use the personal pronoun, but instead indicate the thing by its own name. Young children invariably repeat the noun instead of substituting the pronoun. The child says, “Give Jack Jack’s top,” instead of “Give me my top.” “He, she and it” are foreign to its vocabulary. Quackenbos says of this: “So great, indeed, seems to be the disinclination of youthful minds to multiply terms that it is often found quite difficult to teach them the use of the pronoun. Such was the case, in all probability, with man in the infancy of his being; and it is not likely that he added this new species of words to his primitive and necessary stock until sufficient advance had been made in the formative process to show to their great advantage as regards brevity of expression and pleasantness of sound.”
The last-mentioned authority also says: “Among the earlier races of men, it seems probable that there was much less said than at the present day. Their sentences were at once fewer, shorter, and simpler, than ours. As successive advances, however, were made, and it was found that mutual intercourse was a source of pleasure, men did not confine themselves simply to what it was necessary to communicate, but imparted freely to each other even such thoughts as had no practical bearing. The original brief mode of expression was gradually laid aside; longer sentences were used; and a new class of words was required to connect clauses so closely related in construction and sense as not to admit of separation into distinct periods. This was the origin of conjunctions
; and the same cause, when man’s taste was still further improved and he began to think of beautifying language while he extended his power of expression, led to the invention of the relative pronoun
.*** Man had now the means of expressing fully and intelligibly all that came into his mind; and his future efforts were to be directed, not to the creation of new elements, but to improving and modifying those already devised, to harmonizing the whole and uniting them in a consistent system. Up to this point necessity had operated; the improvements subsequently made must be attributed to the desire of pleasing.”
Scaliger says: “Three things have contributed to enable man to perfect language,—necessity, practice, and the desire to please. Necessity produced a collection of words very imperfectly connected; practice, in multiplying them, gave them more expression; while it is to the desire of pleasing that we owe those agreeable turns, those happy collocations of words, which impart to phrases both elegance and grace.”
Chapter IV.
Words
Table of Content
A WORD IS: “A single articulate sound, or a combination of articulate sounds or syllables uttered by the human voice, and by custom expressing an idea or ideas; a single component part of a language or of human speech.”
Locke says: “Upon a nearer approach, I find that there is so close a connection between ideas and words; and our abstract ideas and general words have so constant a relation one to another, that it is impossible to speak clearly and distinctly of our knowledge, which all consists in propositions, without considering, first the nature, use, and signification of language.”
Jevons says: “In endeavoring to reason correctly, there is nothing more necessary than to use words with care. The meaning of a word is that thing which we think about when we use the word, and what we intend other people to think about when they hear it pronounced, or see it written. We can hardly think at all without the proper words coming into the mind, and we can certainly not make known to other people our thoughts and arguments unless we use words.”
Another authority says: “The speculation is sometimes advanced that if man were isolated he would lose the faculty of language. This is inferred from the premises that language is solely a means of communication of mind with mind. It is fair to affirm that psychology of recent years has established the fact that a large amount of our reasoning is mediated by language alone, and is made possible only through the abstractions which words enable. Since this is the case, man could not wholly lose the faculty of language so long as his mind remained rationally active. Need for the so-called ‘internal speech,’ the mental use of words, would persist, forming as it does one of the great utilities of language. * * * Thought is formulated in language, that is, is symbolized in words. These words, when uttered, are understood
, as we say; that is, they are taken to be symbols of thought in another’s mind. The thought of the person who utters the words, and the thought of the person who understands them, are supposed to be similar, although the thought of neither is to be identified with the symbolic conveyance—that is, with the language.”
In a previous chapter we have seen that the involuntary gesture or instinctive sound expressing a feeling or emotion acts as the medium of communication between the person expressing it and other persons, by reason of the fact that there is an unconscious process of imitation of the sound or gesture in the mind of the other persons, and the consequent translation of this reproduced expression into real sympathetic feeling. Then again we see that the gesture or sound gradually becoming familiar is accepted as a symbol
of the feeling or emotion—it becomes practically a word
. Later on, names are applied to things and actions, and thereafter are accepted as symbols of the things they are intended to represent.
It will be found that the majority of the words understood by us are accepted merely as abstract symbols, without exciting any particular feeling or emotion. Others, which when first heard arouse feeling, gradually pass into the category of mere symbols on account of familiarity and repetition. Other words have a positive suggestive value, and induce a greater or lesser degree of sympathetic feeling by reason of their association, as for instance “mother,” “home,” “child,” etc. An interjection expressing joy or pain tends to cause a sympathetic feeling in those hearing them. Other words, symbols of feeling or emotion, as for instance “love,” “hate,” “fright,” etc., often tend to at least faintly awaken a sympathetic understanding in the minds of others. And words expressing sensations of taste, smell, touch, sight, or hearing, often have more or less actual suggestive force, and indicate a power to awaken a sympathetic response, as for instance: “sweet,” “sour,” “nauseating,” “soft,” “harsh,” “stench,” “shrill,” “bright,” “glaring,” “red,” “smooth,” etc. The use of these suggestive and “sympathetic” words by speakers in descriptive speeches often proves very effective. This being realized, we may begin to understand the important part played by the right words in expressing one’s ideas for the purpose of impressing
others, and the necessity of the intelligent choice of words and the correct use thereof.
Jevons says: “There is no more common source of mistakes and bad reasoning than the confusion which arises between the different meanings of the same word.*** In many cases the meanings of a word are so distinct that they cannot really lead us into more than a momentary misapprehension, or give rise to a pun. A ‘rake’ may be either a garden implement, or a fast young man; a ‘sole’ may be either a fish, or the sole of the foot; a ‘bore’ is either a tedious person, a hole in a cannon, or the sudden high wave which runs up some rivers when the tide begins to rise; diet is the name of what we eat daily, or of the Parliament which formerly met in Germany and Poland; ball is a round object, or a dance. In some cases a word is really a different word in each of two or three meanings, and comes from quite different words in other languages.*** From such confusion of words, puns and humorous mistakes may arise, but hardly any important errors.*** Any word which has two or more meanings, and is used in such a way that we are likely to confuse one meaning with another, is said to be ambiguous, or to have the quality of ambiguity. By far the greater number of words are ambiguous
, and it is not easy to find many words which are quite free from ambiguity. Whether we are writing, or reading, or speaking, or merely thinking, we should always be trying to avoid confusion in the use of words but no one can hope to avoid making blunders and falling Into occasional fallacies.”
In considering words in their relation to The Art of Expression we shall regard them from three viewpoints, viz., (1) The Supply of Words; (2) The Choice of Words; and (3) The Arrangement of Words.
It will be seen that before one is able to make a choice of words, or to arrange his chosen words in an effective manner, he must first have a number of words at his disposal. It follows that all else being equal, a person speaking or writing who has the largest vocabulary, or stock of words from which to choose, will be enabled to make a much better choice and a much more effective arrangement. One’s vocabulary is his stock of the raw material of speech, from which he may weave or mould sentences which will serve to properly clothe the creations of his mind. And so, we shall first consider the Supply of Words, or the Building of a Vocabulary, from which we may select, choose and arrange our words with which we may desire to express our thoughts and ideas so as to impress them upon the understanding of others.
Chapter V.
Building a Vocabulary
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A “VOCABULARY” is: “The sum or stock of words used in a language; the range of words employed by an individual, or in a particular profession, trade or branch of science.” Hill says: “Other things being equal, a speaker or writer who has the largest stock of words to choose from will choose the best words for his purpose. Hence the desirableness of an ample vocabulary.”
There is a great range of difference in the vocabularies of different individuals. There is estimated to be one hundred thousand words in the English language. Marsh says: “There occur in Shakespeare’s works not more than fifteen thousand words; in the poems of Milton not over eight thousand. The whole number of the Egyptian hieroglyphic symbols does not exceed eight hundred, and the entire Italian operatic vocabulary is said to be scarcely more extensive. Hill says: “The vocabulary of business has not been estimated, but it is certainly a small one. So is that which suffices for the ordinary necessities of a traveler. Poverty of language is the source of much slang, a favorite word, as nice, nasty, beastly, jolly, awful, stunning, splendid, lovely, handsome, immense
, being employed for so many purposes as to serve no one purpose effectively. A copious vocabulary, on the other hand, supplies a fresh word for every fresh thought or fancy.”
Herrick and Damon say: “For purposes of mere existence, a few hundred overworked words will answer well enough. It is safe to say, however, that such a small vocabulary implies a narrow range of thought. Words represent objects and ideas; generally speaking, a few ideas call for few words, and conversely, the use of few words indicates the possession of few ideas. As a rule, a man who has at the most a thousand terms for expressing his wants, his feelings, his reflections, has fewer wants, feelings, and reflections than the man who has two thousand words at his command.*** To sum up, the chief reasons for cultivating a wide vocabulary are: first, because words, like pieces of money, represent wealth—the more symbols, the more ideas; second, because if we have three words or more that represent very nearly the same thought, we can distinguish just what we do mean more clearly (e. g., woman, lady, mother; house, residence, home; contrive, make, experiment, etc.); third, because variety rests the reader’s mind and gives him enjoyment; fourth, because the possession of many words aids our exact understanding of writers who use many words to differentiate their ideas. Much valuable thought is misunderstood, or but half understood, when the reader has only a vague idea of the words used. In short, add to your store of words in order that you may have a richer mental life and that you may never be at a loss for the right word to use when you want it.”
In order to build up a vocabulary it is necessary to become acquainted with the meaning of words; and in order to do the latter it is necessary to study words. Words may be studied in two ways: (1) by means of dictionaries and similar works; and (2) by means of the writings of the masters of literature, where the words may be studied in their context. Many great writers and speakers have deliberately studied the dictionary, learning to take a keen interest in words and their meanings. Rudyard Kipling is said to find the keenest pleasure in the perusal of his favorite dictionary, and in detecting the subtle shades of difference between words of the same class. Lecky says that “Chatham told a friend that he had read over Bailey’s English Dictionary twice from beginning to end.” In studying words in the dictionary it is well not only to familiarize oneself with the looks and sound of the word and its exact meaning, but also to run down the word to its roots in order to obtain its real “essence.” Many words have strange and unsuspected origins, and it is a fascinating task to dig into this mine and to uncover rich nuggets of this kind. Many, on the other hand, find that they obtain a clearer idea of the value, meaning and relation of words by carefully considering them in reading selections from good writers, and incidentally turning to the dictionary whenever an unusual or unfamiliar word is met with.
In connection with the study of words by means of reading the works of writers, Hill says: “Care should, however, be taken to educate the taste; for one who is familiar with the best authors will naturally use good language, as a child who hears in the family circle none but the best English talks well without knowing it. As, moreover, every person, however well brought up, comes in contact with those who have not had this advantage, hears from his companions or meets in the newspapers phrases such as he does not hear at home or meet in good authors, it behooves him to fix in his mind, as early as possible, the principles of choice in language.”
The student of words—one who has learned to take an interest
in words and their meanings—will find it advantageous to acquire the “note-book habit.” By this is meant the habit of jotting down any unusual or unfamiliar word which one may hear in conversation, or meet with in reading; or some word which one hears used in an unfamiliar sense or form. Then, later in the day, when time permits, one may look up the words in the dictionary and add them to his vocabulary. If one thus notes only one new word a day
, he will have added three hundred and sixty-five words in a year—no inconsiderable number, either, in view of the size of the average individual’s vocabulary. If one will make a point of really mastering
one word a day, he will find himself making rapid improvement in a few weeks. And the habit once acquired, new interest is created and “second-nature” results. In mastering the word not only should one familiarize himself with the looks of the word in print and in writing, but also with the actual sound of it when spoken by himself. He must not only read
the word, but also write
it and speak
it. And, not only should he acquaint himself with the word itself, but he should also learn its synonyms, or words closely resembling it in meaning.
Synonyms may be learned from the dictionary, if the latter be good, but the student will find it useful to have at hand some good work on synonyms, of which there are a number, some of which may be obtained at quite a reasonable price. It is a good practice to search one’s own memory for all the known synonyms which are related to the word being studied This being done, reference may then be made to the work on synonyms for further words to add to one’s list. Another good practice is to write a sentence describing some thought in the mind of the student, and then to underline every word which one has repeated several times. Then endeavor to supply a proper synonym, so that, if possible, no verb or adjective shall be repeated in a paragraph or long sentence.
Fernald says: “Scarcely any two of such words, commonly known as synonyms, are identical at once in signification and in use. They have certain common ground within which they are interchangeable, but outside of that each has its own special province, within which any other word comes as an intruder. From these two qualities arises the great value of synonyms as contributing to the beauty and effectiveness of expression. As interchangeable, they make possible that freedom and variety by which the diction of an accomplished writer or speaker differs from the wooden uniformity of a legal document. As distinct and specific, they enable a master of style to choose in every instance the one term that is the most perfect mirror of his thought. To write or speak to the best purpose, one should know in the first place all the words from which he may choose, and then the exact reason why in any case any particular word should be chosen. To give knowledge in these two directions is the office of a book of synonyms.”
To illustrate the above the following example from Fernald’s “English Synonyms, Antonyms and Prepositions” will serve. Fernald gives the following synonyms for “Conquer
:”
Beat
Overthrow
Checkmate
Prevail over
Crush
Put down
Defeat
Reduce
Discomfit
Rout
Down
Subdue
Humble
Subject
Master
Subjugate
Overcome
Surmount
Overmaster
Vanquish
Overmatch
Win
Overpower
Worst
A work like Roget’s “Thesaurus” is useful in finding the word or words to fit an idea already formed in the mind. In a dictionary, one has a word and wishes to find its meaning; in the Thesaurus one has the meaning and wishes to find the word or words to fit it. Many persons who are well acquainted with the dictionary do not know that such a work as Roget’s “Thesaurus” exists. It is a most valuable work for the student of words, and is sold at a reasonable price. We advise you to become acquainted with it.
Herrick says: “A wide vocabulary means freedom. We must become free of our language (as was said anciently of a town or state), if we are to express ourselves effectively and completely. Words are curiously human things; they carry with them romantic stories. Each one, no matter how unobtrusive it may seem, differs from its fellow, and is useful in its own way.”
Palmer, in his “Self-Cultivation in English” says: “It is important, therefore, for anybody who would cultivate himself in English to make strenuous and systematic efforts to enlarge his vocabulary.*** Let anyone who wants to see himself grow, resolve to adopt two new words each week. It will not be long before the endless and en· chanting variety of the world will begin to reflect itself in his speech, and in his mind as well. I know that when we use a word for the first time we are startled, as if a firecracker went off in our neighborhood. We look about hastily to see if anyone has noticed. But, finding that no one bas, we may be emboldened. A word used three times slips off the tongue with entire naturalness. Then it is ours forever, and with it some phase of life which had been lacking hitherto. For each word presents its own point of view, discloses a special aspect of things, reports some little importance not otherwise conveyed, and so contributes its small emancipation to our tied-up minds and tongues.”
Chapter VI.
The Choice of Words
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IN ORDER to speak or write clearly and forcibly it is necessary that we exercise an intelligent choice of the words in our vocabulary. As Hill says: “A writer or speaker should, in the first place, choose that word or phrase which will clearly
convey his meaning to the reader or listener. It is not enough to use language that may be
understood; he should use language that must
be understood. He should remember that, so far as the attention is called to the medium of communication, so far is it withdrawn from the ideas communicated, and this even when the medium is free from flaws. How much more serious the evil when the medium obscures or distorts an object.” And as Herrick says: “Even the newest of thoughts may be made to seem flat if tritely phrased; the most precise thinking looks vague if it is couched in generalities; the most dignified matter becomes trivial if it is overadorned. The demands upon our taste in the choice of words are manifold; every sentence is a new problem in diction.”
The first essential in the choice of words is clearness
. The faults opposed to Clearness are:
I. Obscurity
, or the use and arrangement of words in such a manner that it is difficult to understand the real meaning thereof;
II. Equivocation
, or the use and arrangement of words so as to render them capable of more than one interpretation;
III. Ambiguity
, or the use and arrangement of words so as to leave the hearer in doubt between two opposing meanings or interpretations.
Macaulay was one of the clearest of writers. Morley says of him: “He never wrote an obscure sentence in his life.” , Trevelyan says of him and his methods of work: “The main secret of Macaulay’s success lay in this, that to extraordinary fluency and facility he united patient, minute, and persistent diligence.*** If his method of composition ever comes into fashion, books probably will be better, and undoubtedly will be shorter. As soon as he had got into his head all the information relating to any particular episode in his ‘History’ (such, for instance, as Argyll’s expedition to Scotland, or the attainder of Sir John Fenwick, or the calling in of the clipped coinage), he would sit down and write off the whole story at a headlong pace, sketching in the outlines under the genial and audacious impulse of a first conception, and securing in black and white each idea and epithet and turn of phrase, as it flowed straight from his busy brain to his rapid fingers.*** As soon as Macaulay ·had finished his rough draft, he began to fill it in at the rate of six sides of foolscap every morning, written in so large a hand and with such a multitude of erasures, that the whole six pages were, on the average, compressed into two pages of print. This portion he called his ‘task,’ and he was never quite easy until he had completed it daily. More he seldom sought to accomplish; for he had learned by long experience that this was as much as he could do at his best; and except when at his best, he never would work at all. * * * Macaulay never allowed a sentence to pass muster until it was as good as he could make it. He thought little of recasting a chapter in order to obtain a more lucid arrangement, and nothing whatever of reconstructing a paragraph for the sake of one happy stroke of apt illustration. Whatever the worth of his labor, at any rate it was a labor of love.”
The following paragraph from “Essay on Milton” will furnish a brief example of Macaulay’s style:
“Ariosto tells a pretty story of a fairy, who, by some mysterious law of her nature, was condemned to appear at certain seasons in the form of a foul and poisonous snake. Those who Injured her during the period of her disguise were forever excluded from participation in the blessings which she bestowed. But to those who, in spite of her loathsome aspect, pitied and protected her, she afterwards revealed herself in the beautiful and celestial form which was natural to her, accompanied their steps, granted all their wishes, filled their houses with wealth, made them happy In love and victorious in war. Such a spirit is Liberty. At times she takes the form of a hateful reptile. She grovels, she hisses, she stings. But woe to those who in disgust shall venture to crush her! And happy are those who, having dared to receive her in her degraded and frightful shape, shall at length be rewarded by her in the time of her beauty and her glory!”
And yet as Hill says: “Clearness is a relative
term. The same treatment cannot be given to every subject, nor to the same subject under different conditions. Words that are perfectly clear in a metaphysical treatise may be obscure in a didactic poem; those that are admirably adapted to a political pamphlet may be ambiguous in a sermon; a discourse written for an association of men of science will not answer for a lyceum lecture; a speaker must be clearer than a writer
, since a speaker’s meaning must be caught at once if at all.”
Emerson says: “ Eloquence is the power to translate a truth into a language perfectly intelligible to the person to whom you speak
. He who would convince the worthy Mr. Dunderhead of any truth which Dunderhead does not see, must be a master of his art. Declamation is common; but such possession of thought as is here required, such practical chemistry as the conversion of a truth in Dunderhead’s language, is one of the most beautiful and coherent weapons that is forged in the shop of the Divine Artificer.”
Newman speaking upon the subject of the necessity of clearness in the use and arrangement of words says: “Reflect how many disputes you must have listened to which were interminable because neither party understood either his opponent or himself. Consider the fortunes of an argument in a debating society, and the need there so frequently is, not simply of some clear thinker to disentangle the perplexities of thought, but of capacity in the combatants to do justice to the clearest explanations which are set before them,—so much so, that the luminous arbitration only gives rise, perhaps, to more hopeless altercation. ‘Is a constitutional government better for a population than an absolute rule!’ What a number of points have to be clearly apprehended before we are in a position to say one word on such a question. What is meant by ‘constitution!’ by ‘constitutional government!’ by ‘better!’ by ‘a population!’ and by ‘absolutism!’ The ideas represented by these various words ought, I do not say, to be as perfectly defined and located in the minds of the speakers as objects of sight in a landscape, but to be sufficiently, even though incompletely, apprehended before they have a right to speak.”
The best authorities give the following as a general rule for clearness
in the use and arrangement of words: Use particular terms in speaking or writing of particular objects; use general terms in speaking or writing of general objects
. Also, to secure clearness: In the choice of words favor those which more nearly define themselves; and discard, those which are most capable of obscure, equivocal, or ambiguous interpretation
.
Pronouns are frequently the cause of obscurity, ambiguity or equivocation in interpretation of the sentences containing them. Clearness requires that a pronoun should refer, without question, to its one antecedent alone. Avoid ambiguous pronouns. The clearest and best writers never shrink from using a word twice, rather than to substitute a pronoun which fails to refer directly to its antecedent noun without a possibility of mistake. Freeman says of this: “I learned from Macaulay*** never to be afraid of using the same word or name over again, if by that means anything could be added to clearness or force. Macaulay never goes on, like some writers, talking about ‘the former’ and ‘the latter,’ ‘he, she, it, they,’ through clause after clause, while his reader has to look back to see which of several persons it is that is so darkly referred to. No doubt a pronoun, like any other word, may often be repeated with advantage, if it is perfectly clear who is meant by the pronoun. And with Macaulay’s pronouns, it is always perfectly clear who is meant by them.” In the following paragraph from Macaulay, the pronoun “he” is used twelve times, and yet with perfect clearness and without ambiguity. This paragraph is a model, and is worthy of careful study and analysis:
The situation of William was very different. He could not, like those who had ruled before him, pass an Act in the spring and violate it in the summer. He had, by assenting to the Bill of Rights, solemnly renounced the dispensing power; and he was restrained, by prudence as well as by conscience and honour, from breaking the compact under which he held his crown. A law might be personally offensive to him; it might appear to him to be pernicious to his people; but, as soon as he had passed it, it was, in his eyes, a sacred thing. He had therefore a motive, which preceding Kings had not, for pausing before he passed such a law. They gave their word readily, because they had no scruple about breaking it. He gave his word slowly, because he never failed to keep it.—MACAULAY
: History of England.
The following quotations show the fault of the obscure or ambiguous pronoun:
“A tremendous fall of snow rendered his departure impossible for more than ten days When the roads
began to become a little practicable, they
successively received news of the retreat of the Chevalier Into Scotland.”—SCOTT
.
“ They
were persons of such moderate Intellects, even before they
were impaired by their passion, that their
irregularities could not furnish sufficient variety of folly.”—STEELE
.
“It was the loss of his son on whom he had looked with an affection which
belonged to his character, with an exaggerated admiration which
was a most pardonable exercise of his fancy which
struck the fatal blow to his spirit as well as to his body.”—MAURICE
.
“Rasselas was the fourth son of the mighty emperor in whose
dominions the Father of Waters begins his course; whose
bounty pours down the streams of plenty, and scatters over half the world the harvests of Egypt.”—JOHNSON
.
Hill makes the following very proper criticism regarding the fault of “fine writing,” which is also equally noticeable in the speech of many people who pride themselves upon the assortment of “choice terms:” “In fine writing
every clapping of hands is an ‘ovation,’ every fortune ‘colossal,’ every marriage an ‘alliance,’ every crowd ‘a sea of faces.’ A hair-dresser becomes a ‘tonsorial artist;’ an apple-stand, a ‘bureau of Pomona;’ an old carpenter, ‘a gentleman long identified with the building interest.’ A man does not breakfast, but he ‘discusses (or “partakes of”) the morning repast;’ he does not sit down at table, but he ‘repairs to the festive board;’ he does not go home, but he ‘proceeds to his residence;’ he does not go to bed, but he ‘retires to his downy couch;’ he sits, not for his portrait, but for his ‘counterfeit presentment;’ he no longer waltzes, but he ‘participates in round dances;’ he is not thanked, but he is ‘the recipient of grateful acknowledgments.’ A home is not building, but is ‘in process of erection;’ it is not burned down, but is ‘destroyed in its entirety by the devouring element.’ A ship is not launched, but it ‘glides into its native element.’ When a man narrowly escapes drowning, ‘the waves are balked of their prey.’ Not only presidents, but aqueducts, millinery shops, and railroad strikes are ‘inaugurated.’ We no longer threaten, but we ‘indulge in minatory expressions.’ This vulgar finery is so much worn in the pulpit as to render plain language there offensive. An American clergyman was subjected to a severe censure for using the word ‘beans’ in a sermon; and a recent English magazine relates a similar incident: ‘I remember quite a sensation running through a congregation when a preacher one evening, instead of talking about ‘habits of cleanliness’ and the ‘necessity of regular ablution,’ remarked that ‘plenty of water had a healthy, bracing effect upon the body, and so indirectly benefited the mind.’”
We refer the student to Macaulay’s “History of England” as a model of clear style and almost perfect choice of words. ‘A study of this work will do much to impart clearness and to cure one of the faults of ambiguity and obscurity.
Chapter VII.
The Choice of Words (continued)
Table of Content
THE SECOND essential in the choice of words is force, or strength
. In certain forms of composition, as for instance judicial opinions, scientific reports, text-books and other forms of writing, the purpose of which is simply to furnish instruction or information, clearness is the prime essential, and force is not so much needed. But in writing or speaking, the purpose of which is to impress
and influence the minds of others, force and strength are required. The words must be chosen not only with the idea and purpose of clearness but also with the direct intent to attract and hold the attention of the person addressed, and to make him feel
the meaning behind the words. Force is needed to attract attention, to arouse interest, to awaken desire, and to cause action. This quality of force or strength is known by different names among the authorities. Campbell calls it vivacity
; Whately, energy
; Bain, strength
; but as Hill says: “a style may be vivacious without being energetic, or energetic without being strong. Force
covers the ground more satisfactorily, perhaps, than any other single term.”
In choosing words for their quality of force, it will be found that in the majority of cases the clearest
word will prove the most forcible. But when the choice is between two words equally clear, it will be found that one or the other seems to possess an illustrative force superior to the other. This arises from a peculiar psychological association, and is recognized more or less instinctively, once the attention is directed toward the subject. The speaker feels
the force of the word, as does the hearer. As an illustration of the comparative force of words, let us direct your attention to the following familiar quotation— the Parable of the Lilies—and then to the paraphrase of a modern writer designed to bring out this particular point. The Parable follows:
“Consider the lilies how they grow; they toll not, they spin not; and; yet I say unto you, that Solomon in all his glory was not arrayed like one of these. If then God so clothe the grass which is to-day in the field, and to-morrow is cast into the oven, how much more will he clothe you, O ye of little faith!”—LUKE
xii: 27, 28.
Campbell, referring to the Parable just quoted, says:
“Let us here adopt a little of the tasteless manner of modern paraphrase by the substitution of more general terms, one of their many expedients of infrigidating, and let us observe the effect produced by this change: ‘Consider the flowers, how they continually increase in their size; they do no manner of work, and yet I declare to you that no king whatever, in his most splendid habit, is dressed up like them. If, then, God in His providence both so adorn the vegetable productions, which continue but a little time on the land, and are afterwards put into the fire, how much more will He provide clothing for you!’” Hill, commenting on this well-known paraphrase, says: “In this paraphrase, the thought is expressed as clearly as in the original, and more exactly; but the comparison, in the original, between a common flower and the most magnificent of kings is much more impressive than any general statement can be; and the mind, without conscious exertion, understands that what is true of the lily as compared with Solomon is true of all flowers as compared with all men.”
In considering the element of force
in the choice of words, we are compelled to take into account the forcible effect of the figures of speech
of rhetoric, but we shall not mention them at this place as they will form the subject of a subsequent chapter.
The quality of suggestion
in words adds materially to their force. Words whose sounds suggest their meaning are forceful for this reason. Hill says: “Force may be gained by the use of words of which the sound suggests the meaning. Such are words denoting sounds: whiz, roar, splash, thud, buzz, hubbub, murmur, hiss, rattle, boom;
names taken from sounds: cuckoo, whip-poor-will, bumble-bee, humming bird, crag
; words so arranged that the sound expresses the meaning:
“* * * On a sudden open fly
With impetuous recoil and jarring sound
Th’ infernal doors, and on their hinges grate harsh thunder.”
“And the long carpets rose along the gusty floor.”
“On the ear
Drops the light drip of the suspended oar,
And chirps the grasshopper one good-night carol more.”
“Such are many interjections: heigh-ho! whew! hist! bang! ding-dong! pooh! hush!
Such, too, are words derived from objects of the senses, but applied to mental phenomena because of a supposed resemblance or association of ideas: ‘a harsh
temper,’ ‘soft
manner,’ ‘a sweet
disposition,’ ‘stormy
passions,’ ‘a quick
mind,’ ‘a sharp
tongue.’ Such words, or combinations of words, have certain obvious advantages. They are not only specific, clear and forcible, but also so familiar that they may be accounted natural symbols rather than arbitrary signs; but they may be misused, as when chosen with an obvious effort, or because they sound well, rather than because they are peculiarly expressive. The safe course is, on the one hand, not to reject a word or phrase because its sound helps to communicate the meaning; on the other hand, not to strain after such expressions, lest, in the effort to grasp the shadow, the substance is lost.”
Notice the suggestive force of the following passage from Tennyson, the words of which impress upon one with an almost weird effect the silent old house, its dim uncanny reminiscent atmosphere of the past, its mysterious spirit of the by-gone presences which haunt the old scenes:
“All day within the dreary house
The doors upon their hinges creaked,
The blue fly sang in the pane, the mouse
Behind the mouldering wainscoat shrieked,
Or from the crevice peered about;
Old faces glimmered thro’ the doors,
Old footsteps trod the upper floors,
Old voices called her from without.”
The following quotations will also give the student an idea of the powerfully suggestive effective effect of words and arrangement of words. We give these examples for the purpose of enabling the student to grasp the actual effect of suggestive words and sentences, believing that the idea may be better grasped in this way than by the attempt to follow any arbitrary rule. It is most difficult to enunciate a rule in this case—example and imitation work the best results. Listening to the conversation of a strong speaker, or reading the speeches of the best orators, Will do more to form the idea of force
in the mind of the student than would pages of arbitrary rules or general advice. Read the following quotations slowly and carefully, endeavoring to feel
the suggestive force
of the words, and in the associations called forth by the arrangement:
ILLUSTRATIVE
EXAMPLES
.
“Over it rose the noisy belfry of the College, the square, brown tower of the church, and the slim, yellow spire of the parish meeting-house, by no means ungraceful, and then an invariable characteristic of New England religious architecture. On your right, the Charles slipped smoothly through green and purple salt meadows, darkened, here and there, with the blossoming black-grass as with a stranded cloud-shadow. Over these marshes, level as water, but without its glare, and with softer and more soothing gradations of perspective, the eye was carried to a horizon of softly-rounded hills. To your left hand, upon the Old Road, you saw some half-dozen dignified old houses of the colonial time, all comfortably fronting southward. If it were early June, the rows of horse-chestnuts along the fronts of these houses showed through every crevice of their dark heap of foliage, and on the end of every drooping limb, a cone of pearly flowers, while the hill behind was white or rosy with the crowding blooms of various fruit trees. There is no sound, unless a horseman clatters over the loose planks of the bridge, while his antipodal shadow glides silently over the mirrored bridge below.”—LOWELL
: Cambridge Thirty Years Ago
.
“There was in the court a peculiar silence somehow; and the scene remained long in Esmond’s memory:—the sky bright overhead; the buttresses of the building and the sun-dial casting shadow over the gilt memento mori
inscribed underneath; the two dogs, a black greyhound and a spaniel nearly white, the one with his face up to the sun, and the other snuffing amongst the grass and stones, and my lord leaning over the fountain, which was bubbling audibly.
“How well all things were remembered! The ancient towers and gables of the ball darkling against the east, the purple shadows on the green slopes, the quaint devices and carvings of the dial, the forest-crowned heights, the fair, yellow plain cheerful with crops and corn, the shining river rolling through it towards the pearly hills beyond,—all these were before us, along with a thousand beautiful memories of our youth, beautiful and sad, but as real and vivid in our minds as that fair and always-remembered scene our eyes beheld once more.”—THACKERAY
: Henry Esmond.
“It was an exquisite January morning in which there was no threat of rain, but a grey sky making the calmest back-ground for the charms of a mild winter scene:—the grassy borders of the lanes, the hedge-rows sprinkled with red berries and haunted with low twitterings, the purple bareness of the elms, the rich brown of the furrows.”—George Eliot: Daniel Deronda
.
“So much describes the stuffy little room.
Vulgar, flat, smooth respectability:
Not so the burst of landscape surging in,
Sunrise and all, as he who of the pair
Is, plain enough, the younger personage
Draws sharp the shrieking curtain, sends aloft
The sash, spreads wide and fastens back to wall
Shutter and shutter, shows you England’s best.
He leans into a living glory-bath
Of air and light, where seems to float and move
The wooded, watered country, hill and dale
And steel-bright thread of stream, a-smoke with mist,
A-sparkle with May morning, diamond drift O’
the sun-touched dew.”—BROWNING
: The Inn Album
.
“Night Is a dead, monotonous period under a roof; but in the open world it passes lightly, with its stars and dews and perfumes, and the hours are marked by changes in the face of Nature. What seems a kind of temporal death to people choked between walls and curtains, is only a light and living slumber to the man who sleeps afield. All night long he can hear Nature breathing deeply and freely; even as she takes her rest she turns and smiles; and there is one stirring hour unknown to those who dwell in houses when a wakeful influence goes abroad over the sleeping hemisphere, and all the out-door world are on their feet. It is then that the cock first crows, not this time to announce the dawn, but like a cheerful watchman speeding the course of night. Cattle awake on the meadows; sheep break their fast on dewy hillsides, and change to a new lair among the ferns; and houseless men, who have lain down with the fowls, open their dim eyes and behold the beauty of the night.”—STEVENSON
: Travels with a Donkey
.
“Pathetic little tumble-down old houses, all out of drawing and perspective, nestled like old spiders’ webs between the buttresses of the great cathedral.”—DU
MAURIER
: Trilby
.
“The light seemed to go out of his eyes and leave them like stale opals.”—KIPLING
: The Second Jungle-Book
.
“The fog was driven apart for a moment, and the sun shone, a blood-red wafer, on the water.”—KIPLING
: Plain Tales from the Hills
.
“The aftermath of the dust storm came up and drove us down-wind like pieces of paper,”—IBID
.
“But the walls were made of screens of marble tracery—beautiful, milk-white fretwork, set with agates and carnelians and jasper and lapis lazuli, and as the moon came up behind the hill it shone through the openwork, casting shadows on the ground like black-velvet embroidery.”—KIPLING
: The Jungle-Book
.
“The feeling of unhappiness he had never known before covered him as water covers a log.”—KIPLING
: The Second Jungle-Book
.
“The traveller, descending from the slopes of Luna, even as he got his first view of the Port-of-Venus, would pause by the way, to read the face as it were, of so beautiful a dwelling place, lying away from the white road, at the point where it began to decline somewhat steeply to the marsh-land below. The building of pale red and yellow marble, mellowed by age, which he saw beyond the gates, was indeed but the exquisite fragment of a once large and sumptuous villa. Two centuries of the play of the sea-wind were in the velvet of the mosses which lay along its inaccessible ledges and angles. Here and there the marble plates had slipped from their places, where the delicate weeds had forced their way. The graceful wildness which prevailed in garden and farm gave place to a singular nicety about the actual habitation, and a still more scrupulous sweetness and order reigned within.”—PATER
: Marius the Epicurean
.
“About six miles from the renowned city of the Manhattoes, in that sound or arm of the sea which passes between the mainland and Nassau, or Long Island, there is a narrow strait, where the current is violently compressed between shouldering promontories and horribly perplexed rocks and shoals. Being, at the best of times, a very violent, impetuous current, it takes these impediments in mighty dudgeon, boiling in whirlpools; brawling and fretting in ripples; raging and roaring in rapids and breakers; and, in short, indulging in all sorts of wrong-headed paroxysms. At such times, woe to any unlucky vessel that ventures within its clutches. This termagant humor, however, prevails only at certain times of tide. At low water, for instance, it is as pacific a stream as you would wish to see; but as the tide rises it begins to fret; at half tide it roars with might and main like a bull bellowing for more drink; but when the tide is full it relapses into quiet, and, for a time, sleeps as soundly as an alderman after dinner.”—IRVING
.
“The morning broke with sinister brightness; the air alarmingly transparent, the sky pure, the rim of the horizon clear and strong against the heavens. The wind and the wild seas, now vastly swollen, indefatigably hunted us. I stood on deck, choking with fear; I seemed to lose all power upon my limbs; my knees were as paper when she plunged into the murderous valleys; my heart collapsed when some black mountain fell in avalanche beside her counter, and the water, that was more than spray, swept round my ankles like a torrent. I was conscious of but one strong desire, to bear myself decently in my terrors, and whatever should happen to my life, preserve my character: as the captain said, we are a queer kind of beasts. Breakfast time came, and I made shift to swallow some hot tea. Then I must stagger below to take the time, reading the chronometer with dizzy eyes, and marveling the while what value there could be in observations taken in a ship launched (as ours then was) like a missile among flying seas. The forenoon dragged on in a grinding monotony of peril; every spoke of the wheel a rash, but an obliged experiment—rash as a forlorn hope, needful as the leap that lands a fireman from a burning staircase. Noon was made; the captain dined on his day’s work, and I on watching him; and our place was entered on the chart with a meticulous precision which seemed half pitiful and half absurd, since the next eye to behold that sheet of paper might be the eye of an exploring fish. One o’clock came, then two; the captain gloomed and chafed, as he held to the coaming of the house, and if ever I saw dormant murder in man’s eye, it was in his. God help the hand that should have disobeyed him.”— STEVENSON
: The Wrecker
.
Chapter VIII.
Figurative Speech
Table of Content
QUACKENBOS SAYS: “Figurative Language implies a departure from the simple or ordinary mode of expression; a clothing of ideas in words which not only convey the meaning, but, through a comparison or some other means of exciting the imagination, convey it in such a way as to make a lively and forcible impression on the mind. Thus, if we say: ‘Saladin was shrewd in the council, braw in the field,’ we express the thought in the simplest manner. But if we vary the expression thus: ‘Saladin was a fox in the council, a lion in the field,’ we clothe the same sentiment in figurative language. Instead of cunning and courage, iWe introduce the animals that possess these qualities in the highest degree, and thus present livelier images to the mind.”
What are known as “figures of rhetoric” are the numerous individuals of a large class of language forms, the characteristic quality of which is deviation from the ordinary, plain and practical application of words. We find them everywhere in all forms of verbal expression. They give beauty, life and strength to style, and, as Scott says: “it would perhaps be truer to say that they have the power of arousing in the reader or hearer the same emotional and imaginative processes which gave birth to them in the mind of the writer
.” In other words, they are powerful instruments or agents of suggestion
.
Rhetoricians have devoted much time, attention and space to the task of analyzing, defining and classifying the various rhetorical figures. By refining the definitions and classification, some authorities have succeeded in enumerating nearly three hundred classes of rhetorical figures. Such classification is, however, of but little practical value to the general student. The modern text. books generally confine themselves to a consideration of not over ten or twelve of the more important classes. The following are the more important Rhetorical Figures of Imagery:
I. Metaphor
, or “a figure of speech by which a word is transferred from an object to which it properly belongs to another, in such a manner that a comparison is implied though not formally expressed.” Thus: “He is a tiger,” or “She is a cat.” There is a close resemblance between a metaphor
and a simile
, the difference consisting of words implying comparison, such as “like” or “as.” For instance: “He is a fox,” is a metaphor
; while, “He is like
a fox” is a simile
. It will be seen, therefore, that every metaphor may be converted into a simile by extension; and that every simile may be converted into a metaphor, by condensation.
Hill says: “All writers agree that, other things being equal, the metaphor is more forcible than the simile; but opinions differ as to the true explanation of the fact. According to Dr. Whateley, who adopts the idea from Aristotle, the superiority of the metaphor is ascribable to the fact that ‘all men are more gratified at catching the resemblance for themselves, than at having it pointed out for them;’ according to Herbert Spencer, ‘the great economy it achieves would seem to be the more probable cause:’ but neither explanation is altogether satisfactory.” The following quotation will give a general idea of the metaphor and the simile, combined and contrasted in the same paragraph:
“Some minds are wonderful for keeping their bloom in this way, as a patriarchal gold-fish
apparently retains to the last its youthful illusion that it can swim in a straight line beyond the encircling glass. Mrs. Tulliver was an amiable fish
of this kind; and, after running her head against the same resisting medium for thirteen years, would go at it again to-day with undulled alacrity.”—GEORGE
ELIOT
: Mill on the Floss
.
Writers and speakers frequently employ metaphors containing two or more images which are incongruous and which fail to blend—these are called “mixed metaphors.” The incongruous figurative jumble arising from the use of the mixed metaphor is frequently amusing and always ludicrous. For instance the old “bull:” “Every time he opens his mouth, he puts his foot in it
;” or: “With swift rapier-thrusts
of irony, the prosecuting attorney applied the thumbscrews
to the unwilling witness.” Or the famous instance of Dickens, who said, speaking of the street lamps: “At night, when the lamplighter had let these down, and lighted and hoisted them again, a feeble grove
of dim wicks swung in a sickly
manner overhead, as if they were at sea
.” Or that of De Quincy who said: “the howling wilderness
of the psalmody in most parish churches of the land countersigns
the statement.” Or, “Boyle was the father of chemistry
and brother to the Earl of Cork
.” Or “A torrent
of superstition consumed
the land.” Or, “Trothal went forth with the stream
of his people, but they met a rock: for Fingal stood unmoved; broken, they rolled back from his side. Nor did they roll
in safety; the spear of the king pursued their flight
.”
II. Allegory
, or “A discourse designed to convey a different meaning from that which it directly expresses; a figure of speech in which the speaker or writer gives forth not only the actual narrative, description, or whatever he wishes to present, but one so much resembling it as on reflection to suggest it, and bring home to the mind with greater force and effect than if it had been told directly.” An allegory
is really an extended metaphor
. An allegory may be short, brief and pointed, in which case it is known as a “fable” or “parable.” The fables of Æsop, and the Parables of the Bible, are forms of allegory. Bunyan’s “Pilgrim’s Progress” is probably the best example of extended allegory. Spencer’s “Faerie Queen” is a moral allegory. Macaulay says: “Bunyan is indeed as decidedly the first of allegorists, as Demosthenes is the first of orators, or Shakespeare the first of dramatists.” The following is an example of a brief allegory:
“Thou hast brought a vine out of Egypt. Thou hast cast out the heathen, and planted it. Thou preparedst room before it, and didst cause it to take deep root, and it filled the land. The hills were covered with the shadow of it, and the boughs thereof were like the goodly cedars.”
III. Simile
, or “the likening of two things, which though differing in many respects, have some strong point or points of resemblance.” We have explained the distinction between the metaphor
and the simile
. In the metaphor the resemblance between the original object and the adopted image is boldly assumed
; while in the simile
the resemblance is formally stated
by the words “as” or “like.” The Songs of Solomon are filled with beautiful similes. The following from Ossian is an example of the use of the simile:
“Pleasant are the words of the song, said Cuchullin, and lovely are the tales of other times. They are like the calm dew of the morning on the hill of roes, when the sun is faint on its side, and the lake is settled and blue in the vale.”
IV. Synecdoche
, or “a figure of speech by which the whole of a thing is taken for the part, or a part for the whole, as the genus for the species, or the species for the genus.” As for example: “All hands
on deck;” “The sea is covered with sails
;” “Our hero
was gray, but not from age;” “Ten thousand. were on his right hand
.”
V. Metonymy
, or “a figure of speech by which one word is put or used for another; as when the effect is substituted for the cause; the inventor for the thing invented; the material for the thing made; etc.” For example we say, “He keeps a good table
;” or “We read Virgil
;” or “The poorest man in his cottage may bid defiance to all the force of the Crown
;” or “He petitioned the Bench
, being a member of the Bar
.” There is a very, close resemblance between metonymy
and synecdoche
.
In addition to the above-mentioned Rhetorical Figures of Imagery, there are several Rhetorical Figures of Arrangement, in which words, phrases, clauses, sentences, figures, etc., are arranged in a peculiar or striking way. The principal Figures of Arrangement are as follows:
I. Climax
, or “a figure in which the sense rises gradually step by step in a series of images, each exceeding its predecessor in force and dignity,” or “the arrangement of a succession of words, clauses, or sentences, in such a way that the weakest may stand first, and that each in turn, to the end, may rise in importance, and make a deeper impression on the mind than that which preceded it. As for example: “It is an outrage to bind a Roman citizen; it is a crime to scourge him; it is almost parricide to kill him; but to crucify him—what shall I say of this?” or, “Who shall separate us from the love of Christ? Shall tribulation, or distress, or persecution, or famine, or nakedness, or peril, or sword?”
II. Antithesis
, or “sharp opposition between word and word, clause and clause, sentence and sentence, or sentiment and sentiment, specially designed to impress the reader or hearer.” As for example: “He had covertly shot at Cromwell
, he now openly aimed at the Queen
;” “To err
is human, to forgive
divine;” “Though grave
, yet trifling
; zealous
, yet untrue
.” Its importance as an . effective instrument of expression is admitted by all the authorities. As the author of Lacon says: “To extirpate antithesis from literature altogether, would be to destroy at one stroke about eight-tenths of all the wit, ancient and modern, now existing in the world.”
III. Irony
, or “a mode of speech in which the meaning is contrary to the words. The intention is mildly to ridicule undue pretensions or absurd statements while nominally accepting them unquestionably.” In irony
, the real meaning is subtly suggested by the tone of the voice or the implication of the words. As for example when Elijah said to the priests of Baal, who were endeavoring to persuade their god to manifest himself in a miraculous manner: “Cry aloud, for he is a god
. Either he is talking, or he is pursuing, or he is on a journey, or peradventure he sleepeth, and must be awakened I”
IV. Epigram
, or “a sentence of brief and pointed character.” As for example Talleyrand’s famous saying: “Language was given to man to conceal his thoughts.” The epigram is often used with great effect, even when it implies a fallacy. Many people accept a snappy, pointed statement, cleverly phrased, as a self-evident truth—they delude themselves into believing that the epigram
is an axiom
. For this reason, and because it adds brilliancy and sparkle to a discourse, many speakers employ the epigram very freely.
V. Hyperbole
, or “the figure of speech which depends upon exaggeration for its effect.” Blair says: “It consists in magnifying an object beyond its natural bounds. In all languages, even in common conversation, hyperbolical expressions very frequently occur; as ‘swift as the wind;’ ‘as white as the snow;’ and the like; and our common forms of compliment are almost all of them extravagant hyperboles.” Hyperbole is an inheritance from the Oriental writers, who indulge in it freely. It is a characteristic of the young writer or speaker, and often arises from a lively imagination which generally finds pleasure in magnifying things. Hyperbole also often results from an ardent temperament or aroused emotion, although it may also be caused by a keen sense of humor, in which case it takes on the attributes of irony
. In addition to the examples given above, the following will serve to illustrate this figure of speech: “Saul and Jonathan were swifter than eagles
, and stronger than lions
.” “And trembling Tiber dived beneath his bed
.” “Swifter than the winds
and the wings of the lightning
.”
VI. Vision
, or “the representation of past events, or imaginary objects and scenes, as actually present to the senses.” As for example: “Cæsar leaves
Gaul crosses
the Rubicon, and enters
Italy;” or “They rally
, they bleed
, for their kingdom and crown.” The effect of the figure is produced by the substitution of the present tense for the past.
VII. Apostrophe
, or “the turning from the regular course of the subject, into an invocation or address.” As for example: “Death is swallowed up in victory. O, death, where is thy sting? O, grave, where is thy victory?” It has the effect of turning aside from the auditor or audience and addressing some abstract principle, inanimate object, or person not present.
VIII. Personification
, or “the attributing of sex, life, or action to an inanimate object, or the ascribing of intelligence and personality to an inferior creature.” As for example: “The sea saw it
and fled
;” or, “The worm, aware
of his intent, harangued
him thus.”
IX. Interrogation
, or “the asking of questions, not ·for the purpose of expressing doubt or obtaining information, but in order:to assert strongly the reverse of what is asked.” As for example: “Doth God pervert judgment? or doth the Almighty pervert justice?” The employment of this figure imparts life and animation. The Book of Job gives us one of the best examples of its effective use.
X. Exclamation
, or “the expression of some strong emotion for the purpose of impression.” As for example: “Oh! the depth of the riches both of the wisdom and the knowledge of God!”
XI. Omission
, or “the pretended suppression or omission of what one is actually mentioning all the time.” As for example: “I say nothing
of the notorious profligacy of his character; nothing
of the reckless extravagance with which he has wasted an ample fortune; nothing
of the disgusting intemperance which has sometimes caused him to reel in our streets—but I aver that he has exhibited neither probity nor ability in the important office which he holds.”
XII. Euphemism
, or “the use of a delicate word or expression for one which is harsh, indelicate or offensive to delicate ears.” As for example: “Intoxicated
” for “drunk;” “passed away
” or “passed out
” for” died;” “casket
” for “coffin;” “misappropriated property
” for “embezzled;” “a disciple of Bacchus
” for “a drunkard;” “a votary at the shrine of Venus
” for “a libertine;” “limb
” for “leg;” “vest
” for “undershirt; “ etc.
Of the above rhetorical figures, four (metaphor, metonymy, synecdoche, and irony) and often more, are frequently called “tropes
.” A Trope
is: “a figurative use of a word; a word or expression used in a different sense from that which it properly possesses, or a word changed from its original signification to another for the sake of giving life or emphasis to an idea, as when we call a stupid fellow an ass, or a shrewd man a fox.” Blair says: “Figures of words are commonly called tropes
, and consist in a word’s being employed to signify something that is different from its original and primitive, so that if you alter the word, you destroy the figure.”
Carlyle says of figures of speech: “Thinkest thou there were no poets till Dan Chaucer? No heart burning with a thought, which it could not hold, and had no word for; and needed to shape and coin a word for,—what thou callest a metaphor, trope, or the like? For every word we have, there was such a man and poet. The coldest word was once a glowing new metaphor, and bold questionable originality. ‘Thy very Attention
, does it not mean an attentio, a stretching-to?
’ Fancy that act of the mind, which all were conscious of, which none had yet named,— when this new ‘poet’ first felt bound and driven to name it! His questionable originality, and new glowing metaphor, was found adoptable, intelligible; and remains our name for it to this day.”
Chapter IX.
Discoursive Expression
Table of Content
THE VERB “to discourse” means: “To treat of; to talk over; to discuss; to relate; to debate; to reason; to pass from premises to consequences; to treat upon anything in a formal manner by words; to dilate; to hold forth; to expatiate; etc.” “Discoursive” of course means: “Of, or pertaining to reasoning or discourse.” By Discoursive Expression is meant the expression of one’s ideas or thoughts in the form of discourse.
The authorities recognize four distinct forms or phases of Discoursive Expression; viz., (1) Descriptive Discourse; (2) Narrative Discourse; (3). Expositive Discourse; and (4) Argumentive Discourse. Descriptive Discourse
is that form of discourse in which the attributes, properties, qualities and relations of persons or things are explained in the form of a representation of them as they appear in the mind of the speaker. Narrative Discourse
is that form of discourse in which acts or events are related in the form of a story. Expositive Discourse
is that form of discourse in which the subject or object is analyzed and explained in detail, and definitely. Argumentive Discourse
is that form of discourse in which an effort is made to so present the subject as to influence the opinion and understanding of the hearer, and to move his will.
Descriptive Discourse
deals with the explanation
of persons or things. “Description” means: “The act of describing, defining, or setting forth the qualities, characteristics, properties or features, of anything in words, so as to convey an idea of it to another.” In order to describe
a thing we must state its various properties, qualities, attributes and relations. In order to do this, we must first analyze or “take apart” the thing itself—we must view it in its parts as well as a whole. We must be able to take the thing apart, mentally, and then put it together again. As Coleridge says: “Description seems to be like taking the pieces of a dissected map out of its box. We first look at one part and then at another, then join and dovetail them, and when the successive acts of attention have been completed, there is a retrogressive effort of mind to behold it as a whole.”
Descriptive Discourse may be divided into two general classes, viz., (a) Analytical Description; and (b) General Description.
In Analytical Description
, the various parts, qualities, attributes, properties, etc., are considered and explained separately and apart, and without reference to each other or to the whole. In other words, the various items composing and constituting the whole thing are catalogued separately
. This form of description is met with in technical and scientific discourse, and to a certain extent in legal statements. The “specifications” for the building of a house; the scientific description of an animal; the legal statement of the details of a patent, description of a piece of real estate, etc., give us examples of this form of description. The following Analytical Description of the Barn Swallow, given by Prof. Edward A. Samuels, will give an excellent example of this form of description:
“BARN
SWALLOW
( Hirundo horreorum
): Tail very deeply forked; outer feather of tail several inches longer than the inner, very narrow towards the end; above glossy-blue, with concealed white in the middle of the back; throat chestnut; rest of lower part reddish-white, not conspicuously different; a steel-blue collar on the upper part of the breast, interrupted in the middle; tail feathers with a white spot near the middle, on the inner web. Female with the outer tail feathers not quite so long. Length, six and ninety one-hundredths inches; wing, five inches; tail, four and fifty one-hundredths inches.”
In General Description
, the thing is considered as a whole, the general appearance being considered and explained. For instance, in the case of a house
, the general appearance, shape, position, location, color, style of architecture, size, probable cost, general effect, etc., would be considered and described, without regard to the details of Construction contained in the “specification” which were considered in detail in the Analytical Description. In the case of the barn-swallow
, the general appearance of the bird, its peculiar wings and long tail, its graceful flight, its color, its nest and dwelling-place, would be considered instead of the technical, scientific description made necessary in a scientific Analytical Description such
as quoted above from Prof. Samuels.
General Description may be either literal
or impressional
. By literal description
is meant a description “according to the primitive meaning or letter; not figurative or metaphorical; formally, plainly and clearly expressed.” By impressional description
is meant a description in metaphor or other figure of speech, or else by means of suggestive terms which give the outlines and excite the imagination to fill in the picture. The term arises from “Impressionism,” which is defined as: “The system in art or literature, which, avoiding elaboration, seeks to depict scenes in nature as they are first vividly impressed on the mind of the artist or writer.”
Literal description appeals to the intellect; impressional description appeals to the imagination. We have familiar examples of literal description in business conversation and correspondence, and in ordinary newspaper writing. Examples of impressional description are given in our preceding chapters in which figures of speech are considered. Dickens and Thackeray were masters of this form of description. The following from Dickens furnishes an excellent example:
“‘A slight figure,’ said Mr. Peggotty, looking at the fire, ‘kiender worn; soft, sorrowful, blue eyes; a delicate face; a pritty head, leaning a little down; a quiet voice and way—timid a’most. That’s Em’ly! * * * * Cheerful along with me; retired when others is by; fond of going any distance fur to teach a child, or fur to tend a sick person, or fur to do some kindness tow’rds a young girl’s wedding (and she’s done a many, but has never seen one); fondly loving of her uncle; patient; liked by young and old; sowt out by all that has any trouble. That’s Em’ly!’”
Narrative Discourse
deals with the te