HANDBOOK 
 
 OF 
 
 RHETORICAL ANALYSIS 
 
 STUDIES IN STYLE AND INVENTION, 
 
 DESIGNED TO ACCOMPANY THE AUTHOR'S PRACTICAL 
 ELEMENTS OF RHETORIC. 
 
 BY 
 
 JOHN F. GENUNG, 
 
 PH.D. OF THE UNIVERSITY OF LEIPSIC; PROFESSOR OF RHETORIC 
 IN AMHERST COLLEGE. 
 
 GINN COMPANY 
 
 BOSTON NEW YORK . CHICAGO . LONDON 
 
o 
 
 Entered according to Act of Congress, in the year 1888, by 
 
 JOHN F. GENUNG, 
 in the Office of the Librarian of Congress at Washington 
 
 ALL RIGHTS RESERVED. 
 310.6 
 
 GIXN & COMPANY . PRO- 
 PRIETORS BOSTON U.S.A. 
 
CONTENTS. 
 
 PART L STUDIES IN STYLE. 
 
 A PAGE 
 
 I. JOHN BUNYAN. Christian's Fight with Apollyon .... . i 
 
 n. THOMAS DE QUINCEY. On the Knocking at the Gate in Macbeth 8 
 
 Study Introductory to Following Selections 17 
 
 HI. EDMUND BURKE. The Age of Chivalry is gone ! 18 
 
 iv. WILLIAM MAKEPEACE THACKERAY. On Letts's Diary .... 24 
 
 "^ v. JOHN RUSKIN. Description of St. Mark's, Venice 36 
 
 vi. JAMES RUSSELL LOWELL. The Poetry of St. Peter's, Rome . . 48 
 
 vii. THOMAS CARLYLE. Coleridge as a Talker 56 
 
 Study of Figures in Previous Selections 64 
 
 viii. THOMAS HENRY HUXLEY. A Liberal Education ...... 67 
 
 ix. JOHN HENRY, CARDINAL NEWMAN, i. Accuracy of Mind. 
 
 II. Ideal Authorship described 80 
 
 Study of Fundamental Processes in Previous Selections ... 86 
 
 x. NATHANIEL HAWTHORNE. The Custom-House Inspector . . 89 
 XL MATTHEW ARNOLD. The Literary Spirit of the English and of 
 
 the French compared 97 
 
 Study of Sentences in Previous Selections no 
 
 ..xn. THOMAS BABINGTON, LORD MACAULAY. The Work of the 
 
 Imagination in writing History , , 114 
 
 Study of Paragraphs in Previous Selections 128 
 
 PART II. STUDIES IN INVENTION. 
 
 xm. JOHN MORLEY. Progressive Tendencies of the Age of Burke . 133 
 
 ^xiv. JOSEPH ADDISON. Lucidus Ordo 141 
 
 XV. SIR ARTHUR HELPS. On the Art of Living with Others . . . 147 
 
 i 
 
iv CONTENTS. 
 
 PAGE 
 
 xvi. RICHARD DODDRIDGE BLACKMORE. Description of Glen Doone 156 
 xvii. ARTHUR PENRHYN STANLEY. Triumphal Entry of Christ to Jeru- 
 salem 161 
 
 xvin. JOHN RICHARD GREEN. The Character of Queen Elizabeth . . 169 
 
 Notes on Description in Previous Selections 185 
 
 xix. THOMAS HUGHES. St. Ambrose Crew win their First Race . . 187 
 
 xx. JOSEPH HENRY SHORTHOUSE. A Mysterious Incident .... 198 
 
 xxi. SIR WALTER SCOTT. An Historical Incident Retold .... 206 
 
 xxii. JOHN STUART MILL. The Meaning of the Term Nature . . . 225 
 
 XXiii. JOHN RUSKIN. Of the Pathetic Fallacy 233 
 
 Notes on Exposition in Previous Selections 253 
 
 xxiv. JOHN TYNDALL. The Meteoric Theory of the Sun's Heat . . 255 
 xxv. THOMAS BABINGTON, LORD MACAULAY. Queen Elizabeth a Per- 
 secutor 266 
 
 xxvi. GEORGE WILLIAM CURTIS. The Public Duty of Educated Men . 275 
 
 Directory of Selections 305 
 
PREFACE. 
 
 THE selections that make up this Handbook, while fairly rep- 
 resentative, so far as they go, of the authors from whose works 
 they are taken, are not to be regarded as introductions to the 
 authors as such, still less as studies in the history and development 
 of English prose literature. They are simply, as the title indi- 
 cates, extracts to be analyzed, in style and structure, for the pur- 
 pose of forming, from actual examples, some intelligent conception 
 of what the making of good literature involves : taken from the 
 best writers, because it is safer to study models of excellence than 
 examples of error ; taken from several writers, because it is not 
 wise to make an exclusive model of any one author's work, how- 
 ever excellent ; and taken for the most part from recent writers, 
 not because these are better than writers of earlier time, but 
 because they are more likely to illustrate the usages practically 
 needed in this century. 
 
 " I think, as far as my observation has gone," says Mr. John 
 Morley, " that men will do better for reaching precision by study- 
 ing carefully and with an open mind and a vigilant eye the great 
 models of writing, than by excessive practice of writing on their 
 own account." In a general way such testimony as this to the 
 value of the study of literary models is universal. Biographies of 
 authors are full of it ; reports, gleaned from every available source, 
 of " books which have influenced me," and accounts of the great 
 literary works which have been at eminent writers' elbows, con- 
 stant companions and inspirers, are eagerly read and treasured for 
 their helpfulness to workers who aspire to like eminence. But 
 while the question of the what is so copiously answered, the ques- 
 tion of the how remains for the most part unapproached. Its 
 
vi PREFACE. 
 
 answer has hardly got farther than the general idea that all one 
 has to do is to choose, with proper respect for one's tastes and 
 aptitudes, some great masterpiece or some great author's works, 
 and then read, read, read, until the general indefinite influence of 
 the style has soaked into and thoroughly saturated the reader's 
 mind. To this, as one way of study, no objection is here offered, 
 provided the works be wisely, and perhaps' it ought to be said 
 variously, chosen. For one kind of discipline it undoubtedly has 
 its value. Such reading as this may, however, be so pursued as tc 
 be anything but " studying carefully and with an open mind and a 
 vigilant eye," and so it may miss its vaunted value ; indeed, it 
 begins to benefit the student only when he begins to interpret the 
 vague impressions that he has received, by referring them to defi- 
 nite principles, only when there begins to be evolved in his mind 
 some scientific explanation, however crude, of the literary phe- 
 nomena he has observed. This is the main secret of the benefit 
 derived from literary study by those great authors who write with 
 Virgil and Milton and Burke at their elbows. Their own constant 
 efforts in the same kind of work have sharpened their vision to rec- 
 ognize in their favorite models concrete solutions of their daily 
 literary problems. Thus they have come to answer, each for him- 
 self, the question how to study models; and in each case the 
 answer means that the student has evolved from his research some 
 kind of a science of rhetoric, one-sided, it may be, and inade- 
 quate, but still such a science as he can utilize in his own work. 
 Valuable indeed such a result is, and it is interesting to all readers 
 to know what great masterpiece of literature infused its influence 
 into each eminent author's style. Unfortunately, however, such 
 result answers the question of the how for only one person ; it does 
 not contribute to progress all along the line. Each new student must 
 begin as helplessly and as much at sea as if nothing of the kind had 
 ever been done ; he has to make the way he finds. And the reason 
 why so many students who enter hopefully on a course of study of 
 this kind find it a delusion and a disappointment for such is the 
 fact is, that they have not pursued it intelligently enough or sys- 
 
PREFACE. vii 
 
 tematically enough to have reached definite practical deductions 
 for their own guidance in matters literary. 
 
 Nor is the problem fully solved by making the deductions and 
 presenting them, in scientific form and order, to the student. The 
 study of the text-book of rhetoric is indeed, like the study of literary 
 models, one important element in the circuit of rhetorical training ; 
 nor should either element be thrown away for the sake of the other. 
 " This ought ye to have done, and not to leave the other undone." 
 But to complete the circuit, connection must be made. It is not 
 because theory is bad, but because theory alone, without its appli- 
 cation in practice or in the concrete, is inadequate, that the text- 
 book is so often found a failure. One cannot become a writer, it 
 is justly urged, by learning rules and conning ready-made philoso- 
 phizings on style and invention. It is not so often urged, because 
 the thing has not so often been tried, but it is equally true, that 
 one cannot become a writer by studying models of writing, with- 
 out evolving therefrom the very rules and philosophizings that in 
 their abstracted form people are so ready to reject. Becoming a 
 writer, that is, actual practice in subduing the detailed requisites 
 of expression until they become pliant and ready servants of the 
 writer's will, occupies a position distinct from either of these, 
 being the third element in the rhetorical circuit. Theory, exam- 
 ple, practice, these are the three. 
 
 The present Handbook is an attempt to supply the second of 
 these, in a series of selections from the best prose writers ; and so 
 to connect these with the theory, as found in the text-book, that 
 the student may be enabled to make, or to discover, his own 
 rhetoric. Thus the book aims to supply, in some degree and 
 from the constructive point of view, what has hitherto seemed 
 most lacking, namely, a practical answer to the question how to 
 study literary models. How far the attempt has succeeded, can 
 be ascertained, of course, only by the test of actual study, being 
 an attempt hitherto for the most part untried. What lies on the 
 surface, as the most obvious feature of the book, is the ordered 
 and progressive character of the selections and of the annotations 
 
viii PREFA CE. 
 
 thereto, which begin with the simpler investigations and go on, 
 step by step, to what is more comprehensive and complex. It 
 may be noted further that each succeeding study investigates not 
 only the distinctive principles for which it is introduced, but what- 
 ever have been noted in selections preceding ; while also frequent 
 return is made to the re-examination of earlier selections, when- 
 ever the student has advanced far enough in the rhetoric to have 
 new principles to apply. And what needs especially to be ob- 
 served, as a preventive of mistake, is, that he who takes up these 
 studies with the idea of finding in the notes a body of information 
 about the text will be disappointed : the notes are intended rather 
 to elicit and direct study, and from beginning to end (to use the 
 phrase so often employed in the book) " pre-suppose a knowledge 
 of the rhetoric." They are just what they purport to be, studies ; 
 and study is the only way to master them. 
 
 This kind of annotation has been deliberately adopted, in spite 
 of some real disadvantages that inhere in it. It would have been 
 much easier to trace out in detail the various felicities of expres- 
 sion than to bring them out by means of questions ; it is often 
 hard so to shape a question as not to suggest the answer in the 
 very attempt to secure the study necessary thereto ; nor can the 
 student be trusted to find out so much for himself as could easily 
 have been found out for him and presented ready-made. But 
 would the other way, after all, have been so useful ? This book 
 is frankly committed to the conviction that it is much better to 
 discover a thing than to be told it, even though one does not 
 discover so much. And it aims so to promote the attitude of 
 research and study that when the student has found what these 
 notes guide him to, he may have the impulse and the ability to 
 go on and discover more. To this end to rouse thought and 
 set it growing, if this may be the form of annotation by ques- 
 tion and reference is chosen. It is worth while to compel 
 attention to the details of expression, if for no other object than 
 to secure the time spent in study. Many things can be worked 
 out by the student himself if he will only stop long enough; 
 
PREFACE. i x 
 
 nay, if he will tarry a little and go to work rightly, he may make 
 his study of English as valuable a mental discipline as the study 
 of Latin and Greek, hard as this is to realize in the absence 
 of grammar and lexicon work, and in the universal breakneck 
 pace of reading that now obtains. A corresponding expendi- 
 ture of time, and a corresponding minuteness of attention, wisely 
 directed, would, I am sure, place English fully side by side, as a 
 disciplinary study, with the classic languages. But the first requi- 
 site is to call in the student's thought from the vague excursions 
 that the easy mother-tongue leaves it so free to make, and give it 
 somelhing to do, something toward which the very time spent is 
 time gained. What Wordsworth found in the contemplation of 
 nature is equally needed, in these hurrying days, in the study of 
 literature, " the harvest of a quiet eye." 
 
 Accordingly, the student of this book may sometimes be asked 
 questions' whose answers are so obvious as to seem hardly worth 
 the delay ; but some time he will find, I am confident, that the 
 very attention necessary to consider them has in some degree 
 increased his insight and sharpened his literary sense. Besides, 
 no one can tell what questions here so easily resolved may not, on 
 occasions of his own future work, be perplexing problems, requir- 
 ing for their solution all the keenness he can command. 
 
 Some of the questions' herein asked may be too hard for the 
 student, in his present stage, to answer ; some indeed, appealing 
 perhaps to individual taste, may not be susceptible of an indubi- 
 table decision, one way or the other ; but the mere exercise of 
 thought thereon has its value, greater than we are apt to realize. 
 One large element in the study of literature is the development of 
 what may be called tact: the student comes to feel the Tightness, 
 or the strength, or the felicity of an expression, and thus to justify 
 it. Such feeling often lies too deep to find a reason in words, and 
 yet it has all the certitude of a demonstration. It is of great 
 importance that this tact, this feeling, be well grounded ; not rest- 
 ing on whim, nor on merely individual standards, but on deep 
 and universal principle. This is one of the objects to which this 
 
X PREFACE. 
 
 book aspires to contribute ; its desire being, not to finish off the 
 student in rhetoric, but to open the gate and set him on the way 
 to those delights of literary study which are to be had in " private- 
 ness and retiring." 
 
 With the same object in view the book may sometimes direct 
 t'he student to subtle points of criticism not treated of in the 
 rhetoric. These may be caviare to the general, and yet be adapted 
 to find and bring out the elect. In all study of literature the best 
 and finest discoveries are only for those who have ears to hear; 
 may it not be worth while to make occasional appeal to such ? 
 
 Yet with whatever is here attempted, it is not for a moment 
 claimed that this rhetorical analysis lays bare, or adequately inter- 
 prets, the secret life of literature. " There is something about the 
 best rhetoric which baffles the analysis of the critic, as life evades 
 the scalpel of the anatomist." Let this be confessed at the out- 
 set. To many, perhaps to the majority, the secret must remain 
 incommunicable ; they have no ear for such music. But even 
 these will do better to learn something definite, albeit elemen- 
 tary, about literary laws, than to strain their immature critical 
 powers toward something that must of necessity be to them only 
 vague and luminously cloudy ; while the elect few who by an 
 inborn yet educated tact come to feel the throbbing life of litera- 
 ture, will feel it all the more keenly and truly for knowing also 
 the prosaic constructive principles at the foundation, the prin- 
 ciples to which it is the lowly aim of this book to guide them. 
 
 Acknowledgments are due, and are hereby gratefully made, to 
 Messrs. Houghton, Miffiin & Co., for permission to copy selections 
 from Lowell and Hawthorne ; and to Mr. George William Curtis, 
 both for kindly placing at my disposal his oration on " The Public 
 Duty of Educated Men," and for the warm interest he has taken 
 in the general project of the book. Nor should I leave unmen- 
 tioned Mr. J. S. Gushing, the printer, whose taste speaks for itself, 
 and whose uniform kindness has made the mechanical preparation 
 of this volume a delight. 
 
 AMHERST, January 7, 1889. 
 
I. 
 
 STUDIES IN STYLE. 
 
HOW THESE STUDIES ARE CONNECTED WITH THE 
 RHETORIC. 
 
 ON CHOICE OF WORDS : RHETORIC, TO PAGE 48. Bunyan, p. i ; De Quin 
 cey, p. 8. 
 
 ON KINDS OF DICTION : RHETORIC, TO PAGE 84. Study Introductory to Fol- 
 lowing Selections, p. 17; Burke, p. 18; Thackeray, p. 24; Ruskin, p. 36. 
 
 ON FIGURES OF SPEECH: RHETORIC, TO PAGE 107. Lowell, p. 48; Carlyle, 
 p. 56; Study of Figures in Previous Selections, p. 64. 
 
 ON FUNDAMENTAL PROCESSES: RHETORIC, TO PAGE 171. Huxley, p. 67; 
 Newman, p. 76; Study of Fundamental Processes in Previous Selections, 
 p. 86. 
 
 ON THE SENTENCE: RHETORIC, TO PAGE 192. Hawthorne, p. 89; Matthew 
 Arnold, p. 97; Study of Sentences in Previous Selections, p. no. 
 
 ON THE PARAGRAPH: RHETORIC, TO PAGE 214. Macaulay, p. 114; Study 
 of Paragraphs in Previous Selections, p. 128. 
 
JOHN BUNYAN. 
 CHRISTIAN'S FIGHT WITH APOLLYON. 
 
 " The style of Bunyan is delightful to every reader, and invaluable as a 
 atudy to every person who wishes to obtain a wide command over the English 
 language. The vocabulary is the vocabulary of the common people. There 
 is not an expression, if we except a few technical terms of theology, which 
 would puzzle the rudest peasant. We have observed several pages which 
 do not contain a single word of more than two syllables. Yet no writer has 
 said more exactly what he meant to say. For magnificence, for pathos, for 
 vehement exhortation, for subtle disquisition, for every purpose of the poet, the 
 orator, and the divine, this homely dialect, the dialect of plain working men, 
 was perfectly sufficient. There is no book in our literature on which we would 
 so readily stake the fame of the old unpolluted English language, no book 
 which shows so well how rich that language is in its own proper wealth, and 
 how little it has been improved by all that it has borrowed." MACAULAY. 
 
 BUT now, in this Valley of Humiliation, poor Christian 
 was hard put to it ; for he had gone but a little way before 
 
 This Selection and the one following are studied for the manner in 
 which they illustrate Choice of Words; and presuppose a knowledge 
 of the Rhetoric as far as page 48. 
 
 To aid in estimating how the style of this extract accords with its 
 purpose, bear the following facts in mind: I. It is a simple narrative, 
 written by an unlearned man, .for plain, common people. 2. The dic- 
 tion takes its coloring from the book in which Bunyan was most deeply 
 read, the Bible. 3. The Pilgrim's Progress, from which this selection 
 is taken, is an allegory (see Rhetoric, p. 94); from which fact we nat- 
 urally look to see many words and turns of expression determined or 
 influenced by the double sense that allegory contains. 
 
 Iiine 2. Hard put to it, an idiom; see Rhet. p. 46, rule 14. 
 Why so called? A little way, what is the more formal and less 
 
STUDIES IN STYLE. 
 
 he espied a foul fiend coming over the field to meet him : 
 his name is Apollyon. Then did Christian begin to be 
 
 s afraid, and to cast in his mind whether to go back or to 
 stand his ground. But he considered again that he had 
 no armor for his back, and therefore thought that to turn 
 the back to him might give him the greater advantage with 
 ease to pierce him with his darts. Therefore he resolved 
 
 10 to venture and stand his ground ; for, thought he, had I 
 no more in mine eye than the saving of my life, 'twould be 
 the best way to stand. 
 
 So he went on, and Apollyon met him. Now the mon- 
 ster was hideous to behold : he was clothed with scales 
 
 3 like a fish (and they are his pride) ; he had wings like a 
 dragon, feet like a bear, and out of his belly came fire and 
 smoke ; and his mouth was as the mouth of a lion. When 
 he was come up to Christian, he beheld him with a disdain- 
 ful countenance, and thus began to question with him. 
 
 ao Apol. Whence come you ? and whither are you bound ? 
 
 Ckr. I am come from the City of Destruction, which 
 
 is the place of all evil, and am going to the City of Zion. 
 
 idiomatic expression? Try the effect of rewriting the whole sentence 
 in more learned terms; is the style improved thereby? 3. Espied, 
 what equivalent Latin derivative is more used now? Foul, how is 
 the choice of this word probably influenced by Mark ix. 25 ? 5. What 
 idiom in this line ? How is the same idea repeated in the next line ? 
 See Rhet. p. 30, rule 2. Modernize the idioms in 11. 11, 12. 
 
 17. As. Note how the term of comparison is varied from like in 
 previous lines. Which of the two terms is more used with a verb, and 
 which with a noun? 18. Was come. Cf. 11. 21, 36. What equiv- 
 alent form of the verb is more used now ? Find a Latin equivalent 
 for disdainful. 
 
 20. The dialogue form is very frequent with Bunyan ; it is a mark 
 of the vivid imagination which .led him to identify himself with the 
 feelings and thoughts of his characters. Note how natural it is for 
 
JOHN BUNYAN. 3 
 
 Apol. By this I perceive them art one of my subjects ; 
 for all that country is mine, and I am the prince and god 
 of it. How is it then that thou hast run away from thy 25 
 king ? Were it not that I hope thou mayest do me more 
 service, I would strike thee now at one blow to the 
 ground. 
 
 Chr. I was born indeed in your dominions, but your 
 service was hard, and your wages such as a man could not 30 
 live on ; for the wages of siri is death. Therefore when I 
 was come to years, I did as other considerate persons do, 
 look out, if perhaps I might mend myself. 
 
 [In the dialogue that ensues, Apollyon tries by promises 
 and threats to reclaim Christian to his service ; but Chris- 
 tian steadily maintains his allegiance to the Prince whom 
 he now follows.] 
 
 Apol. Then Apollyon broke out into a grievous rage, 
 saying, I am an enemy to this Prince ; I hate his person, 3S 
 his laws, and people ; I am come out on purpose to with- 
 stand thee. 
 
 Chr. Apollyon, beware what you do, for I am in the 
 
 him to slip into direct discourse in 1. 10, and how the vivacity is in- 
 creased thereby; cf. Rhet. p. 127. In some of his dialogue passages 
 he includes more than the actual words spoken; see II. 34, 41. 
 
 23. Does the omission of the conjunction before thou occasion any 
 disadvantage here ? 24. Why is not god spelled with a capital ? 
 
 33. Look out, what auxiliary should be understood with this, to 
 give the proper construction? Mend myself, find a more modern 
 expression. . 
 
 34. Broke out, grievous, substitute Latinized terms for these, 
 and note the loss of energy. 36. Withstand, derivation, see Skeat, 
 Etymological Diet. s. v. What is the equivalent Latin derivative? 
 
 38. Beware means what here ? Is it exactly modern usage ? 
 
 41-45. What words of Saxon derivation are especially energetic in 
 this paragraph ? Try to find more learned terms, and note the differ- 
 ence in effect. 
 
4 STUDIES IN STYLE. 
 
 King's highway, the way of holiness ; therefore take heed 
 
 40 to yourself. v 
 
 Apol. Then Apollyon straddled quite over the whole 
 breadth of the way, and said, I am void of fear in this 
 matter. Prepare thyself to die ; for I swear by my infernal 
 den that thou shalt go no further ; here will I spill thy soul. 
 
 45 And with that he threw a flaming dart at his breast ; 
 but Christian had a shield in his hand, with which he 
 caught it, and so prevented the danger of that. 
 
 Then did Christian draw, for he saw 'twas time to be- 
 stir him ; and Apollyon as fast made at him, throwing 
 
 s darts as thick as hail ; by the which, notwithstanding all 
 that Christian could do to avoid it, Apollyon wounded 
 him in his head, his hand, and foot. This made Chris- 
 tian give a little back ; Apollyon therefore followed his 
 work amain, and Christian again took courage, and re- 
 
 55 sisted as manfully as he could. This sore combat lasted 
 for above half a day, even till Christian was almost quite 
 
 45. And -with that, note that this is the prevailing connective 
 through this more narrative portion; cf. 11. 61, 63, 69, 73. What con- 
 nectives would be more used now ? 
 
 48-58. Note the vigorous Saxon words in 11. 48, 55, 57, and see 
 if you can find other words so good. Put in other terms the idioms 
 in 49, 53, 58, and note the effect. 48. Draw, a technical term 
 meaning what? Does it transgress Rhet. p. 40, rule 10? 'Twas, 
 notice that Bunyan was freer in the use of contractions than writers 
 nowadays, see also 11. n, 83. 50. The which, see also 1. 98. 
 The article is no longer used thus with the relative, except perhaps 
 by Carlyle, who is an exception to all rules. 54. Amain, deri- 
 vation ; see Skeat, s. V. Resisted, compare this word with with- 
 stand, 1. 36, and note the similarity of the roots from which they 
 are derived. Synonyms, see Rhet. p. 30, 2. "We oppose by active 
 force. We resist by inherent power. We withstand by inherent firm- 
 ness." ,. J. SMITH. Can you trace anything of this distinction 
 here? 56. Almost quite, is this expression redundant? Com- 
 
JOHN BUNYAN. 5 
 
 spent ; for you must know that Christian, by reason of his 
 wounds, must needs grow weaker and weaker. 
 
 Then Apollyon, espying his opportunity, began to gather 
 up close to Christian, and wrestling with him, gave him 6c 
 a dreadful fall ; and with that Christian's sword flew out 
 of his hand. Then said Apollyon, I am sure of thee 
 now ; and with that he had almost 'pressed him to death, 
 so that Christian began to despair of life. But as God 
 would have it, while Apollyon was fetching of his last 6 5 
 blow, thereby to make a full end of this good man, Chris- 
 tian nimbly reached out his hand for his sword, and 
 caught it, saying, Rejoice not against me, O mine enemy! 
 when I fall I shall arise ; and with that gave him a deadly 
 thrust, which made him give back, as one that had re- 7 
 ceived his mortal wound. Christian perceiving that, made 
 at him again, saying, Nay, in all these things, we are more 
 than conquerors, through him that loved us. And with 
 that Apollyon spread forth his dragon's wings, and sped 
 him away, that Christian for a season saw him no more. 75 
 
 In this combat no man can imagine, unless he had seen 
 and heard as I did, what yelling and hideous roaring 
 Apollyon made all the time of the fight ; he spake like 
 a dragon ; and on the other side, what sighs and groans 
 burst from Christian's heart. I never saw him all the &> 
 
 pare 11. 41, 105 for the proper use of quite. How do we Americans 
 sometimes use the word improperly? 
 
 59. Gather up close, what would be the modern equivalent of 
 this idiom? 65. Note the idiom in this line. Fetching of , why 
 is the "of" wrong here and right in line 1 1 ? 68. Quoted from Micah 
 vii. 8. What enemy is meant in the original? 71. Note the idiom. 
 Quotation from Romans viii. 37. 74. Dragon's "wings, would we 
 use the possessive in such case now? Sped him away, find an 
 equivalent expression. 
 
6 STUDIES IN STYLE. 
 
 while give so much as one pleasant look, till he perceived 
 he had wounded Apollyon with his two-edged sword ; then 
 indeed he did smile and look upward. But 'twas the dread- 
 fullest sight that ever I saw. 
 
 85 So when the battle was over, Christian said, I will here 
 give thanks to Him that hath delivered me out of the 
 mouth of the lion, to Him that did help me against Apol- 
 lyon. And so he did, saying, 
 
 Great Beelzebub, the Captain of this fiend, 
 90 Designed my ruin ; therefore to this end 
 
 He sent him harness'd out ; and he with rage 
 
 That hellish was, did fiercely me engage : 
 
 But blessed Michael helped me, and I 
 
 By dint of sword did quickly make him fly. 
 95 Therefore to Him let me give lasting praise, 
 
 And thank and bless His holy name always. 
 
 Then there came to him a hand with some of the leaves 
 of the Tree of Life, the which Christian took and applied 
 to the wounds that he had received in the battle, and was 
 
 100 healed immediately. He also sat down in that place to eat 
 bread, and to drink of the bottle that was given him a little 
 before : so being refreshed, he addressed himself to his 
 journey, with his sword drawn in his hand ; for he said, I 
 know not but some other enemy may be at hand. But he 
 
 105 met with no other affront from Apollyon quite through 
 
 this valley. 
 
 From PILGRIM'S PROGRESS. 
 
 83. Compare the sense of this indeed with the one in 1. 29 ; for 
 which latter see Rhet. p. 138, 38. What two uses of the word thus 
 revealed? 91. Harness'd, an old technical term, for which there 
 is no more occasion. 94. Dint of, analyze the idiom, and find an 
 equivalent. 
 
JOHN BUNYAN. 7 
 
 Of the narrative just studied, Richard Grant White says, "No per- 
 son who has read * The Pilgrim's Progress ' can have forgotten the fight 
 of Christian with Apollyon, which, for vividness of description and 
 dramatic interest, puts to shame ail the combats between knights and 
 giants, and men and dragons, that can be found elsewhere in romance 
 or poetry ; but there are probably many who do not remember, and not 
 a few perhaps who, in the very enjoyment of it, did not notice, the 
 clearness, the spirit, the strength, and the simple beauty of the style in 
 which that passage is written." Here are ascribed to the extract all the 
 fundamental qualities of style mentioned in Rhet. pp. 19-25. Let us 
 test some of them. 
 
 How does Bunyan show adaptation of style to thought (Rhet. p. 
 17, i)? How to the reader (17, 2)? Does the nature of the thought 
 require fine shades of meaning, such as we associate with precision 
 (20) ? Test some of the sentences for perspicuity (20) ; e.g. 11. 13-17 ; 
 48-52 ; 64-71 ; 76-80; 100-104 (the longest sentences in the extract). 
 Are there any complexities in their structure? 
 
 As to choice of words, test the sentences for force (21, i). Put e.g. 
 11. 61-78 into other words, choosing Latinized terms for the Saxon 
 where possible, and see if it is as vigorous. 
 
 " Simple beauty " (23), what evidence of that? Are the sentences 
 smooth? Do you notice the felicity of the expression, or indeed think 
 of it as style at all? What does this fact indicate? 
 
II. 
 
 THOMAS DE QUINCEY. 
 
 ON THE KNOCKING AT THE GATE IN MACBETH. 
 
 " Exactness, rather than perspicuity, is his peculiar merit. On this he 
 openly prides himself. ... He certainly had reason to glory. None of our 
 writers in general literature have shown themselves so scrupulously precise. 
 His works are still the crowning delicacy for lovers of formal, punctilious 
 exactness." W. MINTO. 
 
 "Whence is that knocking? 
 How is't with me, when every noise appals me? 
 What hands are here? ha! they pluck out mine eyes. 
 Will all great Neptune's ocean wash this blood 
 Clean from my hand? No, this my hand will rather 
 The multitudinous seas incarnadine, 
 Making the green one red." 
 
 MACBETH, Act II. Scene 7. 
 
 FROM my boyish days I had always felt a great perplexity 
 on one point in Macbeth. It was this : the knocking at 
 
 This selection is studied as illustrating the Choice of Words, espe- 
 cially as regards fine and exact usage. To aid in the study, bear in mind 
 the following facts : I. Published in the London Magazine, in October, 
 1823, this paper was evidently intended for educated readers, and did 
 not need to simplify on their account. 2. The subject, being expository 
 (see Rhet. p. 383), requires accurate, discriminating language ; and 
 from Rhet. p. 44, 2 we naturally expect that words of Classical origin 
 will be freely employed. The conditions are thus quite different from 
 those which governed the previous selection. 
 
 Line 1. Boyish, why is this word better than "boyhood's"? 
 I had always felt, pluperfect, because the author wishes to place it 
 before the fact mentioned 1. 13. Perplexity, compare with syno- 
 nyms, embarrassment, bewilderment, confusion. Why is perplexity 
 
THOMAS DE QUfNCEY. 9 
 
 the gate, which succeeds to the murder of Duncan, pro- 
 duced to my feelings an effect for which I never could 
 account. The effect was, that it reflected back upon the 5 
 murder a peculiar awfulness and a depth of solemnity ; 
 yet, however obstinately I endeavored with my understand- 
 ing to comprehend this, for many years I never could see 
 why it should produce such an effect. . . . 
 
 In fact, my understanding said positively that it could 
 not produce any effect. But I knew better ; I felt that it 
 did ; and I waited and clung to the problem until further 
 knowledge should enable me to solve it. At length, in 
 1812, Mr. Williams made his debut on the stage of Rat- 
 cliffe Highway, and executed those unparalleled murders s 
 which have procured for him such a brilliant and undying 
 
 better here ? 3. Succeeds to, a more formal word than follows. 
 Is it exacter? 4. For which, etc., cf. that I never could account 
 for. Which sounds more colloquial, and which better fitted for such a 
 paper as this ? 6. Peculiar awfulness, etc. Would awe be accurate 
 here ? What is the good of two nearly synonymous expressions ? See 
 Rhet. p. 32. 7. With my understanding. This phrase is made 
 prominent by its order (cf. Rhet. p. 181, 4); to what is it antithetic 
 (1.4)? 
 
 9-. The periods indicate that something is omitted. It is a para- 
 graph of digression, beginning, " Here I pause for one moment to 
 exhort the reader never to pay any attention to his understanding, when 
 ; : l stands in opposition to any other faculty of his mind." The begin- 
 ning of the next paragraph will indicate how easily it can be left out ; 
 cf. Rhet. p. 207, note. 
 
 10. Positively. This is set over against something negatively ex- 
 pressed or implied; find what it is. 12. Problem. Compare ques- 
 tion. Why is this better? What verb is used with this (cf. also 1. 36), 
 and what would be the fitting verb with question ? 14. D6bnt. Why 
 italicized? Is it admissible under Rhet. rule 11, p. 41? This word, 
 with several words in the twelve lines succeeding, are chosen to accord 
 with the ironical view that De Quincey chooses here to take of murder ; 
 
10 STUDIES IN STYLE. 
 
 reputation. On which murders, by the way, I must observe, 
 that in one respect they have had an ill effect, by making 
 the connoisseur in murder very fastidious in his taste, and 
 
 20 dissatisfied by anything that has since been done in that 
 line. All other murders look pale by the deep crimson of 
 his; and, as an amateur once said to me in a querulous 
 tone, " There has been absolutely nothing doing since his 
 time, or nothing that's worth speaking of." But this is 
 
 25 wrong ; for it is unreasonable to expect all men to be great 
 artists, and born with the genius of Mr. Williams. Now 
 it will be remembered, that in the first of these murders, 
 (that of the Marrs,) the same incident (of a knocking at the 
 door, soon after the work of extermination was complete) 
 
 30 did actually occur, which the genius of Shakspeare has 
 invented ; and all good judges, and the most eminent 
 dilettanti, acknowledged the felicity of Shakspeare's sug- 
 gestion, as soon as it was actually realized. Here, then, 
 was a fresh proof that I was right in relying on my own 
 
 35 feeling, in opposition to my understanding ; and I again 
 set myself to study the problem ; at length I solved it to 
 my own satisfaction ; and my solution is this. Murder, in 
 ordinary cases, where the sympathy is wholly directed to 
 
 see note on this figure, p. 65 below. 19. Connoisseur, derivation 
 and use? 19. Fastidious in his taste; 22. Amateur; 25. Great 
 artists ; 26. Genius, from what department of thought are these 
 words chosen? How do they change the suggestion of the thought 
 here ? 28. Incident. Cf. synonyms event, occurrence, why is this 
 better? 29. Extermination, : is this merely a synonym for murder, 
 or does it intentionally express more? See De Quincey's Works, Vol. 
 XI. pp. 614-620. 30. Did actually, to what is this in antithesis ? 
 32. Derivation of dilettanti, as a foreign word, why not italicized? 
 Acknowledged, how different from recognized? Felicity, 
 literally what? Why better than happiness? 33. Actually real- 
 ized, to what is this in antithesis? 38. Sympathy. Study this 
 
THOMAS DE QUINCEY. 11 
 
 the case of the murdered person, is an incident of coarse 
 and vulgar horror ; and for this reason, that it flings the 40 
 interest exclusively upon the natural but ignoble instinct 
 by which we cleave to lite ; an instinct, which, as being 
 indispensable to the primal law of self-preservation, is the 
 same in kind, (though different in degree,) amongst all 
 living creatures ; this instinct, therefore, because it anni- 45 
 hilates all distinctions, and degrades the greatest of men 
 to the level of " the poor beetle that we tread on," exhibits 
 human nature in its most abject and humiliating attitude. 
 Such an attitude would little suit the purposes of the poet. 
 What then must he do? He must throw the interest on s 
 the murderer. Our sympathy must be with him ; (of course 
 
 word in connection with its later use, 11. 51 sq. 39. Coarse and 
 vulgar, try if the sense can be adequately expressed by one of these 
 words alone ; cf. Rhet. p. 31. 41. Exclusively, how is this more 
 specific than 'wholly ? Ignoble, what previous adjective softens the 
 use of this ? 42. Cleave to life, compare the verb clung used with 
 problem, 1. 12, and note fineness of use. 43. Primal, discriminate 
 between synonyms primary, primal, primitive. 45, 46, 47, Annihi- 
 lates, degrades, exhibits, trace the derivation of each of these 
 words, and show in each case how congruous is the object to the verb. 
 48. Abject and humiliating, what is the good of using both 
 terms? 50. Throw, compare flings, 1. 40, and see Rhet. p. 31. 
 51. Sympathy, what is the derivation, and what in the derivation 
 makes " sympathy for " a barbarism (see De Quincey's note below)? 
 On the use of the word sympathy here, De Quincey has the following 
 note : " It seems almost ludicrous to guard and explain my use of a 
 word, in a situation where it would naturally explain itself. But it has 
 become necessary to do so, in consequence of the unscholarlike use of 
 the word sympathy, at present so general, by which, instead of taking 
 it in its proper sense, as the act of reproducing in our minds the feelings 
 of another, whether for hatred, indignation, love, pity, or approbation, 
 it is made a mere synonym of the word pity ; and hence, instead of say- 
 ing ' sympathy with another,' many writers adopt the monstrous bar- 
 
12 STUDIES IN STYLE. 
 
 I mean a sympathy of comprehension, a sympathy by which 
 we enter into his feelings, and are made to understand 
 them, not a sympathy of pity or approbation). In the 
 
 75 murdered person, all strife of thought, all flux and reflux 
 of passion and of purpose, are crushed by one overwhelm- 
 ing panic ; the fear of instant death smites him " with its 
 petrific mace." But in the murderer, such a murderer as a 
 poet will condescend to, there must be raging some great 
 
 60 storm of passion, jealousy, ambition, vengeance, hatred, 
 which will create a hell within him ; and into this hell we 
 are to look. 
 
 In Macbeth, for the sake of gratifying his own enormous 
 and teeming faculty of creation, Shakspeare has introduced 
 
 65 two murderers ; and, as usual in his hands, they are re- 
 markably discriminated : but, though in Macbeth the strife 
 of mind is greater than in his wife, the tiger spirit not so 
 awake, and his feelings caught chiefly by contagion from 
 her, yet, as both were finally involved in the guilt of 
 
 barism of * sympathy for another.' " 52. Comprehension, point 
 out how this word is defined in the repetition that follows. 55. What 
 idea is here developed by two nearly synonymous expressions ? Flux 
 and reflux; technical terms, are they too difficult for the class to 
 whom the paper is addressed ? 58. Petrific, derive this word, and 
 show its adaptedness to the idea. 59. Condescend to, what more 
 is suggested than if De Quincey had said describes* depict? Cf. 11. 
 31, 33. 60. Storm of passion, what makes this term more fitting 
 here than the weaker term " flux and reflux of passion," 1. 55, and why 
 is the other more fitting there? 
 
 63. Enormous, derivation? 64. Define teeming, and show how 
 it advances on the idea expressed in enormous. 66. Discriminated, 
 
 compare distinguished, and show how the derivation makes this word 
 better here. 67. What strong epithet in this line ? 68. Contagion, 
 
 a technical term from what source ? 69. Involved, show how 
 
THOMAS DE QUINCE Y. 13 
 
 murder, the murderous mind of necessity is finally to be 70 
 presumed in both. This was to be expressed ; and on its 
 own account, as well as to make it a more proportionable 
 antagonist to the unoffending nature of their victim, " the 
 gracious Duncan," and adequately to expound "the deep 
 damnation of his taking off," this was to be expressed with 75 
 peculiar energy. We were to be made to feel that the 
 human nature, that is, the divine nature of love and mercy, 
 spread through the hearts of all creatures, and seldom 
 utterly withdrawn from man, was gone, vanished, extinct ; 
 and that the fiendish nature had taken its place. And, as 80 
 this effect is marvellously accomplished in the dialogues 
 and soliloquies themselves, so it is finally consummated by 
 the expedient under consideration ; and it is to this that 
 
 the word, by its derivation, is fitted to the context. 70. Of neces- 
 sity, why not necessarily ? Try and see. 71. How does presumed 
 fit its derivation here ? Expressed, why would not said or told be 
 fitting here ? 72. A more proportionable antagonist, can this 
 be put in simpler terms without circumlocution ? 74. How does ade- 
 quately fit its derivation here? Expound, why not explain or 
 interpret? 77. Divine, what antithetic word answers to this below? 
 79. Gone, vanished, extinct, trace degrees of meaning and climax 
 (see Rhet. p. 105). Does the use of three words answer to the idea's 
 prominence ? 81, 82. Dialogues and soliloquies, what is the 
 difference in these two words? Derive them. Accomplished, 
 consummated, discriminate degrees of meaning in these two. 
 83. Expedient under consideration, a repetition of what, and 
 why the variation in repetition? 84-103. Read these sentences care- 
 fully aloud, and note how elaborate is the diction, owing to the presence 
 of elegant words. Try the effect of substituting simpler terms, and see 
 if the passage remains as suggestive. Is there a suspicion of fine writ- 
 ing (Rhet. p. 45, rule 13) in " a vast metropolis " (why not great city?}, 
 "great national idol" (why not honored citizen ?}> "carried in funeral 
 pomp to his grave" (why not simply buried f)1 See if the simpler 
 words would adequately portray the scene De Quincey here wishes to 
 
14 STUDIES IN STYLE. 
 
 I now solicit the reader's attention. If the reader has ever 
 
 85 witnessed a wife, daughter, or sister, in a fainting fit, he 
 may chance to have observed that the most affecting mo- 
 ment in such a spectacle, is that in which a sigh and a 
 stirring announce the recommencement of suspended life. 
 Or, if the reader has ever been present in a vast metropo- 
 
 90 lis, on the day when some great national idol was carried 
 in funeral pomp to his grave, and chancing to walk near 
 the course through which it passed, has felt powerfully, in 
 the silence and desertion of the streets, and in the stagna- 
 tion of ordinary business, the deep interest which at that 
 
 95 moment was possessing the heart of man, if all at once 
 he should hear the death-like stillness broken up by the 
 sound of wheels rattling away from the scene, and making 
 known that the transitory vision was dissolved, he will be 
 aware that at no moment was his sense of the complete 
 
 too suspension and pause in ordinary human concerns so full 
 and affecting, as at that moment when the suspension 
 ceases, and the goings-on of human life are suddenly 
 resumed. All action in any direction is best expounded, 
 measured, and made apprehensible, by reaction. Now 
 
 105 apply this to the case in Macbeth. Here, as I have said, 
 
 impress. 93. Note the number of words used to portray the one idea 
 silence, desertion, stagnation, 96, stillness, and 100, suspension, 
 pause ; and trace the particular aspect of the scene with which each 
 word is used. 96, 97. What words in these two lines are picturesque 
 or descriptive words (cf. Rhet. pp. 62, 168)? See if you can discern 
 the descriptive quality in the sound. 98. Be aware, would it be 
 accurate to say here, as is often said nowadays, b* conscious? 101. Sus- 
 pension ceases, note that one elaborate word naturally consorts 
 with another, as belonging to the same stratum of diction (see Rhet. 
 p. 83) ; thus, ceases here is better than stops. 103. Trace the stages 
 of the idea presented by the three verbs. Does the importance of the 
 
THOMAS DE QUINCEY. IS 
 
 the retiring of the human heart, and the entrance of the 
 fiendish heart, was to be expressed and made sensible 
 Another world has stept in ; and the murderers are taken 
 out of the region of human things, human purposes, human 
 desires. They are transfigured : Lady Macbeth is "un- m 
 sexed " ; Macbeth has forgot that he was born of woman ; 
 both are conformed to the image of devils ; and the world 
 of devils is suddenly revealed. But how shall this be 
 conveyed and made palpable? In order that a new world 
 may step in, this world must for a time disappear. The 1*5 
 murderers, and the murder, must be insulated cut off by 
 an immeasurable gulph from the ordinary tide and succes- 
 sion of human affairs locked up and sequestered in some 
 deep recess ; we must be made sensible that the world of 
 ordinary life is suddenly arrested laid asleep tranced i* 
 racked into a dread armistice ; time must be annihilated ; 
 relation to things without abolished ; and all must pass 
 self-withdrawn into a deep syncope and suspension of earthly 
 
 thought justify so minute expression? 107. Expressed, repeated 
 from 1. 71, with a word added. What is the use of the words made 
 sensible? Fiendish is set over against human here ; compare what 
 is added to the idea, 11. 76-80. 110. Transfigured, an unusual use 
 of the word; in what respect? 114. Conveyed and made palpa- 
 ble, compare these words with the verbs in 11. 103, 104, and trace the 
 difference. 116. Insulated, i note how this technical term is imme- 
 diately defined for the present purpose in the parenthesis.- 115- 
 124. Note the different ways of saying essentially the same thing, in 
 these lines. 121. Armistice, derivation? Annihilated, abol- 
 ished, discriminate these, and note their fitness to their subjects. 
 123. Syncope, a technical term ; from what source ? Does the 
 succeeding phrase explain it sufficiently to justify it? Note the syno- 
 nym for this employed in 1. 121. (It will be noted, by the way, how 
 the unusual words here, insulated, sequestered, armistice, syncope 
 are all made intelligible by equivalent expressions in the context.) 
 
16 STUDIES IN STYLE. 
 
 passion. Hence it is, that when the deed is done, when 
 
 125 the work of darkness is perfect, then the world of darkness 
 passes away like a pageantry in the clouds ; the knocking 
 at the gate is heard ; and it makes known audibly that the 
 reaction has commenced : the human has made its reflux 
 upon the fiendish ; the pulses of life are beginning to beat 
 
 130 again ; and the re-establishment of the goings-on of the 
 world in which we live, first makes us profoundly sensible 
 of the awful parenthesis that had suspended them. 
 
 O, mighty poet ! Thy works are not as those of other 
 men, simply and merely great works of art ; but are also 
 
 135 like the phenomena of nature, like the sun and the sea, the 
 stars and the flowers, like frost and snow, rain and dew, 
 hail-storm and thunder, which are to be studied with entire 
 submission of our own faculties, and in the perfect faith 
 that in them there can be no too much or too little, nothing 
 
 140 useless or inert, but that, the further we press in our 
 discoveries, the more we shall see proofs of design and self- 
 supporting arrangement where the careless eye had seen 
 nothing but accident. 
 
 From ESSAYS IN LITERARY CRITICISM, Works Vol. IV. 
 
 128. Human, fiendish, the adjectives are used without their sub- 
 stantives ; would it be as impressive if any substantive, as in 11. 77, 80, 
 106, 107, were employed? 
 
 134. .Simply and merely, point out, from the root-meanings of 
 these words, the utility of employing both. What distinction do you 
 notice between them here ? 135. Phenomena, derive, and note 
 how defined and particularized in the succeeding (cf. Rhet. p. 290). 
 140. Useless or inert, an example of what has been very prominent 
 throughout, adjectives in pairs. Is it obtrusive enough to be called 
 a mannerism? 143. Accident, what terms constitute the antithe 
 sis to this? 
 
STUDY INTRODUCTORY TO FOLLOWING SELECTIONS. 
 
 The three Selections that follow will be studied in a somewhat 
 broader way, as illustrating some of the characteristics that diction 
 takes, according to the prevailing mood or emotion in which the 
 work is written ; and presuppose a knowledge of the Rhetoric as far 
 as page 84. 
 
 Before proceeding to these Selections, however, let us see what char- 
 acteristics of this kind are revealed in the two Selections that have 
 already been given. 
 
 Bunyan: pages 1-6. Bunyan has a simple and intelligible story 
 to tell ; as it were, a recital of plain fact. His appeal, therefore, is merely 
 to the intellect ; and the diction, in the regularity and restraint of its 
 structure, is of the Intellectual Type ; see Rhet. p. 69. Can you discern, 
 in 11. 35-44, any evidences of increased emotion? Note the short, 
 trenchant clauses, all direct assertions, and the strong words and figures ; 
 e.g., " I hate his person," etc. ; " Prepare thyself to die ; " ** Here will 
 I spill thy soul." The exclamation in 1. 68, also, is natural to the 
 heightened feeling of this part of the story. 
 
 De Quincey : pages 8-16. The selection from De Quincey, being 
 concerned with expounding ideas, is also prevailingly of the Intellectual 
 Type, but in a manner very different from that of Bunyan. You have 
 already observed how exact he is, in the choice of words and in the dis- 
 crimination of shades in the idea ; this is called for largely by the nature 
 of his task. But also, as an individual trait, his diction is very elabo- 
 rate. We see here illustrated what critics have noted, that "his lan- 
 guage naturally and unavoidably shaped itself into stately phrases"; 
 and sometimes we can feel, with the critics, " their occasionally some- 
 what inappropriate pomp and elegance."' Observe if this is in any 
 degree the case in 11. 80-102 ; 1 13-132. 
 
 The last paragraph shows the effect of emotion, and is distinctly an 
 approach to the Impassioned Type. What is there that indicates a 
 heightened style.' Read it aloud, and observe the flow of it, its euphony 
 and rhythm (cf. Rhet. p. 169), the omission of the article in 1. 136 (see 
 Rhet. p. 51), the imaginative delight in the impressive phenomena of 
 nature, which gives the passage a poetic touch. 
 
III. 
 
 EDMUND BURKE. 
 
 THE AGE OF CHIVALRY IS GONE ! 
 
 " In all its varieties Burke's style is noble, earnest, deep-flowing, because 
 his sentiment was lofty and fervid, and went with sincerity and ardent disci- 
 plined travail of judgment. . . . Burke had the style of his subjects, the 
 amplitude, the weightiness, the laboriousness, the sense, the high flight, the 
 grandeur, proper to a man dealing with imperial themes, the freedom of 
 nations, the justice of rulers, the fortunes of great societies, the sacredness of 
 law." JOHN MORLEY. 
 
 IT is now sixteen or seventeen years since I saw the 
 Queen of France, then the Dauphiness, at Versailles ; and 
 
 The "Reflections on the Revolution in France," from which this 
 Selection is taken, was first published in October, 1790. The mood in 
 which the present passage was written is well indicated in the following 
 passage from a letter of Burke's to Sir P. Francis, under date of Feb. 
 20, 1790: "I tell you again, that the recollection of the manner in 
 which I saw the Queen of France, in the year 1774, and the contrast 
 between that brilliancy, splendor, and beauty, with the prostrate homage 
 of a nation to her and the abominable scene of 1789, which I was 
 describing, did draw tears from me, and wetted my paper. These tears 
 came again into my eyes, almost as often as I looked at the description ; 
 they may again. You do not believe this fact, nor that these are my 
 real feelings : but that the whole is affected, or, as you express it, down- 
 right foppery." 
 
 Let us see how such emotion and such vivid realization reveal them- 
 selves in the diction. 
 
 1. Notes on the prevailing types of the Diction. Lines 1-7 
 are descriptive ; point out how they agree with the characteristics of 
 descriptive language mentioned Rhet. p. 338, bottom. What do you 
 
EDMUND BURKE. 19 
 
 surely never lighted on this orb, which she hardly seemed 
 to touch, a more delightful vision. I saw her just above 
 the horizon, decorating and cheering the elevated sphere 5 
 she just began to move in ; glittering like the morning 
 star, full of life, and splendor, and joy. Oh, what a revolu- 
 tion ! and what a heart must I have, to contemplate without 
 
 discern of poetic structure in 1. 3? What word from the poetic vocab- 
 ulary ? Explain the figure that lines 1-7 embody ; is it suitable to 
 ordinary plain prose, such prose, for instance, as Bunyan's? Do you 
 discern in these lines words chosen in part for their euphony or pictur- 
 esqueness? Read the clauses aloud; do you observe a tendency to 
 regularity of rhythm? Consider how all these things help the imagi- 
 nation to realize the passage. It will be observed that, although the 
 diction is brilliant and noble, there are few if any words that belong 
 exclusively to the poetic vocabulary ; and this agrees with what Hazlitt 
 says : "It has always appeared to me that the most perfect prose style, 
 the most powerful, the most dazzling, the most daring, that which went 
 nearest to the verge of poetry, and yet never fell over, was Burke's." 
 
 Lines 7-31 are not so much description as comment ; and they are 
 obviously more impassioned than preceding or following. Point out 
 the irregularities of expression due to emotion ; see Rhet. p. 71. Notice 
 first the exclamatory sentences ; cf. Rhet. p. 97. Try the effect of put- 
 ting 11. 7-9 in a mere assertion. What repetition makes 11. 24-26 exclam- 
 atory (cf. 1. 1 8)? Notice next how the repetitions aid the emphasis; 
 (cf. Rhet. p. 161, 74) ; see e.g. 11. 9, 13, 14, 15, 20, 26. Notice finally 
 how much is expressed by circumlocutions that give the real significance 
 of the thought. What circumlocution for "became queen" in 1. 10? 
 for " poison " (some say " a dagger ") in 1. 12 ? For what is the bold 
 figure (taken perhaps from Milton, Par. Lost, I. 664) in 11. 16, 17, a cir- 
 cumlocution? Lines 18-31 are quoted, Rhet. p. 292, as example of am- 
 plification by repetition. Point out in these lines the different equivalents 
 for chivalry. From such details as these, we observe that the impas- 
 sioned character of the passage is expressed mostly by repetition : first 
 of the note, Little did I dream" (11. 9-15), then of the note, "Never, 
 never more" (11. 20-24), finally of the note, " It is gone" (11. 18, 26). 
 Notice how these expressions, or their equivalents, are reiterated as the 
 dominating elements of their sentences, somewhat like a musical refrain. 
 
20 STUDIES IN STYLE. 
 
 emotion that elevation and that fall ! Little did I dream, 
 10 when she added titles of veneration to those of enthusias- 
 tic, distant, respectful love, that she should ever be obliged 
 to carry the sharp antidote against disgrace concealed in 
 that bosom ; little did I dream that I should have lived to 
 see such disasters fallen upon her in a nation of gallant 
 15 men, in a nation of men of honour, and of cavaliers. I 
 thought ten thousand swords must have leaped from their 
 scabbards to avenge even a look that threatened her with 
 insult. But the age of chivalry is gone. That of sophis- 
 ters, economists, and calculators, has succeeded ; and the 
 > glory of Europe is extinguished for ever. Never, never 
 
 Do you find the rest of the Selection so impassioned as what has 
 been examined ? Do you note any of the irregular, or abrupt, or poetic 
 expressions due to impassioned style? Let us see why. Do the 
 thoughts with which it deals come so much home to personal feelings 
 and concerns, or is it more abstract? Give the main underlying thought 
 of paragraph, 11. 32-51. Of 11. 52-64. Of 11. 65-76. Of 11. 77-99. 
 Are these thoughts, as here treated, well adapted to fervid passion? 
 
 2. Notes on choice of Words. In the Selection from Bunyan 
 we have seen words employed for plain and simple information ; in the 
 Selection from De Quincey, for exactness and fineness. In this Selec- 
 tion we shall find many of the unusual words employed partly for 
 strength, partly for rhythm. 
 
 The strength is due for the most part to the suggestive, thought- 
 producing quality of the expressions chosen. See Rhet. p. 21. II. i. 
 12. The sharp antidote against disgrace, how much more does 
 this suggest than the word poison ? 16. Ten thousand swords, try 
 some indefinite number, like multitiides of swords, and note the change 
 of effect. 16. Leaped from their scabbards, how does the word 
 leaped 'aid the vigor of the expression? 20-23. Point out the epithets 
 that rouse thought by means of paradox or antithesis. Point out sim- 
 ilar ones in 1. 53. What strong Saxon verb in 1. 58? Suggestive 
 epithets in 1. 62 ? In 1. 78? Note how all is summed up and strength- 
 ened (1. 98) by a short, striking sentence. 
 
EDMUND BURKE. 21 
 
 more, shall we behold that generous loyalty to rank and sex, 
 that proud submission, that dignified obedience, that sub- 
 ordination of the heart, which kept alive, even in servitude 
 itself, the spirit of an exalted freedom. The unbought 
 grace of life, the cheap defence of nations, the nurse of 25 
 manly sentiment and heroic enterprise, is gone ! It is gone, 
 that sensibility of principle, that chastity of honour, which 
 felt a stain like a wound, which inspired courage whilst it 
 mitigated ferocity, which ennobled whatever it touched, 
 and under which vice itself lost half its evil, by losing all 30 
 its grossness. 
 
 This mixed system of opinion and sentiment had its ori- 
 gin in the ancient chivalry ; and the principle, though varied 
 in its appearance by the varying state of human affairs, 
 subsisted and influenced through a long succession of 35 
 generations, even to the time we live in. If it should ever 
 be totally extinguished, the loss I fear will be great. It is 
 this which has given its character to modern Europe. It 
 is this which has distinguished it under all its forms of 
 government, and distinguished it to its advantage, from 4 
 the states of Asia, and possibly from those states which 
 flourished in the most brilliant periods of the antique world. 
 
 Of course the words that promote the rhythm and euphony are also 
 suggestive and exact ; they would not be chosen, by so earnest a writer 
 as Burke, for their sound alone. But test some of the lines by reading 
 aloud, or by trying to substitute equivalent words. Note the rhythm 
 of lines 3 and 4. Of 6 and 7. Substitute a monosyllable for splendor, 
 and note the effect. How would rise for elevation, in 1. 9, affect the 
 sound of it? Read carefully 11. 20-31, and mark how accented and 
 unaccented syllables follow one another (cf. Rhet. p. 170). How does 
 this regularity of accent correspond with the sentiment of the passage? 
 
 The passage 11. 47-64 is quoted, Rhet. p. 187, to illustrate how 
 short sentences may be interspersed with long? to aid in ease of inter- 
 pretation. 
 
22 STUDIES IN STYLE. 
 
 It was this, which, without confounding ranks, had produced 
 a noble equality, and handed it down through all the gra- 
 
 45 dations of social life. It was this opinion which mitigated 
 kings into companions, and raised private men to be fellows 
 with kings. Without force, or opposition, it subdued the 
 fierceness of pride and power ; it obliged sovereigns to 
 submit to the soft collar of social esteem, compelled stern 
 
 50 authority to submit to elegance, and gave a dominating 
 vanquisher of laws to be subdued by manners. 
 
 But now all is to be changed. All the pleasing illusions, 
 which made power gentle, and obedience liberal, which 
 harmonized the different shades of life, and which, by a 
 
 55 bland assimilation, incorporated into politics the sentiments 
 which beautify and soften private society, are to be dis- 
 solved by this new conquering empire of light and reason. 
 All the decent drapery of life is to be rudely torn off. All 
 the superadded ideas, furnished from the wardrobe of a 
 
 60 moral imagination, which the heart owns, and the under- 
 standing ratifies, as necessary to cover the defects of our 
 naked, shivering nature, and to raise it to dignity in our 
 own estimation, are to be exploded as a ridiculous, absurd, 
 and antiquated fashion. 
 
 65 On this scheme of things, a king is but a man ; a queen 
 is but a woman ; a woman is but an animal, and an animal 
 not of the highest order. All homage paid to the sex in 
 
 50. On this passage Mr. Joseph Payne (** Studies in English Prose," 
 p. 325) has the following note : " There is probably some misprint here, 
 which must have escaped the author's notice. The phraseology as we 
 find it, is impossible, though the meaning is easily seen. It may be 
 thus paraphrased * made him, who had proudly overthrown all laws, 
 submit in his turn to the dominion of manners.' Perhaps 'gave' 
 which is the real difficulty ought to be 'made,' though, in that case, 
 *he construction would still be awkward. 1 * 
 
EDMUND BURKE. 23 
 
 general as such, and without distinct views, is to be re- 
 garded as romance and folly. Regicide, and parricide, and 
 sacrilege, are but fictions of superstition, corrupting juris- 70 
 prudence by destroying its simplicity. The murder of a 
 king, or a queen, or a bishop, or a father, is only common 
 homicide; and if -the people are by any chance, or in any 
 way, gainers by it, a sort of homicide much the most par- 
 donable, and into which we ought not to make too severe 75 
 a scrutiny. 
 
 On the scheme of this barbarous philosophy, which is 
 the offspring of cold hearts and muddy understandings, 
 and which is as void of solid wisdom, as it is destitute of all 
 taste and elegance, laws are to be supported only by their 80 
 own terrors, and by the concern which each individual may 
 find in them from his own private speculations, or can spare 
 to them from his own private interests. In the groves of 
 their academy, at the end of every vista, you see nothing 
 but the gallows. Nothing is left which engages the affec- 8 5 
 tions on the part of the commonwealth. On the principles 
 of this mechanic philosophy, our institutions can never be 
 embodied, if I may use the expression, in persons ; so as 
 to create in us love, veneration, admiration, or attachment. 
 But that sort of reason which banishes the affections is 90 
 incapable of filling their place. These public affections, 
 combined with manners, are required sometimes as sup- 
 plements, sometimes as correctives, always as aids to law. 
 The precept given by a wise man, as well as a great critic, 
 for the construction of poems, is equally true as to states : 95 
 Non satis est pulchra esse poemata, dulcia sunto. There 
 ought to be a system of manners in every nation, which a 
 well-formed mind would be disposed to relish. To make 
 us love our country, our country ought to be lovely. 
 
 From REFLECTIONS ON THE REVOLUTION IN FRANCE. 
 
IV. 
 WILLIAM MAKEPEACE THACKERAY. 
 
 ON LETTS'S DIARY. 
 
 "The charm comes from the writer, and his mode of treatment. The wit 
 and the humor, so ' bitter-sweet ' ; the fine fancy and delicate observation ; 
 the eye for ludicrous situations; the richness, raciness, and occasional wildness 
 of the comic vein; the subtlety of the unexpected strokes of pathos; the 
 perfect obedience of the style to the mind it expresses; and the continual 
 presence of the writer himself, making himself the companion of the reader, 
 gossiping, hinting, sneering, laughing, crying, as the narrative proceeds, 
 combine to produce an effect which nobody, to say the least, ever found dull. 
 The grace, flexibility, and easy elegance of the style are especially notable. 
 It is utterly without pretension, and partakes of the absolute sincerity of the 
 writer; it is talk in print, seemingly as simple as the most familiar private 
 chat, and as delicate in its felicities as the most elaborate composition." 
 E. P. WHIPPLE. 
 
 MINE is one of your No. 12 diaries, three shillings cloth 
 boards; silk limp, gilt edges, three-and-six ; French mo- 
 
 The selection from Burke, just studied, being largely oratorical and 
 impassioned, combined, as we have seen, some of the abrupt and irreg- 
 ular characteristics of spoken discourse, with some of the elegances of 
 poetry. The present selection, though also spoken discourse, is very 
 different from the style of Burke ; pitched, as it were, in a different key. 
 It is what Whipple calls Thackeray's style above, ' ' talk in print." We 
 expect accordingly to find in it the chattiness, the freedom, the raci- 
 ness, of conversation, both in the words chosen, which are free to be 
 colloquial or learned, and in the way they are put together, which may 
 at will be formal or irregular. See Rhet. pp. 76-78. 
 
 Line 3L. One of your, a colloquial idiom ; how would it be ex- 
 pressed m more formal style ? 1-3. In what spirit is this memorandum 
 
WILLIAM MAKEPEACE THACKERAY. 25 
 
 rocco, tuck ditto, four-and-six. It has two pages, ruled 
 with faint lines for memoranda, for every week, and a ruled 
 account at the end, for the twelve months from January to 5 
 December, where you may set down your incomings and 
 your expenses. I hope yours, my respected reader, are 
 large ; that there are many fine round sums of figures on 
 each side of the page : liberal on the expenditure side, 
 greater still on the receipt. I hope, sir, you will be " a 
 better man," as they say, in '62 than in this moribund '61, 
 whose career of life is just coming to its terminus. A 
 better man in purse ? in body ? in soul's health ? Amen, 
 good sir, in all. Who is there so good in mind, body or 
 estate, but bettering won't still be good for him ? O is 
 unknown Fate, presiding over next year, if you will give 
 me better health, a better appetite, a better digestion, a 
 
 of prices, like an inventory, dictated? Is it given merely to impart 
 useful information ? 3. Is the word ditto a strictly literary word, 
 would it sound fitting, for example, in such a passage as we have just 
 studied from Burke ? 6. Incomings, what is the equivalent of this 
 in business language? 7. Yours, my respected reader, this 
 strikes the personal, colloquial note which is the tone of the piece, a 
 mutual intercourse with the reader. In Burke there is the first person, 
 but no second ; in De Quincey there is only a distant relation to his 
 reader ; see, for instance, De Quincey, 1. 84. Here the writer and reader 
 are at close quarters, and the whole style is correspondingly more famil- 
 iar. 8. Fine round sums, how does this expression illustrate 
 Rhet. p. 34, rule 4, remark? 11. Moribund, derivation? 
 12. Terminus, what is the meaning of this Latin word, and how 
 does it correspond with the root-meaning of career? for which latter, 
 see Skeat's Etym. Diet. Does this suggestiveness justify the use of the 
 unusual word, and remove it from " fine writing " ? (Cf. Rhet. p. 45.) 
 What characteristics of spoken diction and structure do you discern in 
 11. 12-41? (Cf. Rhet. p. 77.) 13. What is the primary meaning of 
 amen, and how does it fit this passage ? 15-20. A half whimsical 
 prayer, differing from a real invocation in not being in the solemn or 
 
26 STUDIES IN STYLE. 
 
 better income, a better temper in '62 than you have be- 
 stowed in '6 1, I think your servant will be the better for 
 20 the changes. For instance, I should be the better for a 
 new coat. This one, I acknowledge, is very old. The 
 family says so. My good friend, who amongst us would 
 not be the better if he would give up some old habits? 
 Yes, yes. You agree with me. You take the allegory? 
 25 Alas ! at our time of life we don't like to give up those old 
 habits, do we ? It is ill to change. There is the good old 
 loose, easy, slovenly bedgown, laziness, for example. What 
 man of sense likes to fling it off and put on a tight guindt 
 prim dress-coat that pinches him ? There is the cozy wrap- 
 so rascal, self-indulgence how easy it is ! How warm ! How 
 it always se.ems to fit ! You can walk out in it ; you can 
 go down to dinner in it. You can say of such what Tully 
 says of his books : Pernoctat nobiscum, pereginatur, rusti- 
 catur. It is a little slatternly it is a good deal stained 
 35 it isn't becoming it smells of cigar-smoke ; but, allons 
 done! let the world call me idle and sloven. I love my 
 ease better than my neighbor's opinion. I live to please 
 myself; not you, Mr. Dandy, with your supercilious airs. 
 I am a philosopher. Perhaps I live in my tub, and don't 
 
 thou-style. 20. A new coat, it becomes evident, in 1. 23, why 
 exactly this instance is chosen. 23. What double meaning in the 
 word habits, to suggest the allegory, as it is called in the next line ? 
 28. Guinde, does this technicalism make- the passage obscure, and 
 does it add enough to pay for its use, though not understood? 
 29-31. Express this sentence in a more formal style. Would wrap- 
 rascal be fitting in a severely literary style? See Webster's Diet. 
 35. Allons done! a French idiom or colloquialism, equivalent to 
 who cares? or nonsense I Throughout his works Thackeray evinces a 
 very intimate knowledge of the French language. 40. The sentence 
 is broken off abruptly, much in the manner of Charles Lamb. Observe 
 that the very abruptness increases the effect of what is thus broken off. 
 
WILLIAM MAKEPEACE THACKERAY. 27 
 
 make any other use of it . We won't pursue further 4c 
 this unsavory metaphor. . . . 
 
 A diary. Dies. Hodie. How queer to read are some 
 of the entries in the journal ! Here are the records of 
 dinners eaten, and gone the way of flesh. The lights burn 
 blue somehow, and we sit before the ghosts of victuals. 45 
 Hark at the dead jokes resurging ! Memory greets them 
 with the ghost of a smile. Here are the lists of the indi- 
 viduals who have dined at your own humble table. The 
 agonies endured before and during those entertainments 
 are renewed, and smart again. What a failure that special so 
 grand dinner was ! How those dreadful occasional waiters 
 did break the old china ! What a dismal hash poor Mary, 
 the cook, made of the French dish which she would try 
 out of Francatelli ! How angry Mrs. Pope was at not 
 going down to dinner before Mrs. Bishop ! How Trimal- ss 
 chio sneered at your absurd attempt to give a feast ; and 
 Harpagon cried out at your extravagance and ostentation ! 
 
 41. What is there " unsavory" in the metaphor? Here, for lack of 
 space, a list of bad habits, with comments, all in the same half-whim- 
 sical spirit, is omitted. 
 
 42. The Latin words from which the word diary is derived, how 
 is the significance of the passage increased by the use of them ? 
 43. What right has journal, from its derivation, to be used here as 
 equivalent for diary? 44. Gone the way of flesh, from what uni- 
 versal event is this expression adopted here? For the significance of 
 the lights burn blue, compare Shakespeare, Richard III. Act V. 
 sc. 3. 46. Resurging, Thackeray coins this word, from the sug- 
 gestion of the Latin word resurgam, I shall rise again, used in religious 
 literature of the resurrection from the dead. Does the figure in which 
 he is speaking, together with the freedom of conversational style, justify 
 the coinage? (See Rhet. p. 36, 6.) 47. What humorous word-play in 
 this line? What does individual primarily signify, and for what word 
 is it often incorrectly used? Is the use accurate here? 54-62. The 
 
28 STUDIES IN STYLE. 
 
 How Lady Almack bullied the other ladies in the drawing- 
 room (when no gentlemen were present) : never asked you 
 
 60 back to dinner again : left her card by her footman : and 
 took not the slightest notice of your wife and daughters at 
 Lady Hustleby's assembly ! On the other hand, how easy, 
 cozy, merry, comfortable, those little dinners .were ; got up 
 at one or two days' notice ; when everybody was contented ; 
 
 65 the soup as clear as amber : the wine as good as Trimal- 
 chio's own ; and the people kept their carriages waiting, 
 and would not go away till midnight ! 
 
 Along with the catalogue of bygone pleasures, balls, 
 banquets, and the like, which the pages record, comes a 
 
 70 list of much more important occurrences, and remem- 
 brances of graver import. On two days of Dives' diary 
 are printed notices that "Dividends are due at the Bank." 
 Let us hope, dear sir, that this announcement considerably 
 interests you ; in which case, probably, you have no need 
 
 75 of the almanack-maker's printed reminder. If you look 
 over poor Jack Reckless's note-book, amongst his memo- 
 randa of racing odds given and taken, perhaps you may 
 read: ' Nabbam's bill, due 2gth September, 142 /. 15 s. 
 6 d" Let us trust, as the day has passed, that the little 
 
 proper names used in these lines are characteristic of Thackeray, who 
 always made even his most casual instances concrete by well-chosen 
 names which play a very felicitous part in aiding the suggestiveness of 
 the passage. What suggestiveness is there in " Mrs. Pope " and " Mrs. 
 Bishop " ? Trimalchio was a celebrated cook in the reign of Nero ; see 
 Brewer's " Reader's Handbook." Harpagon, a character of Moliere's, 
 the type of utter miserliness ; see ibid. Almack's, the former name of 
 Willis's Rooms, King St., London, famous for aristocratic and exclusive 
 balls. The significance of Hustleby, as antithetical to Almack, is ob- 
 vious. See other well-invented names, 11. 71, 76, 78, 100. 
 
 70, 71. Important . . . import, is it felicitous to employ these 
 two similar words so near together? 79. Little transaction, what 
 
WILLIAM MAKEPEACE THACKERAY. 29 
 
 transaction here noted has been satisfactorily terminated. 8c 
 If you are paterfamilias, and a worthy kind gentleman, no 
 doubt you have marked down on your register, i/th De- 
 cember (say), "Boys come home." Ah, how carefully that 
 blessed day is marked in their little calendars ! In my time 
 it used to be, Wednesday, I3th November, "5 weeks from 85 
 the holidays" ; Wednesday, 2Oth November, "4 weeks from 
 the holidays" ; until sluggish time sped on, and we came 
 to WEDNESDAY, i8th DECEMBER. O rapture! Do you 
 remember pea-shooters ? I think we only had them on 
 going home for holidays from private schools, at public 9 
 schools, men are too dignified. And then came that glo- 
 rious announcement, Wednesday, 2/th, " Papa took us to 
 the Pantomime ; " or if not papa, perhaps you condescended 
 to go to the pit, under charge of the footman. 
 
 That was near the end of the year and mamma gave 95 
 you a new pocket-book, perhaps, with a little coin, God 
 bless her, in the pocket. And that pocket-book was for 
 next year, you know ; and, in that pocket-book you had to 
 write down that sad day, Wednesday, January 24th, eighteen 
 hundred and never mind what, when Dr. Birch's young * 
 friends were expected to reassemble. 
 
 expression of dunning creditors is here imitated ? 81. Paterfamilias, 
 derivation? Is it suited to all kinds of style? 89. Pea-shooters, 
 the use of pea-shooters will be found explained in " School Days at 
 Rugby,' 1 Chap. IV. : " ' What do they do with pea-shooters? ' inquires 
 Tom. Do wi' 'em ! why, peppers every one's faces as we comes near, 
 'cept the young gals, and breaks windows wi' them too, some on 'em 
 shoots so hard.' " Do you find, in the adjectives, 11. 84, 92, and in the 
 exclamation, 1. 88, an illustration of Rhet. p. 77, 4? 
 
 What is there in the paragraph, 11. 95-101, to indicate that Thack- 
 eray entered thoroughly into the feelings of childhood, with regard to 
 school and home life? One leading characteristic of Thackeray was 
 that he was always young in spirit- 
 
30 STUDIES IN STYLE. 
 
 Ah me ! Every person who turns this page over has his 
 own little diary, in paper or ruled in his memory tablets, 
 and in which are set down the transactions of the now 
 
 105 dying year. Boys and men, we have our calendar, mothers 
 and maidens. For example, in your calendar pocket-book, 
 my good Eliza, what a sad, sad day that is how fondly 
 and bitterly remembered when your boy went off to his 
 regiment, to India, to danger, to battle perhaps. What a 
 
 o day was that last day at home, when the tall brother sat 
 yet amongst the family, the little ones round about him 
 wondering at saddle-boxes, uniforms, sword-cases, gun- 
 cases, and other wondrous apparatus of war and travel 
 which poured in and filled the hall ; the new dressing-case 
 
 us for the beard not yet grown ; the great sword-case at which 
 little brother Tom looks so admiringly ! What a dinner 
 that was, that last dinner, when little and grown children 
 assembled together, and all tried to be cheerful ! What a 
 night was that last night, when the young ones were at 
 
 120 roost for the last time together under the same roof, and 
 the mother lay alone in her chamber counting the fatal 
 hours as they tolled one after another, amidst her tears, 
 her watching, her fond prayers. What a night that was, 
 
 102. Ah me ! This interjection indicates what change in the mood 
 of the piece? In what figurative sense is the word diary, or calendar, 
 henceforth understood ? 105. Mothers and maidens, why is this 
 a more graceful expression than mothers and daughters would be ? 
 113. Wondrous apparatus, this expression indicates that Thack- 
 eray is looking through whose eyes? and in what mood? What 
 humorous touches do you discern in this description? What touches 
 of pathos ? 119. At roost, this word adds strangely both to the 
 humor and the pathos of the account. 121. The fatal hours, what 
 feeling does this well-chosen epithet help us to realize ? 123. Observe 
 how naturally the sadness of the scene makes the passage run into 
 exclamation. So also 131. 
 
WILLIAM MAKEPEACE THACKERAY. 31 
 
 and yet how quickly the melancholy dawn came ! Only 
 too soon the sun rose over the houses. And now in a 135 
 moment more the city seemed to wake. The house began 
 to stir. The family gathers together for the last meal. 
 For the last time in the midst of them the widow kneels 
 amongst her kneeling children, and falters a prayer in 
 which she commits her dearest, her eldest born, to the care 130 
 of the Father of all. O night, what* tears you hide what 
 prayers you hear ! And so the nights pass and the days 
 succeed, until that one comes when tears and parting shall 
 be no more. 
 
 In your diary, as in mine, there are days marked with 135 
 sadness, not for this year only, but for all. On a certain 
 day and the sun, perhaps, shining ever so brightly the 
 house-mother comes down to her family with a sad face, 
 which scares the children round about in the midst of 
 their laughter and prattle. They may have forgotten M* 
 but she has not a day which came, twenty years ago it 
 may be, and which she remembers only too well : the long 
 night-watch ; the dreadful dawning and the rain beating at 
 the pane ; the infant speechless, but moaning in its little 
 crib ; and then the awful calm, the awful smile on the sweet HS 
 cherub face, when the cries have ceased, and the little suf- 
 fering breast heaves no more. Then the children, as they see 
 their mother's face, remember this was the day on which their 
 
 The paragraph, 11. 135-158 is genuinely and deeply pathetic, but 
 marked by few peculiarities of expression to bring out the pathos, it 
 being so deeply ingrained in the thought. Note what there is what 
 antithesis in 1. 137, and 139, the common word scares, 1. 139, so 
 much more vivid than frightens, the epithet in 143, the repeated 
 epithet in 145, the epithets in 146, 147. Notice also how frequently 
 the adjective little recurs (11. 144, 146, 149, 151), and what vivid reali- 
 zation of the scene gave rise to its employment in each case. 
 
32 STUDIES IN STYLE. 
 
 little brother died. It was before they were born ; but she 
 
 150 remembers it. And as they pray together, it seems almost 
 as if the spirit of the little lost one was hovering round the 
 group. So they pass away : friends, kindred, the dearest- 
 loved, grown people, aged, infants. As we go on the 
 down-hill journey, the mile-stones are grave-stones, and on 
 
 155 each more and more names are written ; unless haply you 
 live beyond man's common age, when friends have dropped 
 off, and, tottering, and feeble, and unpitied, you reach the 
 terminus alone. 
 
 In this past year's diary is there any precious day noted 
 
 160 on which you have made a new friend ? This is a piece of 
 good fortune bestowed but grudgingly on the old. After 
 a certain age a new friend is a wonder, like Sarah's child. 
 Aged persons are seldom capable of bearing friendships. 
 Do you remember how warmly you loved Jack and Tom 
 
 ifi s when you were at school ; what a passionate regard you 
 had for Ned when you were at college, and the immense 
 letters you wrote to each other ? How often do you write, 
 now that postage costs nothing? There is the age of 
 blossoms and sweet budding green : the age of generous 
 
 r 7 summer ; the autumn when the leaves drop ; and then 
 winter, shivering and bare. Quick, children, and sit at my 
 feet ; for they are cold, very cold : and it seems as if neither 
 wine nor worsted will warm 'em. 
 
 In this past year's diary is there any dismal day noted in 
 
 155. Haply, somewhat archaic, but not unfitting in this descriptive 
 and somewhat emotional passage. 
 
 164-166. How is this passage helped by using particular names of 
 persons ? 166. Immense, what makes this a well-chosen word ? 
 171. In what assumed character is this sentence spoken? 173. Does 
 the alliteration aid the effect of the passage ? What do you suppose 
 prompted the contraction at the end of the sentence ? 
 
WILLIAM MAKEPEACE THACKERAY. 33 
 
 which you have lost a friend ? In mine there is. I do not 173 
 mean by death. Those who are gone, you have. Those 
 who departed loving you, love you still ; and you love them 
 always. They are not really gone, those dear hearts and 
 true; they are only gone into the next room: and you will 
 presently get up and follow them, and yonder door will 180 
 close upon you, and you will be no more seen. As I am in 
 this cheerful mood, I will tell you a fine and touching story 
 of a doctor which I heard lately. About two years since 
 there was, in our or some other city, a famous doctor, into 
 whose consulting-room crowds came daily, so that they 185 
 might be healed. Now this doctor had a suspicion that 
 there was something vitally wrong with himself, and he 
 went to consult another famous physician at Dublin, or it 
 may be at Edinburgh. And he of Edinburgh punched his 
 comrade's sides ; and listened at his heart and lungs ; and 190 
 felt his pulse, I suppose ; and looked at his tongue ; and 
 
 175-181. The idea of these lines Thackeray has enlarged upon in 
 " The Newcomes," Vol. II. Chap. VII. : " If love lives through all life ; 
 and survives through all sorrow ; and remains steadfast with us through 
 all changes ; and in all darkness of spirit burns brightly ; and, if we die, 
 deplores us for ever, and loves still equally ; and exists with the very 
 last gasp and throb of the faithful bosom whence it passes with the 
 pure soul, beyond death ; surely it shall be immortal ! Though we who 
 remain are separated from it, is it not ours in Heaven? If we love still 
 those we lose, can we altogether lose those we love ? " 182-212. Much 
 of the charm of this beautiful story lies in the studied simplicity of its 
 sentence-structure. Notice that nearly every sentence begins with 
 " and," and that all consist of simple declarative propositions, one after 
 the other ; in this respect imitating the simple narratives of children, 
 or perhaps the unstudied narrative style of the Bible. It is a good exam- 
 ple of an incident well told; compare Rhet. p. 358. 189. Punched 
 his comrade's sides, this detail is given not so much for humor as 
 in imitation of the unscientific description of a common, unlearned 
 
34 STUDIES IN STYLE. 
 
 when he had done, Doctor London said to Doctor Edin- 
 burgh, ''Doctor, how long have I to live?" And Doctor 
 Edinburgh said to Doctor London, " Doctor, you may last 
 
 *95 a year." 
 
 Then Doctor London came home, knowing that what 
 Doctor Edinburgh said was true. And he made up his 
 accounts, with man and heaven, I trust. And he visited 
 his patients as usual. And he went about healing, and 
 
 200 cheering, and soothing and doctoring ; and thousands of 
 sick people were benefited by him. And he said not a 
 word to his family at home ; but lived amongst them cheer- 
 ful, and tender, and calm, and loving ; though he knew the 
 night was at hand when he should see them and work no 
 
 2 s more. 
 
 And it was winter time, and they came and told him that 
 some man at a distance very sick, but very rich wanted 
 him ; and, though Doctor London knew that he was him- 
 self at death's door, he went to the sick man ; for he knew 
 
 o the large fee would be good for his children after him. 
 And he died ; and his family never knew until he was gone, 
 that he had been long aware of the inevitable doom. 
 
 This is a cheerful carol for Christmas, is it not ? You 
 see, in regard to these Roundabout discourses, 1* never know 
 
 215 whether they are to be merry or dismal. My hobby has 
 
 observer ; though a trace of humor there is indeed in it. 200. Doc- 
 toring, would the use of doctor as a verb be admissible, for instance, 
 in the previous Selection? What justifies it here? See Webster's 
 Diet. s. v. 
 
 213-231. Observe how, with the transition to the general chatty 
 tone of the discourse, the racy, free, conversational style, full of excla- 
 mations and interrogatories, humorous figures, anecdotes, and the like, 
 is resumed. Point out some of the words that contain a spirit of 
 humor, and explain how they help the passages where they occur. 
 
WILLIAM MAKEPEACE THACKERAY. 35 
 
 the bit in his mouth ; goes his ow way ; and sometimes 
 trots through a park, and sometimes paces by a cemetery. 
 Two days since came the printer's little emissary, with a 
 note saying, "We are waiting for the Roundabout paper!" 
 A Roundabout paper about what or whom ? How stale it a20 
 has become, that printed jollity about Christmas ! Carols, 
 and wassail-bowls, and holly, and mistletoe, and yule logs 
 de commands what heaps of these have we not had for 
 years past ! Well, year after year the season comes. Come 
 frost, come thaw, come snow, come rain, year after year 22 s 
 my neighbor the parson has to make his sermon. They 
 are getting together the bonbons, iced cakes, Christmas 
 trees at Fortnum and Mason's now. The genii of the 
 theatres are composing the Christmas pantomime, which 
 our young folks will see and note anon in their little 2 3 
 diaries. . . . 
 
 From ROUNDABOUT PAPERS. 
 
 218. Little emissary, what is the derivation of this word, and from 
 what part of the vocabulary taken? An example of what has been 
 noticed in the style of Hawthorne, Rhet. p. 46, of humor expressed by 
 using a word somewhat larger than its occasion. 226. The parson, 
 what word would more naturally be used in formal style ? 
 
 231. The piece is broken off here a little before the end ; but the 
 present is a hardly less appropriate stopping-place than the other. The 
 conversational freedom of the "Roundabout Papers" is as evident in 
 their general structure as in their diction. They are just the opposite 
 of formal, severe composition. 
 
V. 
 
 / 
 
 JOHN RUSKIN. 
 
 DESCRIPTION OF SAINT MARK'S, VENICE. 
 
 " He appears to me the greatest of English prose poets. And if his writing 
 be criticised as prose for its being too much like poetry, and as poetry for 
 evading its definite forms in being clad in the apparel of prose, this merely 
 means, as has ever been the case, that our criteria of what is admissible or 
 praiseworthy are too narrow or not sufficiently numerous, that new tests will 
 have to be applied to new things, and that those whose tastes have been 
 formed exclusively on old standards will have to enlarge their sympathies and 
 to adapt themselves to the new objects they would appreciate or judge." DR. 
 CHARLES WALDSTEIN. 
 
 AND now I wish that the reader, before I bring him 
 into St. Mark's Place, would imagine himself for a little 
 time in a quiet English cathedral town, and walk with me 
 
 The selections from Burke and Thackeray, just studied, were ad- 
 duced as examples, in different kinds, of spoken style. Very different 
 they are in most respects, the one being impassioned, the other collo- 
 quial ; but they agree in presenting the idea in short, simple, direct 
 utterances, easily apprehensible by a hearer. In this respect the pres- 
 ent selection is quite in contrast to them. Its long and involved sen 
 tences, with their multitudes of minor clauses and phrases, making 
 wide excursions from the principal subject and predicate, are very little 
 adapted to a hearer ; they contemplate only a reader who can linger 
 over their intricate details. See Rhet. p. 80; and test the diction 
 by rewriting the first paragraph, 11. 1-47, in spoken style, shortening 
 the sentences and retaining merely what is striking and effective for 
 oral public discourse. 
 
 Note also how different is the task undertaken in this selection from 
 that undertaken in Burke and Thackeray. This is descriptive': it seeks 
 
JOHN RUSK IN. 37 
 
 to the west front of its cathedral. Let us go together up 
 the more retired street, at the end of which we can see 5 
 the pinnacles of one of the towers, and then through the 
 low grey gateway, with its battlemented top and small 
 latticed window in the centre, into the inner private-looking 
 road or close, where nothing goes in but the carts of the 
 tradesmen who supply the bishop and the chapter, and where 
 there are little shaven grassplots, fenced in by neat rails, 
 before old-fashioned groups of somewhat diminutive and 
 excessively trim houses, with little oriel and bay windows 
 jutting out here and there, and deep wooden cornices and 
 eaves painted cream color and white, and small porches to 15 
 their doors in the shape of cockle-shells, or little, crooked, 
 thick, indescribable wooden gables warped a little on one 
 side ; and so forward till we come to larger houses, also 
 old-fashioned, but of red brick, and with gardens behind 
 them, and fruit walls, which show here and there, among 20 
 the nectarines, the vestiges of an old cloister arch or shaft, 
 and looking in front on the cathedral square itself, laid out 
 in rigid divisions of smooth grass and gravel walk, yet not 
 uncheerful, especially on the sunny side where the canon's 
 children are walking with their nurserymaids. And so, 25 
 
 to arouse the readers imagination so as to make him realize the scene 
 before him like a picture. We look therefore for the picturing power 
 of word and phrase, for imaginative diction ; and are not surprised to 
 see it taking on something of the richness of poetry. See Rhet. 
 
 PP. 73-75- 
 
 The most prominent feature of Ruskin's style is his copious use of 
 adjectives ; note this in the first paragraph. In the first two sentences, 
 11. 1-24, are these adjectives picturesque, or merely defining? Note in 
 the sentence, 11. 25-47, where the adjectives begin to become more de- 
 scriptive, to take more the nature of epithet ; see Rhet. pp. 56-58. Do 
 you find any epithets that are less suited to prose than to poetry? What 
 
38 STUDIES IN STYLE. 
 
 taking care not to tread on the grass, we will go along the 
 straight walk to the west front, and there stand for a time, 
 looking up at its deep-pointed porches and the dark places 
 between their pillars where there were statues once, and 
 
 3 o where the fragments, here and there, of a stately figure are 
 still left, which has in it the likeness of a king, perhaps 
 indeed a king on earth, perhaps a saintly king long ago in 
 heaven ; and so higher and higher up to the great moulder- 
 ing wall of rugged sculpture and confused arcades, shat- 
 
 35 tered, and grey, and grisly with heads of dragons and 
 mocking fiends, worn by the rain and swirling winds into 
 yet unseemlier shape, and colored on their stony scales by 
 the deep russet-orange lichen, melancholy gold ; and so, 
 higher still, to the bleak towers, so far above that the eye 
 
 40 loses itself among the bosses of their traceries, though 
 they are rude and strong, and only sees like a drift of 
 eddying black points, now closing, now scattering, and 
 now settling suddenly into invisible places among the 
 bosses and flowers, the crowd of restless birds that fill the 
 
 45 whole square with that strange clangor of theirs, so harsh 
 and yet so soothing, like the cries of birds on a solitary 
 coast between the cliffs and sea. 
 
 Think for a little while of that scene, and the meaning 
 of all its small formalisms, mixed with its serene sublimity. 
 
 50 Estimate its secluded, continuous, drowsy felicities, and 
 its evidence of the sense and steady performance of such 
 kind of duties as can be regulated by the cathedral clock ; 
 
 picturesque and poetic details in 11. 30-38? What curious poetic phrase 
 in 1. 38? What poetic detail in 11. 44-46? Consider now why this 
 particular part should employ such heightened expression. 
 
 Would you call the adjectives in 1. 50 defining adjectives or epithets? 
 that is, do they point out some quality essential to the main idea, or 
 
JOHN RUSK IN. 39 
 
 and weigh the influence of those dark towers on all who 
 have passed through the lonely square at their feet for 
 centuries, and on all who have seen them rising far away 55 
 over' the wooded plain, or catching on their square masses 
 the last rays of the sunset, when the city at their feet was 
 indicated only by the mist at the bend of the river. And 
 then let us quickly recollect that we are in Venice, and 
 land at the extremity of the Calle Lunga San Moise, which 60 
 may be considered as there answering to the secluded street 
 that led us to our English cathedral gateway. 
 
 We find ourselves in a paved alley, some seven feet wide 
 where it is widest, full of people, and resonant with cries 
 of itinerant salesmen, a shriek in their beginning, and 6 5 
 dying away into a kind of brazen ringing, all the worse for 
 its confinement between the high houses of the passage 
 along which we have to make our way. Over-head an in- 
 extricable confusion of rugged shutters, and iron balconies 
 and chimney flues pushed out on brackets to save room, 7 
 and arched windows with projecting sills of Istrian stone, 
 and gleams of green leaves here and there where a fig-tree 
 branch escapes over a lower wall from some inner cortile, 
 leading the eye up to the narrow stream of blue sky high 
 over all. On each side, a row of shops, as densely set as 75 
 may be, occupying, in fact, intervals between the square 
 stone shafts, about eight feet high, which carry the first 
 floors: intervals of which one is narrow and serves as a 
 
 only something secondary and descriptive ? Distinguish between the 
 ordinary adjectives and epithets that occur in 11. 52-58. 
 
 The paragraph, 11. 63-111, which describes the approach to St. 
 Mark's, is to be compared with 11. 1-25, which describe the approach to 
 the English cathedral. Both passages are of course preparatory and 
 secondary to what follows them. The difference of idiom between 
 
40 STUDIES IN STYLE. 
 
 door; the other is, in the more respectable shops, wain- 
 so scoted to the height of the counter and glazed above, but 
 in those of the poorer tradesmen left open to the ground, 
 and the wares laid on benches and tables in the open air, 
 the light in all cases entering at the front only, and fading 
 away in a few feet from the threshold into a gloom which 
 BS the eye from without cannot penetrate, but which is gen- 
 erally broken by a ray or two from a feeble lamp at the 
 back of the shop, suspended before a print of the Virgin. 
 The less pious shopkeeper sometimes leaves his lamp un- 
 lighted, and is contented with a penny print ; the more 
 90 religious one has his print colored and set in a little shrine 
 with a gilded or figured fringe, with perhaps a faded flower 
 or two on each side, and his lamp burning brilliantly. 
 Here at the fruiterer's, where the dark-green water-melons 
 are heaped upon the counter like cannon balls, the Ma- 
 gs donna has a tabernacle of fresh laurel leaves ; but the 
 pewterer next door has let his lamp out, and there is noth- 
 ing to be seen in his shop but the dull gleam of the studded 
 patterns on the copper pans, hanging from his roof in the 
 darkness. Next comes a "Vendita Frittole e Liquori," 
 ioo where the Virgin, enthroned in a very humble manner 
 beside a tallow candle on a back shelf, presides over certain 
 ambrosial morsels of a nature too ambiguous to be defined 
 or enumerated. But a few steps farther on, at the regular 
 wine-shop of the calle, where we are offered " Vino Nos- 
 105 trani a Soldi 28.32," the Madonna is in great glory, en- 
 
 11. 1-25 and 11. 25-47 has already been noted as due to the difference in the 
 character of the adjectives and to the decidedly more poetic expression, 
 every way, of the latter passage. Note now carefully the adjectives in 
 this paragraph, and see if there are any that are not essentially defining 
 and prosaic. 
 
JOHN RUSK IN. 41 
 
 throned above ten or a dozen large red casks of three-year- 
 old vintage, and flanked by goodly ranks of bottles of 
 Maraschino, and two crimson lamps ; and for the evening, 
 when the gondoliers will come to drink out, under her 
 auspices, the money they have gaineci during the day, she no 
 will have a whole chandelier. 
 
 A yard or two farther, we pass the hostelry of the Black 
 Eae^le, and, glancing as we pass through the square door of 
 marble, deeply moulded, in the outer wall, we see the 
 shadows of its pergola of vines resting on an ancient well, s 
 with a pointed shield carved on its side ; and so presently 
 emerge on the bridge and Campo San Moise, whence to 
 the entrance into St. Mark's Place, called the Bocca di 
 Piazza (mouth of the square), the Venetian character is 
 nearly destroyed, first by the frightful facade of San 120 
 Moise, which we will pause at another time to examine, 
 and then by the modernizing of the shops as they near the 
 piazza, and the mingling with the lower Venetian populace 
 of lounging groups of English and Austrians. We will 
 push fast through them into the shadow of the pillars at 125 
 the end of the " Bocca di Piazza/' and then we forget them 
 all ; for between those pillars there opens a great light, 
 and, in the midst of it, as we advance slowly, the vast 
 tower of St. Mark seems to lift itself visibly forth from the 
 level field of chequered stones ; and, on each side, the 130 
 countless arches prolong themselves into ranged symmetry, 
 as if the rugged and irregular houses that pressed together 
 
 The paragraph, 11. 112-137 begins in the same tone of detailed de- 
 scription, prosaic though rich. Point out where the tone changes to 
 prose-poetry, and point out the words and phrases in the latter part 
 which are especially heightened and poetic. Compare Rhet. p. 65, 
 and explain what it is in the object described that elevates the style. 
 
42 STUDIES IN STYLE. 
 
 above us in the dark alley had been struck back into sud- 
 den obedience and lovely order, and all their rude case- 
 
 .35 ments and broken walls had been transformed into arches 
 charged with goodly sculpture, and fluted shafts of delicate 
 stone. 
 
 And well may they fall back, for beyond those troops of 
 ordered arches there rises a vision out of the earth, and all 
 
 140 the great square seems to have opened from it in a kind of 
 awe, that we may see it far away ; a multitude of pillars 
 and white domes, clustered into a long low pyramid of col- 
 ored light ; a treasure-heap, it seems, partly of gold, and 
 partly of opal and mother-of-pearl, hollowed beneath into 
 
 145 five great vaulted porches, ceiled with fair mosaic, and 
 beset with sculpture of alabaster, clear as amber and deli- 
 cate as ivory, sculpture fantastic and involved, of palm 
 leaves and lilies, and grapes and pomegranates, and birds 
 clinging and fluttering among the branches, all twined 
 
 150 together into an endless network of buds and plumes; and, 
 in the midst of it, the solemn forms of angels, sceptred, 
 and robed to the feet, and leaning to each other across the 
 gates, their figures indistinct among the gleaming of the 
 golden ground through the leaves beside them, interrupted 
 
 The gorgeously descriptive paragraph, 11. 138-180, may be more 
 closely analyzed. Mention the most vividly descriptive epithets. Note 
 the epithets formed from nouns, 11. 131, 136, 145, 151, 152, 163 ; does 
 this mode of formation belong more distinctively to prose or poetry? 
 Note further the compounds, 11. 143, 144, 156, 158, 160, 179 : some of 
 these are equally well adapted to poetry and prose, some belong only to 
 prose-poetry or poetry, discriminate them. Show further what details 
 would not naturally occur in a piece designed merely to give informa- 
 tion, that is, what details are especially poetic and imaginative. Finally, 
 read the paragraph carefully aloud, and report what you find of rhythm 
 so regular as to be metre, as for instance, 11. 155, 156. Report what- 
 
JOHN RUSK IN. 43 
 
 and dim, like the morning light as it faded back among the 155 
 branches of Eden, when first its gates were angel-guarded 
 long ago. And round the walls of the porches there are set 
 pillars of variegated stones, jasper and porphyry, and deep- 
 green serpentine spotted with flakes of snow, and marbles, 
 that half refuse and half yield to the sunshine, Cleopatra- 160 
 like, " their bluest veins to kiss " the shadow, as it steals 
 back frpm them, revealing line after line of azure undula- 
 tion, as a receding tide leaves the waved sand ; their capi- 
 tals rich with interwoven tracery, rooted knots of herbage, 
 and drifting leaves of acanthus and vine, and mystical 165 
 signs, all beginning and ending in the Cross ; and above 
 them, in the broad archivolts, a continuous chain of lan- 
 guage and of life angels, and the signs of heaven, and 
 the labors of men, each in its appointed season upon the 
 earth ; and above these, another range of glittering pinna- 170 
 cles, mixed with white arches edged with scarlet flowers, 
 a confusion of delight, amidst which the breasts of the 
 Greek horses are seen blazing in their breadth of golden 
 strength, and the St. Mark's Lion, lifted on a blue field 
 covered with stars, until at last, as if in ecstasy, the crests 175 
 of the arches break into a marble foam, and toss them- 
 selves far into the blue sky in flashes and wreaths of sculp- 
 tured spray, as if the breakers on the Lido shore had been 
 frost-bound before they fell, and the sea-nymphs had inlaid 
 them with coral and amethyst. io 
 
 Between that grim cathedral of England and this, what 
 an interval ! There is a type of it in the very birds that 
 haunt them ; for, instead of the restless crowd, hoarse- 
 
 ever else you find that is distinctively poetic, as word-painting, allitera- 
 tion, bold figure, inversion, and so forth; in short, endeavor to get a 
 feeling of the beauty of the style, and to trace it to its causes. 
 
44 STUDIES IN STYLE. 
 
 voiced and sable-winged, drifting on the bleak upper air, 
 
 !8 5 the St. Mark's porches are full of doves, that nestle among 
 the marble foliage, and mingle the soft iridescence of their 
 living plumes, changing at every motion, with the tints, 
 hardly less lovely, that have stood unchanged for seven 
 "hundred years. 
 
 190 And what effect has this splendor on those who pass 
 beneath it ? You may walk from sunrise to sunset, to and 
 fro, before the gateway of St. Mark's, and you will not see 
 an eye lifted to it, nor a countenance brightened by it. 
 Priest and layman, soldier and civilian, rich and poor, pass 
 
 i 93 by it alike regardlessly. Up to the very recesses of the 
 porches, the meanest tradesmen of the city push their 
 counters ; nay, the foundations of its pillars are themselves 
 the seats not " of them that sell doves " for sacrifice, 
 but of the venders of toys and caricatures. Round the 
 
 200 whole square in front of the church there is almost a con- 
 tinuous line of cafes, where the idle Venetians of the mid- 
 dle classes lounge, and read empty journals ; in its centre 
 the Austrian bands play during the time of vespers, their 
 martial music jarring with the organ notes, the march 
 
 205 drowning the miserere, and the sullen crowd thickening 
 round them, a crowd, which, if it had its will, would 
 stiletto every soldier that pipes to it. And in the recesses 
 of the porches, all day long, knots of men of the lowest 
 classes, unemployed and listless, lie basking in the sun 
 
 210 like lizards ; and unregarded children, every heavy glance 
 of their young eyes full of desperation and stony depravity, 
 and their throats hoarse with cursing, gamble, and fight, 
 
 Point out the epithets and compounds of the paragraph, 11. 181-189. 
 Compare this paragraph with the next, 11. 190-216 ; do you find bold 
 poetic devices in the latter? Note the character of the description, 
 
JOHN RUSK IN. 45 
 
 and snarl, and sleep, hour after hour, clashing their bruised 
 centesimi upon the marble ledges of the church porch. 
 And the images of Christ and His angels look down upon 213 
 it continually. 
 
 [Before describing the interior, "that we may not enter 
 the church out of the midst of the horror of this," Ruskin 
 devotes two pages, here omitted, to describing the Baptis- 
 tery, with the tomb therein, of the Doge Andrea Dahdolo.] 
 
 Through the heavy door whose bronze network closes 
 the place of his rest, let us enter the church itself. It is 
 lost in still deeper twilight, to which the eye must be ac- 
 customed for some moments before the form of the build- 220 
 ing can be traced ; and then there opens before us a vast 
 cave, hewn out into the form of a Cross, and divided into 
 shadowy aisles by many pillars. Round the domes of its 
 roof the light enters only through narrow apertures like 
 large stars ; and here and there a ray or two from some far 225 
 away casement -wanders into the darkness, and casts a 
 narrow phosphoric stream upon the waves of marble that 
 heave and fall in a thousand colors along the floor. What 
 else there is of light is from torches, or silver lamps, buwi- 
 ing ceaselessly in the recesses of the chapels ; the roof 23 o 
 sheeted with gold, and the polished walls covered with 
 alabaster, give back at every curve and angle some feeble 
 gleaming to the flames ; and the glories round the heads of 
 the sculptured saints flash out upon us as we pass them, 
 and sink again into the gloom. Under foot and over head, 23? 
 
 11. 206-214, which deals with a different kind of object from the pre- 
 ceding; do you find words whose sound corresponds with the sense? 
 Cf. Rhet. pp. 61, 1 68. 
 
 In the same way as pointed out before, note where and how the lan- 
 guage becomes more heightened in paragraph, 11. 217-259, and estimate 
 
46 STUDIES IN STYLE. 
 
 a continual succession of crowded imagery, one picture 
 passing into another, as in a dream; forms beautiful and 
 terrible mixed together ; dragons and serpents, and raven- 
 ing beasts of prey, and graceful birds that in the midst of 
 
 240 them drink from running fountains and feed from vases of 
 crystal ; the passions and the pleasures of human life sym- 
 bolized together, and the mystery of its redemption ; for 
 the mazes of interwoven lines and changeful pictures lead 
 always at last to the Cross, lifted and carved in every place 
 
 245 and upon every stone ; sometimes with the serpent of eter- 
 nity wrapt round it, sometimes with doves beneath its 
 arms, and sweet herbage growing forth from its feet ; but 
 conspicuous most of all on the great rood that crosses the 
 church before the altar, raised in bright blazonry against 
 
 250 the shadow of the apse. And although in the recesses of 
 the aisle and chapels, when the mist of the incense hangs 
 heavily, we may see continually a figure traced in faint 
 lines upon their marble, a woman standing with her eyes 
 raised to heaven, and the inscription above her, " Mother 
 
 255 of God," she is not here the presiding deity. It is the 
 Cross that is first seen, and always, burning in the centre 
 of the temple ; and every dome and hollow of its roof has 
 the figure of Christ in the utmost height of it, raised in 
 power, or returning in judgment. 
 
 260 Nor is this interior without effect on the minds of the 
 people. At every hour of the day there are groups col- 
 lected before the various shrines, and solitary worshippers 
 scattered through the darker places of the church, evi- 
 dently in prayer both deep and reverent, and, for the most 
 
 how the object, in its richness or its beauty, calls for it. Rewrite, in 
 merely matter-of-fact language, and retaining only such details as are 
 needed for plain information, the description of the interior. 
 
JOHN RUSK IN. 47 
 
 part, profoundly sorrowful. The devotees at the greater a6 3 
 number of the renowned shrines of Romanism may be 
 seen murmuring their appointed prayers with wandering 
 eyes and unengaged gestures ; ^ut the step of the stranger 
 does not disturb those who kneel on the pavement of St. 
 Mark's ; and hardly a moment passes, from early morning 270 
 to sunset, in which we may not see some half-veiled figure 
 enter beneath the Arabian porch, cast itself into long 
 abasement on the floor of the temple, and then rising 
 slowly with more confirmed step, and with a passionate 
 kiss and clasp of the arms given to the feet of the crucifix, 275 
 by which the lamps burn always in the northern aisle, 
 leave the church, as if comforted. 
 
 From STONES OF VENICE, Vol. II. 
 
 On the foregoing passage, 11. 138-180, Mr. Joseph Payne (Studies 
 in English Prose, p. 429) remarks : " It would be difficult nay, more 
 than difficult impossible to match the above passage by any other 
 of a similar kind in the English language. To call it ' poetical prose ' 
 is to degrade it to the level of much that is simply intolerable to read, 
 and of which it is easy too easy to find specimens everywhere. 
 When this wonderful passage has been read over half a dozen times, 
 it will be more admired than at first. As a description of the actual 
 building open to the observation of all, on the Piazza at Venice it 
 is difficult to call it true ; but it is more difficult to call it false. It is 
 the idealized St. Mark's, as seen through the mist of time in the clear 
 light of its first creation and, indeed, further back still, in the artist's 
 mind that conceived it that the writer has placed before us ; but we . 
 must yield ourselves up to the magic of his inspiration, before we can 
 see what he shows us. The sacrifice, however, if it be one, is well 
 worth making.*' 
 
VI. 
 
 JAMES RUSSELL LOWELL. 
 
 THE POETRY OF ST. PETER'S, ROME. 
 
 " Lowell's [prose] is clear enough to those familiar with the choicest liter- 
 ature. In critical exploits that bring out his resources, he is not a writer for 
 dullards, and to read him enjoyably is a point in evidence of a liberal educa- 
 tion. His manner, in fact, is Protean, adjusted to his topic, and has a flexibility 
 that well expresses his racy wit and freshness." E. C. STEDMAN. 
 
 IT is very common for people to say that they are disap- 
 pointed in the first sight of St. Peter's ; and one hears 
 much the same about Niagara. I cannot help thinking 
 that the fault is in themselves, and that if the church and 
 s the cataract were in the habit of giving away their thoughts 
 
 This Selection and the one following are studied as illustrating 
 Figures of Speech, and the suggestiveness of figurative style; and 
 presuppose a knowledge of the Rhetoric as far as page 107. See also 
 what is said about Allusion, Rhetoric, pages 298, 299, and Analogy, 
 page 395. 
 
 The most striking characteristic of Lowell's style is its suggestiveness, 
 due to its abundance of allusion, figurative expression, and the ceaseless 
 play of fancy round every important thought. Let us endeavor here to 
 note, in some of the most striking cases, how one thing is made more 
 significant or telling by being compared, directly or indirectly, with 
 another, or by being expressed in terms of another. 
 
 Lines 1-9. The opening statement about St. Peter's is illustrated by 
 a comparison with what ? What are the exact things compared ? Is this 
 a simile? See Rhet. p. 89, I. 5. Giving away their thoughts, 
 
JAMES RUSSELL LOWELL. *9 
 
 with that rash generosity which characterizes tourists, they 
 might perhaps say of their visitors, " Well, if you are those 
 men of whom we have heard so much, we are a Jittle 
 disappointed, to tell the truth ! " The refined tourist 
 expects somewhat too much when he takes it for granted to 
 that St. Peter's will at once decorate him with the order of 
 imagination, just as Victoria knights an alderman when he 
 presents an address. Or perhaps he has been getting up 
 a little architecture on the road from Florence, and is 
 discomfited because he does not know whether he ought to 15 
 be pleased or not, which is very much' as if he should wait 
 to be told whether it was fresh water or salt which makes 
 the exhaustless grace of Niagara's emerald curve, before 
 he benignly consented to approve. It would be wiser, 
 perhaps, for him to consider whether, if Michael Angelo *> 
 had had the building of him, his own personal style would 
 not have been more impressive. 
 
 It is not to be doubted that minds are of as many dif- 
 ferent orders as cathedrals, and that the Gothic imagination 
 is vexed and discommoded in the vain endeavor to flatten 25 
 
 the act of talking is here expressed in language suitable to what? What 
 figures does this involve? See Rhet. pp. 90-94. How do these figures 
 illustrate what is said in 11. 3, 4? 11. Decorate him with the order, 
 allusion to what custom? Express it literally. 12. Just as, etc. 
 Is this a figurative or an unfigurative comparison ? 13. Getting up, 
 is this idiom applicable to all styles ? Why in taste here ? 16. Which 
 is very much as if, etc. How does this comparison differ from simple 
 simile? See Rhet. p. 395. What call for the decorative epithet of 1. 18, 
 and what hidden antithesis (see Rhet. p. 103, 2) does the description 
 sharpen? 19. Benignly consented, this elaborate expression 
 hints at what character of the tourist? 21. Personal style, this 
 manner of expression regards the person for the moment as what? 
 
 23, 24. Different orders, a technical term belonging to what art. 
 and involving what metaphor? 25. Discommoded, what is the 
 
50 STUDIES IN STYLE. 
 
 its pinnacles, and fit itself into the round Roman arches. 
 But if it be impossible for a man to like everything, it is 
 quite possible for him to avoid being driven mad by what 
 does not please him ; nay, it is the imperative duty of a 
 
 3 o wise man to find out what that secret is which makes a 
 thing pleasing to another. In approaching St. Peter's, one 
 must take his Protestant shoes off his feet and leave them 
 behind him in the Piazza Rusticucci. Otherwise the great 
 Basilica, with those outstretching colonnades of Bramante, 
 
 35 will seem to be a bloated spider lying in wait for him, the 
 poor Reformed fly. ' As he lifts the heavy leathern flapper 
 over the door, and is discharged into the interior by its 
 impetuous recoil, let him disburden his mind altogether of 
 stone and mortar, and think only that he is standing before 
 
 4 the throne of a dynasty which, even in its decay, is the 
 most powerful the world ever saw. Mason-work is all very 
 well in itself, but it has nothing to do with the affair at 
 present in hand. 
 
 more usual word? See Webster's Diet. 25. Flatten its pinnacles, 
 what essential character of Gothic architecture furnishes suggestive- 
 ness to this passage? It is to be noted how freely figure is here 
 superinduced upon figure without confusion. To speak of the Gothic 
 imagination as an order of architecture is what figure? To speak of 
 this order further as vexed and . discommoded in endeavoring involves 
 what further figure ? 32. Protestant shoes off his feet, for the 
 allusion here, see Exodus iii. 5. Express this idea literally. What 
 useful implication does the allusion supply? 33-36. What peculiarity 
 of the ground plan of St. Peter's, with its approaches, furnishes the 
 suggestion for the simile of these lines? Point out how simile and 
 metaphor are combined in this sentence. Cf. Rhet. p. 92, 3. 37. Dis- 
 charged, to what kind of action is this verb applicable, and what 
 metaphor does it here involve? 39. Stone and mortar, what 
 figure? See Rhet. p. 88. Does this naming of part of the idea by 
 these words set off the antithesis more effectively, and what antithesis? 
 
JAMES RUSSELL LOWELL. 51 
 
 Suppose that a man in pouring down a glass of claret 
 could drink the South of France ; that he could so disinte- *s 
 grate the wine by the force of imagination as to taste in it 
 all the clustered beauty and bloom of the grape, all the 
 dance and song and sunburnt jollity of the vintage. Or 
 suppose that in eating bread he could transubstantiate it 
 with the ' tender blade of spring, the gleam-flitted corn- 50 
 ocean of summer, the royal autumn with its golden beard, 
 and the merry funerals of harvest. This is what the great 
 poets do for us, we cannot tell how, with their fatally-chosen 
 words, crowding the happy veins of language again with all 
 the life and meaning and music that had been dribbling 58 
 away from them since Adam. And this is what the Roman 
 Church does for religion, feeding the soul not with the 
 
 Read the whole paragraph, 11. 44-99, and determine exactly what is 
 the main literal thought that the writer intends to express and illustrate. 
 Having determined this, look now at the main figures by which it is set 
 off. Two figures, 11. 45-48, and 11. 48-52, prepare the way. Would you 
 call these simile or analogy ? You notice what an imaginative heightening 
 there is in the language, 11. 46-52, and 11. 54-56 ; what call is there to set 
 off this part of the idea with such beauty ? 45. Disintegrate, a tech- 
 nical term drawn from what science? 47-48. The use of the general 
 terms for particular involves what figure? What poetic element do 
 you discern in 1. 48? 49. Transubstantiate, from what depart- 
 ment or sphere of thought is this term borrowed? Cf. Rhet. p. 40, 
 bottom. Tender blade is used for what, and what figure is involved? 
 50, 51. Point out the poetic words and manners of expression in 
 these lines. In what figure is the royal autumn represented? 
 
 53. Give the meaning that lies in the words fatally-chosen. 
 
 54. Crowding the happy veins, language is viewed for the 
 moment as what? What force in the epithet happy? 55. Drib- 
 bling, why this word instead of running or escaping ? 56-67. Hav- 
 ing prepared for his main thought by two figures and a parallel case, 
 the writer in these lines gives his main thought in three figurative 
 statements; state what figures they are, and analyze them. Under 
 
52 STUDIES IN STYLE. 
 
 essential religious sentiment, not with a drop or two of the 
 tincture of worship, but making us feel one by one all 
 
 fio those original elements of which worship is composed ; not 
 bringing the end to us, but making us pass over and feel 
 beneath our feet all the golden rounds of the ladder by 
 which the climbing generations have reached that end ; 
 not handing us dryly a dead and extinguished Q. E. D., 
 
 65 but letting it rather declare itself by the glory with which 
 it interfuses the incense-clouds of wonder and aspiration 
 and beauty in which it is veiled. The secret of her power 
 is typified in the mystery of the Real Presence. She is 
 the only church that has been loyal to the heart and soul 
 
 7 of man, that has clung to her faith in the imagination, and 
 that would not give over her symbols and images and sacred 
 vessels to the perilous keeping of the iconoclast Under- 
 standing. She has never lost sight of the truth that the 
 product human nature is composed of the sum of flesh and 
 
 75 spirit, and has accordingly regarded both this world and 
 the next as the constituents of that other world which we 
 possess by faith. She knows that poor Panza, the body, 
 has his kitchen-longings and visions, as well as Quixote, 
 the soul, his ethereal, and has wit enough to supply him 
 
 80 with the visible, tangible raw material of imagination. She 
 
 what guise is the Roman church represented in each? 58. What is 
 the significance of essential, and how is it distinguished from tincture? 
 64. For what do the letters Q. E. D. stand? Point out the antith- 
 esis involved in each of the figures, 11. 58-67. 69, 70. With what are 
 heart and soul and imagination set in contrast? 72. Derivation of 
 iconoclast? Under what figure does it represent understanding? 
 Under what mathematical figure does the writer speak, 11. 74, 75 ? In 
 the allusion, 11. 77, 78, on what characters and relations of Panza and 
 Quixote does the suggestiveness of the figure depend ? 80. Raw 
 material, a term drawn from what part of the vocabulary? Point 
 
JAMES RUSSELL LOWELL. 53 
 
 is the only poet among the churches, and, while Protes- 
 tantism is unrolling a pocket survey or 's-plan, takes her 
 votary to the pinnacle of her temple, and shows him 
 meadow, upland, and tillage, cloudy heaps of forest clasped 
 with the river's jewelled arm, hillsides white with the per- 85 
 petual snow of flocks, and, beyond all, the interminable 
 heave of the upknown ocean. Her empire may be traced 
 upon the map by the boundaries of races ; the under- 
 standing is her great foe ; and it is the people whose 
 vocabulary was incomplete till they had invented the arch- 90 
 word Humbug that defies her. With that leaden bullet 
 John Bull can bring down Sentiment when she flies her 
 highest. And the more the pity for John Bull. One 
 of these days some one whose eyes are sharp enough will 
 read in the Times a standing advertisement, " Lost, 95 
 strayed, or stolen from the farm-yard of the subscriber the 
 valuable horse Pegasus. Probably has on him part of a 
 new plough harness, as that is also missing. A suitable 
 reward, etc. J. BULL." 
 
 Protestantism reverses the poetical process I have spoken 100 
 of above, and gives not even the bread of life, but instead 
 of it the alcohol, or distilled intellectual result. This was 
 very well so long as Protestantism continued to protest ; 
 for enthusiasm sublimates the understanding into imagina- 
 
 out the antithesis between Protestantism and Romanism in 11. 81-87, 
 and explain why in the latter member of it the writer should use such 
 poetic expression. Point out what is especially poetic. 91. How does 
 the introduction of the word Humbug set out the thought? Under 
 what figure is Humbug then treated? Express the thought 11. 91-99 
 in literal language. Who is John Bull, and with what character is he 
 represented in 11. 95-99? Explain what is meant by Pegasus. 
 
 102. Alcohol, what characteristic makes this antithetic to bread? 
 Under what figure is Protestantism represented ? Explain the tech- 
 
54 STUDIES IN STYLE. 
 
 105 tion. But now that she also has become an establish- 
 ment, she begins to perceive that she made a blunder in 
 trusting herself to the intellect alone. She is beginning 
 to feel her way back again, as one notices in Puseyism and 
 other such hints. One is put upon reflection when he sees 
 
 no burly Englishmen, who dine on beef and porter every day, 
 marching proudly through St. Peter's on Palm Sunday, 
 with those frightfully artificial palm branches in their 
 hands. Romanism wisely provides for the childish in 
 men. 
 
 "s Therefore I say again that one must lay aside his Protes- 
 tantism in order to have a true feeling of St. Peter's. Here 
 in Rome is the laboratory of that mysterious enchantress, 
 who has known so well how to adapt herself to all the 
 wants, or, if you will, the weaknesses, of human nature, 
 
 120 making the retirement of the convent-cell a merit to the 
 solitary, the scourge or the fast a piety to the ascetic, the 
 enjoyment of pomp and music and incense a religious act 
 in the sensual, and furnishing for the very soul itself a 
 confidante in that ear of the dumb confessional, where it 
 
 125 may securely disburden itself of its sins and sorrows. And 
 
 nicalism, 1. 104. What figure involved in 11. 105, 107? 108. Feel 
 her way, this expression views Protestantism under what guise ? 
 To what ancient legend is it an allusion? Puseyism, a movement 
 toward Romanism, which took place about the middle of this century 
 in the Church of England. 110. How does it help the expression 
 to mention the fact that these Englishmen dine on beef and porter? 
 
 What antithesis is here involved,, and to what reflection does it give 
 rise? 
 
 Of what figurative expression in 1. 32 is 1. 115 sq. a repetition? 
 117. Under what figure is the Roman church represented here? 
 How does this figure utilize what has been said? 124. Confidante, 
 
 what justifies the use of this foreign term here? What does the 
 epithet dumb add to the expression? 125. Disburden itself, 
 
JAMES RUSSELL LOWELL. 55 
 
 the dome of St. Peter's is the magic circle within which 
 she works her most potent incantations. I confess that I 
 could not enter it alone without a kind of awe. 
 
 From FIRESIDE TRAVELS. 
 
 under what figure is the soul here recognized? 126. What is a magic 
 circle, and what architectural feature of St. Peter's is taken advantage 
 of here to point the figure ? 
 
 Are the figures of the foregoing predominantly ornamental, or does 
 the subtilty of the idea that they aid in conveying make them useful ? 
 Is the idea with which the Selection deals an idea of the fancy or of the 
 reason; that is, is it predominantly poetic or prosaic? How do the 
 figurative expressions correspond with this character? 
 
VII. 
 
 THOMAS CARLYLE. 
 
 COLERIDGE AS A TALKER. 
 
 "Carlyle's greatest distinction has yet to be referred to his endowment, 
 namely, as a writer. He was a good and in many ways a wise man ; but his 
 goodness was not without spots, and his wisdom was not always sufficient to 
 save him from serious error. But his literary faculty, if not perfect very 
 few are perfect was extraordinary and magnificent in the extreme. His su- 
 preme gift is his penetrating imagination, of seeing as it were into the heart 
 of things in a moment, and reproducing them in words which it is impossible 
 to forget." J. COTTER MORISON. 
 
 COLERIDGE sat on the brow of Highgate Hill, in those 
 years, looking down on London and its smoke-tumult, like 
 
 The study of this Selection will furnish good occasion to note how 
 the management of figures, especially simile and metaphor, may be 
 made the means of imparting a certain spirit to the passage, humorous 
 or other, as pointed out in Rhet. pp. 90, 91. In this respect we shall 
 find Cariyle more inclined to humorous and intense figures, while 
 Lowell's figures incline more to the imaginative and poetic. Though 
 also Lowell is by no means devoid of humorous suggestion ; note, for 
 instance, the spirit of the figure, Lowell, 11. 35, 36, of the word "dis- 
 charged," 1. 37, and of the antithesis, 1. 82. 
 
 Besides the figures of the Selection, some of Carlyle^s peculiarities 
 in the use of words need also to be noted. 
 
 Line 1. Note the peculiar figurative effect given to this first sentence 
 by the verb sat, instead of the more literal verb dwelt. What figure 
 does this involve ? See Rhet. p. 88. 2. Smoke-tumult, an ex- 
 ample of Carlyle's peculiar freedom in compounding words (cf. Rhet. 
 p. 36, rule 6) due perhaps to the influence of German style. Like a 
 
THOMAS CARLYLE. 57 
 
 a sage escaped from the inanity of life's battle ; attracting 
 towards him the thoughts of innumerable brave souls still 
 engaged there. . . . Here for hours would Coleridge talk, 5 
 concerning all conceivable or inconceivable things ; and 
 liked nothing better than to have an intelligent, or failing 
 that, even a silent and patient human listener. He dis- 
 tinguished himself to all that ever heard him as at least 
 the most surprising talker extant in this world, and to 10 
 some small minority, by no means to all, as the most 
 excellent. 
 
 The good man, he was now getting old, towards sixty 
 perhaps ; and gave you the idea of a life that had been 
 full of sufferings ; a life hea^yJaden^ half -vanquished, still 15 
 swimming painfully in seas of manifold physical ami other 
 bewilderment. Brow and head were round, and of massive 
 weight, but the face was flabby and irresolute. The deep 
 eyes, of a light hazel, were as full of sorrow as of inspira- 
 tion ; confused pain looked mildly from them, as in a kind 20 
 of mild astonishment. The whole figure and air, good and 
 
 sage, why is not this a simile ? 3. Inanity, Carlyle has certain 
 favorite words of frequent recurrence, of which this is one. It it an ex- 
 ample also of a kind of word of which he is fond, namely, the abstract 
 noun. Life's battle, a possessive more natural to poetry ; is it the 
 poetic feeling, or some other motive, that leads to its use here? What 
 significance does this figure gather from the suggestiveness of Highgate 
 Hill and smoke-tumult? In what parts of the idea, then, is a simile 
 involved? and what part is metaphor? 5. A page, here omitted, 
 describes his thought, manner of life, and residence. 6. All con- 
 ceivable or inconceivable things, what figure? Rhet. p. 99. 
 What useful office has this figure in describing his conversation? 10. 
 Extant, another of Carlyle's favorite words. What is its derivation ? 
 What Carlylisms in 1. 15 ? 16. Under what figure is Coleridge's life 
 represented? In the kind of action with which his life is associated, is 
 there any disparaging spirit in the figure ? Is there a personification 
 
58 STUDIES IN STYLE. 
 
 amiable otherwise, might be called flabby and irresolute ; 
 expressive of weakness under possibility of strength. He 
 hung loosely on his limbs, with knees bent, and stooping 
 
 *s attitude ; in walking, he rather shuffled than decisively 
 stept ; and a lady once remarked, he never could fix which 
 side of the garden walk would suit him best, but continually 
 shifted, in corkscrew fashion, and kept trying both. A 
 iieavy-laden, high-aspiring and surely much-suffering man. 
 
 3 o His voice, naturaft^-soft and good, had contracted itself 
 into a plaintive snuffle and singsong; he spoke as if 
 preaching, you would have said, preaching earnestly 
 and also hopelessly the weightiest things. I still recollect 
 his " object " and "subject," terms of continual recurrence 
 
 35 in the Kanjgaji province ; and how he sang and snuffled 
 
 them info'"om-m-mject r ' and "sum-m-mject," with a kind 
 
 of solemn shake or quaver, as he rolled along. No talk, 
 
 in his century or in any other, could be more surprising. 
 
 Sterling, who assiduously attended him, with profound 
 
 4 o reverence, and was often with him by himself, for a good 
 many months, gives a record of their first colloquy. Their 
 colloquies were numerous, and he had taken note of many ; 
 but they are all gone to the fire, except this first, which 
 Mr. Hare has printed, unluckily without date. It con- 
 
 45 tains a number of ingenious, true and half-true observa- 
 tions, and is of course a faithful epitome of the things 
 
 in'l. 20? 28. What simile, and what the sign of likeness? Cf. Rhet. 
 p. 89, top. 29. Point out Carlylisms. 31. Connection between 
 sound and sense in this line? 35. Kantean province, that is, the 
 province of Kant's philosophy, with its peculiar philosophical terms. 
 37. As he rolled along, what characteristic of his talk does this 
 figure vivify? 
 
 41. Colloquy, why is this word more fitting here than conversa- 
 
THOMAS CARLYLE. 59 
 
 said ; but it gives small idea of Coleridge's way of talking , 
 
 this one feature is perhaps the most recognizable, "Our 
 interview lasted for three hours, during which he talked 
 two hours and three quarters." Nothing could be more 50 
 copious than his talk ; and furthermore it was always, 
 virtually or literally, of the nature of a monologue ; suffer- 
 ing no interruption, however reverent ; hastily putting 
 aside all foreign additions, annotations, or most ingenuous 
 desires for elucidation, as well-meant superfluities which 55 
 would never do. Besides, it was talk not flowing any- 
 whither like a river, but spreading every-whither in inex- 
 tricable currents and regurgitations like a lake or sea ; 
 terribly deficient in definite goal or aim, nay often in logi- 
 cal intelligibility ; what you were to believe or do, on any 60 
 earthly or heavenly thing, "obstinately refusing to appear 
 from it. So that, most times, you felt logically lost ; 
 swamped near to drowning in this tide of ingenious voca- 
 bles, spreading out boundless as if to submerge the world. 
 
 tion? 52. Virtually or liter ally, trace, by the derivations, how 
 these words get their antithesis to each other. 52. Suffering no in- 
 terruption, of what is this predicated, and what figure is involved? 
 Does the figure aid the directness of expression ? 55. Superfluities, 
 
 the pluralizing of the abstract noun is a Carlylism which has been 
 much imitated. 56. What idiom in this line, and how translated into 
 more formal speech ? 56, 57. What Carlylese compounds in these 
 lines? Trace the simile, 11. 57-64, and mention what parts of the ob- 
 ject compared are significant. Is any advantage gained, in exactness, 
 or amount of meaning, or sonority, by the use of the Latin derivatives, 
 inextricable, regurgitations, intelligibility, vocables, 11. 57, 58, 
 60, 63? 59. Terribly, what call for so strong a word? 61. Ob- 
 stinately refusing, by what figure is the vividness of this clause 
 increased? 62-64. What expressions here lower the dignity of the 
 figure, and what opinion concerning Coleridge's conversation i& thus 
 betrayed? Cf. Rhet. p. 90, 3. 
 
60 STUDIES IN STYLE. 
 
 65 To sit as a passive bucket and be pumped into, whether 
 you consent or not, can in the long-run be exhilarating to 
 no creature ; how eloquent soever the flood of utterance 
 that is descending. But if it be withal a confused unin- 
 telligible flood of utterance, threatening to submerge all 
 
 70 known landmarks of thought, and drown the world and 
 you! I have heard Coleridge talk, with eager musical 
 energy, two stricken hours, his face radiant and moist, 
 and communicate no meaning whatsoever to any individual 
 of his hearers, certain of whom, I for one. still kept 
 
 75 eagerly listening in hope ; the most had long before given 
 up, and formed (if the room were large enough) secondary 
 humming groups of their own. He began anywhere : you 
 put some question to him, made some suggestive observa- 
 tion : instead of answering this, or decidedly setting out 
 
 80 towards answer of it, he would accumulate formidable 
 apparatus, logical swim-bladders, transcendental life-pre- 
 servers and other precautionary and vehiculatory gear, for 
 setting out ; perhaps did at last get under way, but was 
 
 65. By what means is this simile, made humorous ? Are this sentence 
 and the next inconsistent with the figure already used, 11. 57-64? What 
 idea do they add to the preceding? 67. How eloquent soever, 
 the separation of words compounded with soever is a not infrequent 
 Carlylism. 71-73. The adjectives in these lines are good exam- 
 ples of what is said, Rhet. p. 34, rule 4, on the vital associations of 
 words. Consider what significance they gather from their collocation. 
 72. Stricken, has this epithet an effect, merely from the fact that 
 it is present, and apart from its meaning? 73. Individual, why 
 better than person? 79. Setting out, under what figure is he 
 represented as answering? 80-83. Study the humor of this figure. 
 How does it depend on the dignity, or lack of dignity, of the object 
 associated? In 11. 81, 82 are examples of Carlyle's fondness for long 
 and unusual words. 84, What modification of the figure begins here? 
 How is its humor maintained? 
 
THOMAS CARLYLE. 61 
 
 swiftly solicited, turned aside by the glance of some radi- 
 ant new game on this hand or that, into new courses ; and 85 
 ever into new; and before long into all the universe, 
 where it was uncertain what game you would catch, or 
 whether any. 
 
 His talk, alas, was distinguished, like himself, by irreso- 
 lution : it disliked to be troubled with conditions, absti- 90 
 nences, definite fulfilments; loved to wander at its own 
 sweet will, and make its auditor and his claims and humble 
 wishes a mere passive bucket for itself ! He had knowl- 
 edge about many things and topics, much curious reading ; 
 but generally all topics led him, after a pass or two, into 95 
 the high seas of theosophic philosophy, the hazy infinitude 
 of Kantean transcendentalism, with its "sum-m-mjects" 
 and "om-m-mjects." Sad enough; for with such indolent 
 impatience of the claims and ignorances of others, he had 
 not the least talent for explaining this or anything un- 100 
 known to them ; and you swam and fluttered in the mist- 
 iest wide unintelligible deluge of things, for most part 
 in a rather profitless uncomfortable manner. 
 
 Glorious islets, too, I have seen rise out of the haze ; 
 but they were few, and soon swallowed in the general 105 
 
 90. Disliked, the same figure here used of his talk as in 1. 52, 
 which compare. 91. Wander at its own sweet will, a quota- 
 tion, in part, from Wordsworth, Sonnet on Westminster Bridge. 
 95. A pass or two, figure taken from what? 96. Are the figures 
 suggested by high seas and hazy infinitude intended to make con- 
 crete, or just the opposite ? Sometimes indeed figurative language may 
 be, as it were, inverted. Note the same of the figure in 1. 101. 
 Swam and fluttered, does this convey, or indeed intend or need 
 to convey, a self-consistent image of the hearer's progress ? 
 
 104. Glorious islets, what picture does this present of Cole- 
 ridge's conversation? Observe that this figure suggests a picture of 
 
62 STUDIES IN STYLE. 
 
 element again. Balmy sunny islets, islets of the blest and 
 the intelligible : on which occasions those secondary hum- 
 ming groups would all cease humming, and hang breath- 
 less upon the eloquent words ; till once your islet got 
 
 IIO wrapt in the mist again, and they could recommence 
 humming. Eloquent artistically expressive words you 
 always had ; piercing radiances of a most subtle insight 
 came at intervals ; tones of noble pious sympathy, recog- 
 nizable as pious though strangely colored, were never 
 
 II5 wanting long : but in general you could not call this aim- 
 less, cloud-capt, cloud-based, lawlessly meandering human 
 discourse of reason by the name of " excellent talk," but 
 only of " surprising " ; and were reminded bitterly of Haz- 
 litt's account of it : " Excellent talker, very, if you let 
 
 I20 him start from no premises and come to no conclusion." 
 Coleridge was not without what talkers call wit, and there 
 were touches of prickly sarcasm in him, contemptuous 
 enough of the world and its idols and popular dignitaries ; 
 he had traits even of poetic humor : but in general he 
 
 125 seemed deficient in laughter ; or indeed in sympathy for 
 concrete human things either on the sunny or on the 
 stormy side. One right peal of concrete laughter at some 
 
 great beauty, while generally some grotesque or disparaging element 
 has been intermixed. What call is there for this figure to be so beau- 
 tiful ? 106. The blest and the intelligible, note the felicity of 
 making these synonymous; in what does it consist? What Carlylism, 
 already pointed out, in 1. 112? Can you construct a self-consistent 
 figure from 1. 116? What mixtures of previous figures are there, and 
 why the mixture? 119. Analyze the figure of the quotation from 
 Hazlitt according to Rhet. p. 104. Under which class of examples at 
 the bottom of the page does it come ? 122. What figurative sugges- 
 tion in the epithet? 127. Right, how does the use of this word 
 here answer to its primary meaning? Concrete, what antithesis 
 
THOMAS CARLYLE. 63 
 
 convicted flesh-and-blood absurdity, one burst of noble 
 indignation at some injustice or depravity, rubbing elbows 
 with us on this solid Earth, how strange would it have 130 
 been in that Kantean haze-world, and how infinitely cheer- 
 ing amid its vacant air-castles and dim-melting ghosts and 
 shadows ! None such ever came. His life had been an 
 abstract thinking and dreaming, idealistic, passed amid 
 the ghosts of defunct bodies and of unborn ones. The 135 
 moaning singsong of that theosophico-metaphysical monot- 
 ony left on you, at last, a very dreary feeling. 
 
 From THE LIFE OF STERLING. 
 
 does this imply and derive suggestiveness from? How is the antithesis 
 benefited by the compound epithet, 1. 128? Trace the antithesis fur- 
 ther in 11. 129-132. Point out the Carlylisms. What is the use of the 
 idiom rubbing elbows ? 130. Solid, what good does the epithet 
 do? 
 
 Recall now the picturing power of the figures, and consider how 
 they go to exemplify what is said of Carlyle's style in the note pre- 
 fixed to this Selection. 
 
STUDY OF FIGURES IN PREVIOUS SELECTIONS. 
 
 LET us now go back and notice, in the Selections that have preceded 
 these last two, some of the figures that are most striking and that 
 accomplish the most for the writer's purpose. 
 
 Bunyan : Pages 1-6. The Selection from Bunyan is all figure ; 
 that is, it is a section from his allegory, " The Pilgrim's Progress," which 
 under the story of a journey portrays the Christian life; see Rhet. pp, 
 94-96. As a story, it has interest in itself; but upon this is also super- 
 induced a second interest, the interest of the abstract idea, the inner 
 experience, which it illustrates. At all the main points of the story we 
 are reminded that it has a double meaning. In the selection before us 
 the connexion between figure and literal is revealed mainly by two 
 means : by the proper names selected, and by allusions to or quotations 
 from Scripture. Let us trace the allegory in some of its principal points. 
 
 The name of the hero, Christian, and the name of the place, The 
 Valley of Humiliation, indicate that the part of the story now before 
 us refers to a stage of his experience where the Christian is cast down 
 by trials and doubts, and subject to spiritual conflicts. With this idea 
 in mind, analysis of the allegory is easy. 4. Apollyon. For the 
 origin of this name see Rev. ix. 11. What is its derivation? 15. What 
 expression in this line from Job xli. 15, and to what is it applied in the 
 original? 21, 22. How do these names of places connect the allegory 
 with what it illustrates? 31. How does the quotation from Romans 
 vi. 23 preserve the allegory? 39. How does Bunyan use Isa. xxxv. 8 
 to explain the meaning of the road in which Christian is travelling? 
 46. What does Bunyan get here from Eph. vi. 16, and how does it 
 help us interpret the allegory? 51. In a sidenote Bunyan thus ex- 
 plains his allegory here: "Christian wounded in his understanding, 
 faith, and conversation." 63. How is the expression here influenced 
 by 2 Cor. i. 8, and to what does the original refer? 78. For this 
 rather awkward parenthesis, see Rev. xiii. n. Introduced in order to 
 identify Christian's enemy more closely with the adversary there men- 
 
STUDY OF FIGURES IN PREVIOUS SELECTIONS. 65 
 
 tioned. 82. Two-edged, this epithet, taken from Heb. iv. 12, 
 identities Christian's sword, allegorically, with what? 87. The lion. 
 Bunyan goes out of his way to use this word : he wants to incorporate 
 the suggestiveness of I Sam. xvii. 37 into his allegory. To what does 
 the original refer? 98. Tree of Life, see Rev. xxii. 2. What 
 characteristic of the Tree of Life is used here? Endeavor now to 
 relate, in literal language, the story of Christian's fight with Apollyon. 
 
 De Quincey : Pages 8-16. In 11.13-26 is suggested a manner of 
 regarding murder, as a performance to be criticised rather than as a 
 horror to be shunned, which was sixteen years afterward worked out at 
 length in his essay on " Murder Considered as One of the Fine Arts." 
 What figure of speech does this whole conception involve? See Rhet. 
 p. 100, and compare especially example at top of p. 101. Trace now, in 
 11. 15, 16, 19, 21, 22. the words that accord, in figurative suggestiveness, 
 with this conception. 55-58. The germs of what metaphors can you 
 trace here? Are they unjustifiably mixed? 105-123. In these lines 
 De Quincey labors to express a highly abstract and metaphysical idea ; 
 trace and explain the metaphors and similes in which he makes it 
 palpable. 133-143. In what figure is this paragraph written? See 
 Rhet. p. 98. What emotion gives rise to it, and what has he revealed 
 in the previous exposition to justify such emotion ? ' Point out the 
 similes in this paragraph, and trace how they illustrate the idea. 
 
 Burke : Pages 18-23. Under what figure, 11. 1-7, does Burke 
 describe the Queen of France? 7-9. In what emotional figure is this 
 sentence written ? See Rhet. p. 97. Put it in unemotional language. 
 16. What bold personification here, and how does it affect the intensity 
 of the idea? Express it literally. 49. Of the metaphor here Abbott 
 (" How to Write Clearly," p. 37) says, " This metaphor is not recom- 
 mended for imitation." 58-64. Trace the figure suggested and 
 detailed in these lines. 65-67. Explain by Rhet. p. 105. 
 
 Thackeray: Pages 24-35. Compare the interrogations in 11. 12 
 and 14. What answer does the first imply? What the second? Test 
 the two by Rhet. p. 97, and determine which is a figure of speech. 
 15 sq. What figure . here ? 23. What double meaning in the word 
 habits? Trace the allegory that Thackeray here uses. 25. Compare 
 this exclamation with the one in Burke, 1. 7, and note the difference of 
 emotion that gave rise to it. 39. To what well-known ancient philos- 
 opher is allusion here made, and what added clause increases its humor? 
 50-67. These lines are almost wholly in exclamation ; what emotion 
 
66 STUDIES IN STYLE. 
 
 gives rise to and justifies the figure? 120. What humorous figure 
 suggested in a single word, in this line? 131. The emotion passes 
 spontaneously here into what figure? 215-217. In what figure does 
 Thackeray describe the working of his mind, and what gives it a 
 humorous turn? 
 
 Ruskin : Pages 36-47. Why is not the comparison in 1. 46 a 
 simile? See Rhet. p. 89, i. Compare the similes, 11. 94 and 210 with 
 the simile, 1. 155 sq. Between them is all the difference between prose 
 and poetry. Consider what there is in the objects illustrated to make 
 the difference. 128-141. Trace how much of the poetic suggestive- 
 ness here is due to an implied personification. 167. Trace the meton- 
 ymy in this line, and explain what makes it metonymy (Rhet. p. 88). 
 175-180. Into what figure does the writer break in these lines? 
 181. Does the beauty of the preceding justify the exclamation here? 
 190. Is this interrogation a figure of speech? 
 
VIII. 
 
 THOMAS HENRY HUXLEY. 
 
 A LIBERAL EDUCATION. 
 
 " It may be fairly said that the able English biologist has no equal as an 
 expounder, both to scientific and popular audiences, of matters difficult to 
 comprehend. Nor perhaps is it too much to say that no one before ever wrote 
 s with such marvellous clearness, united with equal literary finish. Clearness of 
 writing, though of course always esteemed, has never been valued so highly as 
 by our generation. Formerly an embellishment, it has now become a prime 
 requisite, since so much of our reading has for its purpose to acquaint our- 
 selves with the progress in special fields of knowledge, which we can enter 
 only with a guide and interpreter." C. S. MiNOT. 
 
 LET us ask ourselves, what is education ? Above all 
 things, what is our ideal of a thoroughly liberal education ? 
 
 The two Selections that follow will be studied mainly for the illus- 
 trations they furnish of Fundamental Processes; and presuppose a 
 knowledge of the Rhetoric as far as page 171. 
 
 The present Selection is taken from " an address to the South Lon- 
 don Working Men's College, delivered on the 4th of January, 1868." 
 Explain what type of diction the object and occasion lead you to expect, 
 and what are its desirable characteristics ; see Rhet. p. 79. Note the 
 familiarity of tone, as seen in conversational expletives and contrac- 
 tions; e.g. 11. 6, 11, 44, 97. A more pervasive and significant fea- 
 ture is the simplicity of word and phrase, the careful adaptation of 
 expression to ordinary and unlearned minds, which the occasion evi- 
 dently led the author to seek. 
 
 Lines 1-3. The question asked in 1. I is immediately repeated with 
 variations. Show how the repetition illustrates Rhet. p. 163, 78 ; how 
 
68 STUDIES IN STYLE, 
 
 of that education which, if we could begin life again, we 
 would give ourselves of that education which, if we could 
 
 s mould the fates to our own will, we would give our children. 
 Well, I know not what may be your conceptions upon this 
 matter, but I will tell you mine, and I hope I shall find 
 that our views are not very discrepant. 
 
 Suppose it were perfectly certain that the life and for- 
 
 K> tune of every one of us would, one day or other, depend 
 upon his winning or losing a game at chess. Don't you 
 think that we should all consider it to be a primary duty 
 to learn at least the names and the moves of the pieces ; 
 to have a notion of a gambit, and a keen eye for all the 
 
 15 means of giving and getting out of check ? Do you not 
 think that we should look with a disapprobation amount- 
 ing to scorn, upon the father who allowed his son, or the 
 
 the opening of the second sentence illustrates p. 139, 40 ; and how the 
 whole repetition illustrates p. 151, 60. 3, 4. Explain position of if- 
 clauses by p. 147, 52, and try the effect of putting them after the verb. 
 As it is, what part of the sentence has the stress? 4, 5. Would give. 
 Explain ivoiild with first person, by p. 1 14, 8. In the same way explain 
 I will, 1. 7, and discriminate from I shall, 1. 7. The first clause of 
 sentence, 11. 6-8, is of what nature, as explained by Rhet. p. 151, 59? 
 
 Why would, in 1. 10, and should, 11. 12, 16? Does either auxiliary 
 indicate more than simple futurity? 10. One day or other, ob- 
 serve the position of this time-phrase, buried in the sentence, so as to 
 do its work but have as little stress as possible. To feel the difference 
 of emphasis, try putting it at the beginning or at the end. 11. Don't, 
 
 note how this is slightly varied in the repetition, 1. 15, and compare 
 Rhet. p. 162, 76. 14. Gambit, observe that when the writer in- 
 troduces a technicalism he has already said enough, in general terms, 
 so that a reader can understand its bearings, whether the word itself IG 
 understood or not. 16. Why such full way of expressing this, instead 
 of simply saying "look with scorn"? See Rhet. p. 151. 17, 18. 
 Father who . . . state which, are these relatives coordinating or 
 restrictive? See Rhet. p. 127. Try how that would sound, and see if 
 
THOMAS HENRY HUXLEY. 69 
 
 state which allowed its members, to grow up without 
 knowing a pawn from a knight ? 
 
 Yet it is a very plain and elementary truth, that the 2.0 
 life, the fortune, and the happiness of every one of us, 
 and, more or less, of those who are connected with us, do 
 depend upon our knowing something of the rules of a 
 game infinitely more difficult and complicated than chess. 
 It is a game which has been played for untold ages, every 25 
 man and woman of us being one of the two players in a 
 game of his or her own. The chess-board is the world, the 
 pieces are the phenomena of the universe, the rules of the 
 game are what we call the laws of Nature. The player on 
 the other side is hidden from us. We know that his play 30 
 is always fair, just, and patient. But also we know, to our 
 cost, that he never overlooks a mistake, or makes the 
 smallest allowance for ignorance. To the man who plays 
 well, the highest stakes are paid, with that sort of over- 
 
 there is anything in the previous part of the sentence against using it. 
 See Rhet. p. 129, examples, i. 
 
 20. Yet. This word sets off its sentence in adversative relation (see 
 Rhet. p. 142) to something preceding; to what is it thus adversative? 
 Study the amplitude (see Rhet. p. 151) of the statements in this 
 paragraph ; e.g. why not say ** of all," in 11. 21, 22, and what is gained by 
 tuller statement? how condense, grammatically, "It is a game which 
 has been played," 1. 25? It is evidently the writer's intention, by in- 
 troducing many modifying and intensifying elements, to make the sen- 
 tence 11. 20-24 move slowly; try to state its substance in more rapid 
 style; see Rhet. p. 157. 22. Do depend, why is the emphatic 
 form of the verb used? See Rhet. p. 163, 78. 25. Which. What 
 other relative would more closely discriminate the relation of the rela- 
 tive clause to the antecedent? See Rhet. p. 127. Is there any reason 
 against the use of it here? 27. His or her own, note here Hux- 
 ley's usage, where some crude writers would say their. 31. But also. 
 To what is the but adversative, and how is its adversative relation 
 
70 STUDIES IN STYLE. 
 
 35 flowing generosity with which the strong shows delight in 
 strength. And one who plays ill is checkmated with- 
 out haste, but without remorse. 
 
 My metaphor will remind some of you of the famous 
 picture in which Retzsch has depicted Satan playing at 
 
 40 chess with man for his soul. Substitute for the mocking' 
 fiend in that picture, a calm, strong angel who is playing 
 for love, as we say, and would rather lose than win and 
 I should accept it as an image of human life. 
 
 Well, what I mean by Education is learning the rules 
 
 45 of this mighty game. In other words, education is the 
 instruction of the intellect in the laws of Nature, under 
 which name I include not merely things and their forces, 
 but men and their ways ; and the fashioning of the affec- 
 tions and of the will into an earnest and loving desire to 
 
 5 o move in harmony with those laws. For me, education 
 means neither more nor less than this. Anything which 
 professes to call itself education must be tried by this 
 standard, and if it fails to stand the test, I will not call it 
 
 modified? See Rhet. p. 142, 45. Trace also the reason of using but 
 in 1. 37. How is the sentence 11. 33-36 suspended? See Rhet. 
 p. 148, 53. 
 
 Of what is the imperative construction 1. 40 a condensation? See 
 Rhet. p. 156, 68, example 4. Why would you call the adjectives in 
 1.41 epithets? 43. I should accept, what tense, as relative to 
 this, is implied in the condensed conditional clause preceding? See 
 Rhet. p. 112, 5. 
 
 44. What means of suspense in this sentence, and what is effected 
 by it? See Rhet. p. 149, 55. 47. How is the antecedent defined 
 in this line, and what would be the implication without the defining 
 word? See Rhet. p. 126, 23. What illustration in this line and the 
 next, of Rhet. p. 164, 80? 51. Why would the relative that be pref- 
 erable to which here? 53. Standard, stand. See Rhet. p. 168, 86; 
 and try, by reading aloud, whether the different stress of the words 
 
THOMAS HENRY HUXLEY. 71 
 
 education, whatever may be the force of authority, or of 
 numbers, upon the other side. ss 
 
 It is important to remember that, in strictness, there is 
 no such thing as an uneducated man. Take an extreme 
 case. Suppose that an adult man, in the full vigor of his 
 faculties, could be suddenly placed in the world, as Adam 
 is said to have been, and then left to do as he best might. e 
 How long would he be left uneducated ? Not five minutes. 
 Nature would begin to teach him, through the eye, the 
 ear, the touch, the properties of objects. Pain and pleasure 
 would be at his elbow telling him to do this and avoid that ; 
 and by slow degrees the man would receive an education, 6 5 
 which, if narrow, would be thorough, real, and adequate to 
 his circumstances, though there would be no extras and 
 very few accomplishments. 
 
 And if to this solitary man entered a second Adam, or, 
 better still, an Eve, a new and greater world, that of social 7 
 and moral phenomena, would be revealed. Joys and woes, 
 compared with which all others might seem but faint 
 shadows, would spring from the new relations. Happiness 
 and sorrow would take the place of the coarser monitors, 
 
 tends to obviate the jingle. 53. I will. What implication in using 
 will instead of shall? Observe how copiously this sentence is punc- 
 tuated, and how the movement is retarded thereby. What call for 
 retarded movement here? 
 
 62, 63. What ambiguity in this sentence, and how obviated? 
 63. By what figurative means is the concreteness of the sentence in- 
 creased? 66. If narrow, is the word if the most accurate that 
 could be used for expressing this condition? See Rhet. p. 140, 42. 
 Compare also the condition, 1. 68, for difference in implication. 
 67. The language used here fits what figurative suggestion? 
 
 69-71. How is this sentence suspended, and what element is thereby 
 put into a prominent place? Do the two succeeding sentences need 
 any inversion of structure, in order to be adjusted to this? Compare 
 
72 STUDIES IN STYLE. 
 
 75 pleasure and pain ; but conduct would still be shaped by 
 the observation of the natural consequences of actions; 
 or, in other words, by the laws of the nature of man. 
 
 To every one of us the world was once as fresh and new 
 as to Adam. And then, long before we were susceptible 
 
 80 of any other mode of instruction, Nature took us in hand, 
 and every minute of waking life brought its educational 
 influence, shaping our actions into rough accordance with 
 Nature's laws, so that we might not be ended untimely by 
 too gross disobedience. Nor should I speak of this process 
 
 85 of education as past, for any one, be he as old as he may. 
 For every man, the world is as fresh as it was at the first 
 day, and as full of untold novelties for him who has the 
 eyes to see them. And Nature is still continuing her 
 patient education of us in that great university, the uni- 
 
 9 o verse, of which we are all members Nature having no 
 Test-Acts. 
 
 Those who take honors in Nature's university, who learn 
 the laws which govern men and things and obey them, are 
 
 Rhet. p. 166. 75. By the observation of. If we should say " By 
 observing " we could obviate one of the ofs in this sentence ; but a 
 stronger reason leads us to put a noun here instead of a participle ; see 
 if you can discover it from 1. 77, and Rhet. p. 164, 79. 
 
 Study the suspense of sentences, 11. 78-84, and state what desirable 
 emphasis is gained thereby. 83. Untimely, what advantage given 
 to the adverb by this position? See Rhet. p. 119, 16. 84. Explain 
 the use of nor by Rhet. p. 144, 49. 86. Explain the inverted order of 
 this sentence by Rhet. p. 166, and point out the ideas brought together 
 thereby. 88. And beginning a sentence ought not to be very usual; 
 but Huxley uses it occasionally with grace, as a means of cumulative 
 statement ; see also 1. 117. 89. What metaphor here suggested? 
 
 92-98. The extension of the metaphor through this paragraph 
 makes it approach what figure? See Rhet. p. 94, and compare Thack- 
 eray, 11. 24-36. Point out the words that are polarized by the figure ; 
 
THOMAS HENRY HUXLEY. 73 
 
 the really great and successful men in this world. The 
 great mass of mankind are the "Poll," who pick up just 95 
 enough to get through without much discredit. Those 
 who won't learn at all are plucked ; and then you can't 
 come up again. Nature's pluck means extermination. 
 
 Thus the question of compulsory education is settled so 
 far as Nature is concerned. Her bill on that question was 100 
 framed and passed long ago. But, like all compulsory 
 legislation, that of Nature is harsh and wasteful in its 
 operation. Ignorance is visited as sharply as wilful dis- 
 obedience incapacity meets with the same punishment 
 as crime. Nature's discipline is not even a word and a 105 
 blow, and the blow first ; but the blow without the word. 
 It is left you to find out why your ears are boxed. 
 
 The object of what we commonly call education that 
 education in which man intervenes and which I shall dis- 
 tinguish as artificial education is to make good these 
 defects in Nature's methods ; to prepare the child to 
 receive Nature's education, neither incapably nor igno- 
 rantly, nor with wilful disobedience ; and to understand 
 the preliminary symptoms of her displeasure, without 
 waiting for the box on the ear. In short, all artificial us 
 
 point out also university provincialisms ; see Rhet. p. 39, 9. Does the 
 figurative sense justify the use here? Does the audience? What 
 idiom in 1. 96? 
 
 100. A new metaphor is entered upon here ; what in preceding sen- 
 tence suggests it? 106. What ellipsis condenses this sentence? 
 
 108-110. Note how meagre is the punctuation in the parenthesis, 
 and contrast 11. 53-55. Is there a reason for making this rapid? 
 109. And which ought not to be used except as the second of two 
 relative clauses beginning with 'which. Is it correctly used here? I 
 Bhall, what implication of shall, by Rhet. p. 114, 8? 112. Explain 
 and justify the position of the adverbs. Neither . . . nor . . . nor, 
 
74 STUDIES IN STYLE, 
 
 education ought to be an anticipation of natural education. 
 And a liberal education is an artificial education, which 
 has not only prepared a man to escape the great evils of 
 disobedience to natural laws, but has trained him to ap- 
 
 120 predate and to seize upon the rewards, which Nature 
 scatters with as free a hand as her penalties. 
 
 That man, I think, has had a liberal education, who has 
 been so trained in youth that his body is the ready servant 
 of his will, and does with ease and pleasure all the work 
 
 125 that, as a mechanism, it is capable of ; whose intellect is a 
 clear, cold, logic engine, with all its parts of equal strength, 
 and in smooth working order ; ready, like a steam engine, 
 to be turned to any kind of work, and spin the gossamers 
 as well as forge the anchors of the mind ; whose mind is 
 
 30 stored with a knowledge of the great and fundamental 
 truths of Nature and of the laws of her operations ; one 
 who, no stunted ascetic, is full of life and fire, but whose 
 passions are trained to come to heel by a vigorous will, the 
 servant of a tender conscience ; who has learned to love 
 
 135 all beauty, whether of Nature or of art, to hate all vileness, 
 and to respect others as himself. 
 
 Such an one, and no other, I conceive, has had a liberal 
 education ; for he is, as completely as a man can be, in 
 
 are the three correlatives correct ? See Rhet. p. 137, 36. 115. What 
 antithesis in this sentence? 118, 119. Not only . . . but, are these 
 correlated correctly, by Rhet. p. 137, 37? 
 
 125. That is undoubtedly the correct relative ; but what considera- 
 tion might justify using which here? See Rhet. p. 129, examples, 2. 
 126. Note the felicity of the epithets, and explain how they illustrate 
 Rhet. p. 34, rule 4. 127-129. Under what figure is the mind repre- 
 sented, and how is the figure carried out? 132. No stunted ascetic, 
 
 explain the strength of this negative by Rhet 144, 48. 133. What 
 curious idiom here, and what figure does it involve? 
 
THOMAS HENRY HUXLEY. 75 
 
 harmony with Nature. He will make the best of her, and 
 she of him. They will get on together rarely ; she as his 
 ever beneficent mother; he as her mouth-piece, her con- 
 scious self, her minister and interpreter. 
 
 From LAY SERMONS, ADDRESSES, AND REVIEWS. 
 
 140. What colloquial usage here in the adverb? 
 
IX. 
 
 JOHN HENRY, CARDINAL NEWMAN 
 
 I. ACCURACY OF MIND. 
 
 " There is no living writer who has attained to such supreme mastery over 
 the English tongue. It is to him an instrument of which he knows all the 
 mysterious capabilities, all the hidden sweetness, all the latent power; and it 
 responds with marvellous precision to his every touch, the boldest or the 
 slightest." W. S. LILLY. 
 
 IT has often been observed that, when the eyes of the 
 infant first open upon the world, the reflected rays of light 
 which strike them from the myriad of surrounding objects 
 
 These two Selections are taken, as was the preceding, from lectures ; 
 but whereas the other was delivered to workingmen, these were deliv- 
 ered to students of a university. We naturally look, therefore, for 
 greater freedom in the use of learned language, as suited to the more 
 educated audience ; and we see indications of it in the Latin quotations, 
 11. 100, 121-127, and in occasional learned words, as for instance, " ecu- 
 menical," 1. 152, "the two-fold Logos," 1. no, "otiose," 1. 130, to say 
 nothing of the comparatively abstruse nature of the thought. 
 
 The first Selection is from the beginning, the second from the end, 
 of a public discourse. It will be observed that the second, in accord- 
 ance with the momentum derived from the previous thought that it 
 sums up and culminates, is considerably heightened in diction, which 
 fact is observable mainly in its more rolling and stately rhythm. Read, 
 for instance, the paragraphs, 11. 128-145, and 11. 155-173, aloud. 
 
 Line 1. What office does the prospective it fulfil? See Rhet. p. 133. 
 How otherwise is the main assertion of the sentence delayed ? See 
 Rhet. p. 147, 52. 3. Which, what relative would better express 
 the nature of the clause? Cf. Rhet. p. 128. Is there any reason against 
 
CARDINAL NEWMAN. 77 
 
 present to him no image, but a medley of colors and 
 shadows. They do not form into a whole ; they do not rise s 
 into foregrounds and melt into distances ; they do not 
 divide into groups ; they do not coalesce into unities ; they 
 do not combine into persons ; but each particular hue and 
 tint stands by itself, wedged in amid a thousand others 
 upon the vast and flat mosaic, having no intelligence, and *> 
 conveying no story, any more than the wrong side of some 
 rich tapestry. The little babe stretches out his arms and 
 ringers, as if to grasp or to fathom the many-colored vision ; 
 and thus he gradually learns the connexion of part with 
 part, separates what moves from what is stationary, watches '5 
 the coming and going of figures, masters the idea of shape 
 and of perspective, calls in the information conveyed 
 through the other senses to assist him in his mental pro- 
 cess, and thus gradually converts a kaleidoscope into a 
 picture. The first view was the more splendid, the second * 
 the more real ; the former more poetical, the latter more 
 
 its use here ? Derivation of myriad ? For this particular audience 
 would this word increase the concreteness of the passage ? 4-12. Study 
 the two kinds of negatives in these lines and compare their strength, 
 according to Rhet. p. 144, 48. In the same lines, show what clauses 
 and words are antithetic to each other. Three figures are used to 
 convey and illustrate the idea ; show how it grows in suggestiveness, 
 through the metaphor, 1. 10, the simile, 1. 11, and the metaphor, 1. 19. 
 How is the last figure prepared for in the intervening lines? 10, 11. 
 Point out the repetition of manner of expression, according to Rhet. p. 
 164, 79. 14. And thus, is this connective accurately used, according 
 to Rhet. p. 143, 47? 16. Of shape and of perspective, observe 
 how scrupulous a careful writer like Newman is to repeat connectives, 
 where a slovenly writer would omit them ; compare also 11. 23-25, 38. 
 On the other hand, when rapidity is needed (Cf. Rhet. p. 157) the con- 
 nective is omitted; see, e.g., 11. 101, in. 20-22. Point out the 
 means oi retrospective reference in this sentence, and explain by Rhet. 
 
78 STUDIES IN STYLE. 
 
 philosophical. Alas! what are we doing all through life, 
 both as a necessity and as a duty, but unlearning the 
 world's poetry, and attaining to its prose ! This is our 
 
 as education, as boys and as men, 'in the action of life, and in 
 the closet or library ; in our affections, in our aims, in our 
 hopes, and in our memories. And in like manner it is the 
 education of our intellect ; I say, that one main portion of 
 intellectual education, of the labors of both school and 
 
 3 o university, is to remove the original dimness of the mind's 
 eye ; to strengthen and perfect its vision ; to enable it to 
 look out into the world right forward, steadily and truly ; 
 to give the mind clearness, accuracy, precision ; to enable 
 it to use words aright, to understand what it says, to con- 
 
 35 ceive justly what it thinks about, to abstract, compare, 
 analyze, divide, define, and reason, correctly. There is a 
 particular science which takes these matters in hand, and 
 it is called logic ; but it is not by logic, certainly not by 
 logic alone, that the faculty I speak of is acquired. The 
 
 4 o infant does not learn to spell and read the hues upon his 
 
 p. 124, 21. Is the reference clear enough? 22-24. What figure 
 predominates, exclamation or interrogation? See the punctuation. 
 24-27. Point out balance in sentence. Cf. Rhet. p. 164. 27. And, 
 compare what is said, Huxley, 1. 88. It will be observed that this 
 case of and introducing a sentence is similar to that, in that the sen-; 
 tence so introduced merely continues and cumulates the idea of the 
 preceding. So also in 1. 91 below. 27-36. Study how this sentence 
 illustrates Rhet. p. 30, rule 2. Note that the various repetitions begin 
 with figurative and pass into literal, the latter being thus a kind of 
 interpretation of the former. 36. On what word does the there 
 prospective (Rhet. p. 133) enable the writer to lay stress? 38. What 
 is effected by the inverted construction in this sentence? See Rhet. 
 p. 1 66. 39. I speak of, why is the relative omitted? See Rhet. 
 p. 159, 71. Try the effect of expressing it. What, in principle, is 
 the statement, 11, 39-42? See Rhet. p. 89, examples, 2. Condense 
 
CARDINAL NEWMAN. 79 
 
 retina by any scientific rule ; nor does the student learn 
 accuracy of thought by any manual or treatise. The in- 
 struction given him, of whatever kind, if it be really instruc- 
 tion, is mainly, or at least pre-eminently, this, a discipline 
 in accuracy of mind. 4s 
 
 Boys are always more or less inaccurate, and too many, 
 or rather the majority, remain boys all their lives. When, 
 for instance, I hear speakers at public meetings declaiming 
 about " large and enlightened views," or about "freedom 
 of conscience," or about "the Gospel," or any other pop- 50 
 ular subject of the day, I am far from denying that some 
 among them know what they are talking about ; but it 
 would be satisfactory, in a particular case, to be sure of the 
 fact ; for it seems to me that those household words may 
 stand in a man's mind for a something or other, very glo- 55 
 rious indeed, but very misty, pretty much like the idea of 
 " civilization " which floats before the mental vision of a 
 Turk, that is, if, when he interrupts his smoking to utter 
 the word, he condescends to reflect whether it has any 
 meaning at all. Again, a critic in a periodical dashes off, 60 
 perhaps, his praises of a new work, as " talented, original, 
 replete with intense interest, irresistible in argument, and, 
 in the best sense of the word, a very readable book " ; 
 
 the sentence, 11. 42-45, to its lowest terms, and explain how it illus- 
 trates Rhet. p. 151, 60. 
 
 47. Or rather the majority, this self-correction exemplifies a 
 frequent means of amplitude ; see reference, previous note. Remain 
 boys, a softer way of saying what? See Rhet. p. 154,64. 47. When, 
 see Rhet. 147, 52. 51. I am far from denying, this phrase in 
 the beginning of the sentence leads us to expect what kind of clause 
 following? See Rhet. p. 138, 38. 53. The fact, why not it? See 
 Rhet. p. 132, 28. 57. "Which, see note, 1. 3. 59. Condescends 
 to reflect, is this circumlocution justifiable? See Rhet. p. 153, and 
 
80 STUDIES IN STYLE. 
 
 can we really believe that he cares to attach any definite 
 
 65 sense to the words of which he is so lavish ? nay, that, if 
 he had a habit of attaching sense to them, he could ever 
 bring himself to so prodigal and wholesale an expenditure 
 of them ? 
 
 To a short-sighted person, colors run together and inter- 
 
 70 mix, outlines disappear, blues and reds and yellows become 
 russets or browns, the lamps or candles of an illumination 
 spread into an unmeaning glare, or dissolve into a milky 
 way. He takes up an eye-glass, and the mist clears up ; 
 every image stands out distinct, and the rays of light fall 
 
 75 back upon their centres. It is this haziness of intellectual 
 vision which is the malady of all classes of men by nature, 
 of those who read and write and compose, quite as well as 
 of those who cannot, of all who have not had a really 
 good education. Those who cannot either read or write 
 
 80 may, nevertheless, be in the number of those who have 
 remedied and got rid of it ; those who can, are too often 
 still under its power. It is an acquisition quite separate 
 from miscellaneous information, or knowledge of books. 
 
 II. IDEAL AUTHORSHIP DESCRIBED. 
 
 I shall then merely sum up what I have said, and come 
 85 to a conclusion. Reverting, then, to my original question, 
 
 p. 151. 65. Nay, what office does this connective fill? See Rhet. 
 p. 139, 40. 
 
 69. Explain beginning of sentence by Rhet. p. 148, 53. 75. Explain 
 it is, etc. by Rhet. p. 133. 79, 80. Those who, what objection to 
 those thatl Rhet. p. 130, examples, 4. 82. Explain the difference 
 between it here and it in 1. 75. See Rhet. p. 134, 31. 
 
 84. Shall, implication, as distinguished from will? Rhet. p. 
 114. 85. Reverting, what is the subject of this participle? Cf. 
 Rhet. p. 115, 10. What does the participial construction effect here, 
 
CARDINAL NEWMAN. 81 
 
 what is the meaning of Letters, as contained, Gentlemen, 
 in the designation of your Faculty, I have answered, that 
 by Letters or Literature is meant the expression of thought 
 in language, where by " thought " I mean the ideas, feel- 
 ings, views, reasonings, and other operations of the human *> 
 mind. And the Art of Letters is the method by which a 
 speaker or writer brings out in words, worthy of his sub- 
 ject, and sufficient for his audience or readers, the thoughts 
 which impress him. Literature, then, is of a personal 
 character ; it consists in the enunciations and teachings of 95 
 those who have a right to speak as representatives of their 
 kind, and in whose words their brethren find an interpreta- 
 tion of their own sentiments, a record of their own experi- 
 ence, and a suggestion for their own judgments. A great 
 author, Gentlemen, is not one who merely has a copia ver- 100 
 borum, whether in prose or verse, and can, as it were, turn 
 on at his will any number of splendid phrases and swelling 
 sentences ; but he is one who has something to say and 
 knows how to say it. I do not claim for him, as such, any 
 great depth of thought, or breadth of view, or philosophy, 105 
 or sagacity, or knowledge of human nature, or experience 
 of human life, though these additional gifts he may have, 
 
 as to emphasis? Cf. Rhet. p. 148, 54. 92, 93. Brings out . . . 
 thoughts, observe how subordinate elements of the sentence are 
 skilfully packed in between tbe verb and its object. Try the effect of 
 putting these elements in loose order after the object. 94. 'Which, 
 try that, and observe its more rapid effect. Would it not be preferable 
 here? Show how 11. 92. 93, 97-99, illustrate Rhet p. 164, 79. 
 100. Copia, verborum, what circumstance justifies the use of these 
 and other Latin terms in this production? 101. As it "were, how 
 illustrative of Rhet. p. 151, 59? Observe that this phrase prepares the 
 reader for an unusual, figurative use of the verb following; what figura- 
 tive idea is involved in the latter? 104. How is the negative of this 
 
82 STUDIES IN STYLE. 
 
 and the more he has of them the greater he is ; but 1 
 ascribe to him, as his characteristic gift, in a large sense 
 
 no the faculty of Expression. He is master of the two-fold 
 Logos, the thought and the word, distinct, but inseparable 
 from each other. He may, if so be, elaborate his composi- 
 tions, or he may pour out his improvisations, but in either 
 case he has but one aim, which he keeps steadily before 
 
 us him, and is conscientious and single-minded in fulfilling. 
 That aim is to give forth what he has within him ; and 
 from his very earnestness it comes to pass that, whatever 
 be the splendor of his diction or the harmony of his periods, 
 he has with him the charm of an incommunicable simpH- 
 
 120 city. Whatever be his subject, high or low, he treats it 
 suitably and for its own sake. If he is a poet, " nil molitur 
 ineptt" If he is an orator, then too he speaks, not only 
 "distincte" and " splendide," but also " aptt." His page 
 is the lucid mirror of his mind and life 
 
 125 " Quo fit, ut omnis 
 
 Votive pateat veluti descripta tabell^ 
 Vita senis." 
 
 He writes passionately, because he feels keenly ; for- 
 cibly, because he conceives vividly ; he sees too clearly to 
 
 sentence softened? Cf. Rhet. p. 144, 49. What antecedent does 
 such recognize, and how? See Rhet. p. 133, 30. 107. Give the 
 rationale of this inverted clause; Rhet. p. 166, 83. 109, 110. As- 
 cribe . . . faculty, compare what is said in note to 11. 92, 93. 
 116. That aim, how does this illustrate Rhet. p. 126, 23? 117- 
 123. Point out the sentence structures balanced against each other, as 
 defined, Rhet. p. 164, 80. 124. Lucid, instead of this word, New- 
 man originally wrote clear, and changed to this in a subsequent edition. 
 Would Rhet. p. 168, 86 explain the revision? 
 
 128, 129. Explain order of adverbs, according to Rhet. p. 119, 16. 
 128-135. Point out the balancing and grouping of clauses, accord- 
 
CARDINAL NEWMAN. 83 
 
 be vague ; he is too serious to be otiose ; he can analyze 130 
 his subject, and therefore he is rich ; he embraces it as a 
 whole and in its parts, and therefore he is consistent ; he 
 has a firm hold of it, and therefore he is luminous. When 
 his imagination wells up, it overflows in ornament ; when 
 his heart is touched, it thrills along his verse. He always 133 
 has the right word for the right idea, and never a word too 
 much. If he is brief, it is because few words suffice ; when 
 he is lavish of them, still each word has its mark, and aids, 
 not embarrasses, the vigorous march of his elocution. He 
 expresses what all feel, but all cannot say ; and his sayings i 4 o 
 pass into proverbs among his people, and his phrases be- 
 come household words and idioms of their daily speech, 
 which is tesselated with the rich fragments of his language, 
 as we see in foreign lands the marbles of Roman grandeur 
 worked into the walls and pavements of modern palaces. MS 
 
 Such preeminently is Shakespeare among ourselves ; 
 such preeminently Virgil among the Latins ; such in their 
 degree are all those writers who in every nation go by the 
 
 ing to Rhet. p. 164, 79. 130. Otiose, derive, and name a synony- 
 mous expression. 134, 135. "Wells up, overflows, thrills along, 
 what is the figurative suggestion in each of these verbs? Observe how 
 the style is vivified by them; compare also the verb, 1. 101. Such fig- 
 urative suggestions, expressed by single words, are called tropes. 
 139. How is the negative here condensed? Compare the negatives in 
 11. 5-8. Is there anything in the elevated diction of the passage to 
 cause the condensation? Compare Rhet. pp. 50, 71. 140. All can- 
 not say, what alternative form of the negative would tend less to 
 ambiguity? What reason, however, greater than the slight ambiguity, 
 for choosing this order? See Rhet. p. 164, 79* 143. What trope in 
 this line, and how explained afterward ? 144. The marbles of Roman 
 grandeur, what figure is this? 
 
 146, 147. Such, such. How does the sentence structure here 
 illustrate Rhet. p. 166, 82? Point out the balancing in order of ad- 
 
84 STUDIES IN STYLE. 
 
 name of Classics. To particular nations they are neces- 
 isosarily attached from the circumstance of the variety of 
 tongues, and the peculiarities of each ; but so far they have 
 a catholic and ecumenical character, that what they express 
 is common to the whole race of man, and they alone are 
 able to express it. 
 
 iss If then the power of speech is a gift as great as any that 
 can be named, if the origin of language is by many phil- 
 osophers even considered to be nothing short of divine, 
 if by means of words the secrets of the heart are brought 
 to light, pain of soul is relieved, hidden grief is carried off, 
 
 160 sympathy conveyed, counsel imparted, experience recorded, 
 and wisdom perpetuated, if by great authors the many 
 are drawn up into unity, national character is fixed, a people 
 speaks, the past and the future, the East and the West are 
 brought into communication with each other, if such men 
 
 165 are, in a word, the spokesmen and prophets of the human 
 family, it will not answer to make light of Literature or 
 to neglect its study ; rather we may be sure that, in pro- 
 portion as we master it in whatever language, and imbibe 
 its spirit, we shall ourselves become in our own measure 
 
 __^_____ . . 
 
 verbs. 147. What illustration here of Rhet. p. 159, 71? 149. Ex- 
 plain the inverted construction of this sentence. 151. So far fulfils, 
 in the sentence structure, a somewhat unusual office ; what is it ? 
 152. Catholic, ecumenical, derive, and express in other words. 
 
 155 sq. Explain the structure by Rhet. p. 147, 52. 157. Point 
 out amplitude here, and show what word gains in emphasis by it. 
 161-164. Observe how in the accumulation of details here, which gives 
 a motive for rapidity, the connectives are omitted ; see Rhet. p. 159* 7 l - 
 164. What office does the if-clause in this line fulfil in the sentence? 
 See Rhet. p. 160, 73. How is this indicated here? 166. How does 
 the prospective it aid the grouping of clauses afterward ? "Will not, 
 answer, See Rhet. p. 46, 14. For a parallel idiom with nearly the 
 
CARDINAL NEWMAN. 85 
 
 the ministers of like benefits to others, be they many or 170 
 few, be they in the obscurer or the more distinguished 
 walks of life, who are united to us by social ties, and are 
 within the sphere of our personal influence. 
 
 From LECTURES ON UNIVERSITY SUBJECTS. 
 
 same meaning, see Selection from Carlyle, 1. 56. 167. Note the sus- 
 pense, and how it aids the grouping of the succeeding part of the 
 sentence. 170,171. Be they, condensed for what? Is this con- 
 densed conditional clause suitable to all kinds of prose? Cf. Rhet. 
 p. 71. It is interesting to note that in the original edition of this 
 lecture these conditions were expressed in the full form, and that the 
 author's sense of style led him to condense them afterward. 
 
STUDY OF FUNDAMENTAL PROCESSES IN PREVIOUS 
 SELECTIONS. 
 
 A FEW of the more noteworthy illustrations of Fundamental Processes 
 in the previous Selections will here be pointed out. 
 
 Bunyan : Pages 1-6. Lines 6-9. Point out the ambiguity in 
 the retrospective reference of this sentence, according to Rhet. p. 123 
 sq., and reconstruct the sentence. 10. How does this clause illus- 
 trate Rhet. p. 127, 24? Bunyan almost always reports a speaker's words, 
 and sometimes, as here, thoughts, in the speaker's person, a custom 
 due, perhaps, to his vivid imagination, which put him, as it were, in 
 each speaker's place. The dialogue form, illustrated farther on in this 
 Selection, is due to the same cause. 10. How is th^ conditional clause 
 condensed? 13. Use of now; see Rhet. p. 139. Bunyan uses the 
 rather indefinite connective so (cf. Rhet. p. 143, 47) a good deal ; see 
 examples also in 11. 85, 102. 29. What illustration in this line, of 
 Rhet. p. 138, 38? 44. What inversion here for adjustment, and 
 what is the relation of the ideas so adjusted? See Rhet. p. 166, 83. 
 48. Observe that Bunyan uses then at the beginning very often (see 
 also 11. 4, 34, 41, 59, 62, 97) ; and with such stress as sometimes to 
 cause inversion of the structure. 75. That, is this connective alone 
 sufficient for an illative (or ecbatic) now? Cf. Rhet. p. 143. 100. Im- 
 mediately, compare order of adverb here with nimbly, 1. 67, and ex- 
 plain the difference in stress by Rhet. p. 119, 16. 
 
 De Quincey: Pages 8-16. Line 2. This, also in 1. 37. Ex- 
 plain by Rhet. p. 135, 32. 5. The effect, to begin the sentence 
 with it would produce no real ambiguity ; but try it and see if euphony 
 would be violated; see Rhet. p. 168, 86. 42. An instinct which, 
 
 how does this illustrate Rhet. p. 126, 23? 51. Him, what law 
 prevents ambiguity of reference here ? See Rhet. p. 125, 22. 63. What 
 use of his here? See Rhet. p. 135, 32, examples. 70. Of necessity, 
 
 why not necessarily? Rhet. p. 167, 85. 71. What is the ante- 
 cedent of this? Cf. Rhet. p. 132, 28, examples. 89-103. Observe 
 how, in the suspension of this sentence, the first if-clause prepares, not 
 
STUDY OF PROCESSES IN PREVIOUS SELECTIONS. 87 
 
 for the final denouement ', but for the second if-clause. 124. Hence 
 it is, explain the kind of conjunctional relation (Rhet. p 143), and 
 how it is emphasized (Rhet. p. 133). 142. Had seen, what curious 
 relation of tenses to each other in this sentence? Cf. Rhet. p. 112, 5. 
 
 Burke : Pages 18-23. Line 3. What condensed structure here, 
 and due to what? Cf. Rhet. p. 71. 6. Just began, is the relation 
 of tense to the preceding exact? What ought it to be? See Rhet. 
 p. 112, 5 9-15. Explain the repetitions in this sentence by Rhet. 
 p. 161, 74. Also in 11. 20, 26, 38-47. 
 
 Thackeray : Pages 24-35. Line 15. But bettering, etc. An 
 inexactness somewhat like a double negative (cf. Rhet. p. 145). How 
 correct it from Rhet p. 131, II. 5? 58-64. What condensed con- 
 structions in this sentence? See Rhet. p. 159, 71. 75-79. What 
 different means of suspense in this sentence ? 89. Only, is the 
 position right? See Rhet. p. 119, 17. '90. What grouping of ideas 
 by inversion? 93. Or if not papa, what slight inaccuracy in this 
 sentence, analogous to misrelated participle? Cf. Rhet. p. 115, 10. 
 104. And in which, how is this inaccurate ? See note on Huxley, 
 1. 109. How does this use differ from 1. 142 below? How can this 
 sentence be corrected? 118,124. What difference in stress in the 
 repetition of the phrase what a night, etc.? See Rhet. p. 163, 78. 
 127 sq. What illustration of Rhet. p. 113, 7, and what adverb, 1. 125, 
 begins to prepare for it? 128. Note grouping of similar ideas by 
 attraction. 136. What illustration of Rhet. p. 137, 37? Note how 
 the usual way of expressing the correlation is varied. 141. A day 
 which came, that would be the exacter relative here ; why is which 
 better nevertheless ? Cf. Rhet. p. 164, 79. 173. Will warm 'em, 
 
 what inexactness in tense-relation here? 189-212. Observe the 
 studied monotony in conjunctional relation, and see note there. 
 224 sq. Explain construction by Rhet. p. 159, 71. 
 
 Ruskin : Pages 36-47. Line 147. Point out illustration of Rhet. 
 p, 117, 14, and give its rationale. 172. What illustration of Rhet. 
 p. 158, examples, 5? 195. Note the order of the adverb (Rhet. p. 119, 
 16), and see if there is anything in the preceding to give it such stress. 
 
 216. Note again the fine effect produced by the order of the adverb. 
 221. What advantage of grouping effected by the prospective there? 
 227. Example of a rapid relative. Try the effect of the other relative 
 here. 237. See note, 1. 147. 260. What illustration of Rhet. 
 p. 144, 49? 
 
SS STUDIES IN STYLE. 
 
 Lowell : Pages 48-55. Line 4. The church and the cataract, 
 
 how does the use of these words illustrate Rhet. p. 162, 76? 21, 
 22. What, in the first member of the sentence, determines putting 
 these tenses so far in the past? See Rhet. p. 112, 5. 23. Doubted 
 that. Many writers would say " doubted but that," and some would 
 use the vulgarism "but what." Both are incorrect; this is the exact 
 usage. 27. If it be impossible, is this a real condition of what 
 follows? See Rhet. p. 140, 42, and express the condition exactly. 
 29. Nay, office of this connective? See Newman, 1. 65, note. 
 33. The great Basilica, with those outstretching columns of 
 Bramante, of what are these terms a repetition, and what good does 
 such a repetition do? See Rhet. p. 31 ; 163, 78. 41. Mason-work 
 illustrates what aspect of repetition? Compare 1. 39, and see Rhet. 
 p. 162, 76, examples, I. 63. What illustration of Rhet. p. 158, exam- 
 ples, 2 ? Express the full implication. 79. Ethereal, point out how 
 this illustrates Rhet. p. 159, 71, examples, 2. 91. That leaden bullet, 
 
 compare 1. 33, note. 97. Subject omitted in imitation of advertise- 
 ment style. 
 
 Carlyle : Pages 56-63. Line 11. Illustration of Rhet. p. 144, 48. 
 15. See Ruskin, 1. 147, note. 65-67. How is the negative delayed 
 in this sentence? 68-71. What is there incomplete in this sentence? 
 Cf. Rhet. p. 147, 52. Does the exclamation-point do anything toward 
 filling the ellipsis? 73. How is the negative intensified ? 102. Note 
 the unusual accumulation of adjectives. Also 11. 1 1 1 , 1 16. 104. What 
 means of emphasis is employed here? See Rhet. p. 166, 82. 
 
X. 
 
 NATHANIEL HAWTHORNE. 
 
 THE CUSTOM-HOUSE INSPECTOR. 
 
 " Hawthorne not only writes English, but the sweetest, simplest, and clearest 
 English that ever has been made the vehicle of equal depth, variety, and subtilty 
 of thought and emotion. His mind is reflected in his style as a face is reflected 
 in a mirror; and the latter does not give back its image with less appearance 
 of effort than the former. His excellence consists not so much in using com- 
 mon words, as in making common words express uncommon things." 
 E. P. WHIFFLE. 
 
 THE father of the Custom-House the patriarch, not 
 only of this little squad of officials, but, I am bold to say, 
 of the respectable body of tide-waiters all over the United 
 States was a certain permanent Inspector. He might 
 
 This Selection and the one following will be studied with special 
 reference to Sentence Structure; and presuppose a knowledge of the 
 Rhetoric as far as page 192. 
 
 The subject-matter of the present Selection, being mainly descriptive, 
 leads to a comparatively simple type of sentence for the most part; 
 shown especially in the relation of sentence-members to each other, 
 which is never complex, but generally a relation of simple sequence. 
 See Rhet. p. 177, 2. 
 
 Lines 1-4. Observe that the subject of remark, the rhetorical sub- 
 ject, is placed last, and what precedes is really its predicate. Explain 
 how this affects the stress of the sentence, by Rhet. p. 180, 2; and 
 what type of sentence it gives rise to, by Rhet. p. 188. By what means 
 is the delay of the subject increased? 4. Where do you find the sub- 
 ject of the second sentence ; and what grouping does this position effect, 
 
90 STUDIES IN STYLE. 
 
 s truly be termed a legitimate son of the revenue system, 
 dyed in the wool, or, rather, born in the purple ; since his 
 sire, a Revolutionary colonel, and formerly collector of the 
 port, had created an office for^Bim, and appointed him to 
 fill it, at a period of the early ages which few living men 
 
 10 can now remember. This Inspector, when I first knew 
 him, was a man of fourscore years, or thereabouts, and 
 j^rj^dnly one of the most wonderful specimens of winter- 
 green that you would be likely to discover in a lifetime's 
 search. With his_flond^cheek, his compact figure, smartly 
 
 is arrayed in a brlghtibuttoned^blue coat, his brisk_ and 
 vigorous step, and his hale_and hearty aspect, altogether 
 he seemed not young, indeed but a kind of new con- 
 >trivance of Mother Nature in the shape of man, whom age_ 
 and infirmity had no business to touch. His voice and 
 
 20 laughfwKich perpetually reechoed through the Custom- 
 House, had nothing of the tremulous quaver and cackle 
 of an old man's utterance ; they came jtrn out of his 
 
 as related to preceding sentence? Compare Rhet. p. 183, 3. What 
 type does this second sentence exemplify? See Rhet. p. 188, and 1901 i. 
 6. Dyed in the -wool, etc. This, which is a common proverbial 
 expression, is introduced as the basis for the next suggestion, then im- 
 mediately corrected for an expression more to the author's purpose. 
 What is the allusion in born in the purple? 7. Sire, a rather 
 pretentious word for father (cf. Rhet. p. 45, 13) ; what makes it in 
 taste here ? 10. This Inspector, what reason in previous sentence 
 for resuming this subject with such emphasis ? Why is not the when- 
 clause placed first ? 12. Winter-green, as used here, this may be 
 called a polarized word. How is it modified from its ordinary mean- 
 ing? 14-19. What is the type of this sentence ? Rhet. p. 188. How 
 does putting these descriptive details first help the latter part of the 
 sentence? 17. How does the parenthesis aid in anticipating the im- 
 portant assertion of the sentence? 19. How does the type of this 
 sentence differ from that of the preceding? 22. How is the clause set 
 
NATHANIEL HAWTHORNE. 91 
 
 lungs, like the crow of a cock, or the blast of a clarion. 
 Looking at him merely as an animal, and there was very 
 little else to look at, he was a most satisfactory object, *s 
 Jrom the thorough healthfulness.and wholesomeness of his 
 system, and his capacity, at that extreme age, to enjoy all, 
 or neady all, the delights which he had ever aimed at, or 
 conceived of. The careless security of his life in the 
 Custom-House, on a regular income, and with but slight 3* 
 and infrequent apprehensions of removal, had no doubt 
 contributed to make time pass lightly over him. The 
 original and more potent causes, however, lay in the rare 
 perfection of his animal nature, the moderate proportion 
 of intellect, and the very trifling admixture of moral and 35 
 spiritual ingredients ; these latter qualities, indeed, being 
 in barely enough measure to keep the old gentleman from 
 walking on all-fours. He possessed no power of thought, 
 no depth of feeling, no troublesome sensibilities ; nothing, 
 in short, but a few commonplace instincts, which, aided by 40 
 the cheerful temper that grew inevitably out of his physical 
 
 off by semicolon related to the previous, and is there anything in the 
 latter to prepare for it? See Rhet. p. 177, 2. Point out the trope in 
 this line. For definition of trope, see Newman, 11. 134, 135, note. Note 
 how this trope illustrates Rhet. p. 169, 87. 24-29. Point out how 
 much of this sentence is periodic, and how much loose ; see Rhet. 
 p. 190, 2. The participle at the beginning is used a little vaguely, no 
 subject being expressed; cf. Rhet. p. 115, 10. Such use of the partici- 
 ple is said to be one of the few ways in which De Quincey was careless. 
 
 32. Analyze the adversative relation between this sentence and pre- 
 ceding ; see Rhet. p. 143, 46, and point out what ideas are in contrast. 
 
 33-36. What illustration here of Rhet. p. 106, I ? 36. What rela- 
 tion of this clause to preceding permits it to remain in the sentence? 
 36. Indeed, what influence has this word on its clause? See Rhet. 
 p. 139, 40. Note the different office of indeed, in 1. 17, for which latter, 
 see Rhet. p. 138, 38. How is the clause 1. 39 made cumulative? 
 
92 STUDIES IN STYLE. 
 
 well-being, did duty very respectably, and to general ac- 
 ceptance, in lieu of a heart. He had been the husband of 
 three wives, all long since dead ; the father of twenty chil- 
 
 45 dren, most of whom, at every age of childhood or maturity, 
 had likewise returned to dust. Here, one would suppose, 
 might have been sorrow enough to imbue the sunniest 
 disposition, through and through, with a sable tinge. Not 
 so with our old Inspector ! One brief sigh sufficed to carry 
 
 5 o off the entire burden of these dismal reminiscences. The 
 next moment, he was as ready for sport as any unbreeched 
 infant ; far readier than the Collector's junior clerk, who, 
 at nineteen years, was much the elder and graver man of 
 the two. 
 
 ss I used to watch and study this patriarchal personage 
 with, I think, livelier curiosity, than any other form of 
 humanity there presented to my notice. He was, in truth, 
 a rare phenomenon ; so perfect, in one point of view ; so 
 
 42. Did duty, note the adverbial modifiers of this predicate, and 
 their grouping, before and after ; which have the greater stress ? See 
 Rhet. p. 119, 1 6, and p. 181, 4. 44. What condensation here, accord- 
 ing to Rhet. p. 159, examples, 2? Explain how this sentence is loose. 
 46. Returned to dust, how illustrative of Rhet. p. 162, 76? 
 Here, what is the antecedent, and what kind of reference? See 
 Rhet. p. 133, 30. 48. Sable tinge, is this rather fine expression 
 in taste, according to the implications of the preceding? 48-50. Two 
 short sentences ; is there anything in the subject-matter to make them 
 better short? See Rhet. p. 186, i. 50. The next moment, what 
 is there in the preceding to attract this time-phrase to the beginning? 
 
 55. The subject of remark is not kept at the beginning of the sen- 
 tence here ; but observe that its prominence is still maintained by the 
 new designation chosen for it. 57. But observe also that the pronoun 
 representing it is brought to the forefront of the next sentence ; after 
 which it is presumably prominent enough before the reader's mind, so 
 that in the succeeding sentences of the paragraph it need not be so em- 
 
NATHANIEL HAWTHORNE. 93 
 
 shallow, so delusive, so impalpable, such an. absolute non- 
 entity, in every other. My conclusion was that he had 60 
 no soul, no heart, no mind ; nothing, as I have already 
 said, but instincts ; and yet, withal, so cunningly had the 
 few materials of his character been put together, that there 
 was no painful perception of deficiency, but, on my part, 
 an entire contentment with what I found in him. It might 65 
 be difficult and it was so to conceive how he should 
 exist hereafter, so earthly and sensuous did he seem ; but 
 surely his existence here, admitting that it was to terminate 
 with his last breath, had been not unkindly given ; with no 
 higher moral responsibilities than the beasts of the field, 7 
 but with a larger scope of enjoyment than theirs, and with 
 all their blessed immunity from the dreariness and duski- 
 ness of age. 
 
 One point, in which he had vastly the advantage o.ver 
 his four-footed brethren, was his ability to recollect the 75 
 good dinners which it had made no small portion of the 
 
 phasized. 59. What figure here ? See Rhet. p. 105. 60-65. Show 
 the relation to each other of the members set off by semicolons. 
 62. How is the adversative emphasized? Cf. Rhet. p. 143, 46. 
 62, 67. Note the different relative stress of so cunningly, etc., and 
 so earthly, etc.: the one suspended, the other loose. Try the effect 
 of putting these clauses in the same relative positions in their sentences, 
 and test it by reading aloud. 67, 68. Exist hereafter . . . exist- 
 ence here. Is there anything in the respective orders that these anti- 
 thetic expressions take in their clauses, to help the reader in grouping 
 them together? 69. Not unkindly, how illustrative of Rhet. p. 
 145, 50? The added clause here is loose ; does its thought belong to 
 the same unity as the preceding, and is it important enough to pay for 
 adding? Cf. Rhet. p. 150, 58. 
 
 74-77. On what idea of the sentence is the emphasis, and how is 
 stress gained for it? 76. No small, explain by Rhet. p. 145, 51. 
 For what does it, prospective, stand, and what stress is gained by it? 
 
94 STUDIES IN STYLE. 
 
 happiness of his life to eat. His gourmandism was a 
 highly agreeable trait ; and to hear him talk of roast-meat 
 was as appetizing as a pickle or an oyster. As he pos- 
 
 80 sessed no higher attribute, and neither sacrificed nor vitiated 
 any spiritual endowment by devoting all his energies and 
 ingenuities to subserve the delight and profit of his maw, 
 it always pleased and satisfied me to hear him expatiate on 
 fish, poultry, and butcher's meat, and the most eligible 
 
 85 methods of preparing them for the table. His reminis- 
 cences of good cheer, however ancient the date of the 
 actual banquet, seemed to bring the savor of pig or turkey 
 under one's very nostrils. There were flavors on his palate, 
 that had lingered there not less than sixty or seventy years, 
 
 90 and were still apparently as fresh as that of the mutton- 
 chop which he had just devoured for his breakfast. I have 
 heard him smack his lips over dinners, every guest at 
 which, except himself, had long been food for worms. It 
 was marvellous to observe how the ghosts of bygone meals 
 
 95 were continually rising up before him ; not in anger or retri- 
 bution, but as if grateful for his former appreciation, and 
 
 77. Note what similar ideas are grouped, at the end of this sentence 
 and the beginning of the next. -*-83. Pleased and satisfied me, 
 that the writer should let such a thing please and satisfy him requires 
 justification ; accordingly, what office has the suspensive part of this 
 sentence? Cf. Rhet. p. 188. 82. Maw, what justification is there 
 for using this rather coarse word for stomach? 86, 87. Ancient; 
 banquet ; savor, there is a touch of fineness in these words (cf. 
 Rhet. p. 45, 13) ; does the importance that feasting occupies in the old 
 man's mind justify the use of them ? Notice what is said about Haw- 
 thorne, Rhet. p. 46. 91. Devoured, compare 1. 82, note. 
 
 92. Every guest, how is stress given to these words? 93. Food 
 for -worms, for the sake of what antithesis is this expression used? 
 
 93. It, prospective, gains stress for marvellous ; but note further how it 
 
NATHANIEL HAWTHORNE. 95 
 
 seeking to resuscitate an endless series of enjoyment, at 
 once shadowy and sensual. A tender-loin of beef, a hind- 
 quarter of veal, a spare-rib of pork, a particular chicken, 
 or a remarkably praiseworthy turkey, which had perhaps i<* 
 adorned his board in the days of the elder Adams, would 
 be remembered ; while all the subsequent experience of 
 our race, and all the events that brightened or darkened 
 his individual career, had gone over him with as little per- 
 manent effect as the passing breeze. The chief tragic 105 
 event of the old man's life, so far as I could judge, was 
 his mishap with a certain goose which lived and died 
 some twenty or forty years ago ; a goose of most promis- 
 ing figure, but which, at table, proved so inveterately tough 
 that the carving-knife would make no impression on its no 
 carcass, and it could only be divided with an axe and 
 handsaw. 
 
 But it is time to quit this sketch ; on which, however, 
 I should be glad to dwell at considerably more length, 
 because, of all men whom I have ever known, this indi- us 
 
 groups ideas with reference to next sentence. Try effect of putting 
 marvellous to observe last. 97. Resuscitate, for this word a 
 vulgarism, much in use but not an established word, is resurrect. At 
 once, this expression implies what relation between the words that 
 follow it? 98-105. Note how subjects are accumulated at the be- 
 ginning ; are the ideas at the end of previous sentence left in readiness 
 for this series of details? How are the members of this sentence 
 balanced ? 104. To have said would be forgotten in the second clause, 
 though a balanced expression to would be remembered, would neverthe- 
 less be insignificant; how is this lack of distinction obviated? Cf. 
 Rhet. p. 151. 105. The predicate of this sentence is placed first; 
 what, in preceding, attracts it to that position? 108. A goose, 
 how illustrative of Rhet. p. 126, 23? '111. Is only in the right 
 position? See Rhet. p. 119, 17. 
 
 115. Individual, this word is often used incorrectly for person ; 
 
96 STUDIES IN STYLE. 
 
 vidual was fittest to be a Custom-House officer. Most 
 persons, owing to causes which I may not have space to 
 hint at, suffer moral detriment from this peculiar mode 
 of life. The old Inspector was incapable of it, and, were 
 120 he to continue in office to the end of time, would be just 
 as good as he was then, and sit down to dinner with just 
 
 as good an appetite. 
 
 From THE CUSTOM-HOUSE. 
 Introductory to THE SCARLET LETTER. 
 
 is it correctly used here? See its derivation. 116. Was fittest, 
 how is stress gained for this predicate? 116. Most persons, what 
 antithetic idea in previous sentence makes it natural for this to stand 
 first in this sentence? 119. How does the beginning of this sentence 
 balance with the beginning of the preceding? "Were he, condensed 
 for what? The suspense, by means of the condition, enables the 
 writer to end his sketch with a prominent idea. 
 
XI. 
 MATTHEW ARNOLD. 
 
 THE LITERARY SPIRIT OF THE ENGLISH AND OF THE 
 FRENCH COMPARED. 
 
 " This great world was brought to perceive [by the publication of ' Essays 
 in Criticism'], or to take for granted, in default of percipient power, that here 
 was a critic, not only of rare technical ability, but one possessed of original 
 and fertilizing conceptions on. the subject of the critic's art, and the master, 
 above all, of a style which, whatever fault might be found with it on other 
 grounds, had become in his hands an instrument of marvellous delicacy and 
 power." H. D. TRAILL. 
 
 " One of the two or three best English prose writers of his day." HENRY 
 JAMES. 
 
 " IN France," says M. Sainte-Beuve, " the first consider- 
 ation for us is not whether we are amused and pleased by 
 a work of art or mind, nor is it whether we are touched by 
 it. What we seek above all to learn is, whether we were 
 
 The present Selection will be studied as illustrating not only the con- 
 struction of sentences, individually, but also the way in which sentences 
 are adapted to one another, and the offices that they severally fulfil, as 
 looking to the building up of paragraphs. In preparation for this study, 
 therefore, learn what is said of Explicit Reference, Rhet. pp. 202-206. 
 
 Lines 1-3. The first sentence consists merely of two negative 
 statements, introduced to make preparation for the principal assertion, 
 and illustrating, in a broad way, Rhet. p. 151, 59. The principal 
 assertion, because it is important, is relegated to a sentence by itself; 
 it might have been joined to the first sentence, without disturbing unity 
 (Cf. Rhet. p. 177, 2), but it is better as it is. 4. "What we seek 
 above all to learn, a repetition of what? Note that the repetition 
 
98 STUDIES IN STYLE. 
 
 s right in being amused with it, and in applauding it, and in 
 being moved by it." Those are very remarkable words, 
 and they are, I believe, in the main quite true. A French- 
 man has, to a considerable degree, what one may call a 
 conscience in intellectual matters ; he has an active belief 
 
 to that there is a right and a wrong in them, that he is bound 
 to honor and obey the right, that he is disgraced by cleav- 
 ing to the wrong. All the world has, or professes to have, 
 this conscience in moral matters. The word conscience has 
 become almost confined, in popular use, to the moral sphere, 
 
 defines the subject more closely for the writer's purpose, and that both 
 original and repetition are only preliminary and preparatory to the real 
 subject of remark. What then is the subject of remark here, for which 
 such distinction has been accumulated? How is it further made dis- 
 tinctive? 6. A short transitional sentence, leading us to expect what 
 character of remark in next sentence? 7. Quite true, how is this 
 assertion guarded in the sentence ? Quite, from what Americanism 
 is this, in meaning, to be distinguished? See Bunyan, 1. 56, note. 
 7-12. On what word is the chief stress in this sentence, and how is it 
 prepared for and guarded, according to Rhet. p. 151, 59? The sen- 
 tence consists of two members, separated by a semicolon ; what is the 
 relation of the second member to the first? 12, 13. Compare the 
 order of this sentence with the first member of the previous sentence. 
 What ideas are in balance and antithesis? Note that by such balance 
 this sentence goes out on " this conscience in moral matters," which 
 thus has the stress, ready to be taken up and defined in next sentence. 
 See Rhet. p. 182, I. Note also that, if the order were reversed, and 
 written, " This conscience in moral matters all the world has, or pro- 
 fesses to have," the sentence would be well adapted in stress to the 
 preceding, but it would not be so ready for the following ; we should 
 rather expect something more to be said about " all the world," rather 
 than about " conscience in moral matters." Try it and see. 13- 
 21. This sentence, as you read it, seems lacking in unity ; the member 
 11. 17-20 does not seem closely enough related to come under Rhet. 
 p. 177, 2. But remember, the whole sentence is but subordinate, deal- 
 ing with the converse of the real subject ; and to put its matter in more 
 
MATTHEW ARNOLD. 99 
 
 because this lively susceptibility of feeling is, in the moral 15 
 sphere, so far more common than in the intellectual sphere ; 
 the livelier, in the moral sphere, this susceptibility is, the 
 greater becomes a man's readiness to admit a high standard 
 of action, an ideal authoritatively correcting his everyday 
 moral habits ; here, such willing admission of authority is 20 
 due to sensitiveness of conscience. And a like deference 
 to a standard higher than one's own habitual standard in 
 intellectual matters, a like respectful recognition of a 
 superior ideal, is caused, in the intellectual sphere, by 
 sensitiveness of intelligence. Those whose intelligence is 25 
 quickest, openest, most sensitive, are readiest with this 
 deference; those whose intelligence is less delicate and 
 sensitive are less disposed to it. Well, now we are on the 
 road to see why the French have their Academy and we 
 
 have nothing of the kind. 3 
 
 * 
 
 than one sentence would make it too prominent; see Rhet. p. 176, 2. 
 The goal of the sentence is "sensitiveness of conscience," which the 
 writer wishes to reach in order to have it ready for "sensitiveness of 
 intelligence," the balancing goal of the next sentence. In order to do 
 this some defining material has to be crowded in, which cannot be dis- 
 pensed with ; see, for instance, how necessary are 11. 17-20 to the proper 
 understanding of 11. 22-24. The triple recurrence of the words the 
 moral sphere, in 11. 14, 15, 17, is an instance of Matthew Arnold's 
 perfect fearlessness in repetition ; but note how the phrase has a different 
 relative position in its clause, at each repetition ; and compare Rhet. 
 p. 163, 78. 21-25. This sentence, with its goal "sensitiveness of 
 intelligence," is balanced with, not the whole of the preceding sentence, 
 but its last member ; which latter had to be prepared for by all that 
 
 preceded 25-28. This sentence really summarizes for the writer's 
 
 purpose all that has gone before in the paragraph. For structure, what 
 is its type? See Rhet. p. 191. 28-30. This sentence refers to the 
 main subject of the essay. " The Literary Influence of Academies," a 
 subject with which in this Study we have only subordinately to do. 
 The foregoing paragraph has been analyzed in full, in order to show 
 
100 STUDIES IN STYLE. 
 
 What are the essential characteristics of the spirit of our 
 nation ? Not, certainly, an open and clear mind, not a 
 quick and flexible intelligence. Our greatest admirers 
 would not claim for us that we have these in a pre-eminent 
 
 as degree ; they might say that we had more of them than 
 our detracters gave us credit for ; but they would not assert 
 them to be our essential characteristics. They would rather 
 allege, as our chief spiritual characteristics, energy and 
 honesty; and, if we are judged favorably and positively, 
 
 40 not invidiously and negatively, our chief characteristics are, 
 no doubt, these : energy and honesty, not an open and 
 clear mind, not a quick and flexible intelligence. Openness 
 
 how delicately, by a skilful writer, sentences are adjusted to one another. 
 The student can carry on such study for himself, and with practical 
 profit too ; for it is just such problems of adjustment that he must con- 
 tinually solve in his own writing, if he becomes skilled in expression. 
 
 32. Not, certainly. Explain structure of this sentence by Rhet. 
 p. 174. Note position of certainly. Has it more stress, or less, than 
 if it were at the beginning? See Rhet. p. 181, 4. An open and 
 clear mind, etc. Where has the writer already collected material for 
 these expressions ? By what added words do they grow in this repeti- 
 tion ? 33-37. Study in this sentence the skilful management of they, 
 these, and them, with different antecedents. The pronoun whose 
 antecedent is our greatest admirers is always in what case, and in 
 what position in its clause? The pronouns with the other antecedent 
 are how placed and in what case ? Which are kept uniformly subordi- 
 nate, and how? Cf. Rhet. p. 125, 22. Report the relation of the 
 three sentence-members to each other; and compare Rhet. p. 178, 
 examples, 3. 37-42. Point out, in this sentence, the parts that are 
 repetitionary of what precedes ; report what repetitions vary from pre- 
 ceding, in expression or stress (cf. Rhet. p. 163, 78), and what iterate 
 the same words, according to Rhet. p. 162, 75. Note how the author 
 has gradually been crystallizing his thought to certain exactly defined 
 expressions, which henceforth he uses without variation. 41. Note 
 that the negative phrases here, though a repetition, make a fine con- 
 
MATTHEW ARNOLD. 101 
 
 of mind and flexibility of intelligence were very signal 
 characteristics of the Athenian people in ancient times ; 
 everybody will feel that. Openness of mind and flexibility 45 
 of intelligence are remarkable characteristics of the French 
 people in modern times ; at any rate, they strikingly char- 
 acterize them as compared with us ; I think everybody, or 
 almost everybody, will feel that. I will not now ask what 
 more the Athenian or the French spirit has than this, nor 50 
 what shortcomings either of them may have as a set-off 
 against this ; all I want now to point out is that they have 
 this, and that we have it in a much lesser degree. 
 
 Let me remark, however, that not only in the moral 
 sphere, but also in the intellectual and spiritual sphere, 55 
 energy and honesty are most important and fruitful quali- 
 ties ; that, for instance, of what we call genius energy is 
 the most essential part. So, by assigning to a nation 
 energy and honesty as its chief spiritual characteristics, 
 by refusing to it, as at all eminent characteristics, openness 60 
 of mind and flexibility of intelligence, we do not by any 
 
 trasted suggestion for opening of next sentence. 42-45 and 45- 
 49. Study these two sentences together ; report wherein they are alike 
 in construction, and wherein their assertions are varied in degree. 49- 
 53. By what means does the author define his limits of assertion more 
 closely here, and to exactly what narrow topic does he steer the para- 
 graph at the end ? How is this related to the assertion of the beginning? 
 54. However, what inference from the preceding does this 
 adversative arrest and correct? How does this correction affect the 
 order of the present sentence, that is, what element does it attract to 
 the beginning ? Not only . . . but also, see if these agree with 
 Rhet. p. 137, 37. 57. How is the clause after the semicolon balanced 
 in order with the preceding? Compare Rhet. p. 191. This latter 
 clause is thus in inverted structure (cf. Rhet. p. 165) ; to what idea is 
 stress thereby given ? 58-61. Compare 11. 37-42 preceding, and show 
 how the idea is subordinated in repetition. 61. We do not by any 
 
102 STUDIES IN STYLE. 
 
 means, as some people might at first suppose, relegate its 
 importance and its power of manifesting itself with effect 
 from the intellectual to the moral sphere. We only indi- 
 es cate its probable special line of successful activity in the 
 intellectual sphere, and, it is true, certain imperfections 
 arid failings to which, in this sphere, it will always be sub- 
 ject. Genius is mainly an affair of energy, and poetry is 
 mainly an affair of genius ; therefore, a nation whose spirit 
 70 is characterized by energy may well be eminent in poetry ; 
 and we have Shakspeare. Again, the highest reach of 
 science is, one may say, an inventive power, a faculty of 
 divination, akin to the highest power exercised in poetry ; 
 therefore, a nation whose spirit is characterized by energy 
 75 may well be eminent in science ; and we have Newton. 
 Shakspeare and Newton : in the intellectual sphere there 
 can be no higher names. And what that energy, which is 
 the life of genius, above everything demands and insists 
 upon, is freedom ; entire independence of all authority, 
 80 prescription, and routine, the fullest room to expand as 
 
 means, see Rhet. p. 144, 48. What call to intensify the negative? 
 See next clause, and note 1. 54. Note that this negative and its corre- 
 sponding positive assertion are so important that they occupy different 
 sentences, though grammatically they might have been put in one. 
 This, then, is an exception to Rhet. p. 176, 2. 66. It is true, a 
 concessive, without corresponding correlative; cf. Rhet. p. 138, 38. 
 67. In this sphere, how do the position and stress of this idea differ 
 from those of its former appearance, 1. 65? 68. Compare line 57, 
 whose idea is here resumed and amplified. 68-77. Study these three 
 sentences together : how the first two are balanced with each other, and 
 how in each the clauses are related (cf. Rhet. p. 177, 2) ; and how the 
 third summarizes the ideas of the others. In the last-named sentence, 
 what inverted order, and what stress in consequence ? 77. "What, 
 this word stands prospectively for what word ? and by what amplitude 
 is that word further prepared for? 79. What office has the part of the 
 
MATTHEW ARNOLD. 103 
 
 it will. Therefore, a nation whose chief spiritual charac- 
 teristic is energy, will not be very apt to set up, in intel- 
 lectual matters, a fixed standard, an authority, like an 
 academy. By this it certainly escapes certain real incon- 
 veniences and dangers, and it can, at the same time, as we a s 
 have seen, reach undeniably splendid heights in poetry and 
 science. On the other hand, some of the requisites of 
 intellectual work are specially the affair of quickness of 
 mind and flexibility of intelligence. The form, the method 
 of evolution, the precision, the proportions, the relations go 
 of the parts to the whole, in an intellectual work, depend 
 mainly upon them. And these are the elements of an intel- 
 lectual work which are really most communicable from it, 
 which can most be learned and adopted from it, which have, 
 therefore, the greatest effect upon the intellectual per- 95 
 
 sentence after the semicolon? 81. Therefore, etc. See Rhet. 
 p. 143. The illatives corresponding to this, 11. 69, 74, have occupied 
 clauses in their sentences ; this has a sentence to itself. Find the rea- 
 son of the greater prominence here in the title of the essay from which 
 this Selection is taken. 84 By this, that is, by not setting up a 
 fixed standard. The reference of this is a little vague, too vague? 
 See Rhet. p. 132, 28, and 133, 30. Certainly, what kind of 
 correlate do we naturally expect to this? See Rhet. p. 138, 38. 
 87. On the other hand, a strong adversative, which not only sets 
 this sentence over against the preceding, but the coming part of the 
 paragraph over against what has been said. Having spoken of energy 
 and its results, the author is here to speak of quickness and flexibility 
 and their results. From this adversative to 1. 106, study the explicit 
 reference, bearing in mind that the point to which the author is steering 
 is the thought of academies and their establishment. 87. Some of 
 the requisites, this implication that there are requisites, without a 
 specification of them, leads us to expect what in the next sentence? 
 Accordingly, does the next sentence need to be introduced by a con- 
 nective? See Rhet. p. 206, 4, (2) . Does the sentence beginning 1. 92 
 change the direction of the thought? Why then the co-ordinating con- 
 
104 STUDIES IN STYLE. 
 
 formance of others. Even in poetry, these requisites are 
 very important ; and the poetry of a nation, not eminent 
 for the gifts on which they depend, will, more or less, surfer 
 by this shortcoming. In poetry, however, they are, after 
 
 too all, secondary, and energy is the first thing ; but in prose 
 they are of first-rate importance. In its prose literature, 
 therefore, and in the routine of intellectual work generally, 
 a nation with no particular gifts for these will not be so 
 successful. These are what, as I have said, can to a certain 
 
 105 degree be learned and appropriated, while the free activity 
 of genius cannot. Academies consecrate and maintain them, 
 and, therefore, a nation with an eminent turn for them 
 naturally establishes academies. So far as routine and 
 
 junction? See Rhet. p. 203, i. Are we not naturally expecting a 
 therefore, which this delays? 96. Even, how does this affect the 
 direction and intensity of the thought? See Rhet. p. 139, 40. 97. And 
 introduces a second thought governed by even, and in the same cumu- 
 lation. 99. In poetry, however, two means of explicit reference. 
 How does however affect the direction of the thought? See Rhet. p. 
 
 142. Explain position of in poetry by Rhet. p. 205, 3. 100. Notice 
 here a second adversative in the same sentence ; to what is the but- 
 clause adversative? Why is the conduction changed? See Rhet. p. 
 
 143, 46. Would this clause be so well in a sentence by itself ? See 
 Rhet. p. 176, 2. 101. In its prose literature, therefore, note that 
 the thought, whose direction in the preceding sentence was changed by 
 a however, changed back again by a but, is now continued into a conse- 
 quence by therefore. To what is the therefore illative ? What is the 
 means of explicit reference here? 104. Explain the explicit reference 
 here by Rhet. p. 204, 2. 106. What means of explicit reference here? 
 In the preceding sentence the pronoun of reference is prominent ; does it 
 need to be so emphasized here? See Rhet. p. 182, 2. Accordingly, how 
 does it compare in stress with preceding? In this sentence, 11. 106-108, 
 note that the word academies, which in the author's mind is very impor- 
 tant, is made prominent by being expressed both at beginning and end, 
 a rare example. The therefore clause, illative, corresponds, by 
 antithesis, to the illative 1. 81. 108. So far as, etc. This sentence, 
 
MATTHEW ARNOLD. 105 
 
 authority tend to embarrass energy and inventive genius, 
 academies may be said to be obstructive to energy and no 
 inventive genius, and, to this extent, to the human spirit's 
 general advance. But then this evil is so much compen- 
 sated by the propagation, on a large scale, of the mental 
 aptitudes and demands which an open mind and a flexible 
 intelligence naturally engender, genius itself, in the long n 5 
 run, so greatly finds its account in this propagation, and 
 bodies like the French Academy have such power for pro- 
 moting it, that the general advance of the human spirit is 
 perhaps, on the whole, rather furthered than impeded by 
 their existence. . 120 
 
 How much greater is our nation in poetry than prose ! 
 how much better, in general, do the productions of its spirit 
 show in the qualities of genius than in the qualities of 
 intelligence ! One may constantly remark this in the work 
 of individuals ; how much more striking, in general, does 125 
 
 opening a new stage of the subject, is not connected with preceding by 
 any explicit reference ; nor is what follows put into a paragraph by itself, 
 being in its importance but a corollary of the preceding, and not requir- 
 ing so much prominence. 108-120. In these sentences study the 
 repetitions, of connectives and other elements, by which the progress 
 of the thought is made clear. How is so far as, etc., repeated later in 
 the sentence? What repetitions in identical terms in this sentence? 
 In the next sentence (11. 112-120) the latter part, introduced by that, 
 1. 118, is prepared for by three clauses ; point out the equivalent parti- 
 cles by which these clauses are introduced. 116. This propagation, 
 how illustrative of Rhet. p. 126, 23? Note the slight variation in 
 repetition, between 1. 118 and 1. 111. 
 
 The rest of the Selection, instead of being studied out so fully, will 
 be merely accompanied with an occasional question and reference to the 
 Rhetoric, which latter the student will look out as a basis for a study of 
 his own. 121. Rhet. p. 97. What produces the emotion? 122, 
 123. How much better . . . than, Rhet. p. 136. What ellipsis 
 after //te f 124. This, Rhet. p. 132, 28. 126. Rhet. p. 144, 48. 
 
106 STUDIES IN STYLE. 
 
 any Englishman, of some vigor of mind, but by no means 
 a poet, seem in his verse than in his prose ! His verse 
 partly suffers from his not being really a poet, partly, no 
 doubt, from the very same defects which impair his prose, 
 
 *3 arid he cannot express himself with thorough success in it. 
 But how much more powerful a personage does he appear 
 in it, by dint of feeling, and of originality and movement of 
 ideas, than when he is writing prose ! With a Frenchman 
 of like stamp, it is just the reverse : set him to write poetry, 
 
 J 35 he is limited, artificial, and impotent ; set him to write 
 prose, he is free, natural, and effective. The power of 
 French literature is in its prose writers, the power of Eng- 
 lish literature is in its poets. Nay, many of the celebrated 
 French poets depend wholly for their fame upon the quali- 
 
 MO ties of intelligence which they exhibit, qualities which 
 are the distinctive support of prose ; many of the celebrated 
 English prose-writers depend wholly for their fame upon 
 the qualities of genius and imagination which they exhibit, 
 qualities which are the distinctive support of poetry. 
 
 '45 But, as I have said, the qualities of genius are less trans- 
 ferable than the qualities of intelligence ; less can be 
 immediately learned and appropriated from their product ; 
 they are less direct and stringent intellectual agencies, 
 though they may be more beautiful and divine. Shaks- 
 
 s peare and our great Elizabethan group were certainly more 
 gifted writers than Corneille and his group ; but what was 
 
 127. Why verse here, instead of poetry, as in 1. 121? 128. No 
 doubt, Rhet. p. 138, 38. 132. See Bunyan, .1. 94 and note. 
 133. Rhet. p. 1 66, 83 and 205, 3. 134, 135. Rhet. p. 157, exam- 
 ples, 4. Also Rhet. p. 102. 136. Rhet. p. 191. 138. -Nay, etc., 
 Rhet. p. 139, 40. Trace balance of this sentence ; also antithetic ideas. 
 145 sq. Analyze unity of sentence by Rhet. 177. 2. 149. Though, 
 
MATTHEW ARNOLD. 107 
 
 the sequel to this great literature, this literature of genius, 
 as we may call it, stretching from Marlow to Milton ? 
 What did it lead up to in English literature ? To our pro- 
 vincial and second-rate literature of the eighteenth century. i 55 
 What, on the other hand, was the sequel to the literature 
 f the French "great century," to this literature of intelli- 
 gence, as, by comparison with our Elizabethan literature, 
 we may call it ; what did it lead up to ? To the French 
 literature of the eighteenth century, one of the most power- 160 
 ful and pervasive intellectual agencies that have ever ex- 
 isted, the greatest European force of the eighteenth 
 century. In science, again, we had Newton, a genius of 
 the very highest order, a type of genius in science, if ever 
 there was one. On the continent, as a sort of counterpart 165 
 to Newton, there was Leibnitz ; a man, it seems to me 
 (though on these matters I speak under correction), of 
 much less creative energy of genius, much less power of 
 divination than Newton, but rather a man of admirable 
 intelligence, a type of intelligence in science, if ever there 170 
 was one. Well, and what did they each directly lead up 
 to in science ? What was the intellectual generation that 
 sprang from each of them ? I only repeat what the men 
 of science have themselves pointed out. The man of 
 genius was continued by the English analysts of the eigh- 175 
 teenth century, comparatively powerless and obscure fol- 
 lowers of the renowned master. The man of intelligence 
 was continued by successors like Bernouilli, Euler, La- 
 
 etc., Rhet. p. 141, 43. 154. Rhet. p. 174. 163-171. What balan- 
 cing elements in these two sentences? Note that in speaking of men 
 of science, in contrast to men of literature, the writer asks his question 
 all in one (1. 171), by way of condensation, instead of devoting a ques- 
 tion to each side, as in 11. 154, 156. 174, 177. Rhet. p. 158, exam- 
 
108 STUDIES IN STYLE. 
 
 grange, and Laplace, the greatest names in modern mathe- 
 
 !8o matics. 
 
 What I want the reader to see is, that the question as 
 to the utility of academies to the intellectual life of a 
 nation is not settled when we say, for instance, " Oh, we 
 have never had an academy, and yet we have, confessedly, 
 
 185 a very great literature." It still remains to be asked: 
 "What sort of a great literature? a literature great in the 
 special qualities of genius, or great in the special qualities 
 of intelligence? " If in the former, it is by no means sure 
 that either our literature, or the general intellectual life of 
 
 i 9 o our nation, has got already, without academies, all that 
 academies can give. Both the one and the other may very 
 well be somewhat wanting in those qualities of intelligence 
 out of a lively sense for which a body like the French 
 Academy, as I have said, springs, and which such a body 
 
 i 95 does a great deal to spread and confirm. Our literature, 
 in spite of the genius manifested in it, may fall short in 
 form, method, precision, proportions, arrangement, all 
 of them, I have said, things where intelligence proper 
 comes in. It may be comparatively weak in prose, that 
 
 200 branch of literature where intelligence proper is, so to 
 speak, all in all. In this branch it may show many grave 
 faults to which the want of a quick, flexible intelligence, 
 and of the strict standard which such an intelligence 
 tends to impose, makes it liable ; it may be full of hap- 
 
 ples, 3. 181. What I want, etc., Rhet. p. 133, and 180, 2. 
 What is the subject of this sentence? 186. Rhet. p. 117, 14. Why 
 the order? 188. Rhet. 124, 21. 193. Out of a lively sense for 
 which, an unusually intricate phrase. What is the antecedent of 
 which? and what does the phrase modify grammatically? 194. And 
 which, compare, supplementary note on p. 87, to Thackeray, 1. 104, 
 
MATTHEW ARNOLD. 109 
 
 hazard, crudeness, provincialism, eccentricity, violence, m$ 
 blundering. It may be a less stringent and effective in- 
 tellectual agency, both upon our own nation and upon the 
 world at large, than other literatures which show less 
 genius, perhaps, but more intelligence. 
 
 The right conclusion certainly is that we should try, so 210 
 far as we can, to make up our shortcomings ; and that to 
 this end, instead of always fixing our thoughts upon the 
 points in which our literature, and our intellectual life 
 generally, are strong, we should, from time to time, fix 
 them upon those in which they are weak, and so learn to 215 
 perceive clearly what we have to amend. What is our 
 second great spiritual characteristic, our honesty, 
 good for, if it is not good for this ? But it will, I am 
 sure it will, more and more, as time goes on, be found 
 good for this. 22< 
 
 From ESSAYS IN CRITICISM : Essay on THE LITERARY 
 INFLUENCE OF ACADEMIES. 
 
 197 and 204-206. Rhet. p. 156, 68. 211. To this end, trace 
 elements of suspension in this sentence. What part has the stress? 
 
 216, 220. Trace the nucleus of this sentence, and point out the 
 amplitude that gives its parts distinction. 
 
STUDY OF SENTENCES IN PREVIOUS SELECTIONS. 
 
 LET us look at a few sentences in previous Selections, choosing es- 
 pecially such as reveal an author's prevailing type of structure, or such 
 as illustrate usages not found in the last two Selections. 
 
 Bunyan : Pages 1-6. Bunyan's sentences are very plain and 
 simple. When they consist of more than one clause, the prevailing 
 type of structure is illustrated in sentences 11. 1-4; 9-12 ; 23-25; 38- 
 40 ; 43, 44 ; 55-58 ; 100-104. Each of these is loose (see Rhet. p. 188), 
 consisting of a principal assertion, followed by its explanation connected 
 by for. See Rhet. p. 177, 2. 4. His name is Apollyon, this, by 
 Rhet. p. 177, 2, is rather loosely connected with the main sentence; 
 but would it do as a separate sentence? See Rhet. p. 176, 2. How 
 does the sentence 11. 13-17 illustrate Rhet. p. 178, 3? How does sen- 
 tence 11. 34-37 preserve the unity required in Rhet. p. 177, 2? Is there 
 anything in Rhet. p. 206, 4, that justifies the absence of connectives ? 
 Test the unity of sentences 11. 48-55 by Rhet. p. 178, 3. 78. He 
 spake like a dragon, this addition in the middle of the sentence 
 quite disturbs its unity ; see supplementary note, p. 64 preceding. 
 
 De Quincey : Pages 8-16. De Quincey uses parentheses freely; 
 see 11. 28, 29 ; 44 ; 51-54 ; not for brevity (cf. Rhet. p. 159, examples, 6), 
 but for explanation ; and it will be noted that the parentheses are so 
 constructed as to carry on the same grammatical structure. 33-37. 
 Analyze sequence of clauses by Rhet. p. 178, 3. 63-71. Analyze 
 sequence of clauses by Rhet. p. 177, 2. De Quincey underlines (itali- 
 cizes) freely; see 11. 9; u; 51; 81, 82; 87. This is for emphasis 
 (the italic word 1. 14 has a very different explanation; what?); but 
 does it transgress Rhet. p. 179, I ? that is, does the italicizing re-enforce 
 or apologize for the position of the words? Study how types of sen- 
 tence-structure succeed one another 11. 84-113. The two long sentences, 
 11. 84-88, and 89-103, are of what type? How is the type varied in suc- 
 ceeding sentences? See Rhet. p. 190, i. Show how the long sentences 
 exemplify Rhet. p. 186, 2, and the short sentences Rhet. p. I6, i, in 
 
STUDY OF SENTENCES IN PREVIOUS SELECTIONS. Ill 
 
 their subject-matter. Observe that the sentence 11. 110-113 is really 
 several short sentences ; explain by Rhet. p. 178, 3. Explain sentence 
 11. 124-132 by Rhet. p. 190, 2. 
 
 Burke: Pages 16-19. Explain inversions of sentence-elements 
 in 11. 3, 4, and show what stress is gained. See Rhet. p. 180, 2. 
 9. Explain position of adverb, and its effect, by Rhet. p. 181, 4. 
 20. Explain as in foregoing note. 26. Point out pleonasm, and ex- 
 plain its use by Rhet. p. 174. On this expression Mr. Joseph Payne 
 (** Studies in English Prose," p. 324) remarks, " The effect of employ- 
 ing this anticipatory clause, instead of commencing with the subject, is 
 particularly fine. Put ' is gone ' to the end, and you spoil the whole 
 sentence." Why would the sentence thus be spoiled ? Explain how 
 the sentences 11. 47-64 illustrate Rhet. p. 187, 3. Explain also how the 
 short and the long sentences respectively exemplify the subject-matter 
 natural to each kind, according to Rhet. p. 186, I, 2. 
 
 Thackeray : Pages 24-35. The series of short sentences, 11. 20- 
 26 is not to be explained by Rhet. p. 186, i ; but .explain how they 
 answer to Rhet. p. 77, i. So the prevailing type of sentence-structure 
 is the colloquial. 58-67. Point out how the narrative and descriptive 
 elements influence the sentence-structure; see Rhet. p. 178, 3. 
 105. How does this sentence show a mixture of types? See Rhet. 
 p. 190, 2, also cf. Rhet. p. 149, 56. The stress of "we have our 
 calendar" would be a little too great for this light subject-matter, if 
 all the suspense came before. Study the stress of adverbial phrases, 
 11. 128, 135, by Rhet. p. 181,4. 175 - Explain ellipsis by Rhet. p. 174. 
 178. What explanation of this sentence-structure, Rhet. p. 174? 
 In this story, 11. 183-212, examine the type of sentence by Rhet. p. 188. 
 Are there any periodic sentences? and what type of sentence, by Rhet. 
 p. 189, i and 2, is more natural to the subject-matter? 
 
 Ruskin : Pages 32-38. Of the general style of Ruskin, as exem- 
 plified in his "Modern Painters," Peter Bayne wrote: "It recalled 
 what had passed entirely out of English composition, the stately march 
 and long-drawn cadence of Hooker and Taylor." These characteristics 
 are especially conspicuous in the structure of the sentences, which are 
 long, and which from the central nucleus of thought spread out into 
 minute and sometimes quite remote details. Study the two long sen- 
 tences, 11. 4-25, and 11. 25-47 ; report the framework of subject and pred- 
 icate, and the relation of phrases, adverbial and other. Do the sentences, 
 being descriptive, answer in subject-matter to what is natural in a long 
 
112 STUDIES IN STYLE. 
 
 sentence? See Rhet. p, 186, 2, Explain their unity by Rhet p. 178, 3. 
 
 68, 75. Explain the elliptical structure by Rhet. p. 175, examples, 3. 
 
 Trace the construction of sentences, 11. 138-180, reporting on their 
 framework, and on the sequence of clauses and phrases. 
 
 Lowell: Pages 48-55. Compare the stress of the when-clause, 
 1. 10, with that of the if-clause, 1. 20, and explain by Rhet. p. 181, 3. 
 Note that Lowell sets off with commas sometimes what other writers, 
 perhaps with better justification, set off with a semicolon ; why, for in- 
 stance, should there be semicolons 11. 16, 75, 81? Explain by Rhet. 
 p. 177, 2. On the other hand, the sentence 11. 87-91 contains a plu- 
 rality of ideas not quite consistent with unity ; is it justified by Rhet. 
 p. 176, 2? 
 
 Carlyle : Pages 56-63. 1. In those years. The impulse would 
 be natural in this opening sentence to put this time-phrase first. Car- 
 lyle, however, generally adopts the loose structure ; besides, here un- 
 doubtedly he wishes to give the stress of the first place to the name 
 Coleridge. Carlyle often sets off by semicolons what others would 
 set off by commas ; see 11. 6, 14, 22, 35, 52, 53, 62, 67, 85, 125, and 
 often. In a clause set off by a semicolon, we generally expect a com- 
 plete grammatical structure, subject and predicate; these have not. 
 13. What is accomplished by the pleonasm? Rhet. p. 174. 71. An 
 unusual ellipsis, the whole main sentence being understood, or left to 
 emotion. A still bolder emotional ellipsis occurs at the end of Carlyle's 
 fifth lecture on Heroes : " Richter says, in the Island of Sumatra there 
 is a kind of ' Light-chafers,' large Fire-flies, which people stick upon 
 spits, and illuminate the ways with at night. Persons of condition can 
 thus travel with a pleasant radiance, which they much admire. Great 
 honor to the Fire-flies ! But ! " This is adduced more as a curi- 
 osity than as a model for imitation. The use of the colon in sentence- 
 members, as distinguished from the semicolon, is illustrated in several 
 ways in this Selection. In 11. 77, 79, 90 it is- used where we expect 
 the succeeding to be a specification of what is given in general terms 
 before; this is a common usage. In 11. 115, 124, it is used merely as 
 a larger pause, the parts preceding and following being divided by 
 semicolons. In 1. 119, it introduces a quotation. These examples show 
 the three main uses of the colon. 104. How is stress gained for the 
 first part? See Rhet. p. 180, 2. 106. Explain construction by Rhet. 
 p. 175, examples, 4. What irregular construction is involved in sen- 
 tence. 11. 127-133? 
 
STUDY OF SENTENCES IN PREVIOUS SELECTIONS. 113 
 
 Huxley : Pages 67-75. Huxley employs sentences of moderate 
 length and of simple construction, doubtless largely out of regard to 
 his audience of workingmen. Lines 27-37 furnish a good example of 
 this simplicity ; note the type of sentence, there being only one approach 
 to periodic structure (which sentence?) and the shortness of the sen- 
 tences (the first sentence, 11. 27-29, being really three sentences). 
 48. A semicolon where we more naturally expect a comma ; evidently to 
 give the latter part of the sentence more distinction, and because the 
 first part is already cut up into subordinate portions by commas. 
 50. What stress here, according to Rhet. p. 181, 4? 63-68. Report 
 on grouping of subordinate clauses, and explain the stress of the last 
 clause by Rhet. p. 181, 3. 69-77. Explain the combination of sen- 
 tence-types here, by Rhet. p. 190, I. In sentences 1. 85-88, by what 
 position of clause is the first sentence prepared, in dynamic stress, for 
 the second? See Rhet. p. 182, I. 
 
 Newman: Pages 76-85. The sentence 11. 5-12 is a good exam- 
 ple of a structure common with Newman, what may be called cumu- 
 lative sentence-structure, consisting of a number of simple clauses with 
 common bearing, building up by simple accretion a detailed idea. 
 Explain its unity by Rhet. p. 178, examples, 4 (which also is from 
 Newman). 20-22. Of what type is this sentence, and how does its 
 subject-matter make this type natural? See Rhet. p. 191 . 27-36. Ex- 
 plain the structure of this sentence by note on 11. 5-12 preceding. 
 36-39. Explain by Rhet. p. 182, i the dynamic stress of the two clauses 
 as related to each other. 58. Explain stress of the if-clause by Rhet. 
 p. 181, 3. Observe that a when-clause is imbedded in the if-clause and 
 has a different relative stress, by what means obtained? 65. What 
 ellipsis? Do you find warrant for it, Rhet. p. 175? 128-145. Ex- 
 plain how the variation of grouping and balance produce variety in 
 dynamic stress, according to Rhet. p. 183, 3. Go through the sentence 
 and mark where in each the stress is thrown. 
 
XII, 
 THOMAS BABINGTON, LORD MACAULAY. 
 
 THE WORK OF THE IMAGINATION IN WRITING HISTORY. 
 
 "The care which Macaulay took to write before all things good and clear 
 English, may be followed by writers who make no attempt to imitate his style, 
 and who may be led by nature to some quite different style of their own. Many 
 styles which are quite unlike one another, may all be equally good; but no 
 style can be good which does not use pure and straightforward English. 
 No style can be good where the reader has to read a sentence twice over to 
 find out its meaning. In these ways the writings of Macaulay may be a direct 
 model to writers and speakers whose natural taste, whose subject, or whose audi- 
 ence, may lead them to a style quite unlike his." E. A. FREEMAN. 
 
 i. WHILE our historians are practising all the arts of 
 controversy, they miserably neglect the art of narration, 
 the art of interesting the affections and presenting pict- 
 
 This Selection will be devoted predominantly to the study of Para- 
 graph structure, and to the larger groupings of thought therein in- 
 volved; and presupposes a knowledge of the Rhetoric as far as 
 page 214. 
 
 It will be observed that Macaulay's sentences are comparatively poor 
 in connectives, and that his paragraphs accordingly do not seem very 
 closely woven together. On the other hand, his sentences, having a 
 common bearing as contributing to the proof of a strongly marked 
 theme, have less need of connectives (see Rhet. p. 206); and the theme 
 is generally the basis of a well articulated plan in the paragraph structure. 
 
 Paragraph 1. This paragraph will be detailed in full, as sugges- 
 tion of how succeeding paragraphs maybe studied. The first sentence 
 is a transition (see Rhet. p. 282) from the previous line of thought. 
 
LORD MACAULAY. 115 
 
 ures to the imagination. That a writer may produce these 
 effects without violating truth is sufficiently proved by s 
 many excellent biographical works. The immense popu- 
 larity which well-written books of this kind have acquired 
 deserves the serious consideration of historians. Voltaire's 
 Charles the Twelfth, Marmontel's Memoirs, Boswell's Life 
 of Johnson, Southey's account of Nelson, are perused with IQ 
 delight by the most frivolous and indolent. Whenever 
 any tolerable book of the same description makes its ap- 
 pearance/ the circulating libraries are mobbed; the book 
 societies are in commotion ; the new novel lies uncut ; the 
 magazines and newspapers fill their columns with extracts. *s 
 In the meantime histories of great empires, written by 
 men of eminent ability, lie unread on the shelves of osten- 
 tatious libraries. 
 
 2. The writers of history seem to entertain an aristo- 
 cratical contempt for the writers of memoirs. They think *> 
 it beneath the dignity of men who describe the revolutions 
 
 The author has been speaking of the present state of historical compo- 
 sition, which he says is devoted to discussing historical questions rather 
 than to writing history proper. This sentence now enables him to in- 
 troduce the subject of historical narration, which forms the subject not 
 of this paragraph, strictly, but of the whole Selection. The art of 
 narration, how is this subject defined in the same sentence? The 
 subject of the present paragraph follows in the second sentence : namely, 
 " that a writer may produce these effects without violating truth." Trace 
 how this proposition is proved, in the series of sentences without con- 
 nectives. The one connective of the paragraph then follows, in the 
 meantime" (1. 16), a mild adversative (Rhet. p. 142), introducing the 
 obverse. (For definition of this last term, see Rhet. p. 293, 3). From 
 the foregoing indications write out the plan of this paragraph. See 
 Rhet. pp. 198-202. 
 
 Par. 2. Subject of this paragraph, and place of it? See Rhet. 
 p. 196. Test the parallel construction, according to Rhet. p. 208. Of 
 
116 STUDIES IN STYLE. 
 
 of nations to dwell on the details which constitute the 
 charm of biography. They have imposed on themselves a 
 code of conventional decencies as absurd as that which has 
 
 s been the bane of the French drama. The most character- 
 istic and interesting circumstances are omitted or softened 
 down, because, as we are told, they are too trivial for the 
 majesty of history. The majesty of history seems to re- 
 semble the majesty of the poor king of Spain, who died a 
 
 30 martyr to ceremony, because the proper dignitaries were 
 not at hand to render him assistance. 
 
 3. That history would be more amusing if this etiquette 
 were relaxed will, we suppose, be acknowledged. But 
 would it be less dignified or less useful? What do we 
 
 35 mean when we say that one past event is important and 
 another insignificant ? No past event has any intrinsic 
 importance. The knowledge of it is valuable only as it 
 leads us to form just calculations with respect to the future. 
 A history which does not serve this purpose, though it may 
 
 *o be filled with battles, treaties, and commotions, is as use- 
 
 the first three sentences, what is the subject, and how is its prominence 
 maintained? What change of construction in 11. 25-28? What further 
 in 11. 28-31? Reconstruct the paragraph on the subject "the majesty 
 of history," and keep that subject consistently prominent. Does the 
 repetition of the phrase " the majesty of history," 1. 28, really aid the 
 continuity of thought between this sentence and the preceding? How 
 does the allusion at the end illustrate Rhet. p. 299? 
 
 Par. 3. This paragraph and the next should be studied together, as 
 dealing with the same subject. In how many sentences is the subject 
 introduced? How repeated at the end of par. 4? Cf. Rhet. p. 198, 
 examples, 3. The sentences 11.34-42 illustrate a peculiar abruptness ofl 
 Macaulay's, which consists in beginning with a thought comparatively 
 remote, and bringing it by degrees toward his subject. The thought 
 here dealt with is not closely connected with the paragraph ; its con- 
 nections have to be sought in the implications of the succeeding. 
 
LORD MA CAUL AY. 117 
 
 less as the series of turnpike tickets collected by Sir 
 Matthew Mite. 
 
 4. Let us suppose that Lord Clarendon, instead of filling 
 hundreds of folio pages with copies of state papers, in 
 which the same assertions and contradictions are repeated 45 
 till the reader is overpowered with weariness, had conde- 
 scended to be the Boswell of the Long Parliament. Let 
 us suppose that he had exhibited to us the wise and lofty 
 self-government of Hampden, leading while he seemed to 
 follow, and propounding unanswerable arguments in the 5 
 strongest forms with the modest air of an inquirer anxious 
 for information ; the delusions which misled the noble 
 spirit of Vane ; the coarse fanaticism which concealed the 
 yet loftier genius of Cromwell, destined to control a muti- 
 nous army and a factious people, to abase the flag of Hoi- 55 
 land, to arrest the victorious arms of Sweden, and to hold 
 the balance firm between the rival monarchies of France 
 and Spain. Let us suppose that he had made his Cavaliers 
 and Roundheads talk in their own style ; that he had re- 
 ported some of the ribaldry of Rupert's pages, and some 60 
 of the cant of Harrison and Fleetwood. Would not his 
 work in that case have been more interesting ? Would it 
 not have been more accurate ? 
 
 5. A history in which every particular incident may be 
 true may on the whole be false. The circumstances which e$ 
 
 Far. 4. As the subject of this paragraph is already proposed in the 
 foregoing, what kind of paragraph is this? See Rhet. p. 211. Show 
 how this nature of the paragraph is shown in the structure and subject- 
 matter of the sentences. Cf. Rhet. p. 186, 2. In the last two sen- 
 tences, 11. 61-63, which repeat the subject, what emphasis is given in 
 the repetition? See Rhet. p. 97. 
 
 Par. 5. This paragraph should be studied together with 6 and 7, 
 the three being merely stages in the treatment of the same subject. 
 
118 STUDIES IN STYLE. 
 
 have most influence on the happiness of mankind, the 
 changes of manners and morals, the transition of commu- 
 nities from poverty to wealth, from knowledge to ignorance, 
 from ferocity to humanity these are, for the most part, 
 
 70 noiseless revolutions. Their progress is rarely indicated by 
 what historians are pleased to call important events. They 
 are not achieved by armies, or enacted by senates. They 
 are sanctioned by no treaties, and recorded in no archives. 
 They are carried on in every school, in every church, 
 
 75 behind ten thousand counters, at ten thousand firesides. 
 The upper current of society presents no certain criterion 
 by which we can ] udge of the direction in which the under 
 current flows. We read of defeats and victories. But we 
 know that nations may be miserable amidst victories and 
 
 80 prosperous amidst defeats. We read of the fall of wise 
 ministers and of the rise of profligate favorites. But we 
 must remember how small a proportion the good or evil 
 effected by a single statesman can bear to the good or evil 
 of a great social system. 
 
 85 6. Bishop Watson compares a geologist to a gnat mounted 
 on an elephant, and laying down theories as to the whole 
 internal structure of the vast animal, from the phenomena 
 of the hide. The comparison is unjust to the geologists; 
 
 From a careful reading of the three, and especially from the suggestions 
 in 11. 64, 65 and 11. 108-110, deduce the exact subject therein treated. 
 With what general consideration, related to the subject, has Par. 5, 
 after the first sentence, to do? What then may be regarded as the 
 subject of this paragraph? Explain the use of the short sentences, 
 11. 70-84, by Rhet. p. 186, i. How are the last four sentences, 11. 78- 
 84, balanced with one another? See Rhet. p. 164, 80. Explain the 
 relation of the adversative sentences to their foregoers by Rhet. 138, 38. 
 Par. 6. What is the office of the paragraph, and what stage in the 
 subject does it set forth? How related to foregoing? 
 
LORD MACAULAY. 119 
 
 but it is very applicable to those historians who write as 
 if the body politic were homogeneous, who look only on 90 
 the surface of affairs, and never think of the mighty and 
 various organization which lies deep below. 
 
 7. In the works of such writers as these, England, at the 
 close of the Seven Years' War, is in the highest state of 
 prosperity : at the close of the American War she is in a 95 
 miserable and degraded condition ; as if the people were 
 not on the whole as rich, as well governed, and as well 
 educated at the latter period as at the former. We have 
 read books called Histories of England, under the reign of 
 George the Second, in which the rise of Methodism is not IOQ 
 even mentioned. A hundred years hence this breed of 
 authors will, we hope, be extinct. If it should still exist, 
 the late ministerial interregnum will be described in terms 
 which will seem to imply that all government was at an 
 end ; that the social contract was annulled ; and that the 105 
 hand of every man was against his neighbor, until the wis- 
 dom and virtue of the new cabinet educed order out of the 
 chaos of anarchy. We are quite certain that misconcep- 
 tions as gross prevail at this moment respecting many 
 important parts of our annals. c 
 
 8. The effect of historical reading is analogous, in many 
 respects, to that produced by foreign travel. The student, 
 like the tourist, is transported into a new state of society. 
 
 Par, 7. What kind of paragraph is this? See Rhet. p. 211. 
 Observe that it accumulates material for the assertion of the last sen- 
 tence, and that this last stands, to the assertion 1. 64, in the relation 
 of concrete to general. Turning now to 1. 64 again, what figurative 
 mode of expression gives it interest and stimulus? See Rhet. p. 102. 
 
 Par. 8. Trace the analogy (see Rhet. p. 395 ) on its two sides, 
 and write out the plan, according to following indications, (i) Anal- 
 ogy: (a} the tourist; () the student. (2) "But": (a} the tourist; 
 
120 STUDIES IN STYLE. 
 
 He sees new fashions. He hears new modes of expression. 
 
 n 5 His mind is enlarged by contemplating the wide diversities 
 of laws, of morals, and of manners. But men may travel 
 far, and return with minds as contracted as if they had 
 never stirred from their own market-town. In the same 
 manner, men may know the dates of many battles and the 
 
 120 genealogies of many royal houses, and yet be no wiser. 
 Most people look at past times as princes look at foreign 
 countries. More than one illustrious stranger has landed 
 on our island amidst the shouts of a mob, has dined with 
 the king, has hunted with the master of the stag-hounds, 
 
 125 has seen the Guards reviewed, and a knight of the garter 
 installed, has cantered along Regent Street, has visited 
 St. Paul's, and noted down its dimensions ; and has then 
 departed, thinking that he has seen England. He has, in 
 fact, seen a few public buildings, public men, and public 
 
 130 ceremonies. But of the vast and complex system of society, 
 of the fine shades of national character, of the practical 
 operation of government and laws, he knows nothing. He 
 who would understand these things rightly must not con- 
 fine his observations to palaces and solemn days. He 
 
 135 must see ordinary men as they appear in their ordinary 
 business and in their ordinary pleasures. He must mingle 
 in the crowds of the exchange and the coffee-house. He 
 must obtain admittance to the convivial table and the 
 domestic hearth. He must bear with vulgar expressions. 
 
 1*3 He must not shrink from exploring even the retreats of 
 
 (b*) the student. (3) "As": (a) the student; (b) the tourist. 
 (4) "Must": (a) the tourist ; (b} the student. (5) Conclusion. Are 
 the comparisons of this paragraph similes? See Rhet. p. 89, I. 
 
 The remainder of the Selection is to be studied together, being a 
 portrayal of " the perfect historian, 1 ' according to Macaulay's idea. 
 
LORD MACAULAY. 121 
 
 misery. He who wishes to understand the condition of 
 mankind in former ages must proceed on the same princi- 
 ple. If he attends only to public transactions, to wars, 
 congresses, and debates, his studies will be as unprofitable 
 as the travels of those imperial, royal, and serene sovereigns i 4 s 
 who form their judgment of our island from having gone 
 in state to a few fine sights, and from having held formal 
 conferences with a few great officers. 
 
 9. The perfect historian is he in whose work the char- 
 acter and spirit of an age is exhibited in miniature. He 150 
 relates no fact, he attributes no expression to his characters, 
 which is not authenticated by sufficient testimony. But 
 by judicious selection, rejection, and arrangement, he gives 
 to truth those attractions which have been usurped by fic- 
 tion. In his narrative a due subordination is observed : 155 
 some transactions are prominent ; others retire. But the 
 scale on which he represents them is increased or dimin- 
 ished, not according to the dignity of the persons concerned 
 in them, but according to the degree in which they eluci- 
 date the condition of society and the nature of man. He 160 
 shows us the court, the camp, and the senate. But he 
 shows us also the nation. He considers no anecdote, no 
 peculiarity of manner, no familiar saying, as too insignifi- 
 cant for his notice which is not too insignificant to illustrate 
 the operation of laws, of religion, and of education, and to 165 
 mark the progress of the human mind. Men will not 
 merely be described, but will be made intimately known to 
 us. The changes of manners will be indicated, not merely 
 
 Par. 9. This paragraph, after the subject-sentence, falls naturally 
 into three stages and a conclusion. Trace these in a plan, and see how 
 all of the three stages are balanced together according to Rhet. p 138, 
 38. 
 
122 STUDIES IN STYLE. 
 
 by a few general phrases or a few extracts from statistical 
 17 documents, but by appropriate images presented in every 
 line. 
 
 10. If a man, such as we are supposing, should write the 
 history of England, he would assuredly not omit the battles, 
 the sieges, the negotiations, the seditions, the ministerial 
 
 175 changes. But with these he would intersperse the details 
 which are the charm of historical romances. At Lincoln 
 Cathedral there is a beautiful painted window, which was 
 made by an apprentice out of the pieces of glass which had 
 been rejected by his master. It is so far superior to every 
 
 180 other in the church, that, according to the tradition, the 
 vanquished artist killed himself from mortification. Sir 
 Walter Scott, in the same manner, has used those frag- 
 ments of truth which historians have scornfully thrown 
 behind them in a manner which may well excite their 
 
 185 envy. He has constructed out of their gleanings works 
 which, even considered as histories, are scarcely less valu- 
 able than theirs. But a truly great historian would reclaim 
 those materials which the novelist has appropriated. The 
 history of the government, and the history of the people, 
 
 190 would be exhibited in that mode in which alone they can 
 be exhibited justly, in inseparable conjunction and inter- 
 mixture. We should not then have to look for the wars 
 and votes of the Puritans in Clarendon, and for their 
 phraseology in Old Mortality ; for one half of King James 
 
 95 in Hume, and for the other half in the Fortunes of Nigel. 
 
 11. The early part of our imaginary history would be 
 rich with coloring from romance, ballad, and chronicle. 
 
 Par. 10. Write the plan of this paragraph, according to the fol- 
 , lowing: I. 11. 172-176; 2. 176-187; 3. 187-195. Give names that 
 shall indicate the office of each division. 
 
LORD MA CAUL AY. 123 
 
 We should find ourselves in the company of knights such 
 as those of Froissart, and of pilgrims such as those who 
 rode with Chaucer from the Tabard. Society would be *< 
 shown from the highest to the lowest, from the royal 
 cloth of state to the den of the outlaw ; from the throne 
 of the legate, to the chimney-corner where the begging 
 friar regaled himself. Palmers, minstrels, crusaders, the 
 stately monastery, with the good cheer in its refectory and 205 
 the high-mass in its chapel, the manor-house, with its 
 hunting and hawking, the tournament, with the heralds 
 and ladies, the trumpets and the cloth of gold, would 
 give truth and life to the representation. We should per- 
 ceive, in a thousand slight touches, the importance of the 210 
 privileged burgher, and the fierce and haughty spirit which 
 swelled under the collar of the degraded villain. The re- 
 vival of letters would not merely be described in a few 
 magnificent periods. We should discern, in innumerable 
 particulars, the fermentation of mind, the eager appetite 215 
 for knowledge, which distinguished the sixteenth from 
 the fifteenth century. In the Reformation we should 
 see, not merely a schism which changed the ecclesiastical 
 constitution of England and the mutual relations of the 
 European powers, but a moral war which raged in every 220 
 family, which set the father against the son, and the son 
 against the father, the mother against the daughter, and 
 the daughter against the mother. Henry would be painted 
 with the skill of Tacitus. We should have the change of 
 his character from his profuse and joyous youth to his 225 
 savage and imperious old age. We should perceive the 
 gradual progress of selfish and tyrannical passions in a 
 
 Par. 11. How is the nature of this paragraph, as to subject and 
 sequence, explained by Rhet. p. 195 (also ib. examples, 2)? Trace 
 
124 STUDIES IN STYLE. 
 
 mind not naturally insensible or ungenerous ; and to the 
 last we should detect some remains of that open and noble 
 
 "30 temper which endeared him to a people whom he oppressed, 
 struggling with the hardness of despotism and the irrita- 
 bility of disease. We should see Elizabeth in all her weak- 
 ness and in all her strength, surrounded by the handsome 
 favorites whom she never trusted, and the wise old states- 
 
 235 men whom she never dismissed, uniting in herself the 
 most contradictory qualities of both her parents, the 
 coquetry, the caprice, the petty malice of Anne, the 
 haughty and resolute spirit of Henry. We have no hesi- 
 tation in saying that a great artist might produce a por- 
 
 240 trait of this remarkable woman at least as striking as that 
 in the novel of Kenilworth, without employing a single 
 trait not authenticated by ample testimony. In the mean- 
 time, we should see arts cultivated, wealth accumulated, 
 the conveniences of life improved. We should see the 
 
 2 4S keeps, where nobles, insecure themselves, spread insecu- 
 rity around them, gradually giving place to the halls of 
 peaceful opulence, to the oriels of Longleat, and the stately 
 pinnacles of Burleigh. We should see towns extended, 
 deserts cultivated, the hamlets of fishermen turned into 
 
 250 wealthy havens, the meal of the peasant improved, and his 
 hut more commodiously furnished. We should see those 
 opinions and feelings which produced the great struggle 
 against the house of Stuart slowly growing up in the 
 bosom of private families, before they manifested thern- 
 
 zss selves in Parliamentary debates. Then would come the 
 Civil War. Those skirmishes on which Clarendon dwells 
 so minutely would be told, as Thucydides would have told 
 
 the stages of English history over which it courses. What kind of 
 paragraph is it? 197. What touch of poetic feeling? See Rhet. p. 51, 
 
LORD MACAULAY. 125 
 
 them, with perspicuous conciseness. They are merely 
 connecting links. But the great characteristics of the 
 age, the loyal enthusiasm of the brave English gentry, the 260 
 fierce licentiousness of the swearing, dicing, drunken repro- 
 bates, whose excesses disgraced the royal cause, the aus- 
 terity of the Presbyterian Sabbaths in the city, the ex- 
 travagance of the independent preachers in the camp, the 
 precise garb, the severe countenance, the petty scruples, 265 
 the affected accent, the absurd names and phrases which 
 marked the Puritans, the valor, the policy, the public 
 spirit, which lurked beneath these ungraceful disguises, 
 the dreams of the raving Fifth-monarchy-man, the dreams, 
 scarcely less wild, of the philosophic republican, all these 270 
 would enter into the representation, and render it at once 
 more exact and more striking. 
 
 12. The instruction derived from history thus written 
 would be of a vivid and practical character. It would be 
 received by the imagination as well as by the reason. It 2 75 
 would be not merely traced on the mind, but branded into it. 
 Many truths, too, would be learned, which can be learned 
 in no other manner. As the history of states is generally 
 written, the greatest and most momentous revolutions 
 seem to come upon them like supernatural inflictions, with- 280 
 out warning or cause. But the fact is, that such revolu- 
 tions are almost always the consequences of moral changes, 
 which have gradually passed on the mass of the community, 
 and which ordinarily proceed far before their progress is 
 indicated by any public measure. An intimate knowledge 285 
 
 examples, 2. How does the last sentence illustrate Rhet. p. 209? 
 270. All these, explain by Rhet. p. 160, 73. 
 
 Par. 12. In this paragraph trace (i) The definitive part, indi- 
 cated in its short sentences; cf. Rhet. p. 186, I. (2) General truth 
 
126 STUDIES IN STYLE. 
 
 of the domestic history of nations is therefore absolutely 
 necessary to the prognosis of political events. A narra- 
 tive, defective in this respect, is as useless as a medical 
 treatise which should pass by all the symptoms attendant 
 
 290 on the early stage of a disease and mention only what 
 occurs when the patient is beyond the reach of remedies. 
 
 13. A historian, such as we have been attempting to 
 describe, would indeed be an intellectual prodigy. In his 
 mind, powers scarcely compatible with each other must be 
 
 295 tempered into an exquisite harmony. We shall sooner see 
 another Shakspeare or another Homer. The highest ex- 
 cellence tc which any single faculty can be brought would 
 be less surprising than such a happy and delicate combi- 
 nation of qualities. Yet the contemplation of imaginary 
 
 300 models is not an unpleasant or useless employment of the 
 mind. It cannot indeed produce perfection ; but it pro- 
 
 of the paragraph, in obverse (see Rhet. p. 293, 3), positive asser- 
 tion, and illative conclusion (cf. Rhet. p. 143). (3) Illustration by 
 comparison. 
 
 Par. 13. -.-What is illustrated from this paragraph, Rhet. p. 209? 
 As the same paragraph is cited again, Rhet. p. 281, it need not be 
 studied farther here. 
 
 Two or three remarks on Macaulay's style, apart from paragraph 
 structure, may here be made. 
 
 1. As to diction, 11. 106, 221-223 will illustrate, what is a striking 
 feature throughout Macaulay's writings, the spontaneousness with which 
 he moulds expression according to Biblical diction. Macaulay was a 
 great student of the Bible. In one of his letters he wrote, " A person 
 who professes to be a critic in the delicacies of the English language, 
 ought to have the Bible at his fingers 1 ends." 
 
 2. The short, abrupt character of many of Macaulay's sentences is 
 due largely to punctuation. He generally expresses in two sentences 
 what most writers would express in one with a semicolon between the 
 clauses; see how this is exemplified in 11. 32-38; 78-80; 80-84; 150- 
 155; 155-160; 160-162. 
 
LORD MACAULAY. 127 
 
 duces improvement, and nourishes that generous and liberal 
 fastidiousness which is not inconsistent with the strongest 
 sensibility to merit, and which, while it exalts our concep- 
 tions of the art, does not render us unjust to the artist. 305 
 
 From ESSAY ON HISTORY. 
 
 3. A very noticeable feature of Macaulay's style is the abundance of 
 illustration, especially by comparison and simile, introduced formally 
 with the object of clearness. See ends of paragraphs 2, 3, and 12, and 
 11. 85-92, 176-187. 
 
STUDY OF PARAGRAPHS IN PREVIOUS SELECTIONS. 
 
 THE sense for rounded and symmetrical paragraph structure is com- 
 paratively modern in the history of English prose ; and even now there 
 are few eminent prose writers whose style in this particular can profit- 
 ably be studied as a model. Macaulay, as we have seen, was especially 
 good at constructing paragraphs on a definite plan, with all its parts 
 conspicuously marked and arranged ; but in other respects he was poor : 
 his paragraphs are somewhat hard, mechanical, inflexible, and the pau- 
 city of connectives and sentence-adjustments leaves the style very mea- 
 gre in delicate shadings and fine relations between ideas. We need 
 therefore to compare with others ; and doubtless we shall find in them 
 points of excellence, though in the important matter of plan they may 
 be poor. 
 
 We will select paragraphs from a few of the selections for examina- 
 tion. 
 
 De Quincey : Pages 8-16. In the matter of explicit reference 
 De Quincey is the opposite of Macaulay, being indeed very, some- 
 times almost excessively, minute, in words, phrases, and sentence- 
 adjustments, for reference. To find how this, and his paragraph- 
 structure in general, may be illustrated, take lines 10-62. How is it 
 connected with the preceding paragraph? With what thought does it 
 begin, and to what thought is it conducted? Trace now how each 
 sentence is connected with its foregoer, explaining by Rhet. pp. 202- 
 206. 17-26. How does this passage illustrate Rhet. p. 207? By 
 what connective is it introduced? How is return made to the main 
 subject, 1. 26? See Rhet. p. 139, list. 37. Where do you find the 
 connective here, and of what nature is it? 49. How does the means 
 of explicit reference here used illustrate Rhet. p. 133, 30? 54. What 
 influence operates to invert the order of. this sentence ? Trace the 
 influence both before and after. Observe that part of this paragraph 
 is narrative, furnishing the preparation, and part expository, furnishing 
 the conclusion. Point out where its character divides. 
 
STUDY OF PARAGRAPHS IN PREVIOUS SELECTIONS. 129 
 
 Burke : Pages 18-23. In the second paragraph (11. 32-51), note 
 what is the subject, and what place it occupies. Is the subject given 
 in identical words as in preceding paragraph, or in a definition? Point 
 out how the subject of remark is kept prominent throughout, accord- 
 ing to Rhet. p. 208. By what grammatical device is it emphasized? 
 See Rhet. p. 133. Why may it be less distinguished in last sentence? 
 
 What favorite structure of Burke's, as pointed out Rhet. p. 209, do 
 you note in the fifth paragraph (11. 77-99) ? How much of the para- 
 graph does the last sentence summarize ? How is the early part of the 
 paragraph related to the latter? 
 
 Ruskin: Pages 36-47. Read the third paragraph (11. 63-111), 
 and report what is its subject, and where found. How is this kind of 
 paragraph described, Rhet. p. 195? Point out the connectives in the 
 paragraph ; of what kind are they, and founded on what relation ? Cf. 
 Rhet. p. 273, I. 
 
 Point out the subject in paragraph seven (11. 190-216), and report in 
 how many ways it is expressed. What right have the succeeding sen- 
 tences in the paragraph, according to Rhet. p. 199, that is, what is 
 their relation to the subject? The short sentence at the end, though 
 not summarizing (Rhet p. 209), makes a beautiful ending by its poetic 
 suggestiveness, so contrasted with what precedes. 
 
 Huxley : Pages 67-75. In place of notes on any of the para- 
 graphs of this Selection, the remark may here be made that all of these 
 paragraphs, with their perfectly clear and definite structure, are well 
 adapted for use as an exercise in analysis, especially by those who 
 would make a beginning in the independent study of paragraph structure. 
 
 Newman: Pages 76-85. The first paragraph (11. 1-45) consists 
 broadly of two parts ; point out where the first part ends and the second 
 begins. Which is the principal part, and which ancillary? What is 
 the general subject of remark in the first part? How changed in the 
 second? In what sentence does the paragraph put its most important 
 matter? To what goal is the thought conducted? Compare the last 
 sentence with the first, how are they related? 
 
 Matthew Arnold ; Pages 97-109. Study the plan of the fourth 
 paragraph (11. 121-180) , according to the following indications of struct- 
 ure: I. 11. 121-124. 2. 11. 124-133. 3. 11. 133-136. 4. 11. 136- 
 144. 5. 11. 145-149. 6. 11. 149-163. 7. 11. 163-180. Taking these 
 indications, draw up a tabular plan, which shall show how the thought 
 progresses, what is principal, what summarizing, what illustrative. 
 
II. 
 
 STUDIES IN INVENTION. 
 
HOW THESE STUDIES ARE CONNECTED WITH THE 
 RHETORIC. 
 
 ON ORDERING OF MATERIAL: RHETORIC, TO PAGE 300. Morley, p. 133; 
 Addison, p. 141; Helps, p. 147. 
 
 ON DESCRIPTION: RHETORIC, TO PAGE 353. Blackmore, p. 156; Stanley, 
 p. 161; Green, p. 169; Notes on Description in Previous Selections, 
 p. 185. 
 
 ON NARRATION: RHETORIC, TO PAGE 382. Hughes, p. 187; Shorthouse, 
 p. 198; Scott, p. 206. 
 
 ON EXPOSITION: RHETORIC, TO PAGE 406. Mill, p. 225; Ruskin, p. 233; 
 Notes on Exposition in Previous Selections, p. 253. 
 
 ON ARGUMENTATION: RHETORIC, TO PAGE 446. Tyndall, p. 255; Macau- 
 lay, p. 266. 
 
 ON PERSUASION (ORATORY) : RHETORIC, TO PAGE 474. Curtis, p. 275. 
 
XIII. 
 
 JOHN MORLEY. 
 
 PROGRESSIVE TENDENCIES OF THE AGE OF BURKE. 
 
 i. HISTORY has strictly only to do with individual men 
 as the originals, the furtherers, the opponents, or the rep- 
 resentatives of some of those thousand diverse forces which, 
 uniting in one vast sweep, bear along the successive gener- 
 ations of men as upon the broad wings of sea- winds to new 5 
 and more fertile shores. No modern epoch has witnessed 
 the beginnings of so many of these important movements 
 as that which is covered by Burke's parliamentary life. In 
 every order of activity a fresh and gigantic impulse was 
 given, the tide of national life widened and swelled under 10 
 
 This Selection, and the two that follow, are studied as exemplifying 
 the general processes in the ordering of material, namely the theme, 
 the plan, and amplification; and presuppose a knowledge of the 
 Rhetoric as far as page 300. 
 
 This Selection from Morley, although taken from the middle of a 
 chapter, deals with a distinct subject of its own, and presents all the 
 essential characteristics of a complete essay in miniature. 
 
 Let us first inquire into the expression of the theme; see Rhet. 
 p. 248 sqq. The heading put over this Selection was not taken from 
 Morley, but deduced from study of the selection itself. Point out in 
 the essay the grounds for choosing the word tendencies in the theme. 
 Why would not characteristics be fitting? Why add the adjective pro- 
 gressive to the term tendencies? Would it be exact to say "the pro- 
 gressive tendencies," and why? Is the expression "the age of 
 
134 STUDIES IN INVENTION. 
 
 the influence of new and flushed tributaries, the springs and 
 sources were unsealed of modern ideas, modern systems, 
 and of ideas and systems that are still to be developed. 
 
 2. In the Spiritual order, for instance, when Burke was 
 
 15 achieving his first successes in the House of Commons 
 
 (1766), Wesley and Whitefield were strenuously traversing 
 
 Burke" exactly commensurate with the time contemplated by the essay? 
 If not, why is it used in the heading? Try the effect of making the 
 heading the exact theme; would it make a good title? See Rhet. 
 p. 258. Is the theme anywhere expressed in so many words, and does 
 it need to be? See Rhet. p. 254. How does the statement of the 
 theme, as above evolved, fulfil the requisites, Rhet. pp. 254-256? 
 
 As this Selection is part of a chapter, the introduction is a transition. 
 The writer has been speaking of Burke as an individual, and here he is 
 to speak of the characteristics of Burke's age. How does the opening 
 sentence, 11. 1-6, fulfil the characteristics of a transition, as given, Rhet. 
 p. 282, that is, what aspect of the preceding idea does it retain, how 
 does it connect with the idea which is the subject of this essay, and 
 what is the connecting link? Point out now, in this first paragraph, 
 how the theme is (i) introduced .generally ; (2) particularized to one 
 period, and (3) defined and described in that period. Test this intro- 
 duction by Rhet. p. 267, i. How are the first and third steps amplified? 
 See Rhet. p. 295, 2. 
 
 As to its main ideas, this little essay falls into three divisions. De- 
 duce the first main division from paragraphs 1-5 ; the second from 
 paragraphs 6 and 7 ; the third from paragraph 8 ; and set them down 
 in tabular form. How express in the skeleton (Rhet. p. 264) the sub- 
 divisions of the first main division, paragraphs 2-5? In the same way 
 set down the two subdivisions represented in paragraphs 6, 7 ; and the 
 two represented in paragraph 8. What consideration, drawn from 
 11. 138-146, forms the conclusion? How does the conclusion answer 
 to Rhet. p. 280? 
 
 Let us now see how the amplification helps along the current of the 
 thought. 
 
 Par. 2. Is there a significance in mentioning this particular fact 
 about Burke, 11. 15, 16, as related to the subject of the paragraph? 
 What call for the somewhat imaginative type of style, 11. 18-24, as set- 
 
JOHN MORLEY. 135 
 
 the length and breadth of the land, quickening the deep- 
 hidden sensibilities, and filling with lofty and divine visions 
 the once blind souls of men and women who had labored 
 blankly, as brute beasts labor, down in coal mines, in fac- 2C 
 tories, over furnaces and forges, in dank fields, on barren, 
 remote moors, and who till then had known no glimpses of 
 a wider and more joyful life than the life of a starved and 
 ever-benumbed sense. 
 
 3. In the Industrial order a development of no less 25 
 momentous importance dates from the same time. In the 
 year in which Burke published his " Thoughts on the Pres- 
 ent Discontents" (1770), Hargreaves took out his patent 
 for the spinning-jenny, the year before that is the date of 
 Arkwright's patent, and nine years later Samuel Crompton 30 
 invented that wonderful machine, the mule, which endures 
 as a marvel of ingenuity even in our own ingenious times. 
 The improvement of means of transport proceeded at an 
 equal pace with improvements in means of production. 
 For while Burke was pondering his maiden speech (1766), 3S 
 Brindley was beginning the Grand Trunk Canal from the 
 Trent to the Mersey, and Watt was busy on the third 
 model of the stearn-engine. 
 
 4. In the Speculative and Scientific order, while Burke 
 and the Rockingham party were marking their abhorrence 4 a 
 
 ting forth this particular kind of thought? See Rhet. p. 289, 3. What 
 kind of epithet is brute, 1. 20? See Rhet. p. 56. Would it be adapted 
 to all kinds of prose? What means of amplification predominates in 
 this second paragraph? See Rhet. p. 295, i. 
 
 Par. 3. Trace the connection, whether antithetic or illustrative, 
 between the fact mentioned, 11. 27, 28, and the thought of the paragraph. 
 What means of amplification is employed here? See Rhet. p. 290, I. 
 
 Par. 4. Note that the fact here connected with the thought of the 
 paragraph has to do with theories of the policy of government, just as 
 the paragraph has to do with theories of wealth and philosophy. Point 
 
136 STUDIES IN INVENTION. 
 
 and despair at the American policy of Lord North and the 
 Court by a partial secession from Parliament (1776), the 
 "Wealth of Nations " was given to the world, and the foun- 
 dations laid of economic science. Nor should we overlook 
 
 45 the important fact that the tremendously powerful solvents 
 supplied by Hume forty years before, were at this time as 
 potent for destruction in one set of opinions as Adam 
 Smith's book was for construction in another set. Thus 
 Burke's contemporaries saw the Wesleyan revival of Chris- 
 
 so tian belief. They saw the rise of a philosophy which 
 directly and indirectly has done more to weaken and nar- 
 row that belief than Wesley or Butler, or anybody else did, 
 to restore it. They saw those triumphs of mechanical 
 invention and engineering science which were destined 
 
 55 to revolutionize modern life. And, above all, they saw 
 established those theoretic principles of commerce which, 
 overthrowing the old notions of the mercantile system, 
 were to add a thousandfold to the material comfort of man- 
 kind, and to prove an indispensable, though rough and 
 
 60 temporary means, of propagating the idea of the brother- 
 hood of nations. 
 
 5. Fourthly, and finally, in the Political order. The year 
 which saw the "Wealth of Nations" (1776), saw also the 
 Declaration of American Independence. The year before 
 
 6 5 Burke wrote the Letter to the Sheriffs of Bristol, Franklin 
 
 out the antithetic facts, regarding constructive and destructive influences, 
 and how each general fact is based on particular events. In the latter 
 part of the paragraph, how are preceding ideas summarized to illustrate 
 the thought? 
 
 Par. 5. The ideas of this paragraph are first given in amplified form 
 and then summarized in a brief statement. Point out how this is, and 
 to what " two great events" the political facts are reduced. The facts 
 mentioned, 11. 63-65, are related to each other, perhaps, as abstract to 
 
JOHN MO RLE Y. 137 
 
 was consoling Jefferson by the story of John Thompson 
 the hatter, for the changes made by their colleagues in 
 Jefferson's draft of the Declaration, and shortly afterwards 
 they all agreed upon that ever memorable announcement, 
 " We, therefore, the representatives of the United States 70 
 of America, in general congress assembled, appealing to 
 the Supreme Judge of the world for the rectitude of our 
 intentions, do in the name and by the authority of the good 
 people of these colonies, solemnly publish and declare that 
 these united colonies are, and of right ought to be, Free 75 
 and Independent States." Thirteen years later, "the even- 
 ing sun of July " shone over the blood-stained ruin of the 
 Bastille. The foundation of the new republic and the up- 
 rooting of the old monarchy were the two great events in 
 the political order. Each is an achievement that in its BO 
 relation to ourselves and some generations of our descend- 
 ants, can have no rival in importance save the other. 
 
 6. Though for the purposes of analysis and clear classifi- 
 cation it is essential that we should speak of each of these 
 impulses as single and distinct, it is highly important that s s 
 we should recognize their common direction. Each of 
 
 concrete. Burke's letter to the Sheriffs of Bristol explained and justi- 
 fied his attitude of conciliation toward America ; while Franklin's story 
 to Jefferson was an incident in the American debate which resulted in 
 independence. For the story, see Sparks's " Life of Franklin," p. 407. 
 
 The four paragraphs together, 2-5, which are here treated as sub- 
 divisions, may be regarded as amplification of the first main thought ; 
 what means of amplification do they exemplify? See Rhet. p. 290, I. 
 
 Note the relation between paragraphs 6 and 7. The former gives 
 in brief the thought which the latter amplifies. Of what kind, then, is 
 the seventh paragraph? See Rhet. p. 211. 
 
 Par. 6. How does the amplification of the latter part of the para- 
 graph illustrate Rhet. p. 291, 3? Can you point out also a case of 
 amplification by obverse? See Rhet. p. 293, 3. 
 
138 STUDIES IN INVENTION. 
 
 them is one element in the history of the country, but all 
 the elements receive a common suffusion, which we are 
 content vaguely to call the spirit of the times, Every age* 
 
 9 o has its strong setting current of ideas. Those movements 
 only retain a permanent interest which are in harmony 
 with this current. Isolated fragments of antipathetic 
 effort, spasmodic outbreaks of counter endeavor, pass away 
 and are lost. It is the composition and fusion of main 
 
 95 forces which arrest the eye of the historian. 
 
 7. It is not necessary for me to show in detail how the 
 spirit of the Wesleyan reformation fitted in with the char- 
 acteristic movements of the time. It is enough to com- 
 memorate .the aid given to industrial development by 
 
 ioo the increase of thrift, sobriety, diligence, and those other 
 moral virtues, a disposition to which was borne into the 
 heart along with the newly-awakened spirit of religious 
 fervor. The development of democratic principles was 
 just as powerfully, though less palpably and visibly, helped 
 
 105 forward by the Christian revival in the eighteenth century, 
 as it has been by every system which calls the individual 
 to think, and makes him responsible, at the peril of his soul, 
 for the results of his thinking. In England, moreover, 
 dissent from the Established Church has always been more 
 
 no or less democratic, because the Church is the emblem and 
 ally of authority. The way in which the discoveries of 
 Adam Smith fitted in with the great mechanical inventions 
 that were made at the same time is too obvious to need 
 
 Par. 7. Notice how the amplification in this paragraph takes the 
 unity of idea in the preceding, and works it out toward the two thoughts 
 which are the subject of the next paragraph. Thus, what two influ- 
 ences were exerted by the Wesleyan reformation (11. 98-111) ? What 
 was the influence of the industrial movement (11. 111-132)? Note 
 now to what two main influences these details have tended. 
 
JOHN MORLEY. 139 
 
 dwelling upon. To perceive clearly, first, that manufac- 
 tures enrich, not impoverish a country, and second, that j 
 manufactures thrive better where there are the fewest 
 restrictions on the free interchange of commodities first, 
 to assert the power of manufactures in increasing the 
 national wealth, and second, to establish the conditions 
 under which this power can rise to the greatest height iao 
 of efficiency this was the natural accompaniment in 
 theory to the inventions of Arkwright and Crompton and 
 Watt in practice. Still less need I devote any words 
 to establish the underlying connection which subsists be- 
 tween a vigorous industrial movement and , the impulse 123 
 towards the abolition of privilege. Any ordinary House 
 of Commons politician knows that the artisans are, as a 
 class, the resolute enemies of Privilege, though perhaps 
 barely resolute enough. The vigorous growth of manu- 
 factures is indirectly as fatal to favored orders, as the 130 
 foundation of the American Republic and the French 
 Revolution were directly. 
 
 8. These, then, were the two prime characteristics which 
 sum up the tendencies of Burke's age : an enormous de- 
 velopment of industry, and the first germs of a substitu- i 3S 
 tion of the government of a whole people by itself for the 
 exploded and tottering system of government by privi- 
 leged orders. The seeds thus sown have come up with 
 unequal rapidity, yet their maturity will not improbably be 
 contemporaneous. The organization of Labor and the i< 
 
 Par. 8. The thought of this paragraph is not amplified, being the 
 summary of previous thoughts. How does this illustrate Rhet. p. 287? 
 The difference between amplified and unamplified thought is well illus- 
 trated by comparing the preceding paragraph with this, and noting how 
 what seems there mixed together without order assumes definite form 
 and articulation here. 
 
140 STUDIES IN INVENTION. 
 
 overthrow of Privilege are tasks which we may expect to 
 see perfected at the same time, because most of the con- 
 ditions that lie about the root of the one are also at the 
 foundation of the other. When we can grapple with the 
 moral confusion that reigns in one field, the obstacles in 
 the other will no longer discourage or baffle us. 
 
 From EDMUND BURKE: A HISTORICAL STUDY. 
 
 What additional thought that is, what thought not suggested in 
 the body of the essay does this conclusion contain? 
 
XIV. 
 JOSEPH ADDISON. 
 
 LUCIDUS ORDO. 
 
 AMONG my daily papers which I bestow on the public, 
 there are some which are written with regularity and 
 method, and others that run out into the wildness of those 
 
 " It was said of Socrates, that he brought philosophy down from 
 heaven, to inhabit among men ; and I shall be ambitious to have it 
 said of me, that I have brought philosophy out of closets and libraries, 
 schools and colleges, to dwell in clubs and assemblies, at tea-tables and 
 in coffee-houses." Such, in his own words, was Addison's general aim 
 in writing the papers of the Spectator, from which the present Selection 
 is taken. Being intended for ordinary readers, therefore, we expect 
 this paper to be not strenuous or severe in its thought, or minute and 
 exhaustive in its range, but plain, interesting, popular ; perhaps indeed 
 its plan and amplification will be a little over easy, because, represent- 
 ing some of the earliest attempts at popularizing instruction, it may 
 overrate its task and talk down to its readers. If, however, it betrays 
 tendencies to this fault, we may remember that the fault is in the right 
 direction. 
 
 The only clew that Addison furnishes to the theme of his paper is 
 the motto from Horace, " Light-giving method," or, " Method is light- 
 giving," here used as a title. Read the whole paper and see if you can 
 formulate the theme more closely, with some indication, in the way it 
 is stated, of manner of treatment. Do you find any single sentence, or 
 passage, that includes the theme as exactly as, for instance, 11. 8-13, of 
 the foregoing selection, suggest its theme ? 
 
 If the motto justly suggests the subject, how does the first paragraph 
 make approach to it ? This first paragraph really treats of two contrasted 
 ideas ; do both belong strictly to the theme, or is one merely an ob- 
 
142 STUDIES IN INVENTION. 
 
 compositions which go by the names of essays. As for the 
 
 s first, I have the whole scheme of the discourse in my mind 
 before I set pen to paper. In the other kind of writing, 
 it is sufficient that I have several thoughts on a subject, 
 without troubling myself to range them in such order that 
 they may seem to grow out of one another, and be dis 
 
 10 posed under the proper heads. Seneca and Montaigne 
 are patterns for writing in this last kind, as Tully and Aris- 
 totle excel in the other. When I read an author of genius 
 who writes without method, I fancy myself in a wood that 
 abounds with a great many noble objects, rising among 
 
 15 one another in the greatest confusion and disorder. When 
 I read a methodical discourse, I am in a regular plantation, 
 and can place myself in its several centres, so as to take a 
 view of all the lines and walks that are struck from them. 
 You may ramble in the one a whole day together, and 
 
 20 every moment discover something or other, that is new to 
 you ; but when you have done, you will have but a con- 
 fused, imperfect notion of the place. In the other, your 
 eye commands the whole prospect, and gives you such an 
 idea of it as is not easily worn out of the memory. 
 
 verse amplification of the other? 4. "Which go by the names of 
 essays, in Addison's time the term essay was not so extended as it 
 is now ; see Rhet. pp. 403, 404. The first sentence, 11. 1-4, lays down 
 the subject of the paragraph, which the rest of it amplifies. How do 
 
 11. 10-12 illustrate Rhet. p. 291, 2 (top of page)? What means of am- 
 plification is employed in the rest of the paragraph? Rhet. p. 295, 2. 
 Do you think of these figures as predominantly ornamental? Which 
 of the three uses of amplification, mentioned Rhet. pp. 288, 289, seems 
 to be mainly subserved in thus opening the idea of this paragraph? 
 
 12. An author of genius, the qualification needs to be noted, in 
 view of what is said 11. 26, 27. An author with neither genius nor 
 method is wholly excluded from the treatment. 14. A great many, 
 explain by Rhet. p. 46, 14. 
 
JOSEPH ADDISON. 143 
 
 Irregularity and want of method are only supportable in 25 
 men of great learning or genius, who are often too full to 
 be exact, and therefore choose to throw down their pearls 
 in heaps before the reader, rather than be at the pains of 
 stringing them. 
 
 Method is of advantage to a work, both in respect to the 3 
 writer and the reader. In regard to the first, it is a great 
 help to his invention. When a man has planned his dis- 
 course, he finds a great many thoughts rising out of every 
 head, t"hat do not offer themselves upon the general survey 
 of a subject. His thoughts are at the same time more 35 
 intelligible, and better discover their drift and meaning, 
 when they are placed in their proper lights and follow one 
 another in a regular series, than when they are thrown 
 together without order and connexion. There is always 
 an obscurity in confusion, and the same sentence that 4 
 
 The paragraph, 11. 25-29, gives only one side of the thought, namely, 
 defines where alone want of method is "supportable 11 ; this leaves 
 what implication open as to where method is necessary? Which side 
 of the thought really belongs to the present theme, the expressed or 
 the implied? Express in a proposition the implied idea, and note how 
 it aids the development of the thought. 25. Is only rightly placed? 
 See Rhet. p. 119, 17. 27. Choose to throw down their pearls, 
 etc. See if you can state this so briefly and effectually in literal 
 language. 
 
 30 sq. Comparing the beginning of this paragraph with the begin- 
 ning of the next, what two main divisions of the subject are suggested? 
 Put them down as headings. Does the order of these opening sen- 
 tences, as they now stand, give these main divisions proper distinction? 
 Change the sentences by Rhet. p. 1 8 1, 4, so as to adjust them better to 
 their office and to each other. What subdivisions does the sentence, 
 11. 31, 32, suggest? Point out what part of the paragraph each sub- 
 division occupies. Why is the second so much shorter than the first? 
 How does the amplification, 11. 32-46, illustrate Rhet. p. 290, I ? How 
 many distinct particulars do you discover in it? Discriminate, and set 
 
144 STUDIES IN INVENTION. 
 
 would have enlightened the reader in one part of a dis- 
 course perplexes him in another. For the same reason 
 likewise every thought in a methodical discourse shows 
 itself in its greatest beauty, as the several figures in a 
 
 s piece of painting receive new grace from their disposi- 
 tion in the picture. The advantages of a reader from a 
 methodical discourse are correspondent with those of the 
 writer. He comprehends everything easily, takes it in 
 with pleasure, and retains it long. 
 
 5 Method is not less requisite in ordinary convefsation 
 than in writing, provided a man would talk to make him- 
 self understood. I, who hear a thousand coffee-house de- 
 bates every day, am very sensible of this want of method 
 in the thoughts of my honest countrymen. There is not 
 
 55 one dispute in ten which is managed in those schools of 
 politics, where, after the three first sentences, the question 
 is not entirely lost. Our disputants put me in mind of the 
 cuttle-fish, that when he is unable to extricate himself, 
 blackens all the water about him till he becomes invisible. 
 
 60 The man who does not know how to methodize his thoughts 
 has always, to borrow a phrase from the dispensary, "a 
 barren superfluity" of words; the fruit is lost amidst the 
 exuberance of leaves. 
 
 Tom Puzzle is one of the most eminent immethodical 
 
 down as briefly as possible. Do the particulars, 11. 48, 49, correspond 
 with the particulars in the previous part of the paragraph ? 
 
 Is the next paragraph as susceptible of being arranged in subdivisions 
 as the one just studied ? 53. This want of method, is the refer- 
 ence of the pronoun exact? Does the amplification in this paragraph 
 deal with the subject or its obverse ? Point out by what means and 
 accessories (see Rhet. p. 297) the thought is developed. How is the 
 significance of the phrase quoted from the dispensary brought out by 
 figure ? 
 
JOSEPH ADDISON. 145 
 
 disputants of any that has fallen under my observation. e s 
 Tom has read enough to make him very impertinent ; his 
 knowledge is sufficient to raise doubts, but not to clear 
 them. It is a pity that he has so much learning, or that 
 he has not a great deal more. With these qualifications 
 Tom sets up for a free-thinker, finds a great many things 7 
 to blame in the constitution of his country, and gives 
 shrewd intimations that he does not believe another 
 world. In short, Puzzle is an atheist as much as his parts 
 will give him leave. He has got about half a dozen com- 
 monplace topics, into which he never fails to turn the con- 7 s 
 versation, whatever was the occasion of it. Though the 
 matter in debate be about Douay or Denain, it is ten to one 
 but half his discourse runs upon the unreasonableness of 
 bigotry and priestcraft. This makes Mr. Puzzle the ad- 
 miration of all those who have less sense than himself, and 80 
 the contempt of those who have more. There is none in 
 town whom Tom dreads so much as my friend Will Dry. 
 Will, who is acquainted with Tom's logic, when he finds 
 him running off the question, cuts him short with a " What 
 then ? We allow all this to be true, but what is it to our B S 
 present purpose ? " I have known Tom eloquent half an 
 
 Lines 64-94 are an amplifying paragraph ; what means of amplifi- 
 cation are here represented? See Rhet. pp. 291, 2 ; 296, 3. The most 
 of the paragraph is devoted to amplifying what side of the thought? 
 With which of two characters does the writer leave the advantage, and 
 how? Is there a formal conclusion to the essay as a whole? Does the 
 manner of treatment require it? Is the figure at the end luminous 
 enough to stand in lieu of a summarizing conclusion? 65. Any 
 that has fallen, point out the inexactness here. 68. It is a 
 pity, etc. One is reminded of what Lord Bacon says, in his essay on 
 Atheism- " It is true that a little philosophy inclineth man's mind to 
 atheism ; but depth in philosophy bringeth men's minds about to reli- 
 gion." 81. There is none, a slight inexactness, by present stand- 
 
146 STUDIES IN INVENTION. 
 
 hour together, and triumphing, as he thought, in the su- 
 periority of the argument, when he has been nonplussed 
 on a sudden by Mr. Dry's desiring him to tell the company 
 90 what it was that he endeavored to prove. In short, Dry 
 is a man of a clear, methodical head, but few words, and 
 gains the same advantage over Puzzle that a small body of 
 regular troops would gain over a numberless undisciplined 
 
 militia. 
 
 From THE SPECTATOR [No. 476]. 
 
 ards, none used with a singular verb. 88. Nonplussed, what 
 is the derivation of this word? 
 
 From the indications brought to light in the notes, draw out the 
 whole plan of the essay in tabular form. 
 
XV. 
 SIR ARTHUR HELPS. 
 
 ON THE ART OF LIVING WITH OTHERS. 
 
 THE Iliad for war ; the Odyssey for wandering : but 
 where is the great domestic epic ? Yet it is but common- 
 place to say, that passions may rage round a tea-table, 
 which would not have misbecome men dashing at one 
 
 The present Selection exemplifies, in a modern and more familiar 
 manner, the kind of essay of which Lord Bacon is the greatest repre- 
 sentative : a series of semi-detached observations on a large and weighty 
 subject, not obviously exhaustive of its theme, nor conspicuously main- 
 taining a progressive and consecutive order, yet none the less truly 
 organized, according to that instinctive sequence which a logical mind 
 naturally obeys, and presenting, by the same instinct of completeness, 
 the really important points relating to the subject, though in outline 
 rather than in amplified fulness. Let us study principally the indica- 
 tions of that logically moving mind. 
 
 The divisions here marked by Roman numerals are represented in 
 the original by larger spaces between the paragraphs. This method of 
 Roman numeration is much used nowadays to mark main divisions that 
 are real but not obtrusive, divisions interpreted by the general body 
 of the thought, rather than by sharply defining propositions. 
 
 What beginning does the first paragraph make toward suggesting the 
 theme ? What importance and what lack, regarding it, are brought to 
 light? How is the domestic theme set off against themes dealing (i) 
 with greater relations, (2) with narrower relations ? Notice some of the 
 tilings conveyed by suggestion (cf. Rhet. p. 300). The question 1. 1, 
 But where, etc., implies what answer? Rhet. p. 97. How is this taken 
 for granted in the connective of the next sentence ? 3. May rage, 
 
148 STUDIES IN INVENTION. 
 
 s another in war chariots ; and evolutions of patience and 
 temper are performed at the fireside, worthy to be com- 
 pared with the Retreat of the Ten Thousand. Men have 
 worshipped some fantastic being for living alone in a 
 wilderness ; but social martyrdoms place no saints upon 
 
 10 the calendar. 
 
 We may blind ourselves to it if we like, but the hatreds 
 and disgusts that there are behind friendship, relationship, 
 service, and, indeed, proximity of all kinds, is one of the 
 darkest spots upon earth. The various relations of life, 
 
 15 which bring people together, cannot, as we know, be per- 
 fectly fulfilled except in a state where there will, perhaps, 
 be no occasion for any of them. It is no harm, however, 
 to endeavor to see whether there are any methods which 
 may make these relations in the least degree more harmo 
 
 20 nious now. 
 
 i. 
 
 In the first place, if people are to live happily together, 
 they must not fancy, because they are thrown together 
 now, that all their lives 'have been exactly similar up to the; 
 present time, that they started exactly alike, and that they 
 
 5. Evolutions . . . are performed, what figurative suggestion in 
 these expressions and what their fitness here? 8. Fantastic being, 
 how does this epithet betray the author's estimate of the subject 
 mentioned ? How does the figurative suggestion of the second member 
 of the antithesis (1. 9) agree with that of the first ? 
 
 The second paragraph suggests what limitations of the subject, as 
 expressed in the title ? To what point, then, is the subject steered in 
 the last sentence (11. 17-20), that is, how much and how little does 
 the author undertake to treat? In thus bringing to light these three 
 things : importance of subject, lack, and limitations, how does the In- 
 troduction answer to the rationale, Rhet. p. 267? 
 
 21. In the first place, point out how the first consideration is 
 expressed (i) negatively, (2) positively. What reason is apparent in 
 
SIR ARTHUR HELPS. 149 
 
 are to be for the future of the same mind. A thorough 25 
 conviction of the difference of men is the great thing to be 
 assured of in social knowledge : it is to life what Newton's 
 law is to astronomy. Sometimes men have a knowledge 
 of it with regard to the world in general : they do not 
 expect the outer world to agree with them in all points, 30 
 but are vexed at not being able to drive their own tastes 
 and opinions into those they live with. Diversities distress 
 them. They will not see that there are many forms of 
 virtue and wisdom. Yet we might as well say, " Why all 
 these stars ; why this difference ; why not all one star? " 35 
 
 Many of the rules for people living together in peace, 
 follow from the above. For instance, not to interfere un- 
 reasonably with others, not to ridicule their tastes, not to 
 question and requestion their resolves, not to indulge in 
 perpetual comment on their proceedings, and to delight in 40 
 their having other pursuits than ours, are all based upon 
 a thorough perception of the simple fact, that they are 
 not we. 
 
 11. 25-28 for choosing just this as the opening consideration? How do 
 11. 28-35 show that it is a consideration of especial importance in the 
 case of the present subject? Point out how 11. 22-25 illustrate Rhet. 
 p. 162, 76. Expound the analogy suggested 11. 33-35. 
 
 The sentence, 11. 36, 37, indicates that the subdivisions of this main 
 thought are to be of what kind, and how related to it? On which of the 
 three Laws of Association, Rhet. pp. 273-275, is this sequence based? 
 Why are so many of the Rules lumped together, in the rest of the para- 
 graph? See Rhet. p. 286. The words for instance, 1. 37, indicate 
 what as regards the exhaustiveness of these rules? 
 
 Study now the successive paragraphs in this main division I. (as far 
 as 1. 103), and set down the rules therein contained. Is the paragraph, 
 11. 77-83, of qual rank with its preceding, that is, does it contain a 
 distinct and correlate thought, or is it subordinate? 
 
 Taking now the distinct subdivisions (rules) as thus brought to light, 
 
150 STUDIES IN INVENTION. 
 
 Another rule for living happily with others, is to avoid 
 
 45 having stock subjects of disputation. It mostly happens, 
 when people live much together, that they come to have 
 certain set topics, around which, from frequent dispute, 
 there is such a growth of angry words, mortified vanity and 
 the like, that the original subject of difference becomes a 
 
 so standing subject for quarrel; and there is a tendency in all 
 minor disputes to drift down to it. 
 
 Again, if people wish to live well together, they must 
 not hold too much to logic, and suppose that everything 
 is to be settled by sufficient reason. Dr. Johnson saw 
 
 55 this clearly with regard to married people, when he said, 
 " wretched would be the pair above all names of wretched- 
 ness, who should be doomed to adjust by reason every 
 morning, all the minute detail of a domestic day." But 
 the application should be much more general than he made 
 
 60 it. There is no time for such reasonings, and nothing that 
 is worth them. And when we recollect how two lawyers, 
 
 let us endeavor to see how they fulfil the requisites of construction men- 
 tioned, Rhet. pp. 262, 263, especially sequence and climax. The first 
 rule (1. 44) relates to what is very palpable and pronounced disputa- 
 tion. The second (11. 52-54) is not so pronounced, but correspond- 
 ingly more inward demands for logical reasons of action. On this 
 same line trace the connection of the next rule (1. 67) with this. How 
 is the next (1. 84) a more inward thing? Finally, how does the last 
 rule (1. 92) come home to genuine heart-conduct, as compared with the 
 first? We are prepared now to see that there is a regular gradation 
 or sequence in the rules, and that they form a real climax. What is the 
 law of the climax ? 
 
 The amplification is mostly in the way of giving in extended form 
 what the rule, or key-sentence, gives in brief. Show how this is the 
 case in 11. 45-51. 
 
 How does the use of quotation as accessory, 11. 56-58,.correspond to 
 the directions, Rhet. p. 297? What is done to the quotation by way of 
 fitting it to the subject in hand? See Rhet. p. 288, I. Why does it 
 
SIR ARTHUR HELPS. 151 
 
 or two politicians, can go on contending, and that there is 
 no end of one-sided reasoning on any subject, we shall not 
 be sure that such contention is the best mode for arriving 
 at truth. But certainly it is not the way to arrive at good 6s 
 temper. 
 
 If you would be loved as a companion, avoid unnecessary 
 criticism upon those with whom you live. The number of 
 people who have taken out judges' patents for themselves 
 is very large in any society. Now it would be hard for a 70 
 man to live with another who was always criticising his 
 actions, even if it were kindly and just criticism. It would 
 be like living between the glasses of a microscope. But 
 these self-elected judges, like their prototypes, are very 
 apt to have the persons they judge brought before them 75 
 in the guise of culprits. 
 
 One of the most provoking forms of the criticism above 
 alluded to, is that which may be called, criticism over the 
 shoulder. "Had I been consulted," "had you listened to 
 me," "but you always will," and such short scraps of sen- 80 
 tences may remind many of us of dissertations which we 
 have suffered and inflicted, and of which we cannot call to 
 mind any soothing effect. 
 
 Another rule is, not to let familiarity swallow up all 
 
 need to be so adapted? 64. Such contention is apparently differ- 
 enced from the disputation of the preceding paragraph, in being gov- 
 erned merely by logic instead of by rancor (cf. 11. 49-51) ; so it is in 
 this line that this rule advances on the previous one. 
 
 Line 71 will indicate how the next paragraph advances still in the 
 same direction. 69. Taken out judges' patents, from what is 
 this figure taken, and what does it mean? How is " kindly and just 
 criticism " made to apply to the subject in hand (11. 77, 78) ? 
 
 78. Criticism over the shoulder, explain the suggestiveness of 
 ihe expression. If the other paragraphs represent rules, this may be 
 called a corollary, why? 
 
152 STUDIES IN INVENTION. 
 
 8 5 courtesy. Many of us have a habit of saying to those with 
 whom we live such things as we say about strangers behind 
 their backs. There is no place, however, where real polite- 
 ness is of more value than where we mostly think it would 
 be superfluous. You may say more truth, or rather speak 
 
 90 out more plainly, to your associates, but not less courte- 
 ously, than you do to strangers. 
 
 Again, we must not expect more from the society of our 
 friends and companions than it can give ; and especially 
 must not expect contrary things. It is somewhat arrogant 
 
 95 to talk of travelling over other minds (mind being, for what 
 we know, infinite) : but still we become familiar with the 
 upper views, tastes and tempers of our associates. And it is 
 hardly in man to estimate justly what is familiar to him. In 
 travelling along at night, as Hazlitt says, we catch a glimpse 
 
 ioo into cheerful looking rooms with light blazing in them, and 
 we conclude, involuntarily, how happy the inmates must 
 bfe. Yet there is Heaven and Hell in those rooms, the 
 same Heaven and Hell that we have known in others. 
 
 n. 
 
 There are two great classes of promoters of social happi- 
 105 ness, cheerful people, and people who have some reticence. 
 
 How is the sentence, 11. 89-91, related to the lesson of the preceding 
 paragraph ? What part of criticism does it retain ? How do you recon- 
 cile " speaking out more plainly " with " not less courteously " ? 
 
 The next paragraph, 11. 92-103, has not to do with outer conduct 
 and courtesy at all ; it is wholly inward, dealing with what we are to 
 expect. What accessory of amplification is used, 11. 98-103, to illus- 
 trate the assertion preceding? How does it apply to the general 
 subject? 
 
 Evidently the first main division, which is much the longest, has 
 contained the most important considerations relating to the subject; 
 
SIR ARTHUR HELPS. 153 
 
 The latter are more secure benefits to society even than 
 the former. They are non-conductors of all the heats and 
 animosities around them. To have peace in a house, or a 
 family, or any social circle, the members of it must beware 
 of passing on hasty and uncharitable speeches ; which, the IIC 
 whole of the context seldom being told, is often not con- 
 veying, but creating, mischief. They must be very good 
 people to avoid doing this ; for let human nature say what 
 it will, it likes sometimes to look on at a quarrel : and that, 
 not altogether from ill-nature, but from a love of excite- "s 
 ment for the same reason that Charles the Second liked 
 to attend the debates in the Lords, because they were " as 
 good as a play." 
 
 in. 
 
 We come now to the consideration of temper, which 
 might have been expected to be treated first. But to cut off 
 the means and causes of bad temper, is, perhaps, of as much 
 importance as any direct dealing with the temper itself. 
 Besides, it is probable that in small social circles there is 
 
 the succeeding ones are in some degree incidental and supplementary, 
 though still distinct and co-ordinate divisions. 
 
 Some indication of their relation to the first division and to each 
 other is furnished in in. 11. 119-122. They show, for one thing (1. 120), 
 that the author had distinctly in mind what he should put first and what 
 afterward, with the reasons for his chosen order. How does this illus- 
 trate what Dr. Johnson says, Rhet. p. 262? He has chosen to put 
 means and causes (1. 121) before the treatment of temper. How does 
 division i. " cut off the means " of bad temper? How does division n. 
 " cut off the causes " ? If this is the order in the author's mind, what 
 is the prevailing law of association, thus far, between the main divisions? 
 See Rhet. pp. 273-275. 
 
 Of the two classes of" promoters of social happiness" mentioned, 
 11. 104-118, the first class is merely mentioned, the second amplified. 
 Why this difference of treatment? What felicitous figure is used to 
 
154 STUDIES IN INVENTION, 
 
 more suffering from unkindness than ill-temper. Anger 
 125 is a thing that those who live under us suffer more from 
 than those who live with us. But all the forms of ill- 
 humor and sour-sensitiveness, which especially belong to 
 equal intimacy (though indeed they are common to all) are 
 best to be met by impassiveness. When two sensitive 
 130 persons are shut up together, they go on vexing each other 
 with a reproductive irritability. But sensitive and hard 
 people get on well together. The supply of temper is not 
 altogether out of the usual laws of supply and demand. 
 
 IV. 
 
 Intimate friends and relations should be careful when 
 
 i 35 they go out into the world together, or admit others to 
 
 their own circle, that they do not make a bad use of the 
 
 knowledge which they have gained of each other by their 
 
 intimacy. Nothing is more common than this, and did it 
 
 not mostly proceed from mere carelessness, it would be 
 
 i 4 o superlatively ungenerous. You seldom need wait for the 
 
 characterize the second class? What is the antecedent of which, 
 1. 110? How does the illustration, 11. 113-118, apply to the subject? 
 
 One reason has already been given for assigning a subordinate posi- 
 tion to " the consideration of temper" ; but there is also another reason 
 (1. 123), what is it? How far does the second reason extend, and 
 where does the real consideration of temper begin? Notice how the 
 author fixes at once upon the one aspect of temper which is of cardinal 
 importance to consider, and lets secondary aspects go. How does the 
 last sentence (1. 132) illustrate what precedes ? Explain its office in the 
 paragraph by Rhet. p. 209, and its amplifying office by Rhet. p. 291, 3. 
 
 The succeeding divisions seem to be more purely supplementary or 
 incidental than divisions n., in. ; but may the words mere careless- 
 ness, 1. 139, explain the relation of iv. to the preceding, which treats of 
 temper? 
 
SIR ARTHUR HELPS. 155 
 
 written life of a man to hear about his weaknesses, or what 
 are supposed to be such, if you know his intimate friends 
 or meet him in company with them. 
 
 v. 
 
 Lastly, in conciliating those we live with, it is most 
 surely done, not by consulting their interests, nor by giving i 45 
 way to their opinions, so much as by not offending their 
 tastes. The most refined part of us lies in this region of 
 taste which is perhaps a result of our whole being rather 
 than a part of our nature, and at any rate is the region of 
 our most subtle sympathies and antipathies. 150 
 
 It may be said that if the great principles of Christianity 
 were attended to, all such rules, suggestions and observa- 
 tions as the above would be needless. True enough ! 
 Great principles are at the bottom of all things ; but to 
 apply them to daily life, many little rules, precautions, and 155 
 insights are needed. Such things hold a middle place 
 between real life and principles, as form does between 
 matter and spirit : moulding the one and expressing the 
 other, from FRIENDS IN COUNCIL. 
 
 144. Lastly, this word is another indication of sequence from a 
 beginning to a culmination in the author's mind ; though as we have 
 traced it we find it somewhat subtle. Perhaps it could, not easily be 
 otherwise in such a purely abstract subject. The relation of this division 
 is not very close ; but may not its general relation to the whole subject, 
 and its importance as culminating the treatment be indicated in 1. 146? 
 Does it not deserve its position, also, as indicating the finest touches in 
 the " art of living with others "? 
 
 What consideration forms the conclusion, and how is it applied to 
 the subject in hand? Trace how " the great principles of Christianity " 
 are apparent in the various main thoughts and rules that make up the 
 body of the essay. 
 
XVI. 
 RICHARD DODDRIDGE BLACKMORE. 
 
 DESCRIPTION OF GLEN DOONE. 
 I. FROM THE CUFF ABOVE THE SIDE. 
 
 AND so at last we gained the top, and looked forth the 
 edge of the forest, where the ground was very stony and 
 like the crest of a quarry ; and no more trees between us 
 and the brink of the cliff below, three hundred yards below 
 
 This Selection and the two following exemplify different phases of 
 Description; and presuppose a knowledge of the Rhetoric as far as 
 P a & e 353- Involving the same general principles, the selections are 
 chosen largely with the view of illustrating kinds of description not 
 fully exemplified in the Rhetoric. 
 
 The known care that Mr. Blackmore bestows on his descriptions of 
 natural scenery is ample warrant for studying the present selection as a 
 skilful work of literary art. A critical journal says : " Mr. Blackmore's 
 descriptive passages in his novels are justly esteemed one of their great 
 attractions. He does not trust to his imagination for these delightful 
 landscapes, but spends months at a time in the places where he lays 
 the scenes of his stories ; and his studies of moor, forest, and garden 
 are pursued with the keen eye of a painter and a naturalist, and the 
 ardor of a lover." 
 
 The glen here described was the stronghold of the Doones, a band of 
 marauders and murderers who in the seventeenth century were the ter- 
 ror of the countryside, in Somersetshire and Devonshire. It is here 
 described twice, from different points of view : first, as visited by way 
 of reconnoissance, by John Ridd and his uncle Reuben Huckaback ; 
 and secondly, as visited by John's mother, soon after the Doones had 
 
RICHARD DODDRIDGE BLACKMORR. 157 
 
 s it might be, all strong slope and gliddery. And now for 
 the first time I was amazed at the appearance of the 
 Doones' stronghold, and understood its nature. For when 
 I had been even in the valley, and climbed the cliffs to 
 escape from it, about seven years agone, I was no more 
 
 10 than a stripling boy, noting little, as boys do, except for 
 their present purpose, and even that soon done with. But 
 now, what with the fame of the Doones, and my own recol- 
 lections, and Uncle Ben's insistence, all my attention was 
 called forth, and the end was simple astonishment. 
 
 ts The chine of highland, whereon we stood, curved to the 
 right and left of us, keeping about the same elevation, and 
 crowned with trees and brushwood. At about half a mile 
 in front of us, but looking as if we could throw a stone to 
 strike any man upon it, another crest just like our own 
 
 murdered her husband. In both cases John Ridd is the assumed 
 describer. 
 
 The two descriptions afford a good opportunity to study how the 
 point of view influences the details of a description; see Rhet. p. 329. 
 What do you learn as to the position and distance of the point of view 
 in the first description? see 11. 1-5, 17. What in the second? see 
 11. 34-36, 46. In which do you find the details more particularized, 
 and why? In the first description only general shapes and masses of 
 color are given ; but trace, in the second, the degrees of minuteness 
 according to the distance from the point of view. Lines 50-58. 
 
 Report in each case the comprehensive outline ; see Rhet. p. 330. 
 How does the first description answer to Rhet. p. 331, bottom? What 
 feature of outline common to both ? What ideas are given as to the 
 size of the valley? 
 
 Trace in each case the sequence of details from point to point ; see 
 Rhet. p. 332. How does the sequence differ in the two? Of what 
 advantage is the " little river" in the second description for determin- 
 ing the sequence of details ? 
 
 Point out the words that answer to Rhet. p. 341, i. What words 
 contain a metaphorical suggestiveness or personification? see Rhet 
 
158 STUDIES IN INVENTION. 
 
 20 bowed around to meet it ; but failed by reason of two nar- 
 row clefts, of which we could only see the brink. One of 
 these clefts was the Doone-gate, with a portcullis of rock 
 above it, and the other was the chasm by which I had once 
 made entrance. Betwixt them, where the hills fell back, 
 
 25 as in a perfect oval, traversed by the winding water, lay 
 a bright green valley, rimmed with sheer black rock, and 
 seeming to have sunken bodily from the bleak rough 
 heights above. It looked as if no frost could enter, neither 
 winds go ruffling : only spring and hope and comfort 
 
 30 breathe to one another. Even now the rays of sunshine 
 dwelt and fell back on one another, whenever the clouds 
 lifted ; and the pale blue glimpse of the growing day seemed 
 to find young encouragement. 
 
 II. FROM THE DOONE-GATE. 
 
 IN the early afternoon she came to the hollow and bar- 
 35 ren entrance, where in truth there was no gate, only dark- 
 ness to go through. If I get on with this story, I shall have 
 
 p. 339, 2. What touches in the description answer to Rhet. p. 345, i ? 
 What effect has this upon the description? How is simile, at least 
 implied simile, employed in outlining, 11. 18, 27? What simile describes 
 the positions of the houses, 1. 60? What type of prose diction do you 
 discern in 11. 28-33, 50-55, 65-69? Does it correspond ^ttingly with 
 its occasion? see Rhet. p. 338, bottom. 
 
 How is contrast or antithesis (see Rhet. p. 340, 3) employed to vivify 
 the description, in 11. 65-69? How intimated in 11. 28-30? What 
 contrast is used to set off the beauty of the valley in 11. 24-28? 
 
 In what state of mind is the scene represented as viewed, in both 
 cases (11. 6, 14, 44) ? What contrast in scenery probably leads in each 
 case to that state of mind (11. 1-3, 34-36, 41-43) ? How is this mood 
 made to heighten the effect (cf. Rhet. p. 342), by infusing itself into 
 the scene, or by accentuating the contrast? Blackmore seems to be 
 fond of suffusing a scene, as it were, with the emotion of the spectator; 
 
RICHARD DODDRIDGE BLACKMORE. 159 
 
 to tell of it by-and-by, as I saw it afterwards ; and will 
 not dwell there now. Enough that no gun was fired at 
 her, only her eyes were covered over, and somebody led 
 her by the hand, without any wish to hurt her. 4c 
 
 A very rough and headstrong road was all that she re- 
 membered, for she could not think as she wished to do, 
 with the cold iron pushed against her. At the end of this 
 road they delivered her eyes, and she could scarce believe 
 them. 45 
 
 For she stood at the head of a deep green valley, carved 
 from out the mountains in a perfect oval, with a fence of 
 sheer rock standing round it, eighty feet or a hundred high ; 
 from whose brink black wooded hills swept up to the sky- 
 line. By her side a little river glided out from under 50 
 ground with a soft dark babble, unawares of daylight ; then 
 growing brighter, lapsed away, and fell into the valley. 
 There, as it ran down the meadow, alders stood on either 
 marge, and grass was blading out upon it, and yellow tufts 
 of rushes gathered, looking at the hurry. But farther 55 
 down, on either bank, were covered houses, built of stone, 
 
 thus, in describing the Wizard's Slough, in Chapter XXXI. of this same 
 romance, he chooses as the spectator John Fry, a rather cowardly fel- 
 low, with a superstitious belief in uncanny stories, and represents him 
 as quaking with fear and amazement. The reader is thus prepared with 
 keener interest to read : " For there was the Wizard's Slough itself, as 
 black as death, and bubbling, with a few scant yellow reeds in a ring 
 around it. Outside these bright water-grass of the liveliest green was 
 creeping, tempting any unwary foot to step and plunge and founder. 
 And on the marge were blue campanula, sundew, and forget-me-not, 
 such as no child could resist. On either side the hill fell back, and the 
 ground was broken with tufts of rush and flag and mares-tail, and a few 
 rough alder-trees overclogged with water. And not a bird was seen or 
 heard neither rail nor water-hen, wagtail nor reed-warbler." Is this 
 "subjective description," as defined, Rhet. p. 343, bottom? 
 
160 STUDIES IN INVENTION. 
 
 square and roughly cornered, set as if the brook were 
 meant to be the street between them. Only one room high 
 they were, and not placed opposite each other, but in and 
 
 6 out, as skittles are ; only that the first of all, which proved 
 
 to be the captain's, was a sort of double house, or rather, 
 
 two houses joined together by a plank-bridge over the river. 
 
 Fourteen cots my mother counted, all very much of a 
 
 pattern, and nothing to choose between them, unless it 
 
 65 were the captain's. Deep in the quiet valley there, away 
 from noise, and violence, and brawl, save that of the rivu- 
 let, any man would have deemed them homes of simple 
 mind and innocence. Yet not a single house stood there 
 
 but was the home of murder. 
 
 From LORNA DOONE. 
 
 A word may be said finally regarding the language of the above de- 
 scriptions, which seems almost affectedly quaint. Note for instance 
 " looked forth the edge," 1. I ; " strong slope and gliddery," 1. 5 ; "seven 
 years agone," 1. 9; " rough and headstrong road," 1.41; "soft dark 
 babble," 1. 51. This is due partly to Mr. Blackmore's natural manner, 
 which is strongly individual, and partly to his endeavor to imitate what 
 was supposably the language of the time and place of which he was 
 writing. 
 
XVII. 
 ARTHUR PENRHYN STANLEY. 
 
 TRIUMPHAL ENTRY OF CHRIST TO JERUSALEM. 
 
 LET us briefly go through the points which occur in the 
 Sacred History, of the last days of Christ, during which 
 alone He appears for any continuous period in Jerusalem 
 and its neighborhood. From Bethany we must begin. A 
 wild mountain-hamlet, screened by an intervening ridge $ 
 from the view of the top of Olivet, perched on its broken 
 
 The writer's object in recounting this scene, which maybe gath- 
 ered from his characterization of it as the scene " which, with the one 
 exception of the conversation at the well of Jacob, stands alone in the 
 Gospel history for the vividness and precision of its localization," 
 will suggest quite naturally the kind of description we are here to 
 expect. He evidently wishes, on the one hand, to put together the 
 successive features of the event as accurately as possible, and on the 
 other, to increase their realism by connecting them at their various 
 stages with the natural features of the country, as observed by a trav- 
 eller of to-day. 
 
 We look therefore partly for a description of an event, and partly for 
 successive descriptions of natural scenery from the ' ' traveller's point 
 of view." How does this illustrate Rhet. p. 345, 2, and why is it not 
 narration? How does it illustrate Rhet. p. 346, 3; and how are the 
 successive points of view determined from 11. 4-18; 49-54; 65-67; 
 89-92? 
 
 How does the description of Bethany, 11. 4-11, illustrate Rhet. 
 p. 331, bottom? What part does epithet play (cf. Rhet. p. 341, i) 
 as an accessory, in these lines? Is intervening, 1. 5, an epithet? 
 How do the words perched. 1. 6. and clustering, 1. 10, illustrate Rhet. 
 
162 STUDIES IN INVENTION. 
 
 plateau of rock, the last collection of human habitations 
 before the desert-hills which reach to Jericho this is the 
 modern village of El-Lazarieh, which derives its name from 
 
 10 its clustering round the traditional site of the one house 
 and grave which give it an undying interest. High in the 
 distance are the Peraean mountains ; the foreground is the 
 deep descent to the Jordan valley. On the further side of 
 that dark abyss Martha and Mary knew that Christ was 
 
 is abiding when they sent their messenger ; up that long 
 
 ascent they had often watched His approach up that 
 
 long ascent He came when, outside the village, Martha 
 
 and Mary met Him, and the Jews stood round weeping. 
 
 Up that same ascent He came, also, at the beginning of 
 
 20 the week of His Passion. One night He halted in the 
 village, as of old ; the village and the desert were then 
 all alive, as they still are once every year at the Greek 
 Easter, with the crowd of Paschal pilgrims moving to and 
 fro between Bethany and Jerusalem. In the morning, He 
 
 25 set forth on His journey. Three pathways lead, and prob- 
 ably always led, from Bethany to Jerusalem ; one, a steep 
 footpath over the summit of Mount Olivet ; another, by a 
 long circuit over its northern shoulder, down the valley 
 which parts it from Scopus ; the third, the natural contin- 
 
 30 uation of the road by which mounted travellers always 
 
 p. 345, i ? 9. El-Lazarieh, this Arabic name, derived from the name 
 Lazarus, connects the village in what manner with John xi. 1-44? 
 What descriptive touches in 11. 11-18, and by what means obtained? 
 Is the realistic effect heightened by the repetition of the localizing 
 phrases, 11. 11, 13, 15, 16, 19, always at the beginning of the clause 
 or sentence, and sometimes in identical terms? Cf. Rhet. p. 161, 74. 
 12. The Peraean mountains are beyond the Jordan, eastward from 
 Bethany. 
 
 What illustration in 1. 22 of Rhet. p. 337? How does this also 
 
ARTHUR PENRHYN STANLEY. 163 
 
 approach the city from Jericho, over the southern shoulder, 
 between the summit which contains the Tombs of the 
 Prophets and that called the " Mount of Offence." There 
 can be no doubt that this last is the road of the Entry of 
 Christ, not only because, as just stated, it is and must 35 
 always have been the usual approach for horsemen and 
 for large caravans, such as then were concerned, but also 
 because this is the only one of the three approaches which 
 meets the requirements of the narrative which follows. 
 
 Two vast streams of people met on that day. The one 4 
 poured out from the city, and as they came through the 
 gardens whose clusters of palm rose on the south-eastern 
 corner of Olivet, they cut down the long branches, as was 
 their wont at the Feast of Tabernacles, and .moved up- 
 wards towards Bethany, with loud shouts of welcome. 45 
 From Bethany streamed forth the crowds who had assem- 
 bled there on the previous night, and who came testifying 
 to the great event at the sepulchre of Lazarus. 
 
 illustrate Rhet. p. 156, 67? 39. Which, there are three reasons 
 why that would be the preferable relative here; can you give them? 
 See Rhet. pp. 127-131. In 11. 37-39 we see an indication of the 
 writer's object in making the succeeding description : he wishes to 
 trace the road that " meets the requirements of the narrative," as found 
 in Matthew xxi. i-ii ; Mark xi. i-u ; Luke xix. 29-44; John xii. 12- 
 19. This is one of the few events that are given, with greater or less 
 fulness, by all four of the Gospel writers. 
 
 All the details of the procession here given are carefully made out 
 from the several narratives, often from minute study of various read- 
 ings, the implications of the Greek tenses, and the like, the object 
 being to reproduce with the greatest exactness the actual scene. 
 
 What heightened or descriptive words can you point out in the para- 
 graph, 11. 40-48? Reconstruct the sentence, 11. 46-48, so that it will 
 balance better with the two sentences preceding. The beginning of 
 the sentence, 1. 40, leads us to expect what beginning here? 
 
164 STUDIES IN INVENTION. 
 
 The road soon loses sight of Bethany. It is now a rough, 
 
 5 o but still broad and well-defined mountain track, winding 
 over rock and loose stones ; a steep declivity below on the 
 left ; the sloping shoulder of Olivet above it on the right ; 
 fig-trees below and above, here and there growing out of 
 the rocky soil. Along the road the multitudes threw down 
 
 55 the branches which they had cut as they went along, or 
 spread out a rude matting formed of the palm-branches 
 they had already cut as they came out. The larger por- 
 tion those, perhaps, who escorted Him from Bethany 
 unwrapped their loose cloaks from their shoulders, and 
 
 60 stretched them along the rough path, to form a momen- 
 tary carpet as He approached. 
 
 The two streams met midway. Half of the vast mass, 
 turning round, preceded, the other half followed. Grad- 
 ually the long procession swept up and over the ridge, 
 
 65 where first begins " the descent of the Mount of Olives " 
 towards Jerusalem. At this point the first view is caught 
 
 Point out how complete is the outline description, 11. 49-54, as to 
 the various features of the road ; the surroundings ; the vegetation ; 
 the character of the soil. Much is condensed in very little space. 
 Point out what is given by implication, according to Rhet. p. 158, 2. 
 This outline description of the road furnishes the background, so to 
 say, on which the writer portrays the general scene of the multitudes 
 before and behind making up the jubilant procession. Why do we call 
 this scene description rather than narration ? 
 
 64. By what trope (see Newman (p. 83), 11. 134, 135, note) is the 
 description of the procession vivified ? By what position of the ad- 
 verb? 65. The carefulness with which this exact point of view is 
 determined is indicated in the following note, appended to the account : 
 " Luke xix. 37, as He drew near, even now (rjSrj), at .the descent of 
 the Mount of Olives (717)05 rrj Kara/?acra TOV opous ran/ eXatoiv)', i.e., at 
 the point where the road over the Mount begins to descend. This 
 exactly applies to such a shoulder of the hill as I have described, and 
 
ARTHUR PENRHYN STANLEY. 165 
 
 of the south-eastern corner of the city. The Temple and 
 the more northern portions are hid by the slope of Olivet 
 on the right ; what is seen is only Mount Zion, now for 
 thr^ most part a rough field, crowned with the Mosque of 70 
 David and the angle of the western walls, but then covered 
 with houses to its base, surmounted by the Castle of Herod, 
 on the supposed site of the palace of David, from which that 
 portion of Jerusalem, emphatically the " City of David," 
 derived its name. It was at this precise point, "as He 75 
 drew near, at the descent of the Mount of Olives," (may 
 it not have been from the sight thus opening upon them ?) 
 that the shout of triumph burst forth from the multitude, 
 " Hosanna to the Son of David ! Blessed is He that com- 
 eth in the name of the Lord. Blessed is the kingdom that &> 
 cometh of our father David. Hosanna . . . peace . . . 
 glory in the highest." There was a pause as the shout 
 rang through the long defile ; and, as the Pharisees who 
 stood by in the crowd complained, He pointed to the 
 stones which, strewn beneath their feet, would immedi- s s 
 ately "cry out " if "these were to hold their peace." 
 
 Again the procession advanced. The road descends a 
 
 is entirely inapplicable to the first view, the first ' nearing' of the city, 
 on crossing the direct summit. The expression would then have been 
 ' at the top of the mount. 1 " The glimpse of part of the city, here 
 described, 11. 67-75, serves as the background on which to portray the 
 second stage of the scene, the Hosanna-shout of the multitude. Is 
 there any attempt at picturesqueness in this description of the south- 
 eastern corner of the city? What serves as the suggestion, 11. 73-75, 
 to connect the view with the multitude's triumphal shout, 11. 79-82? 
 It is not so much the picturesqueness as the historical associations of 
 the view, that connects it with the shout ; hence perhaps the absence 
 of heightened detail. What realistic touch in 1. 83 to aid in the con- 
 ception of the scene at this moment? 
 
166 STUDIES IN INVENTION. 
 
 slight declivity, and the glimpse of the city is again with- 
 drawn behind the intervening ridge of Olivet. A few 
 
 90 moments, and the path mounts again, it climbs a rugged 
 ascent, it reaches a ledge of smooth rock, and in an in 
 stant the whole city bursts into view. As now the dome 
 of the Mosque El-Aksa rises like a ghost from the earth 
 before the traveller stands on the ledge, so then must have 
 
 95 risen the Temple tower ; as now the vast enclosure of the 
 Mussulman sanctuary, so then must have spread the Tem- 
 ple courts ; as now the gray town on its broken hills, so 
 then the magnificent city, with its background long since 
 vanished away of gardens and suburbs on the western 
 
 TOO plateau behind. Immediately below was the Valley of the 
 Kedron, here seen in its greatest depth as it joins the 
 Valley of Hinnom, and thus giving full effect to the great 
 peculiarity of Jerusalem seen only on its eastern side 
 its situation as of a city rising out of a deep abyss. It is 
 
 105 hardly possible to doubt that this rise and turn of the road, 
 
 The impress! veness of the next view, 11. 91-104, is evidently due 
 largely to the suddenness with which it is obtained. How is this fact 
 prepared for in 11. 89-91? See Rhet. p. 364, i. 91. What illustration 
 of Rhet. p. 1 8 1, 4? 92. What illustration of Rhet. p. 345, i? What 
 two accessories heighten the description in 1. 93? 96. Mussulman 
 sanctuary, of what, previously mentioned, is this term a repetition? 
 Must have spread, note that this verb belongs equally to the 
 previous clause, but is expressed only here. Does this cause any lack 
 of clearness ? 97, 100. Trace the climax, as produced by different 
 terms, epithet, and amplitude. 104. A city rising out of a deep 
 abyss, how does this influence our conception of the view already 
 described ? The foregoing view of the city, which emphasizes its pecu- 
 liar beauty, suddenly bursting into view, is the background on which we 
 are to imagine the scene of Christ's weeping over Jerusalem. This scene 
 is left undescribed here ; but the Scripture account, Luke xix. 41-44, 
 indicates that Christ's tears were called forth by the sudden thought of 
 
ARTHUR PENRHYN STANLEY. 167 
 
 this rocky ledge, was the exact point where the multi- 
 tude paused again, and " He, when He beheld the city, 
 wept over it." 
 
 Nowhere else on the Mount of Olives is there a view 
 like this. By the two other approaches, above mentioned, na 
 over the summit, and over the northern shoulder, of the 
 hill, the city reveals itself gradually ; there is no partial 
 glimpse like that which has just been described as agree- 
 ing so well with the first outbreak of popular acclamation, 
 still less is there any point where, as here, the city and us 
 Temple would suddenly burst into view, producing the 
 sudden and affecting impression described in the Gospel 
 narrative. And this precise coincidence is the more re- 
 markable because the traditional route of the Triumphal 
 Entry is over the summit of Olivet ; and the traditional 120 
 spot of the lamentation is at a place half-way down the 
 mountain, to which the description is wholly inapplicable, 
 whilst no tradition attaches to this, the only road by which 
 a large procession could have come ; and this, almost the 
 only spot of the Mount of Olives which the Gospel narra- ^5 
 tive fixes with exact certainty, is almost the only unmarked 
 
 the contrast between this, " the most impressive view which the neigh- 
 borhood of Jerusalem furnishes," and the desolation so soon to come 
 upon the fated city: " And when He was come near, He beheld the 
 city, and wept over it, saying, ' If thou hadst known, even thou, at least 
 in this thy day, the things which belong unto thy peace ! but now 
 they are hid from thine eyes. For the days shall come upon thee, that 
 thine enemies shall cast a trench about thee, and compass thee round, 
 and keep thee in on every side, and shall lay thee even with the ground, 
 and thy children within thee ; and they shall not leave in thee one stone 
 upon another; because thou knewest not the time of thy visitation.'" 
 These words seem to show indications of the same emotion which so 
 naturally fills the traveller of the present day, at the sight of this 
 impressive view. 
 
168 STUDIES IN INVENTION. 
 
 spot, undefiled or unhallowed by mosque or church, chapel 
 or tower left to speak for itself, that here the Lord's feet 
 stood, and here His eyes beheld what is still the most 
 i 3 o impressive view which the neighborhood of Jerusalem fur- 
 nishes, and the tears rushed forth at the sight. 
 
 From SINAI AND PALESTINE. 
 
 How does the harmony between the scene and the actions, as traced 
 in the foregoing notes, furnish illustration of Rhet. p. 342? Evidently 
 this very "indication of effects" was one great object of the writer; 
 for it serves, better than any other feature of the description, a kind of 
 argumentative purpose, by increasing the probability that this road was 
 the actual scene of the Triumphal Entry, a fact which he desires to 
 establish in the face of the hitherto accepted tradition. 
 
XVIII. 
 JOHN RICHARD GREEN. 
 
 THE CHARACTER OF QUEEN ELIZABETH. 
 
 ENGLAND'S one hope lay in the character of her queen. 
 Elizabeth was now in her twenty-fifth year. Personally 
 she had more than her mother's beauty ; her figure was 
 commanding, her face long but queenly and intelligent, 
 her eyes. quick and fine. She had grown up amidst the 5 
 
 The present Selection, which Mr. Green himself regarded as the best 
 passage in his Short History, may be studied as a notable example of 
 what may be called analytical description : description, that is, in which 
 the writer must make his plan rather than discover it. Explain this 
 character of the material by Rhet. p. 262, 2, and p. 348, 2 ; and show 
 how, in the broad sense, the laws of association on which it is founded, 
 according to Rhet. pp. 273-275, make it differ from ordinary local or 
 temporal description. 
 
 Observe that this is not the same passage that is quoted from and 
 analyzed, Rhet. pp. 331, 333; that being from Green's longer history 
 of the English people. 
 
 In a description of character like this, obviously the main problem is, 
 how to group a large number of complex details and traits so as to pro- 
 duce unity of effect ; nor can the quality of picturesqueness be sought, 
 so much as strikingness and unity. In the attainment of these results, 
 two means here used seem to predominate over others : grouping by 
 antithesis, and illustration by the concrete. What may antithesis effect 
 toward unity? See Rhet. p. 340. How may the concrete work to 
 strength and definiteness ? See Rhet. p. 155, 66. 
 
 The description, occurring as it does at a determinate point in the 
 history of a people (the time when Elizabeth succeeded to the throne), 
 begins with what lies nearest, her personal appearance and accomplish- 
 
170 STUDIES IN INVENTION. 
 
 liberal culture of Henry's court a bold horsewoman, a good 
 shot, a graceful dancer, a skilled musician, and an accom- 
 plished scholar. She studied every morning the Greek 
 Testament, and followed this by the tragedies of Sophocles 
 
 10 or orations of Demosthenes, and could " rub up her rusty 
 Greek" at need to bandy pedantry with a Vice-Chancellor. 
 But she was far from being a mere pedant. The new lit- 
 erature which was springing up around her found constant 
 welcome in her court. She spoke Italian and French as 
 
 15 fluently as her mother-tongue. She was familiar with 
 Ariosto and Tasso. Even amidst the affectation and love 
 of anagrams and puerilities which sullied her later years, 
 she listened with delight to the " Faery Queen," and found 
 a smile for " Master Spenser " when he appeared in her 
 
 20 presence. Her moral temper recalled in its strange con- 
 trasts the mixed blood within her veins. She was at once 
 
 ments at that time. Is there something here that may be regarded as 
 the point of view, according to Rhet. p. 329? Observe, the moment of 
 Elizabeth's accession can be taken as the point of view only in the sense 
 of a starting-point, or defining-point, for the character here portrayed 
 has traits revealed or developed throughout her reign. 
 
 Lines 1-8. Report on the traits here recounted as determined by 
 (i) the time when the description begins, (2) the ease of observing 
 them, (3) their relation to Elizabeth's position. What trait is selected, 
 11. 8-20, for amplification, and what means of amplification is employed? 
 See Rhet. p. 290. How does 1. 12 suggest an antithetic grouping in 
 the details describing her scholarliness ? Show how the points of the 
 antithesis are brought together in adjacent sentences. What signifi- 
 cance in the word bandy, 1. 11, as suggested by its derivation? What 
 is an anagram (1. 17) ? Is the word sullied, 1. 17, happily chosen? 
 20. Is there any close connection between the section of the description 
 here beginning and the preceding? What reasons for and what reasons 
 against putting this section in a paragraph by itself ? Compare Rhet. 
 p. 1*93. On what principle of grouping, as revealed in 11. 20-22, is the 
 description of ' ' her moral temper " determined ? Of the traits derived 
 
JOHN RICHARD GREEN. 171 
 
 the daughter of Henry and of Anne Boleyn. From her 
 father she inherited her frank and hearty address, her love 
 of popularity and of free intercourse with the people, her 
 dauntless courage and her amazing self-confidence. Her 25 
 harsh, manlike voice, her impetuous will, her pride, her furi- 
 ous outbursts of anger, came to her with her Tudor blood. 
 She rated great nobles as if they were schoolboys ; she met 
 the insolence of Essex with a box on the ear ; she would break 
 now and then into the gravest deliberations to swear at her 30 
 ministers like a fishwife. But strangely in contrast with 
 the violent outlines of her Tudor temper stood the sensu- 
 ous, self-indulgent nature she derived from Anne Boleyn. 
 Splendor and pleasure were with Elizabeth the very air she 
 breathed. Her delight was to move in perpetual progresses 35 
 from castle to castle through a series of gorgeous pageants, 
 fanciful and extravagant as a caliph's dream. She loved 
 gaiety and laughter and wit. A happy retort or a finished 
 compliment never failed to win her favor. She hoarded 
 jewels. Her dresses were innumerable. Her vanity re- 4 o 
 mained, even to old age, the vanity of a coquette in her 
 teens. No adulation was too fulsome for her, no flattery 
 of her beauty too gross. "To see her was heaven," Hatton 
 told her, "the lack of her was hell." She would play with 
 her rings that her courtiers might note the delicacy of her 45 
 hands ; or dance a coranto that the French ambassador, 
 
 from her father (11. 22-31), report what are described in general terms, 
 and what in the concrete. Note how the expression is varied between 
 sentences 11. 22-25 and 25-27 in giving lists of traits. In the detail- 
 sentence, 11. 28-31, typical incidents are used to portray general traits. 
 Note how the elements of comparison and contrast are made to heighten 
 the effect. 31-43. Many details are here grouped together to illus- 
 trate one side of her character ; what law of association (Rhet. pp. 
 273-275) gives them the right to be together? The strikingness of 
 
172 STUDIES IN INVENTION. 
 
 hidden dexterously behind a curtain, might report her 
 sprightliness to his master. Her levity, her frivolous 
 laughter, her unwomanly jests, gave color to a thousand 
 
 5 o scandals. Her character, in fact, like her portraits, was 
 utterly without shade. Of womanly reserve or self-restraint 
 she knew nothing. No instinct of delicacy veiled the 
 voluptuous temper which had broken out in the romps of 
 her girlhood and showed itself almost ostentatiously through- 
 
 ss out her later life. Personal beauty in a man was a sure 
 
 passport to her liking. She patted handsome young squires 
 
 on the neck when they knelt to kiss her hand, and fondled 
 
 her " sweet Robin," Lord Leicester, in the face of the court. 
 
 It was no wonder that the statesmen whom she outwitted 
 
 60 held Elizabeth almost to the last to be little more than a 
 frivolous woman, or that Philip of Spain wondered how " a 
 wanton " could hold in check the policy of the Escurial. 
 But the Elizabeth whom they saw was far from being all 
 of Elizabeth. The wilfulness of Henry, the triviality of 
 
 65 Anne Boleyn, played over the surface of a nature hard as 
 steel, a temper purely intellectual, the very type of reason 
 
 these details corresponds with the picturesqueness of natural descrip- 
 tions ; they are, so to speak, mentally picturesque. How do the actions 
 of Elizabeth, recorded 11. 44-50, illustrate Rhet. p. 348, 3? Lines 50- 
 58 may be regarded as a summary of her personal traits in one, the most 
 comprehensive and most apparent. How does this summary prepare for 
 the subject of the next paragraph, as expressed 11. 63-67 ? What adjust- 
 ment of sentences to each other, 1. 51, and what stress is thereby effected ? 
 59-62. As related to their paragraph, what office have these lines, 
 and how do they serve to heighten the subject? 64. What words in 
 this line serve to summarize very briefly what has been said in previous 
 paragraph ? Line 64, by intimating what kind of elements of Eliza- 
 beth's character have been already given, implies transition to what 
 contrasted kind in this paragraph ? Read now this paragraph carefully, 
 and report its subject, as related to preceding. Point out how, in 
 
JOHN RICHARD GREEN. 173 
 
 untouched by "imagination or passion. Luxurious and 
 pleasure-loving as she seemed, Elizabeth lived simply and 
 frugally, and she worked hard. Her vanity and caprice 
 had no weight whatever with her in state affairs. The 70 
 coquette of the presence-chamber became the coolest and 
 hardest of politicians at the council-board. Fresh from 
 the flattery of her courtiers, she would tolerate no flattery 
 in the closet ; she was herself plain and downright of speech 
 with her counsellors, and she looked for a corresponding 75 
 plainness of speech in return. If any trace of her sex 
 lingered in her actual statesmanship, it was seen in the 
 simplicity and tenacity of purpose that often underlies a 
 woman's fluctuations of feeling. It was this in part which 
 gave her her marked superiority over the statesmen of her so 
 time. No nobler group of ministers ever gathered round 
 a council-board than those who gathered round the council- 
 board of Elizabeth. But she was the instrument of none. 
 She listened, she weighed, she used or put by the counsels 
 of each in turn, but her policy as a whole was her own. It 85 
 was a policy, not of genius, but of good sense. Her aims 
 were simple and obvious : to preserve her throne, to keep 
 England out of war, to restore civil and religious order. 
 Something of womanly caution and timidity perhaps backed 
 the passionless indifference with which she set aside the 90 
 larger schemes of ambition which were ever opening before 
 her eyes. She was resolute in her refusal of the Low 
 Countries. She rejected with a laugh the offers of the 
 
 11. 67-79, every sentence is introduced by an antithetic reminder of the 
 preceding paragraph. These sentences serve to amplify the paragraph- 
 subject ; report now how this subject is applied, 11. 77-86, and to what 
 summary it is steered, 1. 85. Report further how this summary is 
 amplified, 11. 86-96, and how at the end a definition is given to what has 
 been expounded at length (cf. Rhet. p. 294, 3, top), which in turn has 
 
174 STUDIES IN INVENTION. 
 
 Protestants to make her " head of the religion " and " mis- 
 95 tress of the seas." But her amazing success in the end 
 sprang mainly from this wise limitation of her aims. She 
 had a finer sense than any of her counsellors of her real 
 resources ; she knew instinctively how far she could go, 
 and what she could do. Her cold, critical intellect was 
 coo never swayed by enthusiasm or by panic either to exagger- 
 ate or to underestimate her risks or her power. 
 
 Of political wisdom indeed, in its larger and more gen- 
 erous sense, Elizabeth had little or none ; but her political 
 tact was unerring. She seldom saw her course at a glance, 
 105 but she played with a hundred courses, fitfully and discur- 
 sively, as a musician runs his fingers over the key-board, 
 till she hit suddenly upon the right one. Her nature was 
 
 a sentence of amplification. How is the last sentence, 11. 99-101, con- 
 nected with the general subject of the paragraph ? 
 
 Keeping in mind still the author's great problem, of grouping so as 
 to bring large numbers of discordant details into unity, and recalling 
 how the two paragraphs just studied have dealt respectively with the 
 surface-elements and with the deeper elements of Elizabeth's character, 
 and how traits illustrating these, and therefore grouped by the law of 
 similarity, have been adduced, we go on now to find what law of group- 
 ing is chosen in the succeeding. Read this paragraph (11. 102-168) and 
 the next (11. 169-280) carefully through, and report with what general 
 aspects of the subject they deal. The sentence 11. 102-104, compared 
 with the sentences 11. 169-174, suggests what antithesis as the basis of 
 these two paragraphs? Report how the subordinate traits detailed 
 11. 104-124 ; 11. 124-141 ; 11. 142-151 ; 11. 151-168, are related to and 
 illustrate the first member of the antithesis. What assertion in the 
 previous paragraph, especially in 11. 96-99, which serves as suggestion 
 for this paragraph, and indeed is so vividly recalled that its influence 
 attracts by antithesis the beginning of the sentence 11. 102-104 to inverted 
 order? Is political tact (1. 103) a great mental quality or a small 
 one ? By what figure is it illustrated ? 105. A hundred, compare 
 a thousand, 11. 49, 125* and consider how much more vivid it is to use 
 
JOHN RICHARD GREEN. 175 
 
 essentially practical and of the present. She distrusted a 
 plan in fact just in proportion to its speculative range or 
 its outlook into the future. Her notion of statesmanship HC 
 lay in watching how things turned out around her, and in 
 seizing the moment for making the best of them. A policy 
 of this limited, practical, tentative order was not only best 
 suited to the England of her day, to its small resources and 
 the transitional character of its religious and political belief, us 
 but it was one eminently suited to Elizabeth's peculiar 
 powers. It was a policy of detail, and in details her won- 
 derful readiness and ingenuity found scope for their exer- 
 cise. " No War, my Lords," the Queen used to cry 
 imperiously at the council-board, " No War ! " but her 
 hatred of war sprang less from her aversion to blood or to 
 expense, real as was her aversion to both, than from the 
 fact that peace left the field open to the diplomatic manoeu- 
 vres and intrigues in which she excelled. Her delight in 
 the consciousness of her ingenuity broke out in a thousand s 
 puckish freaks, freaks in which one can hardly see any 
 purpose beyond the purpose of sheer mystification. She 
 revelled in "bye-ways" and " crooked ways." She played 
 with grave cabinets as a cat plays with a motfse, and with 
 much of the same feline delight in the mere embarrassment 130 
 of her victims. When she was weary of mystifying foreign 
 statesmen she turned to find fresh sport in mystifying her 
 
 a definite number than an indefinite. This is one favorite means of 
 making style concrete. Report how each of the subordinate traits 
 brought to light in this paragraph is applied (11. 112-117 ; 11. 137-141 ; 
 11. 164-168) directly, as soon as it is detailed, to the England of Eliza- 
 beth's day. 126. Puckish, what is the origin of this word, and 
 what makes it a happily chosen word here ? What figure illustrates 
 this trait of her character? 130. Feline, what value has this Latin 
 derivative here, as related to the repetition of ideas? Try the effect of 
 
176 STUDIES IN INVENTION. 
 
 own ministers. Had Elizabeth written the story of her reign 
 she would have prided herself, not on the triumph of Eng- 
 
 135 land or the ruin of Spain, but on the skill with which she had 
 hoodwinked and outwitted every statesman in Europe during 
 fifty years. Nor was her trickery without political value. 
 Ignoble, inexpressibly wearisome as the Queen's diplomacy 
 seems to us now, tracing it as we do through a thousand de- 
 
 *4o spatches, it succeeded in its main end. It gained time, and 
 every year that was gained doubled Elizabeth's strength. 
 Nothing is more revolting in the Queen, but nothing is 
 more characteristic, than her shameless mendacity. It was 
 an age of political lying, but in the profusion and reckless- 
 
 145 ness of her lies Elizabeth stood without a peer in Christen- 
 dom. A falsehood was to her simply an intellectual means 
 of meeting a difficulty ; and the ease with which she 
 asserted or denied whatever suited her purpose was only 
 equalled by the cynical indifference with which she met 
 
 i 5 o the exposure of her lies as soon as their purpose was 
 answered. The same purely intellectual view of things 
 showed itself in the dexterous use she made of her very 
 faults. Her levity carried her gaily over moments of de- 
 tection and embarrassment where better women would have 
 
 i 55 died of shame. She screened her tentative and hesitating 
 statesmanship under the natural timidity and vacillation of 
 
 using still the common term. 136. Hood-winked, report on the 
 derivation and meaning of this word. How does it differ from out- 
 witted ? 138. How does this line recall the writer's grouping of traits 
 in this paragraph ? Report the different words used for lying, 11. 143- 
 146, and the source from which each is derived. What summarizing 
 characteristic, mentioned twice in 11. 146-153, serves to connect and 
 unify the subject of this paragraph with the subject of the preceding? 
 (cf. 1. 66). Derivation of the word cynical, 1. 149? of the word dex- 
 terous, 1. 152? L.157 indicates a climax; trace it. Show how 
 
JOHN RICHARD GREEN. 177 
 
 her sex. She turned her very luxury and sports to good 
 account. There were moments of grave danger in her 
 reign when the country remained indifferent to its perils, 
 is it saw the Queen give her days to hawking and hunting, 160 
 and her nights to dancing and plays. Her vanity and 
 affectation, her womanly fickleness and caprice, all had 
 their part in the diplomatic comedies she played with the 
 successive candidates for her hand. If political necessities 
 made her life a lonely one, she had at any rate the satis- 165 
 faction of averting war and conspiracies by love sonnets 
 and romantic interviews, or of gaining a year of tranquillity 
 by the dexterous spinning out of a flirtation. 
 
 As we track Elizabeth through her tortuous mazes of 
 lying and intrigue, the sense of her greatness is almost 170 
 lost in a sense of contempt. But wrapped as they 
 were in a cloud of mystery, the aims of her policy were 
 throughout temperate and simple, and they were pursued 
 with a singular tenacity. The sudden acts of energy 
 which from time to time broke her habitual hesitation 175 
 proved that it was no hesitation of weakness. Elizabeth 
 could wait and finesse ; but when the hour was come she 
 
 closely, in this paragraph, the ideas are felted together (to use Dr. 
 Whately's expression) in the transitions between traits, 11. 124, 142, 
 151. In each case what suggestion of the preceding is taken up and 
 carried on, as it all were moving in the same line? 
 
 In the next paragraph, 11. 169-280, report how its subject is brought 
 out by antithesis, 11. 206-208 ; how it is stated casually, 1. 219 ; and 
 how it is recognized in one aspect, 11. 248, 249. Report now on the 
 subdivisions of this paragraph, as indicated 11. 171-195; 11. 195-205; 
 11. 206-219; II. 219-280. What touch, 11. 273-275, serves to bring 
 this paragraph into unity with traits mentioned before ? 177. Finesse, . 
 a noun used as a verb, though not so used for the first time by Green. 
 See Webster's Diet. Point out how, as in previous paragraphs, the 
 subjects preceding are referred to by antithesis. Cf. note on 11. 67-79. 
 
178 STUDIES IN INVENTION. 
 
 could strike, and strike hard. Her natural temper indeed 
 tended to a rash self-confidence rather than to self-distrust. 
 
 8o She had, as strong natures always have, an unbounded con- 
 fidence in her luck. "Her Majesty counts much on For- 
 tune," Walsingham wrote bitterly ; " I wish she would trust 
 more in Almighty God." The diplomatists who censured 
 at one moment her irresolution, her delay, her changes of 
 
 185 front, censure at the next her "obstinacy," her iron will, 
 her defiance of what seemed to them inevitable ruin. 
 "This woman," Philip's envoy wrote after a wasted re- 
 monstrance, "this woman is possessed by a hundred 
 thousand devils." To her own subjects, indeed, who 
 
 190 knew nothing of her manoeuvres and retreats, of her " bye- 
 ways " and " crooked ways," she seemed the embodiment 
 of dauntless resolution. Brave as they were, the men who 
 swept the Spanish Main or glided between the icebergs of 
 Baffin's Bay never doubted that the palm of bravery lay 
 
 195 with their Queen. Her steadiness and courage in the pur- 
 suit of her aims was equalled by the wisdom with which 
 she chose the men to accomplish them. She had a quick 
 eye for merit of any sort, and a wonderful power of enlist- 
 ing its whole energy in her service. The sagacity which 
 
 100 chose Cecil and Walsingham was just as unerring in its 
 choice of the meanest of her agents. Her success indeed 
 in securing from the beginning of her reign to its end, 
 with the single exception of Leicester, precisely the right 
 men for the work she set . them to do, sprang in great 
 
 What antithesis is implied in the inversion for adjustment, 1. 189? 
 What sentence-adjustment, 1. 192? Trace how the transition is made, 
 11.195-199, from bravery to sagacity. 201. Meanest; also 225. 
 From what provincial use of the word mean is this to .be distinguished, 
 and how? 201-208. What trait common to the two is used to make 
 
JOHN RICHARD GREEN. 179 
 
 measure from the noblest characteristic of her intellect. 205 
 If in loftiness of aim her temper fell below many of the 
 tempers of her time, in the breadth of its range, in the 
 universality of its sympathy it stood far above them all. 
 Elizabeth could talk poetry with Spenser and philosophy 
 with Bruno ; she could discuss Euphuism with Lyly, and 210 
 enjoy the chivalry of Essex; she could turn from talk of 
 the last fashions to pore with Cecil over despatches and 
 treasury books ; she could pass from tracking traitors with 
 Walsingham to settle points of doctrine with Parker, or to 
 calculate with Frobisher the chances of a north-west pas- 215 
 sage to the Indies. The versatility and many-sidedness of 
 her mind enabled her to understand every phase of the 
 intellectual movement of her day, and to fix by a sort of 
 instinct on its higher representatives. But the greatness 
 of the Queen rests above all on her power over her people. **<> 
 We have had grander and nobler rulers, but none so popu- 
 lar as Elizabeth. The passion of love, of loyalty, of ad- 
 miration which finds its most perfect expression in the 
 " Faery Queen," throbbed as intensely through the veins 
 of her meanest subjects. To England, during her reign 225 
 of half a century, she was a virgin and a Protestant Queen ; 
 and her immorality, her absolute want of religious enthusi- 
 asm, failed utterly to blur the brightness of the national ideal. 
 
 the transition from sagacity to versatility ? 206. Point out suspense, 
 and the use of it, the more noticeable here because it puts off what is 
 expected at this point. 210. Euphuism, see explanation of this, 
 Rhet. p. 192, note. Of what character is the assertion, 11. 216-219, as 
 related to preceding? The last trait of character treated in this para- 
 graph, is introduced, 1. 219, more abruptly than usual. Between what 
 ideas is the adversative relation expressed by but? This trait, or fact, 
 which takes up the rest of the paragraph, shows clear indications of 
 subdivision ; see if you can set down its three related aspects from a 
 
180 STUDIES IN INVENTION. 
 
 Her worst acts broke fruitlessly against the general devo- 
 
 230 tion. A Puritan, whose hand she cut off in a freak of 
 tyrannous resentment, waved his hat with the hand that 
 was left, and shouted, " God save Queen Elizabeth ! " Of 
 her faults, indeed, England beyond the circle of her court 
 knew little or nothing. The shif tings of her diplomacy 
 
 235 were never seen outside the royal closet. The nation at 
 large could only judge her foreign policy by its main out- 
 lines, by its temperance and good sense, and above all 
 by its success. But every Englishman was able to judge 
 Elizabeth in her rule at home, in her love of peace, her 
 
 240 instinct of order, the firmness and moderation of her gov- 
 ernment, the judicious spirit of conciliation and com- 
 promise among warring factions which gave the country an 
 unexampled tranquillity at a time when almost every other 
 country in Europe was torn with civil war. Every sign of 
 
 245 the growing prosperity, the sight of London as it became 
 the mart of the world, of stately mansions as they rose on 
 every manor, told, and justly told, in Elizabeth's favor. 
 In one act of her civil administration she showed the bold- 
 ness and originality of a great ruler ; for the opening of 
 
 2 5 her reign saw her face the social difficulty which had so 
 long impeded English progress, by the issue of a commis- 
 sion of inquiry which ended in the solution of the problem 
 by the system of poor-laws. She lent a ready patronage 
 to the new commerce ; she considered its extension and 
 
 2 5s protection as a part of public policy, and her statue in the 
 
 study of (i) 11. 219-244; (2) 244-271 (for the articulation of this, see 
 Rhet. p. 275, 3); (3) 271-280. 236. Is only rightly placed? 
 Point out, in 11. 230-232, 254-258, and 276-279 how Rhet. p. 291, 2 
 (top of page) is exemplified. What influence causes the sentence in- 
 version, 1. 232? How are the two sentences, 11. 235-244, balanced 
 
JOHN RICHARD GREEN. 181 
 
 centre of the London Exchange was a tribute on the 
 part of the merchant class to the interest with which she 
 watched and shared personally in its enterprises. Her 
 thrift won a general gratitude. The memories of the 
 Terror and of the Martyrs threw into bright relief the 260 
 aversion from bloodshed which was conspicuous in her 
 earlier reign,, and never wholly wanting through its fiercer 
 close. Above all there was a general confidence in her 
 instinctive knowledge of the national temper. Her finger 
 was always on the public pulse. She knew exactly when 265 
 she could resist the feeling of her people, and when she 
 must give way before the new sentiment of freedom which 
 her policy unconsciously fostered. But when she retreated, 
 her defeat had all the grace of victory ; and the frankness 
 and unreserve of her surrender won back at once the love 270 
 that her resistance had lost. Her attitude at home in fact 
 was that of a woman whose pride in the well-being of her 
 subjects, and whose longing for their favor, was the one 
 warm touch in the coldness of her natural temper. If 
 Elizabeth could be said to love anything, she loved Eng- 275 
 land. "Nothing," she said to her first Parliament, in 
 words of unwonted fire, " nothing, no worldly thing under 
 the sun, is so dear to me as the love and good-will of my 
 subjects." And the love and good-will which were so 
 dear to her she fully won. 28* 
 
 together? 261. Aversion from, this preposition is quite in accord 
 with the derivation of the word aversion ; but usage nowadays is more 
 is favor of aversion to. Compare 11. 121, 122. 265. What striking 
 figure expresses strongly her relation to public affairs? Cf. Rhet. p. 
 156, 67. What means, 11. 265-268, of preserving unity of idea with 
 what has been said previously? Cf. 11. 97-101. 
 
 The last paragraph, 11. 281-333, begins not with the main trait that 
 is the subject of the paragraph, but with a subordinate and derived fact, 
 
182 STUDIES IN INVENTION. 
 
 She clung perhaps to her popularity the more passion- 
 ately that it hid in some measure from her the terrible 
 loneliness of her life. She was the last of the Tudors, the 
 last of Henry's children ; and her nearest relatives were 
 
 285 Mary Stuart and the House of Suffolk, one the avowed, 
 the other the secret claimant of her throne. Among her 
 mother's kindred she found but a single cousin. Whatever 
 womanly tenderness she had, wrapt itself around Leicester ; 
 but a marriage with Leicester was impossible, and every 
 
 290 other union, could she even have bent to one, was denied 
 to her by the political difficulties of her position. The one 
 cry of bitterness \vhich burst from Elizabeth revealed her 
 terrible sense of the solitude of her life. " The Queen of 
 Scots," she cried at the birth of James, "has a fair son, 
 
 2 9S and I am but a barren stock." But the loneliness of her 
 position only reflected the loneliness of her nature. She 
 stood utterly apart from the world around her, sometimes 
 above it, sometimes below it, but never of it. It was only 
 on its intellectual side that Elizabeth touched the England 
 
 300 of her day. All its moral aspects were simply dead to her. 
 It was a time when men were being lifted into nobleness 
 by the new moral energy which seemed suddenly to pulse 
 through the whole people, when honor and enthusiasm 
 took colors of poetic beauty, and religion became a chivalry. 
 
 which leads up to the subject. How is this opening consideration con- 
 nected with the previous paragraph? How is it led onward to the 
 main subject, 11. 296-300? What is the subject of this paragraph, as 
 brought to light in the last-mentioned lines? How is it related with 
 the traits that have been recounted previously ? What aspects does 
 this trait take, as seen in II. 301-315 ; 315-320; 322-328; 328-333? 
 Into what two antithetic groups do they fall? 281. Perhaps, find 
 a better place for this word in the sentence. It is to be noted that 
 Green occasionally uses very strong and striking adjectives ; point out 
 
RICHARD GREEN. 183 
 
 But the finer sentiments of the men around her touched 303 
 Elizabeth simply as the fair tints of a picture would have 
 touched her. She made her market with "equal indifference 
 out of the heroism of William of Orange or the bigotry of 
 Philip. The noblest aims and lives were only counters on 
 her board. She was the one soul in her realm whom the 3" 
 news of St. Bartholomew stirred to no thirst for vengeance ; 
 and while England was thrilling with its triumph over the 
 Armada, its Queen was coolly grumbling over the cost, 
 and making her profit out of the spoiled provisions she had 
 ordered for the fleet that saved her. To the voice of grati- 315 
 tude, indeed, she was for the most part deaf. She accepted 
 services such as were never rendered to any other English 
 sovereign without a thought of return. Walsingham spent 
 his fortune in saving her life and her throne, and she left 
 him to die a beggar. But, as if by a strange irony, it was 32 
 to this very want of sympathy that she owed some of the 
 grander features of her character. If she was without 
 love, she was without hate. She cherished no petty re- 
 sentments ; she never stooped to envy or suspicion of the 
 men who served her. She was indifferent to abuse. Her 325 
 good humor was never ruffled by the charges of wanton- 
 ness and cruelty with which the Jesuits filled every court 
 in Europe. She was insensible to fear. Her life became 
 at last the mark for assassin after assassin, but the thought 
 of peril was the one hardest to bring home to her. Even 33> 
 
 such in 11. 282, 293, also 11. 25, 40, 95, 143, 180, preceding.- A thing 
 that has constantly been noticed, too, and might be traced in much 
 minuter detail, is the ceaseless play of antithesis, direct and hidden, so 
 constant as to be well-nigh a mannerism. But it certainly has worked, 
 along with skilful grouping of ideas, to produce a very unified and self- 
 consistent portrayal of an exceeding complex character. 
 
J84 STUDIES IN INVENTION. 
 
 when the Catholic plots broke out in her very household 
 she would listen to no proposals for the removal of Cath- 
 olics from her court. 
 
 From A SHORT HISTORY OF THE ENGLISH PEOPLE. 
 
 From the indications that have been furnished in the notes, tabulate 
 the points treated in the paragraphs, showing how they are related to 
 one another, and how their subdivisions are related to them. Endeavor 
 also, from the foregoing description and analysis, to express the char- 
 acter of Elizabeth, as to its most cardinal features, in one sentence. 
 
NOTES ON DESCRIPTION IN PREVIOUS SELECTIONS, 
 
 SOME of the Selections already studied for their style are works of 
 description, whose authors are celebrated for their masterly work in 
 portrayal. Let us examine the workmanship of two or three of them. 
 
 Ruskiii : Pages 36-47. Ruskin's description of St. Mark's, Venice, 
 is widely celebrated as a masterpiece in its kind. Much of this celebrity 
 is due, no doubt, to the gorgeousness of its language, which has already 
 been examined ; but it will be profitable to investigate also whether un- 
 derneath this splendor of diction there is rigor and definiteness enough 
 of outline to give solidity and practical value to the treatment. 
 
 Let us look first at the description of the exterior, 11. 138-180. 
 Notice first by what narrative touches, 11. 127-130, and 11. 138-141, 
 the first sight of the church is made impressive ; explain by Rhet. 
 p. 245, i. What point of view do these lines determine? What con- 
 trast, detailed previously (11. 63-126) heightens the effect of the scene 
 from this point of view, and how are the spectator's emotions thus en- 
 listed? Cf. Rhet. pp. 342, '343. For the comprehensive outline of 
 this description, it is obvious that we are to investigate in two lines, 
 seeking the outline as to form, which is here the subordinate feature, 
 and the outline as to color, material, decoration, which are the pre- 
 dominating features in the writer's mind. As to form, what general 
 shape is outlined, 1. 142? Into what feature, beginning with the 
 ground, is this general outline first broken, 1. 144? This feature is 
 traced in detail to 1. 170. 167. The broad archivolts are the inner 
 contour, or vaulted ceiling, of the arches, here described as seen from 
 below. The facade of the church of St. Mark's appears to be divided 
 by a long balcony into two divisions, the lower one of which has been 
 outlined. No mention is here made, of the balcony, or indeed of any 
 feature not distinguished by rich artistic decoration ; but from 11. 170, 
 171, what is the general make-up of the upper division? How are the 
 arches surmounted, 1. 175 ? We thus see that bits of outline are inter- 
 spersed, merely enough to be a bare framework for the gorgeous wealth 
 
186 STUDIES IN INVENTION. 
 
 of color and sculpture and design in which the writer revels. These 
 latter have been largely studied in the examination of Ruskin's style ; 
 observe, however, what a surpassingly rich effect is produced by the 
 narrative touches, 11. 175-178. 
 
 Let us now note a few features of the description of the interior, 
 11. 217-259. What general outline is given, 11. 221-223? What con- 
 ditions, as to light, are given for observation? What appropriateness 
 in calling the church a vast cave, 1. 221? The description, from 
 
 I. 218 to 1. 235, centres in what feature? From 1. 235 to L 259 in 
 what main feature? See Rhet. p. 257, examples. What characteristic, 
 
 II. 242-245, gives unity to the bewildering mass of artistic detail in this 
 last section? This whole description, both exterior and interior,, is 
 not a matter-of-fact description but idealized by imagination, as the 
 note, p. 47, preceding, says : " It is the idealized St. Mark's, as seen 
 through the mist of time in the clear light of its first creation and 
 indeed farther back still, in the artist's mind that conceived it that 
 the writer has placed before us." 
 
 Carlyle : Pages 56-63. We know from Carlyle's own testimony 
 that he valued very highly the power of graphic description, and stu- 
 dents of his writings have found his own describing power especially 
 manifest in the portrayal of persons. See Rhet. p. 338, examples. Let 
 us see how he describes Coleridge's personal appearance, in 11. 13-38 
 of this Selection. 
 
 What may be taken as the point of view, 1. 13? See Rhet. p. 329. 
 Some of the details, as in 11. 25, 30, are such as would necessarily pre- 
 suppose a somewhat elderly man ; while all are fully in harmony with 
 this initial note of his age. What most general feature of his appear- 
 ance (11. 15-17) corresponding to the comprehensive outline is given, 
 and how made picturesque and impressive ? How summarized, 1. 29 ? 
 Between this outline and its summary, trace now the regular order 
 and sequence in which the details of his appearance are given. What 
 two characteristics emerge from the examination, as the unifying traits 
 of his character ? After the summary, 1. 29, in what characteristic is 
 the description centred, and with what appropriateness is this feature 
 singled out for special treatment ? To what further summary, at the 
 end of the paragraph, is this description conducted ? What means and 
 what accessories of description are predominantly used here ? 
 
XIX. 
 THOMAS HUGHES. 
 
 ST. AMBROSE CREW WIN THEIR FIRST RACE. 
 
 HARK! the fifst gun. The report sent Tom's heart 
 into his mouth again. Several of the boats pushed off at 
 once into the stream ; and the crowds of men on the bank 
 began to be agitated, as it were, by the shadow of the com- 
 ing excitement. The St. Ambrose fingered their oars, put s 
 a last dash of grease on their rollocks, and settled their 
 feet against the stretchers. 
 
 " Shall we push her off ? " asked bow. 
 
 This Selection and the two that follow will be studied for the man- 
 ner in which they exemplify principles of Narration; and presuppose 
 a knowledge of the Rhetoric as far as page 382. It is to be observed 
 that this Handbook can exhibit only such aspects of narration as can 
 be exemplified on a small scale, and must omit such larger features of 
 movement, perspective, combined narratives, and the like, as can ordi- 
 narily be shown only in stories of too great length to be given here. 
 
 The present Selection exemplifies the kind of narration that is nearest 
 like description ; explain what this is, and its principle, by Rhet. p. 
 370. Accordingly, we look to find the interest of each part not subor- 
 dinated to a coming denouement, but concentrated in the individual 
 details as they occur ; and what modification of the style will this nat- 
 urally produce ? 
 
 As this account is taken from the middle of a chapter, we miss the 
 descriptive introduction that is usually appended to stories standing 
 independently. Nor is the account brought to a formal ending. How 
 is its place in its larger story explained, Rhet. p. 370, bottom? 
 
188 STUDIES IN INVENTION. 
 
 " No ; I can give you another minute," said Miller, who 
 10 was sitting, watch in hand, in the stern ; " only be smart 
 when I give the word." 
 
 The captain turned on his seat, and looked up the boat. 
 His face was quiet, but full of confidence, which seemed to 
 pass from him into the crew. Tom felt calmer and stronger, 
 15 as he met his eye. " Now mind, boys, don't quicken," he 
 said, cheerily ; " four short strokes to get way on her, and 
 then steady. Here, pass up the lemon." 
 
 The style suitable to this account may be gathered from two consid- 
 erations: i. It deals, in a descriptive spirit, with a scene of intense 
 energy in action ; 2. The author is recounting from actual reminiscence 
 what deeply interests him. Later in the chapter he thus addresses his 
 readers: "You, I know, will pardon the enthusiasm which stirs our 
 pulses, now in sober middle age, as we call up again the memories of 
 this the most exciting sport of our boyhood (for we were but boys, then, 
 after all)." From these considerations we expect and demand that it 
 be spirited, that is, enter congenially into the vigor and action it is 
 employed to portray. 
 
 Lines 1-8. What emotional indication, at the outset, of the intense 
 feeling connected with the scene? By what condensing metaphor 
 indicated in the case of the hero, Tom Brown ? How is the coming 
 excitement suggested in the case of the other boats ? 6. Rollocks, 
 the same as row-locks, which word is in this country colloquially pro- 
 nounced rul-uks. As to the boating-terms and tropes used throughout 
 this account the author says later, appealing to his " readers of the 
 gentler sex": "You will pardon, though I fear hopelessly unable to 
 understand the above sketch ; your sons and brothers will tell you it 
 could not have been made less technical." 
 
 10. Be smart, from what American provincialism is this to be 
 distinguished, and how ? 
 
 12-15. What contrast to the prevailing excitement here suggested, 
 and of what use is the suggestion toward the coming victory ? 15- 
 17. How do these words illustrate Rhet. p. 77, 3, and by contrast, 
 p. 80, 2? Change into written style, supplying all ellipses. The cap- 
 tain's quiet confidence and his cheery words correspond with the 
 
THOMAS HUGHES. 189 
 
 And he took a sliced lemon out of his pocket, put a small 
 piece in his own mouth, and then handed it to Blake, who 
 followed his example, and passed it on. Each man took a 2a 
 piece; and just as bow had secured the end, Miller called 
 out, 
 
 " Now, jackets off, and get her head out steadily." 
 
 The jackets were thrown on shore, and gathered up by the 
 boatman in attendance. The crew poised their oars, No. 25 
 2 pushing out her head, and the captain doing the same 
 for the stern. Miller took the starting-rope in his hand. 
 
 " How the wind catches her stern," he said ; " here, pay ' 
 out the rope one of you. No, not you some fellow with 
 a strong hand. Yes, you'll do," he went on, as Hardy 30 
 stepped down the bank and took hold of the rope ; " let me 
 
 description of him given earlier in the book: "Altogether a noble 
 specimen of a very noble type of our countrymen. Tall and strong of 
 body ; courageous and even-tempered ; tolerant of all men ; sparing of 
 speech, but ready in action; a thoroughly well-balanced, modest, quiet 
 Englishman." He is the Jervis, mentioned 11. 181, 199. 
 
 21. Miller, the coxswain, with his abrupt and peremptory manner 
 (cf. I. 164), has also been described before: "A slight, resolute, fiery 
 little man, with curly black hair. He was peculiarly qualified by nature 
 for the task which he had set himself; and it takes no mean qualities 
 to keep a boat's crew well together and in order. Perhaps he erred a 
 little on the side of over-strictness and severity ; and he certainly would 
 have been more popular had his manner been a thought more courteous : 
 but the men who rebelled most against his tyranny grumblingly con- 
 fessed that he was a firstrate coxswain." 
 
 30. Hardy, a man little known to the other college men, being a 
 servitor, but a friend of Tom Brown's, and, as it transpires afterward, 
 one of the best rowers in the college. 
 
 What influence have these details of getting the boat ready before 
 starting, as given 11. 24-48, upon our confidence and sympathy, as 
 regards the success of the race? That is, how do they prepare for the 
 account yet to come ? 
 
190 STUDIES IN INVENTION. 
 
 have it foot by foot as I want it. Not too quick ; make 
 the most of it that'll do. Two and three, just dip your 
 oars in to give her way." 
 
 35 The rope paid out steadily, and the boat settled to her 
 place. But now the wind rose again, and the stern drifted 
 in toward the bank. 
 
 " You must back her a bit, Miller, and keep her a little 
 further out or our oars on stroke side will catch the bank." 
 
 4 o " So I see ; curse the wind. Back her, one stroke all. 
 Back her, I say ! " shouted Miller. 
 
 It is no easy matter to get a crew to back her an inch 
 just now, particularly as there are in her two men who have 
 never rowed a race before, except in the torpids, and one 
 
 45 who has never rowed a race in his life. 
 
 However, back she conies ; the starting-rope slackens in 
 Miller's left hand, and the stroke, unshipping his oar, 
 pushes the stern gently out again. 
 
 There goes the second gun ! one short minute more, and 
 
 50 we are off. Short minute, indeed ! you wouldn't say so if 
 you were in the boat, with your heart in your mouth and 
 trembling all over like a man with the palsy. Those sixty 
 seconds before the starting-gun in your first race why, 
 they are a little lifetime. 
 
 55 " By Jove, we are drifting in again," said Miller, in hor- 
 ror. The captain looked grim but said nothing ; it was too 
 late now for him to be unshipping again. " Here, catch 
 hold of the long boat-hook, and fend her off." 
 
 49-54. What irregularities of expression, condensation, exclama- 
 tion, pleonasm, indicating a heightened style, and due to what? The 
 excitement, so easily roused by the successive guns, is described again 
 in 1. 74, where the pent-up life and energy is represented as "held in 
 leash, as it were." 
 
THOMAS HUGHES. 191 
 
 Hardy, to whom this was addressed, seized the boat-hook, 
 and, standing with one foot in the water, pressed the end 6a 
 of the boat-hook against the gunwale, at the full stretch of 
 his arm, and so, by main force, kept the stern out. There 
 was just room for stroke oars to dip, and that was all. The 
 starting-rope was as taut as a harp-string ; will Miller's left 
 hand hold out ? 65 
 
 It is an awful moment. But the coxswain, though al- 
 most dragged backwards off his seat, is equal to the occa- 
 sion. He holds his watch in his right hand with the tiller 
 rope. 
 
 " Eight seconds more only. Look out for the flash. 70 
 Remember, all eyes in the boat." 
 
 There it comes, at last the flash of the starting-gun. 
 Long before the sound of the report can roll up the river, 
 the whole pent-up life and energy which has been held in 
 leash, as it were, for the last six minutes, is loose, and 75 
 breaks away with a bound and a dash which he who has 
 felt it will remember for his life, but the like of which, will 
 he ever feel again ? The starting-ropes drop from the 
 
 64. What indication of the writer's throwing himself into the scene? 
 
 66. Is the word awful correctly used? Does the kind of diction 
 in which the whole is written permit liberties? See Rhet. p. 77, 4. 
 
 72-81. As the most intense part of the account, note in these lines 
 the irregularities of expression due to the emotional and descriptive 
 feeling. What influence causes the pleonasm, 1. 72? What influence 
 attracts the time-clause, 1. 73, to the beginning of its sentence? 
 74. Pent-up, how does this epithet illustrate Rhet. p. 158, exam- 
 ples, 2? Has been held, is this in concord with its subject? See 
 Rhet. p. 1 10, 2. 75. Is loose, the verb and its construction as 
 brief as may be, for the sake of rapid condensation. 76. Point out 
 how Rhet. p. 169, 87 is illustrated in this line. How does the rhythm 
 aid in the description? 77. What influence causes the inversion in 
 this and the next line? 78-81. Point out the words that especially 
 
192 STUDIES IN INVENTION. 
 
 coxswain's hands, the oars flash into the water, and gleam 
 go on the feather, the spray flies from them, and the boats 
 
 leap forward. 
 
 The crowds on the bank scatter, and rush along, each 
 
 keeping as near as may be to its own boat. Some of the 
 
 men on the towing-path, some on the very edge of, often 
 85 in, the water ; some slightly in advance, as if they could 
 
 help to drag their boat forward ; some behind, where they 
 
 can see the pulling better; but all at full speed, in wild 
 
 excitement, and shouting at the top of their voices to those 
 
 on whom the honor of the college is laid. 
 9 o " Well pulled, all ! " " Pick her up there, five ! " " You're 
 
 gaining every stroke !" " Time in the bows!" "Bravo, 
 
 St. Ambrose ! " 
 
 On they rush by the side of the boats, jostling one 
 
 another, stumbling, struggling, and panting along. 
 95 For a quarter of a mile along the bank the glorious, 
 
 maddening hurly-burly extends, and rolls up the side of the 
 
 stream. 
 
 For the first ten strokes, Tom was in too great fear of 
 
 making a mistake to feel or hear or see. His whole soul 
 
 contain the life and spirit of the passage. Of this whole paragraph, 
 II. 72-81, what is the fitting movement? See Rhet. p. 365, 2. Which 
 is the predominating means of gaining rapidity here, the omission of 
 details or the manner in which they are given? 
 
 82-97. The first two lines of this passage cover about all that is actu- 
 ally narrative in it ; the rest being descriptive. How is this descriptive 
 feeling indicated in the structure of the sentence, 11. 83-89 ? 84. On 
 the very edge of, often in, explain the construction by Rhet. p. 1 59, 
 examples, 2. What is left to be understood in 11. 90-92? In 11. 93- 
 97, point out the descriptive words, and the words in which sound cor- 
 responds to sense. What distinction in position of the adverb, 1. 93? 
 What is the origin of the word hurly-burly, 1. 96? 
 
 98-133. The style of this paragraph is distinctly less rapid than the 
 
THOMAS HUGHES. 193 
 
 was glued to the back of the man before him, his one 100 
 thought to keep time and get his strength into the stroke. 
 But as the crew settled down into the well-known long sweep, 
 what we may call consciousness returned ; and, while every 
 muscle in his body was straining, and his chest heaved, 
 and his heart leapt, every nerve seemed to be gathering 105 
 new life, and his senses to wake into unwonted acuteness. 
 He caught the scent of wild thyme in the air, and found 
 room in his brain to wonder how it could have got there, 
 as he had never seen the plant near the river, or smelt it 
 before. Though his eye never wandered from the back of no 
 Diogenes, he seemed to see all things at once. The boat 
 behind, which seemed to be gaining ; it was all he could 
 do to prevent himself from quickening on the stroke as he 
 fancied that ; the eager face of Miller, with his com- 
 pressed lips, and eyes fixed so earnestly ahead that Tom us 
 could almost feel the glance passing over his right shoulder ; 
 
 style of the paragraphs preceding it, being a kind of interlude of quieter 
 description by way of taking breath. This is manifest in the diction 
 by the fewer irregularities, the fuller constructions, and the less intense 
 suggestive ness of individual words. 100. What striking trope in this 
 line, and what is the use of it ? 103. What we may call conscious- 
 ness, why the amplitude, instead of merely the last quoted word? 
 What implied antithesis in 11. 103-106? How does this description 
 of a mental state, 11. 107-125, exemplify Rhet. p. 348, 3, and what 
 accessories does it employ? What name would you give to the mental 
 state described? 111. Diogenes, thus described earlier in the 
 book: " He was a heavy, burly man, naturally awkward in his move- 
 ments, but gifted with a sort of steady, dogged enthusiasm, and by dint 
 of hard and constant training had made himself into a most useful oar, 
 fit for any place in the middle of the boat. ... He was the most good- 
 natured man in the world, very badly dressed, very short-sighted, and 
 called everybody old fellow.' His name was simple Smith, generally 
 known as Diogenes Smith, from an eccentric habit which he had of 
 
194 STUDIES IN INVENTION. 
 
 the flying banks and the shouting crowd; see them with 
 his bodily eyes he could not, but he knew, nevertheless, 
 that Grey had been upset and nearly rolled down the bank 
 
 120 into the water in the first hundred yards, that Jack was 
 bounding and scrambling and barking along by the very 
 edge of the stream ; above all, he was just as well aware 
 as if he had been looking at it, of a stalwart form in cap 
 and gown, bounding along, brandishing the long boat-hook, 
 
 125 and always keeping just opposite the boat; and amid all 
 the Babel of voices, and the dash and pulse of the stroke, 
 and the laboring of his own breathing, he heard Hardy's 
 voice coming to him again and again, and clear as if there 
 had been no other sound in the air, " Steady, two ! steady ! 
 
 i 3 o well pulled ! steady, steady." The voice seemed to give 
 him strength and keep him to his work. And what work 
 it was ! he had had many a hard pull in the last six weeks, 
 but never aught like this. 
 
 But it can't last forever ; men's muscles are not steel, or 
 
 135 their lungs bulls' hide, and hearts can't go on pumping a 
 
 making an easy chair of his hip bath. 1 ' 119. Grey , thus described 
 earlier, in a conversation between Tom and Hardy: " ' You must have 
 seen him here sometimes in the evenings.' ' Yes, I remember ; the 
 fellow with a stiff neck, who won't look you in the face. 1 'Ay; but 
 he is a sterling man at the bottom, I can tell you.' " 120. Jack, " a 
 white bull-dog, . . . a gem in his way; for his brow was broad and 
 massive, and wrinkled about the eyes ; his skin was as fine as a lady's, 
 and his tail taper and nearly as thin as a clay pipe ; but he had a way 
 of going snuzzling about the calves of strangers which was not pleasant 
 for nervous people." 123. A stalwart form, the name is delayed 
 by suspense till 1, 127; see Rhet. p. 147, examples, 2. 133. Aught, 
 is this condensed form to be explained by Rhet. p. 71, cf. 50? 
 
 134. Can't, how is the effectiveness of the description aided by 
 the colloquial diction? Or, see also 1. 109. A slight inaccuracy in 
 this writer's diction, or where nor is the correct particle. An inaccu- 
 
THOMAS HUGHES. 195 
 
 hundred miles an hour long, without bursting. The St. 
 Ambrose boat is well away from the boat behind, there 
 is a great gap between the accompanying crowds ; and 
 now, as they near the Gut, she hangs for a moment or 
 two in hand, though the, roar from the bank grows louder 140 
 and louder, and Tom is already aware that the St. Am- 
 brose crowd is melting into the one ahead of them. 
 
 " We must be close to Exeter ! " The thought flashes 
 into him, and, it would seem, into the rest of the crew at 
 the same moment ; for, all at once, the strain seems taken 145 
 off their arms again ; there is no more drag ; she springs 
 to the stroke as she did at the start ; and Miller's face, 
 which had darkened for a few seconds, lightens up again. 
 
 Miller's face and attitude are a study. Coiled up into 
 the smallest possible space, his chin almost resting on his 150 
 knees, his hands close to his sides, firmly but lightly feel- 
 ing the rudder, as a good horseman handles the mouth of a 
 free-going hunter ; if a coxswain could make a bump by his 
 own exertions, surely he will do it. No sudden jerks of the 
 St. Ambrose rudder will you see, watch as you will from 155 
 the bank ; the boat' never hangs through fault of his, but 
 easily and gracefully rounds every point. " You're gain- 
 racy that is often carelessly indulged in nowadays. 135. What strik- 
 ing trope gives vigor to the description? Would it be so effective if 
 poetic? 136. sq. It will be noted that the progress of the boat since 
 the start has not been narrated, but presupposed while the attention of 
 the reader has been directed to something else ; and now it is resumed 
 and described at a single point. This illustrates how the descriptive ele- 
 ment predominates here over the narrative. 
 
 143-148. What descriptive words import vividness and vigor into 
 the passage, according to the spirited points of the action? 145. All 
 at once, etc., observe that a moment of accomplished act is de- 
 scribed, not the act narrated in progress. 
 
 149-157. What effectiveness and significance are gained by inserting 
 
196 STUDIES IN INVENTION. 
 
 ing ! you're gaining ! " he now and then mutters to the 
 captain, who responds with a wink, keeping his breath for 
 
 160 other matters. Isn't he grand, the captain, as he comes 
 forward like lightning, stroke after stroke, his back flat, 
 his teeth set, his whole frame working from the hips with 
 the regularity of a machine ? As the space still narrows, 
 the eyes of the fiery little coxswain flash with excitement, 
 
 165 but he is far too good a judge to hurry the final effort be- 
 fore the victory is safe in his grasp. 
 
 The two crowds are mingled now, and no mistake ; and 
 the shouts come all in a heap over the water : " Now, St. 
 Ambrose, six strokes more." "Now, Exeter, you're gain- 
 
 170 ing; pick her up." "Mind the Gut, Exeter." "Bravo, 
 St. Ambrose ! " The water rushes by, still eddying from 
 the strokes of the boat ahead. Tom fancies now he can 
 hear their oars and the workings of their rudder, and the 
 voice of their coxswain. In another moment both boats 
 
 175 are in the Gut, and a perfect storm of shouts reaches them 
 from the crowd, as it rushes madly off to the left to the 
 foot-bridge, amidst which " Oh, well steered, well steered, 
 St. Ambrose ! " is the prevailing cry. Then Miller, mo- 
 tionless as a statue till now, lifts his right hand and 
 
 r.8o whirls the tassel round his head. " Give it her now, boys ; 
 
 the description of Miller just at this place ? 159. The captain's silence 
 is of course necessary here ; but in general, also, the description of him 
 is, * The stroke was in general a man of marvellous few words, having 
 many better uses than talking to put his breath to." 160-163. How 
 does the enthusiastic description of the captain, so entirely from a stu- 
 dent's point of view, aid in the action and its result? 161. Like 
 lightning, how does this heighten the descriptive feeling, in accord- 
 ance with Rhet. p. 99? 
 
 167. See note on 1. 136 sq. What aids to condensed and strong 
 expression in 11. 168 and 175? See Rhet. p. 156, 67. 179. Motion- 
 less as a statue, etc., how does this particular aid what succeeds? 
 
THOMAS HUGHES. 197 
 
 six strokes and we're into them." Old Jervis lays down 
 that great broad back, and lashes his oar through the water 
 with the might of a giant, the crew catch him up in another 
 stroke, the tight new boat answers to the spurt, and Tom 
 feels a little shock behind him, and then a grating sound, 185 
 as Miller shouts, " Unship oars, bow and three ! " and the 
 nose of the St. Ambrose boat glides quietly up the side of 
 the Exeter, till it touches their stroke oar. 
 
 "Take care where you're coming to." It is the cox- 
 swain of the bumped boat who speaks. 190 
 
 Tom finds himself within a foot or two of him when he 
 looks round ; and, being utterly unable to contain his joy, 
 and yet unwilling to exhibit it before the eyes of a gallant 
 rival, turns away towards the shore, and begins telegraph- 
 ing to Hardy. 195 
 
 " Now, then, what are you at there in the bows ? Cast 
 her off, quick. Come, look alive ! Push across at once out 
 of the way of the other boats." 
 
 " I congratulate you, Jervis," says the Exeter stroke, as 
 the St. Ambrose boat shoots past him. " Do it again next 200 
 race and I shan't care." 
 
 From TOM BROWN AT OXFORD. 
 
 182. Point out the epithets and the trope that are here employed to 
 heighten the description. 181-188. What call for accelerated move- 
 ment here? See Rhet. p. 366. Observe that the movement is accel- 
 erated here at the end by the omission of intermediate details ; in 1. 184, 
 for instance, the bumping of the other boat comes immediately after 
 the beginning of the spurt. 
 
 Why is it better, here at the end, to relapse into a quiet and unde- 
 scriptive style, in spite of the excitement of the action? See Rhet. 
 p. 368,4. 
 
XX. 
 
 JOSEPH HENRY SHORTHOUSE. 
 
 A MYSTERIOUS INCIDENT. 
 
 IT was two nights after the execution of Lord Stafford. 
 The guard was set at Whitehall and the "all night " served 
 up. The word for the night was given, and the whole 
 palace was considered as under the sole command of 
 Inglesant, as the esquire in waiting. He had been round 
 to the several gates and seen that the courts and ante- 
 As the narrative given in the foregoing Selection was discursive, that 
 is, centred mostly in description, with the moving and spirited por- 
 trayal of its details, so that of the present Selection centres in an action, 
 in which we look for the balanced and skilful arrangement of its suc- 
 cessive stages. As therefore the action itself what in larger stories 
 would be called the plot supplies the interest, what characteristic 
 does Rhet. p. 370 lead us to look for in the style? 
 
 Though occurring within "a chapter of a larger work, this account, 
 with all its approaches, is complete in itself. The writer's reason for 
 giving it, as also the general nervous unquiet manifest throughout the 
 incident, may be gathered from the following words in the paragraph 
 preceding : " That such a man, by the simple clamor of popular opinion, 
 should have been arrested, tried, and executed in a few days, with no 
 effort but the most degrading and puny one made on his behalf by his 
 royal master and friend, certainly must have produced a terror and 
 excitement, one would think, unequalled in history. That the King 
 never recovered from it is not surprising ; one would have thought he 
 would never have held up his head again. That the royal party was 
 amazed and confounded is not wonderful ; one would have thought it 
 would have been impossible ever to have formed a royal party after- 
 wards." 
 
JOSEPH HENRY SHORTHOUSE. 199 
 
 rooms were quiet and clear of idlers, and then came up 
 into the anteroom outside the privy chamber, and sat down 
 alone before the fire. In the room beyond him were two 
 gentlemen of the privy chamber, who slept in small beds i C 
 drawn across the door opening into the royal bedchamber 
 beyond. The King was in his room, in bed, but not asleep ; 
 Lord Abergavenny, the gentleman of the bedchamber in 
 waiting, was reading Shakespeare to him before he slept. 
 Inglesant took out a little volume of the classics, of the xs 
 series printed in Holland, which it was the custom of the 
 gentlemen of the Court, and those attached to great nobles, 
 to carry with them to read in antechambers while in wait- 
 ing. The night was perfectly still, and the whole palace 
 wrapped in a profound quiet that was almost oppressive to 20 
 one who happened to be awake. Inglesant could not read ; 
 the event -that had just occurred, the popular tumults, the 
 shock of, feeling which the royal party had sustained, the 
 fear and uncertainty of the future, filled his thoughts. 
 The responsibility of his post sat on him to-night like a 25 
 nightmare, and with very unusual force : a sense of ap- 
 proaching terror in the midst of the intense silence fasci- 
 nated him and became almost insupportable. His fancy 
 filled his mind with images of some possible oversight and 
 of some unseen danger which might be lurking even then 30 
 in the precincts of the vast rambling palace. 
 
 Lines 1-31. Explain the office of this first paragraph by Rhet. 
 p. 369, i. Does this introductory description admit any details not 
 necessary, or at least helpful, to the proper understanding of the story? 
 How does it answer to the proper style of an introduction, as prescribed 
 Rhet. p. 272? How does the detail, 11. 5-7, help the story? What 
 influence has the detail, 11. 19-21, as preparing for the mysterious event? 
 -How do 11. 21-31 illustrate Rhet*. p. 367, 2? 31. Of the vast 
 rambling palace, give the full force of this phrase of implication; 
 see Rhet. p. 158, examples, 2. 
 
200 STUDIES IN INVENTION. 
 
 Gradually, however, all these images became confused 
 and the sense of terror dulled, and he was on the point of 
 falling asleep, when he was startled by the ringing sound 
 
 35 of arms and the challenge of the yeoman of the guard, on 
 the landing outside the door. The next instant, a voice, 
 calm and haughty, which sent a tremor through every 
 nerve, gave back the word, "Christ." Inglesant started 
 up and grasped the back of his chair in terror. 
 
 4 o Gracious Heaven ! who was this that knew the word ? 
 In another moment the hangings across the door were 
 drawn sharply back, and with a quick step, as one who 
 went straight to where he was expected and had a right to 
 be, the intruder entered the antechamber. It wore the 
 
 45 form and appearance of Strafford it was Straff ord in 
 dress, and mien, and step. Taking no heed of Inglesant, 
 crouched back in terror against the carved chimney-piece, 
 the apparition crossed the room with a quick step, drew 
 the hangings that screened the door of the privy chamber, 
 
 How do 11. 32, 33 illustrate Rhet. p. 367, 3? The lines, 40-50, 
 comprising as they do the central feature of the incident, need to be 
 carefully written. How do they illustrate Rhet. p. 364, i ? Does 1. 40 
 fully explain Inglesant's terror? 37. What other cause of his terror 
 may we infer from which sent a tremor through every nerve ? 
 
 42. As one who, etc. This particular, with its contrast to the ter- 
 ror and impotence of the esquire, whose duty it was to guard the house, 
 adds greatly to the impressiveness of the account. One is reminded of a 
 note to Coleridge's "Ancient Mariner" : " The journeying moon, and the 
 stars that still sojourn, yet still move onward ; and everywhere the blue 
 sky belongs to them, and is their appointed rest, and their native coun- 
 try, and their own natural homes, which they enter unannounced, as 
 lords that are certainly expected" 44, 45. What is the use of the 
 amplitude in telling who it was? How do the descriptive details, 11. 47, 
 55, illustrate Rhet. p. 349? Explain also by Rhet. p. 342. 48. With 
 a quick step, compare the position and stress of this phrase with its 
 
JOSEPH HENRY SHORTHOUSE. 201 
 
 and disappeared. Inglesant recovered in a moment, sprang 50 
 across the room, and followed the figure through the door. 
 He saw nothing ; but the two gentlemen raised themselves 
 from their couches, startled by his sudden appearance and 
 white, scared look, and said, " What is it, Mr. Esquire ? " 
 
 Before Inglesant, who stood with eyes and mouth open, 55 
 the picture of terror, could recover himself, the curtain of 
 the bedchamber was drawn hastily back, and the Lord 
 Abergavenny suddenly appeared, saying in a hurried, 
 startled voice : 
 
 first occurrence, 1. 42. 50. And disappeared, observe that this 
 is the last that is given in direct narration of the movements of the 
 apparition ; the rest is brought out by the words of those present, as 
 they recount their connection with the scene. 
 
 A problem of unity arises ; for the event in its successive stages 
 occurred in four different places: the landing outside the door, the 
 anteroom, the privy chamber, and the royal bedchamber. To have fol- 
 lowed the apparition from point to point in direct narration would have 
 shifted and dissipated the scene quite inconsistently with unity of effect ; 
 yet what occurred in each of these places must in some way be brought 
 to light. The unity that cannot be preserved by place may, however, 
 be preserved by the actors and by the manner of recounting. Which 
 one of the actors was present in every stage of the event that is directly 
 narrated? In all these he was the determining agent, or at least the 
 principal one. In the only parts where he was not, 11. 73-76, 80-88, 
 what is there in the manner of recounting to subordinate its effect? 
 What liberties have accordingly to be taken with the order of time ? See 
 11. 68-76, and 78; and compare Rhet. p. 361, 2. 
 
 Another thing also may be noted: the way in which the various 
 actors are subordinated to the event, and to the two principal observers. 
 How many actually saw the apparition ? How was Lord Abergavenny 
 related to the occurrence? See 11. 80 sq. How the two gentlemen? 
 11. 52-54. How the guard? 11. 71-76. This subordination makes 
 two persons stand out with special prominence : Inglesant, as the one 
 through whom the various incidents came to be known, and the King, 
 as the one whom the event most concerned. 
 
202 STUDIES IN INVENTION. 
 
 60 " Send for Mayern ; send for Dr. Mayern, the King is 
 taken very ill ! " 
 
 Inglesant, who by this time was recovered sufficiently to 
 act, seized the opportunity to escape, and, hurrying through 
 the antechamber and down the staircase to the guard-room, 
 
 $s he found one of the pages, and despatched him for the 
 Court physician. He then returned to the guard at the 
 top of the staircase. 
 
 " Has anyone passed ? " he asked. 
 
 "No," the man said ; "he had seen no one." 
 
 70 " Did you challenge no one a moment ago ? " 
 
 The man looked scared, but finally acknowledged what 
 he feared at first to confess, lest it should be thought he 
 had been sleeping at his post, that he had become sud- 
 denly conscious of, as it seemed to him, some presence in 
 
 75 the room, and found himself the next moment, to his con- 
 fusion, challenging the empty space. 
 
 Failing to make anything of the man, Inglesant returned 
 to the privy chamber, where Lord Abergavenny was relat- 
 ing what had occurred. 
 
 So "I was reading to the King," he repeated, "and His 
 Majesty was very still, and I began to think he was falling 
 asleep, when he suddenly started upright in bed, grasped 
 the book on my knee with one hand, and with the other 
 pointed across the chamber to some object upon which his 
 
 69. " He had seen no one," what modification in the report of 
 conversation (see Rhet. p. 127, 24), corresponding to the oratio 
 obliqua of the Latin literature? 73-76. Comparing these lines with 
 11. 34-36, what do you gather that the man saw and heard, as compared 
 with Inglesant? Had -become suddenly conscious, is the word 
 conscious accurate here? Compare De Quincey (p. 14), 1. 98 and note. 
 
 77. To make anything of the man, how explained by Rhet. 
 p. 46, 14? Observe that in the scene of Lord Abergavenny's relation, 
 
JOSEPH HENRY SHORTHOUSE. 203 
 
 gaze was fixed with a wild and horror-stricken look, while 85 
 he faintly tried to cry out. In a second the terror of the 
 sight, whatever it was, overcame him, and he fell back on 
 the bed with a sharp cry." 
 
 " Mr. Inglesant saw something," said both the gentle- 
 men at once; "he came in here as you gave the alarm." 90 
 
 "I saw nothing," said Inglesant; "whatever frightened 
 me I must tell the King." 
 
 Dr. Mayern, who lodged in the palace, soon arrived ; and 
 as the King was sensible when he came, he merely pre- 
 scribed some soothing drink, and soon left. The moment 95 
 he was gone, the King called Abergavenny into the room 
 alone to him, and questioned him as to what had occurred. 
 Abergavenny told him all he knew, adding that the esquire 
 in waiting, Mr. Inglesant, was believed to have seen some- 
 thing by the gentlemen of the privy chamber, whom he 100 
 had aroused. Inglesant was sent for, and found the King 
 and Abergavenny alone. He declined to speak before the 
 latter, until the King positively commanded him to do so. 
 Deadly pale, with his eyes on the ground, and speaking 
 with the greatest difficulty, he then told his story ; of the 105 
 
 Inglesant is present, being, so to say, the unifying element in every part 
 of the story. 
 
 On the description of the King, 11. 82-88, compare note to 11. 47, 55. 
 87. Whatever it was, from this it is evident that Abergavenny 
 saw nothing; see also 1. 122. 
 
 92. The postponing of Inglesant's revelation until he could make it 
 directly to the King gives opportunity to relate the denouement, the 
 most intense and exciting part of the event, in the King's presence. At 
 the same time it confines the event to the three who alone are directly 
 concerned with it. 
 
 93-95. How does the doctor's visit, despatched in so few words, illus- 
 trate Rhet. p. 365, 2? Compare also the brief repetition, 11. 105-107, 
 
204 STUDIES IN INVENTION. 
 
 deep silence, his restlessness, the sentry's challenge, and 
 the apparition that appeared. Here he stopped. 
 
 "And this figure," said Abergavenny in a startled 
 whisper, "did you know who it was ? " 
 
 no "Yes, I knew him," said the young man; "would to 
 God I had not." 
 " Who was it ? " 
 
 Paler, if possible, than before, and with a violent effort, 
 Inglesant forced himself to look at the King. 
 us A contortion of pain, short but terrible to see, passed 
 over the King's face, but he rose from the chair in which 
 he sat (for he had risen from the bed and even dressed 
 himself), and, with that commanding dignity which none 
 ever assumed better than he, he said, 
 120 "Who was it, Mr. Esquire?" 
 "My Lord Straff ord." 
 
 Abergavenny stepped back several paces, and covered 
 his face with his hands. No one spoke. Inglesant dared 
 not stir, but remained opposite to the King, trembling in 
 I25 every limb, and his eyes upon the ground like a culprit. 
 The King continued to stand with his commanding air, but 
 stiff and rigid as a statue ; it seemed as though he had 
 strength to command his outward demeanor, but no power 
 besides. 
 
 which illustrates the skill of modern narration, as compared with 
 ancient ; compare, for instance, the narrative repetitions, given in iden- 
 tical words, in Job i. 6-8, ii. 1-3 ; also i. 13-19. 
 
 What preparation is made, according to Rhet. p. 367, 2, in 11. 102- 
 
 120, for the denouement ? How is it shown in the agitation of all three ? 
 How is it rendered more impressive by Abergavenny's questioning? 
 What influence has Inglesant's refusal to answer, 11. 91, 102, 114, upon 
 the impressiveness of the end, and acccording to what principle? 
 
 121. Observe that the answer is given in the fewest words possible, 
 
JOSEPH HENRY SHORTHOUSE. 205 
 
 The silence grew terrible. At last the King was able to i 30 
 make a slight motion with his hand. Inglesant seized the 
 opportunity, and, bowing to the ground, retired backward to 
 the door. As he closed the door the King turned towards 
 Abergavenny, but the room was empty. The King was 
 left alone. i 35 
 
 From JOHN INGLESANT. 
 
 the reader being already in possession of the story, and this one detail 
 being all that is necessary to supply the key, so to say, of the whole. 
 
 Does the scene that follows this revelation, 11. 122-135, need for its 
 recounting any descriptive or heightened language ? Why not ? 
 
XXL 
 
 SIR WALTER SCOTT. 
 
 AN HISTORICAL INCIDENT RETOLD. 
 
 The following, from Fuller's "Worthies of England," is the source from 
 which we get the well-known incident of Walter Raleigh and the cloak : 
 
 " This Captain Raleigh coming out of Ireland to the English court in good 
 habit (his clothes being then a considerable part of his estate) found the 
 Queen walking, till, meeting with a plashy place, she seemed to scruple going 
 thereon. Presently Raleigh cast and spread his new plush cloak on the 
 ground; whereon the Queen trod gently, rewarding him afterwards with many 
 suits, for his so free and seasonable tender of so fair a foot cloth. Thus an 
 advantageous admission into the first notice of a prince is more than half a 
 degree to preferment." 
 
 [Raleigh, Blount, and Tracy, who are in the service of the Earl of Sussex, 
 are sent to propitiate Queen Elizabeth, whose displeasure the Earl has through 
 Raleigh's agency incurred.] 
 
 "CoME with me, Tracy, and come you too, Master Walter 
 
 Wittypate, that art the cause of our having all this ado. 
 
 Let us see if thy neat brain, that frames so many flashy 
 
 fireworks, can help out a plain fellow at need with some of 
 
 s thy shrewd devices." 
 
 The present Selection, besides being a well-constructed story in 
 itself, exemplifies two important elements in the art of narration. 
 
 First, in exhibiting the use made, by an acknowledged master in his 
 art, of a pre-existing material already known to us, it exhibits also what 
 additions, accessories, and colorings are regarded as necessary to give 
 artistic life to an original narrative-germ, whatever it is. 
 
 Secondly, it illustrates the important office that conversation holds 
 in the structure of a narrative. It was a rule of a recent leading story- 
 
SIR WALTER SCOTT. 207 
 
 "Never fear, never fear," exclaimed the youth, "it is I 
 will help you through let me but fetch my cloak." 
 
 "Why, thou hast it on thy shoulders," said Blount 
 "the lad is mazed." 
 
 "No, this is Tracy's old mantle," answered Walter; "I 
 go not with thee to court unless as a gentleman should." 
 
 "Why," said Blount, " thy braveries are like to- dazzle 
 the eyes of none but some poor groom or porter." 
 
 writer that " no single word of conversation should ever be introduced 
 which did not plainly either (i) develop the character speaking, or (2) 
 forward the plot." These are at least the two main ends of conversa- 
 tion ; and the present Selection will help us to see how they are sub- 
 served. 
 
 In the appended extract from Fuller, Raleigh is represented as " com- 
 ing out of Ireland to the English court " ; but in order to introduce him 
 more naturally to Queen Elizabeth, and at the same time make him 
 fill an important part in his story, Scott has represented him as tempo- 
 rarily in the service of the Earl of Sussex, one of the leading characters 
 in the novel of Kenilworth. 
 
 A little before the beginning of this Selection Blount and Raleigh 
 are thus described: " There was a remarkable contrast in their dress, 
 appearance, and manners. The attire of the elderly gentleman, a person 
 as it seemed of quality, and in the prime of life, was very plain and 
 soldier-like, his stature low, his limbs stout, his bearing ungraceful, and 
 his features of that kind which express sound common sense, without a 
 grain of vivacity or imagination. The younger, who seemed about 
 twenty, or upwards, was clad in the gayest habit used by persons of 
 quality at the period, wearing a crimson velvet cloak richly ornamented 
 with lace and embroidery, with a bonnet of the same, encircled with a 
 gold chain turned three times round it, and secured by a medal. His 
 hair was adjusted very nearly like that of some fine gentlemen of our 
 own time, that is, it was combed upwards and made to stand as it were 
 on end ; and in his ears he wore a pair of silver ear-rings, having each 
 a pearl of considerable size. The countenance of this youth, besides 
 being regularly handsome and accompanied by a fine person, was ani- 
 mated and striking in a degree that seemed to speak at once the firmness 
 
208 STUDIES IN INVENTION. 
 
 " I know that,',' said the youth ; " but I am resolved I 
 is will have my own cloak, ay, and brush my doublet to boot, 
 ere I stir forth with you." 
 
 "Well, well," said Blount, "here is a coil about a doublet 
 and a cloak get thyself ready, a God's name ! " 
 
 They were soon launched on the princely bosom of the 
 20 broad Thames, upon which the sun now shone forth in all 
 its splendor. 
 
 "There are two things scarce matched in the universe," 
 said Walter to Blount " the sun in heaven, and the 
 Thames on the earth." 
 
 25 " The one will light us to Greenwich well enough," said 
 Blount, " and the other would take us there a little faster, 
 if it were ebb tide." 
 
 " And this is all thou think'st all thou carest all thou 
 
 deem'st the use of the King of Elements, and the King of 
 
 3 o Rivers, to guide three such poor caitiffs, as thyself, and 
 
 me, and Tracy, upon an idle journey of courtly ceremony!" 
 
 " It is no errand of my seeking, faith," replied Blount, 
 
 of a decided and the fire of an enterprising character, the power of 
 reflection, and the promptitude of determination." 
 
 Lines 1-82. In this preliminary conversation, which, with interspersed 
 description serves to introduce the principal scene, we look to see sug- 
 gested all the elements necessary to the understanding of the story. 
 What is naturally the first topic of conversation, 11. 1-18, and what the 
 good of introducing it? How does it illustrate Rhet. p. 357? In the 
 discussion of it how do Raleigh's and Blounfs contrasted characters 
 reveal themselves ? By the short narrative lines, 19-21, a new topic 
 of conversation is introduced ; how is it steered to the introduction of 
 the principal scene, 11. 35-39? What further traits of Raleigh and 
 Blount are revealed in the discussion of this topic? Note especially 
 the contrast, 11. 22-31. How does the descriptive paragraph, 11. 40- 
 50, exemplify Rhet. p. 369, 2 ? This picture of the Queen's barge 
 (see also 11. 169-171) is conformed, so far as it goes, to what trait of 
 
SIR WALTER SCOTT. 209 
 
 "and I could excuse both the sun and the Thames the 
 trouble of carrying me where I have no great mind to go, 
 and where I expect but dog's wages for my trouble and 35 
 by my honor," he added, looking out from the head of the 
 boat, " it seems to me as if our message were a sort of 
 labor in vain ; for see, the Queen's barge lies at the stairs, 
 as if her Majesty were about to take water." 
 
 It was even so. The royal barge, manned with the 4 o 
 queen's watermen, richly attired in the regal liveries, and 
 having the banner of England displayed, did indeed lie at 
 the great stairs which ascended from the river, and along 
 with it two or three other boats for transporting such part 
 of her retinue as were not in immediate attendance on the 4 s 
 royal person. The yeomen of the guard, the tallest and 
 most handsome men whom England could produce, guarded 
 with their halberds the passage from the palace gate to the 
 river side, and all seemed in readiness for the Queen's com- 
 ing forth, although the day was yet so early. 50 
 
 "By my faith, this bodes us no good," said Blount ; "it 
 must be some perilous cause puts her Grace in motion thus 
 untimeously. By my counsel, we were best put back again, 
 and tell the Earl what we have seen." 
 
 Elizabeth's character, as revealed in Green (see ante, No. XVIII.), 11. 
 34-37? How do 11. 46-50 conform to Green's description, 11. 55-58? 
 
 51-54. It will be noticed that in the conversations Scott conforms 
 his diction with care throughout to the characteristics, real or supposed, 
 of Elizabethan idiom; cf. Rhet. p. 82. This is done partly by catch- 
 words, as in 11. 1 8, 32, 36, 51, 76, where Elizabethan oaths and exple- 
 tives are used, and partly by old words and idioms. Point out and 
 explain the archaisms in this paragraph. What supposable old idiom 
 in 1. 53? Notice that the expletives are all attributed to Blount, prob- 
 ably as an old soldier, while Raleigh's speech is not only free from them 
 but of a higher and more refined order than Blount's. 
 
210 STUDIES IN INVENTION. 
 
 55 " Tell the Earl what we have seen ! " said Walter ; "why, 
 what have we seen but a boat, and men with scarlet jerkins, 
 and halberds in their hands ? Let us do his errand, and tell 
 him what the Queen says in reply." 
 
 So saying, he caused the boat to be pulled towards a 
 
 60 landing-place at some distance from the principal one, 
 which it would not, at that moment, have been thought 
 respectful to approach, and jumped on shore, followed, 
 though with reluctance, by his cautious and timid com- 
 panions. As they approached the gate of the palace, one 
 
 65 of the sergeant porters told them they could not at present 
 enter, as her Majesty was in the act of coming forth. The 
 gentlemen used the name of the Earl of Sussex ; but it 
 proved no charm to subdue . the officer, who alleged in 
 reply, that it was as much as his post was worth, to dis- 
 
 7 obey in the least tittle the commands which he had re- 
 ceived. 
 
 "Nay, I told you as much before," said Blount ; "do, I 
 pray you, my dear Walter, let us take boat and return." 
 "Not till I see the" Queen come forth," returned the 
 
 75 youth, composedly. 
 
 "Thou art mad, stark mad, by the mass!" answered 
 Blount. 
 
 51-82. In the conversation and narration covered by these lines a 
 new contrast between Blount and Raleigh comes to light, what is it? 
 How is it suggested and set off by antithesis, 11. 78-82? Blount has 
 already, in the paragraph preceding this Selection, expressed in char- 
 acteristic words the cause of his fears : " ' A plague on it,' said Blount, 
 as he descended the stairs, ' had he sent me with a cartel to Leicester, I 
 think I should have done his errand indifferently well. But to go to 
 our gracious Sovereign, before whom all words must be lackered over 
 either with gilding or with sugar, is such a confectionery matter as clean 
 baffles my poor old English brain.'" But here 1 is a juncture where 
 Blount's weakness is Raleigh's strength ; what contrasted mood is 
 
SIR WALTER SCOTT. 211 
 
 "And thou," said Walter, "art turned coward of the 
 sudden. I have seen thee face half a score of shag-headed 
 Irish kernes to thy own share of them, and now thou BO 
 wouldst blink and go back to shun the frown of a fair 
 lady ! " 
 
 At this moment the gates opened, and ushers began to 
 issue forth in array, preceded and flanked by the band of 
 Gentlemen Pensioners. After this, amid a crowd of lords 85 
 and ladies, yet so disposed around her that she could see 
 and be seen on all sides, came Elizabeth herself, then in 
 the prime of womanhood, and in the full glow of what in a 
 Sovereign was called beauty, and who would in the lowest 
 rank of life have been truly judged a noble figure, joined to 90 
 a striking and commanding physiognomy. She leant on 
 the arm of Lord Hunsdon, whose relation to her by her 
 mother's side often procured him such distinguished marks 
 of Elizabeth's intimacy. 
 
 The young cavalier we have so often mentioned had 95 
 probably never yet approached so near the person of his 
 Sovereign, and he pressed forward as far as the line of 
 warders permitted, in order to avail himself of the present 
 opportunity. His companion, on the contrary, cursing his 
 imprudence, kept pulling him backwards, till Walter shook 100 
 him off impatiently, and letting his rich cloak drop care- 
 revealed in 11. 72-75? Observe that Blount for once forgets his swag- 
 ger, and fairly entreats. 
 
 In all the story thus far, Blount is obviously introduced only as a 
 subordinate character, having significance merely as a foil to Raleigh. 
 How do the traits of his character, as shown in the foregoing, serve to 
 set off Raleigh's ? Recount now the traits of Raleigh's character that 
 have appeared, and show how they bear upon the success ascribed to 
 him alike by Fuller and by this incident. Thus we are in all points 
 ready to enter upon the incident and its results. 
 
212 STUDIES IN INVENTION. 
 
 lessly from one shoulder ; a natural action, which served, 
 however, to display to the best advantage his well-propor- 
 tioned person. Unbonneting at the same time, he fixed 
 
 so S his eager gaze on the Queen's approach, with a mixture of 
 respectful curiosity, and modest yet ardent admiration, 
 which suited so well with his fine features, that the 
 warders, struck with his rich attire and noble counte- 
 nance, suffered him to approach the ground over which the 
 
 no Queen was to pass, somewhat closer than was permitted to 
 ordinary spectators. Thus the adventurous youth stood 
 full in Elizabeth's eye, an eye never indifferent to the 
 admiration which she deservedly excited among her sub- 
 jects, or to the fair proportions of external form which 
 
 us chanced to distinguish any of her courtiers. Accordingly, 
 she fixed her keen glance on the youth, as she approached 
 the place where he stood, with a look in which surprise at 
 his boldness seemed to be unmingled with resentment, 
 while a trifling accident happened which attracted her 
 
 120 attention towards him yet more strongly. The night had 
 been rainy, and just where the young gentleman stood, a 
 small quantity of mud interrupted the Queen's passage. 
 As she hesitated to pass on, the gallant, throwing his 
 cloak from his shoulders, laid it on the miry spot, so as to 
 
 125 ensure her stepping over it dryshod. Elizabeth looked at 
 the young man, who accompanied this act of devoted cour- 
 tesy with a profound reverence, and a blush that overspread 
 
 The paragraph 11. 83-94 may be taken as occasion for noting, what 
 has perhaps already been observed, that Sir Walter Scott's eminence as 
 a writer lies in his wonderful invention rather than in his style. In the 
 latter, indeed, he is so hasty and careless, sometimes so lumbering, as 
 to be, grammatically at least, far from a model. Note, for instance, 
 86. yet so disposed, what is the actual subject of this participle, 
 and what its apparent grammatical subject? Cf. Rhet. p. 115, 10. How 
 
SIR WALTER SCOTT. 213 
 
 his whole countenance. The Queen was confused, and 
 blushed in her turn, nodded her head, hastily passed on, 
 and embarked in her barge without saying a word. 130 
 
 "Come along, Sir Coxcomb," said Blount ; "your gay 
 cloak will need the brush to-day, I wot. Nay, if you had 
 meant to make a foot-cloth of your mantle, better have 
 kept Tracy's old drap-de-bure, which despises all colors." 
 
 "This cloak," said the youth, taking it up and folding it, i 35 
 "shall never be brushed while in my possession." 
 
 " And that will not be long, if you learn not a little more 
 economy we shall have you in cuerpo soon, as the Span- 
 iard says." 
 
 Their discourse was here interrupted by one of the Band 140 
 of Pensioners. 
 
 " I was sent," said he, after looking at them attentively, 
 " to a gentleman who hath no cloak, or a muddy one. 
 You, sir, I think," addressing the younger cavalier, "are 
 the man ; you will please to follow me." i 4 s 
 
 "He is in attendance on me," said Blount, "on me, the 
 noble Earl of Sussex's master of horse." 
 
 "I have nothing to say to that," answered the messen- 
 ger; "my orders are directly from her Majesty, and con- 
 cern this gentleman only." 150 
 
 can the sentence be corrected ? 89. And who, etc., see preceding, 
 p. 73, note on Huxley, 1. 109 ; also note p. 87 on Thackeray, 1. 104. 
 How correct this sentence? This whole sentence, 11. 85-91, is careless; 
 observe, for instance, the crude inaccuracy of "who would have been 
 truly judged a noble figure ', joined to a striking and commanding physi- 
 ognomy" 95. The young cavalier we have so often mentioned, 
 does this repetition for Raleigh comport with the acquaintance we 
 may be supposed by this time to have with him? Observe that in 1. 78 
 he is called "Walter. 
 
 In the next paragraph, 11. 95-130, which contains the significant 
 
214 STUDIES IN INVENTION. 
 
 So saying, he walked away, followed by Walter, leaving 
 the others behind, Blount's eyes almost starting from his 
 head with the excess of his astonishment. At length he 
 gave vent to it in an exclamation " Who the good jere 
 
 iss would have thought this ! " And shaking his head with a 
 mysterious air, he walked to his own boat, embarked, and 
 returned to Deptford. 
 
 The young cavalier was, in the meanwhile, guided to the 
 water-side by the Pensioner, who showed him considerable 
 
 160 respect ; a circumstance which, to persons in his situation, 
 may be considered as an augury of no small consequence. 
 He ushered him into one of the wherries which lay ready 
 to attend the Queen's barge, which was already proceeding 
 up the river, with the advantage of that flood-tide, of which, 
 
 165 in the course of their descent, Blount had complained to 
 his associates. 
 
 The two rowers used their oars with such expedition at 
 the signal of the Gentleman Pensioner, that they very soon 
 brought their little skiff under the stern of the Queen's 
 
 170 boat, where she sate beneath an awning, attended by two 
 or three ladies, and the nobles of her household. She 
 looked more than once at the wherry in which the young 
 adventurer was seated, spoke to those around her, and 
 
 stage of the whole account, observe first how approach is made to the 
 central incident. What incident is introduced to insure the Queen's 
 attention, 11. 100-104? Compare also 11. 111-115. How is this con- 
 formed to Elizabeth's character? see Green, 1. 55. How is even this 
 trifling incident accounted for and made natural ? But introducing it 
 incurred a slight improbability, or at least may not have seemed suffi- 
 cient in itself to insure the Queen's attention ; how is the probability 
 increased, 11. 107-111 ? How is the way to the main incident further 
 smoothed, 1. 120? The detail 11. 104-106 is introduced to comport with 
 Raleigh's known character ; compare also 11. 354-360. In an appended 
 
SIX WALTER SCOTT. 215 
 
 seemed to laugh. At length one of the attendants, by the 
 Queen's order apparently, made a sign for the wherry to i 73 
 come alongside, and the young man was desired to step 
 from his own skiff into the Queen's barge, which he per- 
 formed with graceful agility at the fore part of the boat, 
 and was brought aft to the Queen's presence, the wherry 
 at the same time dropping into the rear. The youth under- 180 
 went the gaze of Majesty, not the less gracefully, that his 
 self-possession was mingled with embarrassment. The 
 muddied cloak still hung upon his arm, and formed the 
 natural topic with which the Queen introduced the con- 
 versation. 185 
 
 " You have this day spoiled a gay mantle in our service, 
 young man. We thank you for your service, though the 
 manner of offering it was unusual, and something bold." 
 
 " In a sovereign's need," answered the youth, " it is each 
 liege man's duty to be bold." 190 
 
 " God's pity ! that was well said, my lord," said the 
 Queen, turning to a grave person who sate by her, and 
 answered with a grave inclination of the head, and some- 
 thing of a mumbled assent. 
 
 "Well, young man, your gallantry shall not go unre- 195 
 warded. Go to the wardrobe keeper, and he shall have 
 
 note Scott says : " None of Elizabeth's courtiers knew better than he how 
 to make his court to her personal vanity, or could more justly estimate 
 the quantity of flattery which she could condescend to swallow. Being 
 confined in the Tower for some offence, and understanding the Queen 
 was about to pass to Greenwich in her barge, he insisted on approach- 
 ing the window, that he might see, at whatever distance, the Queen of 
 his Affections, the most beautiful object which the earth bore on its sur- 
 face. The Lieutenant of the Tower (his own particular friend) threw 
 himself between his prisoner and the window ; while Sir Walter, appar- 
 ently influenced by a fit of unrestrainable passion, swore he would not 
 
216 STUDIES IN INVENTION. 
 
 orders to supply the suit which you have cast away in our 
 service. Thou shalt have a suit, and that of the newest 
 cut, I promise thee, on the word of a princess." 
 
 2 oo " May it please your grace," said Walter, hesitating, " it 
 is not for so humble a servant of your Majesty to measure 
 out your bounties ; but if it became me to choose 
 
 "Thou wouldst have gold, I warrant me," said the Queen, 
 interrupting him ; " fie, young man ! I take shame to say, 
 
 205 that, in our capital, such and so various are the means of 
 thriftless folly, that to give gold to youth is giving fuel to 
 fire, and furnishing them with the means of self-destruc- 
 tion. If I live and reign, these means of unchristian 
 excess shall be abridged. Yet thou mayst be poor," she 
 
 210 added, " or thy parents may be It shall be gold, if thou 
 wilt, but thou shalt answer to me for the use on't." 
 
 Walter waited patiently until the Queen had done, and 
 then modestly assured her, that gold was still less in his 
 wish than the raiment her Majesty had before offered. 
 
 ais " How, boy ! " said the Queen, " neither gold nor gar- 
 ment ? What is it thou wouldst have of me then ? " 
 
 "Only permission, madam if it is not asking too high 
 an honor permission to wear the cloak which did you 
 this trifling service." 
 
 be debarred from seeing his light, his life, his goddess ! A scuffle 
 ensued, / up for effect's sake, in which the Lieutenant and his captive 
 grappled and struggled with fury, tore each other's hair, and at 
 length drew daggers, and were only separated by force. The Queen 
 being informed of this scene exhibited by her frantic adorer, it wrought, 
 as was to be expected, much in favor of the captive Paladin. There is 
 little doubt that his quarrel with the Lieutenant was entirely contrived 
 for the purpose which it produced." How does the amplitude of this 
 whole paragraph illustrate Rhet. p. 364, i? 119. While a trifling 
 accident, etc., is it felicitous to subordinate the introduction of the 
 
SIR WALTER SCOTT. 217 
 
 " Permission to wear thine own cloak, thou silly boy ! " 220 
 said the Queen. , 
 
 "It is no longer mine," said Walter; "when your Maj- 
 esty's foot touched it, it became a fit mantle for a prince, 
 but far too rich a one for its former owner." 
 
 The Queen again blushed ; and endeavored to cover, by 223 
 laughing, a slight degree of not unpleasing surprise and 
 confusion. 
 
 " Heard you ever the like, my lords ? The youth's head 
 is turned with reading romances I must know something 
 of him, that I may send him safe to his friends. What 230 
 art thou?" 
 
 " A gentleman of the household of the Earl of Sussex, 
 so please your Grace, sent hither with his Master of Horse, 
 upon a message to your Majesty." 
 
 In a moment the gracious expression which Elizabeth's 235 
 face had hitherto maintained, gave way to an expression of 
 haughtiness and severity. 
 
 " My Lord of Sussex," she said, " has taught us how to 
 regard his messages, by the value he places upon ours. We 
 sent but this morning the physician in ordinary of our 240 
 chamber, and that at no usual time, understanding his 
 lordship's illness to be more dangerous than we had be- 
 
 main incident, which has been so prepared for, by putting it in a while- 
 clause? How amend the expression so as to bring it out better? 
 Compare the actual telling of the incident, for amplitude, with the ex- 
 tract from Fuller quoted at the beginning. Observe the number and 
 variety of the designations of Raleigh, and estimate how they correspond 
 with the circumstances of their introduction ; see 11. 95, 100, 111, 116, 
 121, 123, 126. Are they always felicitously chosen, and is it elegant 
 to vary so constantly? 
 
 Scott's, great skill as a story-teller is nowhere more felicitously shown 
 than in the manner in which he makes one part of the story prepare, 
 
218 STUDIES IN INVENTION. 
 
 fore apprehended. There is at no court in Europe a man 
 more skilled in this holy and most useful science than Dr. 
 
 245 Masters, and he came from Us to our subject. Neverthe- 
 less, he found the gate of Say's Court defended by men 
 with culverins, as if it had been on the Borders of Scot- 
 land, not in the vicinity of our court ; and when he de- 
 manded admittance in our name, it was stubbornly refused. 
 
 250 For this slight of a kindness, which had but too much of 
 condescension in it, we will receive, at present at least, no 
 excuse; and some such we suppose to have been the pur- 
 port of my Lord of Sussex's message." 
 
 This was uttered in a tone, and with a gesture, which 
 
 255 made Lord Sussex's friends who were within hearing 
 tremble. He to whom the speech was addressed, how- 
 ever, trembled not ; but with great deference and humility, 
 as soon as the Queen's passion gave him an opportunity, 
 
 whether by direct suggestion or by antithesis, for the other. The 
 intercalary conversation, 11. 131-139, is steered to what suggestion, 
 and how does it prepare for the messenger from the Queen? See 
 Rhet. p. 366, i. How does it also illustrate Rhet. p. 367, 3? The 
 words exchanged between the messenger and Blount, together with 
 Blount's astonishment, 11. 142-157, have what suggestiveness as regards 
 the importance of what is yet to come? See Rhet. p. 367, 2. How is 
 this suggestiveness further increased, aad the nature and result of the 
 coming interview foreshadowed, in the paragraph, 11. 158-166 ? 
 
 167-185. This paragraph, which seems merely to fill up an inter- 
 stice in the account, really makes also the last notes of preparation for 
 the interview. How does it indicate the Queen's mood? How does it 
 indicate, in Raleigh's actions, a predetermination toward the Queen's 
 favor, as corresponding with her character? 183. Observe how the 
 mention of the cloak what the Germans would perhaps call the cloak- 
 motif serves at each prominent point as the suggestive unifier and 
 connecting-link of the story; see 11. 7, 101, 123, 183, 346. 
 
 In the conversation that ensues, which extends to the end of the 
 
SIX WALTER SCOTT. 219 
 
 he replied: "So please 'your most gracious Majesty, I 
 was charged with no apology from the Earl of Sussex." .260 
 
 " With what were you then charged, sir ? " ' said the 
 Queen, with the impetuosity which, amid nobler qualities, 
 strongly marked her character; "was it with a justifica- 
 tion ? or, God's death, with a defiance ? " 
 
 " Madam," said the young man, " my Lord of Sussex 265 
 knew the offence approached towards treason, and could 
 think of nothing save, of securing the offender, and plac- 
 ing him in your Majesty's hands, and at your mercy. The 
 noble Earl was fast asleep when your most gracious mes- 
 sage reached him, a potion having been administered to 270 
 that purpose by his physician ; and his Lordship knew 
 not of the ungracious repulse your Majesty's royal and 
 most comfortable message had received, until after he 
 awoke this morning." 
 
 Selection, we look for three main features : I. That on Elizabeth's side 
 it comport with the dignity of a queen, and with the historical character 
 of this queen in particular ; 2. That on Raleigh's side it comport with 
 the position of a subject, and with the known character of this subject 
 in particular; 3. That it be conducted, without superfluities, to the 
 goal, also historically known, of Elizabeth's complacency and favor. 
 Of course that it should be worded in the Elizabethan diction goes 
 without saying ; also that the words of each interlocutor take their cue 
 always from what the previous speaker has said. 
 
 The introductory topic, as mentioned in 1. 184, suggests itself: the 
 cloak which has served the queen's need. How is the naturalness of its 
 mention still further increased? 
 
 191. How does the Queen's remark on Raleigh's answer illustrate 
 Green, 1. 38, and what aid is thus given toward the object of the con- 
 versation ? 
 
 200-202. The extreme delicacy of Raleigh's answer recognizes that 
 it is an indecorum in a subject to demur to the sovereign's will ; just as 
 1. 212 recognizes the indecorum of interrupting her, though she inter- 
 
220 STUDIES IN INVENTION. 
 
 275 "And which of his domestics, then, in the name of 
 
 Heaven, presumed to reject my message, without even 
 
 admitting my own physician to the presence of him whom 
 
 I sent him to attend ? " said the Queen, much surprised. 
 
 "The offender, madam, is before you," replied Walter, 
 
 280 bowing very low ; " the full and sole blame is mine ; and 
 my lord has most justly sent me to abye the consequences 
 of a fault, of which he is as innocent as a sleeping man's 
 dreams can be of a waking man's actions." 
 
 " What ! was it thou ? thou thyself, that repelled my 
 
 285 messenger and my physician from Say's Court ? " said the 
 Queen. "What could occasion such boldness in one who 
 seems devoted that is, whose exterior bearing shows 
 devotion to his Sovereign ? " 
 
 "Madam," said the youth, who, notwithstanding an 
 
 290 assumed appearance of severity, thought that he saw 
 
 rupts him and others freely (11. 203, 322). It will be noted also how 
 Raleigh conforms to what De Quincey mentions afterward in the ac- 
 count of his own interview with royalty: " I was well aware, before I 
 saw him [George III.], that in the royal presence, ... I must have 
 no voice except for answers ; I was to originate nothing myself." The 
 questions are all asked by the Queen. How are these touches in 
 Raleigh's demeanor explained in 11. 350-352 ? 
 
 The Queen's freedom and impetuosity, as illustrated 11. 203, 215, 
 228, 261, 284, and often, compares how with Green's portrayal of her 
 character, Green, 11. 23-26, 50-52? Line 220 may be compared with 
 Green, 1. 28. 222-224. This remark again finds the Queen at a pe- 
 culiarly susceptible point of her character ; compare Green, 11. 40-43 ; 
 and thus far, by a limited display of his own character he has evidently 
 reached a high position in her esteem. Raleigh has already been repre- 
 sented, in what precedes our Selection, as desiring court favor : in this 
 skilfully managed conversation, and in his refusal of all substantial 
 reward, does Scott regard him as playing a part, and shrewdly adapt- 
 ing himself to what he knows of the Queen's peculiarities, or is he also 
 
SIR WALTER SCOTT. 221 
 
 something in the Queen's face that resembled not im- 
 placability, " we say in our country, that the physician 
 is for the time the liege sovereign of his patient. Now, my 
 noble master was then under dominion of a leach, by whose 
 advice he hath greatly profited, who had issued his com- 295 
 mands that his patient should not that night be disturbed, 
 on the very peril of his life." 
 
 " Thy master hath trusted some false varlet of an em- 
 piric," said the Queen. 
 
 " I know not, madam, but by the fact, that he is now 30 o 
 this very morning awakened much refreshed and 
 strengthened, from the only sleep he hath had for many 
 hours." 
 
 The nobles looked at each other, but more with the pur- 
 pose to see what each thought of this news, than to ex- 305 
 change any remarks on what had happened. The Queen 
 
 sincere? Compare the poetic trait in his character, as revealed in 11. 22- 
 31, and the following, from the preceding chapter: " The look of the 
 younger gallant had in it something imaginative ; he was sunk in reverie, 
 and it seemed as if the empty space of air betwixt him and the wall 
 were the stage of a theatre on which his fancy was mustering his own 
 dramatis persona, and treated him with sights far different from those 
 which his awakened and earthly vision could have offered." 
 
 But there remains an important part of the story unsatisfied (com- 
 pare note at beginning) ; nor has Raleigh yet displayed the more manly 
 and brave side of his character. How is this effected in the section of 
 conversation, 11. 230-288? On what suggestion is the current of con- 
 versation turned into the new channel ? The Queen's words and 
 demeanor, 11. 250-256, seem suddenly to cut off all conciliation ; fur- 
 nishing therefore what test for Raleigh's character and what task for 
 his tact to meet? Illustrate 11. 254-256 by Green, 11. 25-31. What 
 antithesis is thus prepared, to set off the succeeding ? What traits of 
 character are revealed in Raleigh's words, 11. 259-260; 265-274; 279- 
 283? What evidence, in 11. 289-292 that this conduct was not without 
 
222 STUDIES IN INVENTION. 
 
 answered hastily, and without affecting to disguise her sat- 
 isfaction, " By my word, I am glad he is better. But thou 
 wert over bold to deny the access of my Doctor Masters. 
 
 3 io Know'st thou not that Holy Writ saith, ' in the multitude 
 of counsel there is safety ' ? " 
 
 "Ay, madam," said Walter, "but I have heard learned 
 men say, that the safety spoken of is for the physicians, 
 not for the patient." 
 
 315 " By my faith, child, thou hast pushed me home," said 
 
 the Queen, laughing; "for my Hebrew learning does not 
 
 come quite at a call. How say you, my Lord of Lincoln ? 
 
 Hath the lad given a just interpretation of the text ?" 
 
 "The word safety, my most gracious madam," said the 
 
 320 Bishop of Lincoln, " for so hath been translated, it may be 
 somewhat hastily, the Hebrew word, being " 
 
 " My Lord," said the Queen, interrupting him, "we said 
 we had forgotten our Hebrew. But for thee, young man, 
 what is thy name and birth ? " 
 
 325 " Raleigh is my name, most gracious Queen, the young- 
 est son of a large but honorable family of Devonshire." 
 
 "Raleigh?" said Elizabeth, after a moment's recollec- 
 tion, "have we not heard of your service in Ireland?" 
 
 a calculated wisdom, frankly appealing to the stronger and nobler side 
 of the Queen's character? With this latter, compare Green, 11. 74-76, 
 195-199. 
 
 The section of conversation, 11. 289-323, reveals Raleigh's readiness 
 in resource and his wit in retort ; how are these qualities illustrated, 
 for instance, in 11. 300-303 and 312-314? Both of these would appeal 
 strongly to Elizabeth. How are his own lightness and wit set off by 
 contrast in the answer of the Bishop of Lincoln, 11. 319-321? What 
 assumed character comes to light in these last few words ? The whole 
 passage about Hebrew illustrates, by allusion, what accomplishment of 
 Elizabeth? See Green, 11. 7-12. 
 
SIX WALTER SCOTT. 223 
 
 " I have been so fortunate as to do some service there, 
 madam," replied Raleigh, "scarce, however, of consequence 330 
 sufficient to reach your Grace's ears." 
 
 " They hear farther than you think of," said the Queen, 
 graciously, "and have heard of a youth who defended a 
 ford in Shannon against a whole band of wild Irish rebels, 
 until the stream ran purple with their blood and his own." 33S 
 
 " Some blood I may have lost," said the youth looking 
 down, " but it was where my best is due ; and that is in 
 your Majesty's service." 
 
 The Queen paused and then said hastily, " You are very 
 young to have fought so well, and to speak so well. But 34a 
 you must not escape your penance for turning back Mas- 
 ters the poor man hath caught cold on the river ; for 
 our order reached him when he was just returned from 
 certain visits in London, and he held it matter of loyalty 
 and conscience instantly to set forth again. So hark ye, 34 s 
 Master Raleigh, see thou fail not to wear thy muddy cloak, 
 in token of penitence, till our pleasure be farther known. 
 And here," she added, giving him a jewel of gold, in the 
 form of a chess-man, " I give thee this to wear at the collar." 
 
 Raleigh, to whom nature had taught intuitively, as it 350 
 were, those courtly arts which many scarce acquire from 
 long experience, knelt, and, as he took from her hand the 
 
 In the concluding section of the conversation, 11. 323-349, the story 
 is conducted to its termination and result. How is this section con- 
 nected with the preceding? What does it reveal of Raleigh's character 
 and what of Elizabeth's? 326. Large but honorable, is this a 
 natural adversative relation? See Rhet. p. 142, 45. 340. What indi- 
 cation in this line of what Scott evidently intended in the character of 
 Raleigh's conversation ? Does the penance inflicted by the Queen 
 (1. 346) indicate to some degree that she was sensible to his delicate 
 gallantry ? Compare 1. 220. 
 
224 STUDIES IN INVENTION. 
 
 jewel, kissed the fingers which gave it. He knew, per- 
 haps, better than almost any of the courtiers who sur- 
 ass rounded her, how to mix the devotion claimed by the 
 Queen, with the gallantry due to her personal beauty 
 and in this, his first attempt to unite them, he succeeded 
 so well, as at once to gratify Elizabeth's personal vanity, 
 and her love of power. 
 
 From KENILWORTH. 
 
 What indication, in 11. 354-360, of Scotfs design in retelling this 
 incident of Raleigh and the cloak? How does the story illustrate each 
 of the two elements here represented as successfully united? What 
 evidence of skilful design displayed in the beginning, skilful as adapted 
 to illustrate the character of both Raleigh and the Queen, in making 
 him one of the household of the Earl of Sussex at this juncture ? 
 
XXII. 
 JOHN STUART MILL. 
 
 THE MEANING OF THE TERM NATURE. 
 
 NATURE, natural, and the group of words derived from 
 them, or allied to them in etymology, have at all times 
 filled a great place in the thoughts and taken a strong hold 
 on the feelings of mankind. That they should have done 
 so is not surprising, when we consider what the words, in 5 
 their primitive and most obvious signification, represent ; 
 but it is unfortunate that a set of terms which play so 
 great a part in moral and metaphysical speculation, should 
 have acquired many meanings different from the primary 
 one, yet sufficiently allied to it to admit of confusion. 10 
 The words have thus become entangled in so many foreign 
 
 This Selection and the one following are studied as exemplifying 
 the principles of Exposition; and presuppose a knowledge of the 
 Rhetoric as far as page 406. 
 
 The present Selection illustrates Exposition as applied to the exact 
 definition of an idea ; a definition that is to be constructed with special 
 care, on account of the importance of the idea, the commonness of the 
 term used to express it, and the ambiguities inhering in its popular and 
 ordinary use. We may accordingly call this Philosophical Exposition. 
 
 The warrant that the exposition will be conducted carefully, and 
 the spirit of caution and calm judgment which should guide every 
 one's work in exposition, are alike found in the habitual method of 
 Mr. Mill. "At the same time that he was peculiarly deliberate and 
 slow in forming opinions," says his editor, "he had a special dislike 
 
226 STUDIES IN INVENTION. 
 
 associations, mostly of a very powerful and tenacious char- 
 acter, that they have come to excite, and to be the symbols 
 of, feelings which their original meaning will by no means 
 
 15 justify; and which have made them one of the most copious 
 sources of false taste, false philosophy, false morality, and 
 even bad law. 
 
 The most important application of the Socratic Elen- 
 chus, as exhibited and improved by Plato, consists in dis- 
 
 20 secting large abstractions of this description ; fixing down 
 to a precise definition the meaning which as popularly 
 used they merely shadow forth, and questioning and test- 
 ing the common maxims and opinions in which they bear 
 a part. It is to be regretted that among the instructive 
 
 25 specimens of this kind of investigation which Plato has 
 left, and to which subsequent times have been so much 
 indebted for whatever intellectual clearness they have 
 attained, he has not enriched posterity with a dialogue 
 Trepl (/>ycre<9. If the idea denoted by the word had been 
 
 *o subjected td his searching analysis, and the popular com- 
 monplaces in which it figures had been submitted to the 
 
 to the utterance of half-formed opinions. He declined altogether to be 
 hurried into premature decision on any point to which he did not think 
 he had given sufficient time and labor to have exhausted it to the utmost 
 limit of his own thinking powers. And, in the same way, even after he 
 had arrived at definite conclusions, he refused to allow the curiosity of 
 others to force him to the expression of them before he had bestowed 
 all the elaboration in his power upon their adequate expression, and 
 before, therefore, he had subjected to the test of time, not only the con- 
 clusions themselves, but also the form in which he had thrown them." 
 
 The last sentence of this Selection, 11. 146-148, indicates what cb- 
 ject and what limitation, in making this exposition? What reason is 
 apparent in the first paragraph, 11. 1-17, for making it, and how arc its 
 importance and its difficulty indicated? Being the starting-point and 
 basis of a long essay, comprising 65 pages in the book from which it is 
 
JOHN STUART MILL. 227 
 
 ordeal of his powerful dialectics, his successors probably 
 would not have rushed, as they speedily did, into modes of 
 thinking and reasoning of which the fallacious use of that 
 word formed the corner stone ; a kind of fallacy from 35 
 which he was himself singularly free. 
 
 According to the Platonic method which is still the best 
 type of such investigations, the first thing to be done with 
 so vague a term is to ascertain precisely what it means. 
 It is also a rule of the same method, that the meaning of 40 
 an abstraction is best sought for in the concrete of an 
 universal in the particular. Adopting this course with the 
 word Nature, the first question must be, what is meant by 
 the "nature" of a particular object? as of fire, of water, 
 or of some individual plant or animal ? Evidently the 45 
 ensemble or aggregate of its powers or properties : the 
 modes in which it acts on other things (counting among 
 those things the senses of the observer) and the modes in 
 which other things act upon it ; to which, in the case of a 
 sentient being, must be added, its own capacities of feel- 5 
 ing, or being conscious. The Nature of the thing means 
 
 taken, this exposition evidently ought to be the subject of much dis- 
 crimination and care. 
 
 18-36. This paragraph is merely preliminary to the exposition, but 
 contains some things important to be noted. 18. The Socratic 
 Elenchus, a kind of argument conducted mainly by searching expo- 
 sition, and applied most generally to refutation of some prevailing 
 notion. Its principal office is very well defined here. 20. Large 
 abstractions of this description, what does this sentence imply 
 as regards their inaccuracy, and what as regards the importance of 
 exactly defining them? 28. A dialogue Tre/ot <u'<reo)s, i.e., con- 
 cerning Nature. Plato's philosophical works are in the form of dialogue. 
 32. Dialectics, derivation and definition ? Lines 33-35 indicate 
 how important exposition is, as related to argumentation ; compare also 
 11. 15-17 for its importance as related to action. 
 
228 STUDIES IN INVENTION. 
 
 all this ; means its entire capacity of exhibiting phenomena. 
 And since the phenomena which a thing exhibits, however 
 much they vary in different circumstances, are always the 
 
 55 same in the same circumstances, they admit of being 
 described in general forms of words, which are called the 
 laws of the thing's nature. Thus it is a law of the nature 
 of water that under the mean pressure of the atmosphere 
 at the level of the sea, it boils at 212 Fahrenheit. 
 
 60 As the nature of any given thing is the aggregate of its 
 powers and properties, so Nature in the abstract is the 
 aggregate of the powers and properties of all things. 
 Nature means the sum of all phenomena, together with 
 the causes which produce them ; including not only all 
 
 6 S that happens, but all that is capable of happening ; the 
 unused capabilities of causes being as much a part of the 
 idea of Nature as those which take effect. Since all phe- 
 nomena which have been sufficiently examined are found 
 to take place with regularity, each having certain fixed 
 
 70 conditions, positive and negative, on the occurrence of 
 which it invariably happens ; mankind have been able to 
 
 The order pursued in this exposition is the order of investigation, or 
 inductive; according to Rhet. p. 276, 2, i, what kind of beginning do 
 we expect? How is this inductive order inculcated in the Platonic 
 method ? Point out now, from 11. 42-52, how the word is first partic- 
 ularized or made concrete. What is the first definition constructed of 
 it? Can you trace in it the genus and differentia of a logical definition? 
 See Rhet. pp. 387, 388. How do 11. 46-51 amplify the definition? 
 See Rhet. p. 390, 2. How is this amplification then summarized into 
 a new and perhaps exacter, though less easy definition ? 52. Phe- 
 nomena, what is the derivation and definition of this word ? How 
 does this derivation accord with the verb exhibits ? Evidently this 
 second and harder definition is introduced as the basis for defining the 
 related term laws of a thing's nature ; construct a definition of this 
 related term from the data given here. How do 11. 57-59 exemplify 
 Rhet. p. 394? 
 
JOHN STUART MILL. 229 
 
 ascertain, either by direct observation or by reasoning 
 processes grounded on it, the conditions of the occurrence 
 of many phenomena ; and the progress of science mainly 
 consists in ascertaining those conditions. When discov- 75 
 ered they can be expressed in general propositions, which 
 are called laws of the particular phenomenon, and also, 
 more generally, Laws of Nature. Thus, the truth that all 
 material objects tend towards one another with a force 
 directly as their masses and inversely as the square of 80 
 their distance, is a law of Nature. The proposition that 
 air and food are necessary to animal life, if it be as we 
 have good reason to believe, true without exception, is also 
 a law of nature, though the phenomenon of which it is the 
 law is special, and not, like gravitation, universal. s$ 
 
 Nature, then, in this its simplest acceptation, is a col- 
 .lective name for all facts, actual and possible ; or (to speak 
 more accurately) a name for the mode, partly known to us 
 and partly unknown, in which all things take place. For 
 the word suggests, not so much the multitudinous detail of 90 
 the phenomena, as the conception which might be formed 
 
 From the paragraph, 11. 60-85, point out how the foregoing first 
 definition is repeated and broadened. How is the second, more diffi- 
 cult, definition repeated and broadened ? The nature of a particular 
 thing is defined as " its entire capacity of exhibiting phenomena"; 
 beginning the definition of Nature, in general, with "the sum of all 
 phenomena," how much more must we add to make it as comprehensive 
 as the other definition suggests ? Lines 67-78 repeats in more general 
 terms what definition of the preceding paragraph ? How is exposition 
 by exemplification employed in this paragraph ? Thus it will be seen 
 that this paragraph corresponds very closely, as to its ideas and their 
 grouping, with the previous one ; but it represents what further stage 
 in the inductive order which is chosen as the plan of investigation? 
 
 86-95. In this paragraph the two definitions already constructed are 
 how simplified? 89. For the word suggests, the word for indi- 
 
230 STUDIES IN INVENTION. 
 
 of their manner of existence as a mental whole, by a mind 
 possessing a complete knowledge of them : to which con- 
 ception it is the aim of science to raise itself, by successive 
 
 95 steps of generalization from experience. 
 
 Such, then, is a correct definition of the word Nature. 
 But this definition corresponds only to one of the senses 
 of that ambiguous term. It is evidently inapplicable to 
 some of the modes in which the word is familiarly em- 
 
 100 ployed. For example, it entirely conflicts with the com- 
 mon form of speech by which Nature is opposed to Art, 
 and natural to artificial. For in the sense of the word 
 Nature which has just been defined, and which is the true 
 scientific sense, Art is as much Nature as anything else ; 
 
 105 and everything which is artificial is natural Art has no 
 independent powers of its own : Art is but the employ- 
 ment of the powers of Nature for an end. Phenomena, 
 produced by human agency, no less than those which as 
 far as we are concerned are spontaneous, depend on the 
 
 no properties of the elementary forces, or of the elementary 
 substances and their compounds. The united powers of 
 
 cates that a reason is given for a statement preceding ; what do the lines 
 succeeding, 89-95, thus explain? What is here represented as the 
 object of science ? 
 
 98. That ambiguous term, what is the derivation of the word 
 ambiguous, and why is the term Nature so called ? The definition 
 already given leaves no room for exposition by antithesis (see Rhet. 
 p. 392) ; and yet in one of its senses the word Nature has an antithetic 
 term, Art. How, in this first and scientific definition, is Art related 
 to Nature (11. 102-107) ? How is this distinction amplified, 11. 107-113 ? 
 How do 11. 115-128 expound the idea? In each example, trace the 
 two sides, man's and nature's. How do laws of nature emerge from 
 this distinction in each case ? 128-131. To what simple summary 
 and explanation is all human and artistic agency reduced here? 131. A 
 good example of how the most learned exposition tends to plainness 
 
JOHN STUART MILL. 231 
 
 the whole human race could not create a new property of 
 matter in general, or of any one of its species. We can 
 only take advantage for our purposes of the properties 
 which we find. A ship floats by the same laws of specific n S 
 gravity and equilibrium, as a tree uprooted by the wind 
 and blown into the water. The corn which men raise for 
 food, grows and produces its grain by the same laws of 
 vegetation by which the wild rose and the mountain straw- 
 berry bring forth their flowers and fruit. A house stands i 20 
 and holds together by the natural properties, the weight 
 and cohesion of the materials which compose it : a steam 
 engine works by the natural expansive force of steam, 
 exerting a pressure upon one part of a system of arrange- 
 ments, which pressure, by the mechanical properties of 125 
 the lever, is transferred from that to another part where 
 it raises the weight or removes the obstacle brought into 
 connexion with it. In these and all other artificial opera- 
 tions the office of man is, as has often been remarked, a 
 very limited one ; it consists in moving things into certain 130 
 places. We move objects, and by doing this, bring some 
 things into contact which were separate, or separate others 
 which were in contact : and by this simple change of place, 
 natural forces previously dormant are called into action, 
 
 and simplicity. How is this idea amplified, and how does the amplifi- 
 cation exemplify Rhet. p. 391, 3? The definition of Nature given 
 already is thus made to absorb and include all that opposes it, namely, 
 the idea Art, which is antithetic to some aspects of Nature. 
 
 139-148. It remains now merely to make the discrimination between 
 meanings, for the sake of which this exposition largely exists. What 
 part of the larger idea does the smaller idea of Nature, here given, in- 
 clude? Notice that for the definition of this smaller idea, 11. 143-146, 
 the previous paragraph has been accumulating material. From this 
 definition of Nature, what definition would you give to its antithesis Art? 
 
232 STUDIES IN INVENTION. 
 
 135 and produce the desired effect. Even the volition which 
 designs, the intelligence which contrives, and the muscular 
 force which executes these movements, are themselves 
 powers of Nature. 
 
 It thus appears that we must recognize at least two 
 
 140 principal meanings in the word Nature. In one sense, it 
 means all the powers existing in either the outer or the 
 inner world and everything which takes place by means of 
 those poweVs. In another sense, it means, not everything 
 which happens, but only what takes place without the 
 
 MS agency, or without the voluntary and intentional agency, 
 of man. This distinction is far from exhausting the am- 
 biguities of the word ; but it is the key to most of those 
 on which important consequences depend. 
 
 From THREE ESSAYS ON RELIGION : Essay on NATURE. 
 
 The language of the foregoing exposition, while simple in construc- 
 tion, sometimes very plain, and never ornamental, uses learned and 
 philosophical terms freely, and evidently seeks exactness. The main 
 definition becomes clear largely by repetition (see Rhet. p. 393) ; trace, 
 for instance, the different forms that it takes. 
 
XXIII. 
 JOHN RUSKIN. 
 
 OF THE PATHETIC FALLACY. 
 
 [Mr. Ruskin begins with a discussion, somewhat remote from the subject 
 and therefore omitted here, of the philosophical terms objective and subjective, 
 the use of which he does not like.] 
 
 Now, therefore, putting these tiresome and absurd words 
 quite out of our way, we may go on at our ease to examine 
 the point in question, namely, the difference between 
 the ordinary, proper, and true appearances of things to us ; 
 and the extraordinary, or false appearances, when we are s 
 under the influence of emotion, or contemplative fancy ; 
 false appearances, I say, as being entirely unconnected 
 
 The foregoing Selection has given an example of Exposition put to 
 its more strict and severe work of defining and discriminating general 
 ideas, a work which, though nourishing and satisfying to deep thinkers, 
 is to rapid and indolent readers dry, and indeed does not make much 
 appeal to the literary sense, apart from the sense for definiteness and 
 accuracy. The present Selection exemplifies the use of Exposition in 
 literary criticism, addressed to the reader of general culture, and put in 
 a style adapted to give pleasure as well as instruction to all. 
 
 Lines 1-9. What is the exact subject of exposition laid down in 
 this paragraph ? By what antithetical adjectives are the two sides of the 
 subject set over against each other ? Does the word proper need any 
 antithesis? What is probably its exact meaning in the author's mind, 
 as connected with its derivation ? Why does the word false need spe- 
 cial exegesis, in 11. 7-9? How is this subject explained, Rhet. p. 343, 
 bottom? 6. Emotion . . . contemplative fancy, how does the 
 Rhetoric (pp. 71, 73) connect these influences with prose style? 
 
234 STUDIES IN INVENTION. 
 
 with any real power or character in the object, and only 
 imputed to it by us. 
 w For instance 
 
 " The spendthrift crocus, bursting through the mould 
 Naked and shivering, with his cup of gold." 
 
 This is very beautiful, and yet very untrue. The crocus 
 
 is not a spendthrift, but a hardy plant ; its yellow is not 
 is gold, but saffron. How is it that we enjoy so much the 
 
 having it put into our heads that it is anything else than a 
 
 plain crocus ? , 
 
 It is an important question. For, throughout our past 
 
 reasonings about art, we have always found that nothing 
 20 could be good or useful, or ultimately pleasurable, which 
 
 was untrue. But here is something pleasurable in written 
 
 poetry which is nevertheless ^/ztrue. And what is more, 
 
 10-17. To begin with a concrete instance, which is evidently to be 
 explained, thus leading the subject gradually up to the general idea 
 expounded, is to adopt what order of procedure? See Rhet. pp. 276- 
 279. How does this comport with the character of the subject? 
 11. The couplet here quoted is from Oliver Wendell Holmes, given, 
 according to a footnote, at second hand, as "quoted by Miss Mitford, 
 in her Recollections of a Literary Life." The several quotations given, 
 as far as 1. 104, serve to introduce and illustrate, in a concrete way, the 
 various aspects of the subject. 
 
 And first of all, what question, 1. 15, opens the discussion? Note 
 how much more hearty and homely interest is given to the subject by 
 putting the question in plain language instead of philosophical, " the 
 having it put into our heads that," etc., instead of, e.g. the fallacious 
 subjective impression that, etc. It is very largely this employment of 
 everyday language that makes the present exposition so interesting. 
 
 18-25. How is the foregoing question related to the general princi- 
 ple of truth ? 20. Which was untrue, if instead of this expression 
 we should say " unless it was true," how would the relation of the sue- 
 
JOHN RUSKIN. 235 
 
 if we think over our favorite poetry, we shall find it full of 
 this kind of fallacy, and that we like it all the more for 
 being so. 2S 
 
 It will appear also, on consideration of the matter, that 
 this fallacy is of two principal kinds. Either, as in this 
 case of the crocus, it is the fallacy of wilful fancy, which 
 involves no real expectation that it will be believed ; or 
 else it is a fallacy caused by an excited state of the feel- 3 o 
 ings, making us, for the time, more or less irrational. Of 
 the cheating of the fancy we shall have to speak presently ; 
 but, in this chapter, I want to examine the nature of the 
 other error, that which the mind admits, when affected 
 strongly by emotion. Thus, for instance, in Alton 3S 
 Locke : 
 
 " They rowed her in across the rolling foam 
 The cruel, crawling foam." 
 
 The foam is not cruel, neither does it crawl. The state of 
 mind which attributes to it these characters of a living 4a 
 creature is one in which the reason is unhinged by grief. 
 All violent feelings have the same effect. They produce 
 in us a falseness in all our impressions of external things, 
 which I would generally characterize as the "Pathetic 
 Fallacy." 
 
 ceeding antithesis, 1.22, be put in clearer light? 24. This kind of 
 fallacy, here is suggested the main term of the subject expounded ; 
 define a fallacy. 
 
 27-45. This fallacy, once introduced, is after all too broad a term 
 for the present discussion. Explain how it is narroweH, by Rhet. p. 396, 
 in. On what principle is the division made? . See Rhet. p. 397. Of 
 the two members, one is chosen for present treatment: what is done 
 with the other? Of the exposition of the member chosen, explain the 
 first step by Rhet. p. 394. How does the example fulfil the requisite 
 
236 STUDIES IN INVENTION. 
 
 Now we are in the habit of considering this fallacy as 
 eminently a character of poetical description, and the 
 temper of mind in which we allow it, as one eminently 
 poetical, because passionate. But, I believe, if we look 
 
 so well into the matter, that we shall find the greatest poets 
 do not often admit this kind of falseness, that it is only 
 the second order of poets who much delight in it. 
 
 Thus, when Dante describes the spirits falling from the 
 bank of Acheron " as dead leaves flutter from a bough," 
 
 55 he gives the most perfect image possible of their utter 
 lightness, feebleness, passiveness, and scattering agony of 
 despair, without, however, for an instant losing his own 
 clear perception that these are souls, and those are leaves : 
 he makes no confusion of one with the other. But when 
 
 60 Coleridge speaks of 
 
 The one red leaf, the last of its clan, 
 That dances as often as dance it can,' 1 
 
 he has a morbid, that is to say, a so far false, idea about 
 the leaf : he fancies a life in it, and will, which there are 
 
 at the bottom of the page ? What general proposition is deduced from 
 this step of exposition, and what general term? Explain the word 
 pathetic, 1. 44, comparing its meaning here with its derivation. 
 
 46-52. Having thus deduced and defined the object expounded, the 
 author proceeds to give it what place and application in poetical litera- 
 ture? This leads, in 11. 49-52, to what classification of poets? In a 
 footnote to this paragraph, Ruskin says : ** I admit two orders of poets, 
 but no third; and by these two orders I mean the Creative (Shakspere, 
 Homer, Dante), and Reflective or Perceptive (Wordsworth, Keats, 
 Tennyson). But both of these must beyfr^-rate in their range, though 
 their range is different ; and with poetry second-rate in quality no one 
 ought to be allowed to trouble mankind." 
 
 53-89. In this paragraph three examples are adduced, as basis for 
 a succeeding step in the exposition. What does the quotation from 
 
JOHN RUSK IN. 237 
 
 not ; confuses its powerlessness with choice, its fading 63 
 death with merriment, and 'the wind that shakes it with 
 music. Here, however, there is some beauty, even in the 
 morbid passage ; but take an instance in Homer and Pope. 
 Without the knowledge of Ulysses, Elpenor, his youngest 
 follower, has fallen from an upper chamber in the Circean 70 
 palace, and has been left dead, unmissed by his leader, or 
 companions, in the haste of their departure. They cross 
 the sea to the Cimmerian land ; and Ulysses summons the 
 shades from Tartarus. The first which appears is that of 
 the lost Elpenor. Ulysses, amazed, and in exactly the 75 
 spirit of bitter and terrified lightness which is seen in 
 Hamlet, addresses the spirit with the simple, startled 
 words : 
 
 ** Elpenor! How earnest thou under the Shadowy darkness? Hast 
 thou come faster on foot than I in my black ship ? " 8o 
 
 Which Pope renders thus : 
 
 ** O, say, what angry power Elpenor led 
 To glide in shades, and wander with the dead ? 
 How could thy soul, by realms and seas disjoined, 
 Outfly the nimble sail, and leave the lagging wind?" 85 
 
 I sincerely hope the reader finds no pleasure here, either 
 in the nimbleness of the sail, or the laziness of the wind ! 
 
 Dante exemplify? Observe how, in his vivid imagination of the spirits 
 in Acheron, the descriptive impulse seizes Ruskin, in 11. 55, 56, and 
 culminates in the striking phrase scattering agony of despair ; what 
 force in the epithet ? What does the quotation from Coleridge exem- 
 plify? 63. Morbid, what is the derivation of this word, and in 
 what sense is it used here ? The quotation from Pope leads to what 
 contrast with Coleridge? (Cf. 11. 86, 87 with 1. 67.) 76. "Which 
 is seen in Hamlet, the reference is to the line, Hamlet, Act I, 
 
238 STUDIES IN INVENTION. 
 
 And yet how is it that these conceits are so painful now, 
 when they have been pleasant to us in the other instances ? 
 
 90 For a very simple reason. They are not a pathetic fal- 
 lacy at all, for they are put into the mouth of the wrong 
 passion a passion which never could possibly have spoken 
 them agonized curiosity. Ulysses wants to know the 
 facts of the matter; and the very last thing his mind 
 
 95 could do at the moment would be to pause, or suggest in 
 any wise what was not a fact. The delay in the first three 
 lines, and conceit in the last, jar upon us instantly, like the 
 most frightful discord in music. No poet of true imagi- 
 native power could possibly have written the passage. 
 
 zoo Therefore, we see that the spirit of truth must guide us 
 in some sort, even in our enjoyment of fallacy. Coleridge's 
 fallacy has no discord in it, but Pope's has set our teeth 
 on edge. Without farther questioning, I will endeavor to 
 state the main bearings of this matter. 
 
 105 The temperament which admits the pathetic fallacy, is, 
 as I said above, that of a mind and body in some sort too 
 
 sc. v., where Hamlet addresses the ghost of his father, " Well said, old 
 mole! canst work i' the ground so fast?" 88. Compare the question 
 here deduced with the question already asked, 1. 15. It denotes, as we 
 see, an antithetic phase of the subject. 
 
 90-99. Compare the answer to the question, as contained in this 
 paragraph, with the case of the quotation from Coleridge. Why is the 
 latter more natural and true? 96. The delay in the first three 
 lines, explain how this delay is effected. Conceit, compare 1. 
 88. What is meant by a conceit, as the word is here used? 
 
 100-104. The answer to the foregoing question, like the former (11. 
 18-22) is related to the principle of truth. 101. In some sort, in 
 what sort, then, as here revealed, must " the spirit of truth guide us 
 even in our enjoyment of fallacy"? At this point (1. 104), the con- 
 crete instances are all in, to serve as a basis for explaining " the main 
 bearings " of the matter ; so here begins the more abstract portion. 
 
JOHN RUSK IN. 239 
 
 weak to deal fully with what is before them or upon them ; 
 borne away, or over-clouded, or over-dazzled by emotion ; 
 and it is a more or less noble state, according to the force 
 of the emotion which has induced it. For it is no credit no 
 to a man that he is not morbid or inaccurate in his percep- 
 tions, when he has no strength of feeling to warp them ; 
 and it is in general a sign of higher capacity and stand in 
 the ranks of being, that the emotions should be strong 
 enough to vanquish, partly, the intellect, and make it us 
 believe what they choose. But it is still a grander condi- 
 tion when the intellect also rises, till it is strong enough 
 to assert its rule against, or together with, the utmost 
 efforts of the passions ; and the whole man stands in an 
 iron glow, white hot, perhaps, but still strong, and in no- 120 
 wise evaporating ; even if he melts, losing none of his 
 weight. 
 
 So, then, we have the three ranks : the man who per- 
 
 Lines 105-188 constitute a new section of the exposition, in which the 
 human mind is estimated according to its relation to the pathetic fal- 
 lacy, and men are classified on that basis. 
 
 105-122. This paragraph works out, in a ' general way, a basis, or 
 furnishes material, in a brief psychological study, for the classification. 
 In the first sentence, 11. 105-110, to what one cause, or principle, is the 
 pathetic fallacy reduced ? 108. What figure of speech do you notice 
 here, and what does it effect? Do you see in it a casual exposition by 
 division? 110. For it is no credit, the word for indicates that 
 this sentence gives a reason for something ; what is that something here 
 accounted for, and is it expressed or implied? How do the sentences, 
 11. 110-122, exemplify Rhet. p. 105? Point out, in this paragraph, 
 how metaphor and trope are used to make the abstract ideas vivid ; 
 also personification. 119-122. In these lines the man is associated 
 with what material, and is the metaphor consistent throughout? An 
 iron glow, what is the force "of this epithet? 
 
 123-137. These lines contain the first, or preliminary classification, 
 
240 STUDIES IN INVENTION. 
 
 ceives rightly, because he does not feel, and to whom the 
 
 125 primrose is very accurately the primrose, because he does 
 not love it. Then, secondly, the man who perceives 
 wrongly, because he feels, and to whom the primrose is 
 anything else than a primrose : a star, or a sun, or a fairy's 
 shield, or a forsaken maiden. And then, lastly, there is 
 
 130 the man who perceives rightly in spite of his feelings, and 
 to whom the primrose is forever nothing else than itself 
 a little flower,, apprehended in the very plain and leafy fact 
 of it, whatever and how many soever the associations and 
 passions may be, that crowd around it. And, in gen- 
 
 135 eral, these three classes may be rated in comparative order, 
 as the men who are not poets at all, and the poets of the 
 second order, and the poets of the first ; only, however 
 great a man may be, there are always some subjects which 
 ought to throw him off his balance ; some, by which his 
 
 140 poor human capacity of thought should be conquered, and 
 brought into the inaccurate and vague state of perception, 
 so that the language of the highest inspiration becomes 
 broken, obscure, and wild in metaphor, resembling that of 
 the weaker man, overborne by weaker things. 
 
 '45 And thus, in full, there are four classes : the men who 
 feel nothing, and therefore see truly ; the men who feel 
 
 sufficient to include the data given in the previous paragraph, but con- 
 fessedly incomplete. On what principle of division are men classified? 
 See Rhet. p. 397. How is each member of the division made con- 
 crete and plain? Finally, how does he name the three classes ? 137- 
 144. What consideration, expressed in these lines, makes it evident 
 that this preliminary division is not complete? How does this there- 
 fore, by transgression, illustrate Rhet. p. 398, i ? What is the use in 
 adopting an incomplete division thus deliberately, and completing it 
 before the reader's eyes? 
 
 145-153. Draw out the division here given, and put it in tabular 
 
JOHN RUSK IN. 241 
 
 strongly, think weakly, and see untruly (second order of 
 poets) ; the men who feel strongly, think strongly, and see 
 truly (first order of poets) ; and the men who, strong as 
 human creatures can be, are yet submitted to influences 150 
 stronger than they, and see in a sort untruly, because what 
 they see is inconceivably above them. This last is the 
 usual condition of prophetic inspiration. 
 
 I separate these classes, in order that their character 
 may be clearly understood ; but of course they are united 155 
 each to the other by imperceptible transitions, and the 
 same mind, according to the influences to which it is sub- 
 jected, passes at different times into the various states. 
 Still, the difference between the great and less man is, on 
 the whole, chiefly in this point of alterability. That is to 160 
 say, the one knows too much, and perceives and feels too 
 much of the past and future, and of all things beside and 
 around that which immediately affects him, to be in any 
 wise shaken by it. His mind is made up ; his thoughts 
 have an accustomed current ; his ways are stedfast ; it is 165 
 not this or that new sight which will at once unbalance 
 him. He is tender to impression at the surface, like a 
 rock with deep moss upon it ; but there is too much mass 
 of him to be moved. The smaller man, with the same 
 
 form. What is there, in the range over which it extends, to guarantee 
 that it is complete, that is, that it is fully commensurate with the di- 
 vided whole? See Rhet. p. 398, i. Does the division also agree with 
 Rhet. p. 399, 2? How does the division stand the test of the three 
 Rules of Division, given Rhet. pp. 400 and 401 ? 
 
 154-158. What is there in these lines to indicate that Ruskin re- 
 gards the object expounded as a concept of the mind (cf. Rhet. pp. 384, 
 385), rather than as an object of sense? 160. Alterability,: how 
 is this quality expounded in what succeeds ? 167. He is tender to 
 impression, etc., what is the utility of the simile that follows, and 
 
242 STUDIES IN INVENTION. 
 
 170 degree of sensibility, is at once carried off his feet; he 
 wants to do something he did not want to do before ; he 
 views all the universe in a new light through his tears; 
 he is gay or enthusiastic, melancholy or passionate, as 
 things come and go to him. Therefore the high creative 
 
 175 poet might even be thought, to a great extent, impassive 
 (as shallow people think Dante stern), receiving indeed all 
 feelings to the full, but having a great centre of reflection 
 and knowledge in which he stands serene, and watches the 
 feeling, as it were, from far off. 
 
 180 Dante, in his most intense moods, has entire command 
 of himself, and can look around calmly, at all moments, 
 for the image or the word that will best tell what he sees 
 to the upper or lower world. But Keats and Tennyson, 
 and the poets of the second order, are generally themselves 
 
 185 subdued by the feelings under which they write, or, at 
 least, write as choosing to be so, and therefore admit cer- 
 tain expressions and modes of thought which are in some 
 sort diseased or false. 
 
 Now so long as we see that the feeling is true, we par- 
 is it to be regarded as an ornament? 169-174. Point out the homely 
 and everyday language here used for expository purposes, a good 
 illustration, but no better than many another in this same Selection, of 
 the kind of expression that should be sought for such difficult work. 
 174. Therefore, this sentence is illative to 'what preceding idea? 
 
 180-188. How does this paragraph exemplify Rhet. p. 394? 185. 
 Note the saving clause here, indicative of carefulness of statement. 
 Such carefulness is evidence in itself of broad thinking ; how ? 
 
 At this point the exposition proper, in its definitions and divisions, 
 is complete; and from 1. 189 to the end, the treatment consists of a 
 series of examples and explanations, designed to bring out more clearly 
 various aspects of the subject. How is this object indicated, and com- 
 prising what features, in 11. 422-426 ? 
 
 189-208. With what aspect of the case does this paragraph deal ? 
 
JOHN RUSK IN. 243 
 
 don, or are even pleased by, the confessed fallacy of sight igo 
 which it induces : we are pleased, for instance, with those 
 lines of Kingsley's, above quoted, not because they falla- 
 ciously describe foam, but because they faithfully describe 
 sorrow. But the moment the mind of the speaker becomes 
 cold, that moment every such expression becomes untrue, 195 
 as being forever untrue in the external facts. And there 
 is no greater baseness in literature than the habit of using 
 these metaphorical expressions in cool blood. An inspired 
 writer, in full impetuosity of passion, may speak wisely 
 and truly of " raging waves of the sea, foaming out their 200 
 own shame " ; but it is only the basest writer who cannot 
 speak of the sea without talking of " raging waves," "re- 
 morseless floods," "ravenous billows," and so forth; and 
 it is one of the signs of the highest power in a writer to 
 check all such habits of thought, and to keep his eyes 205 
 fixed firmly on the pure fact, out of which if any feeling 
 comes to him or his reader, he knows it must be a true 
 one. 
 
 To keep to the waves, I forget who it is who represents 
 a man in despair, desiring that his body may be cast into 210 
 the sea, 
 
 " Whose changing mound, and foam that passed away, 
 Might mock the eye that questioned where I lay.' 1 
 
 Show how exposition by antithesis and exposition by exemplification 
 are combined. 192-194. How does the antithetic statement here 
 made illustrate Rhet. p. 349? How do 11. 196-208 corroborate Rhet. 
 p. 47, rule 15? 
 
 209. To keep to the waves, a reminiscence, probably, of the 
 example last recalled to mind, 1. 191, with perhaps an indirect allusion 
 to the one last quoted, 11. 79-85, which, however, is only remotely as- 
 sociated with waves. What advantage (see other examples, 11. 53-62, 
 11. 375-410) in thus preserving parallelism of suggestion in the exam- 
 
244 STUDIES IN INVENTION. 
 
 Observe, there is not a single false or even overcharged 
 
 215 expression. " Mound " of the sea-wave is perfectly simple 
 and true; "changing" is as familiar as maybe; "foam 
 that passed away," strictly literal; and the whole line 
 descriptive of the reality with a degree of accuracy which 
 I know not any other verse, in the range of poetry, that 
 
 220 altogether equals. For most people have not a distinct 
 idea of the clumsiness and massiveness of a large wave. 
 The word "wave" is used too generally of ripples and 
 breakers, and bendings in light drapery or grass : it does 
 not by itself convey a perfect image. But the word 
 
 225 "mound" is heavy, large, dark, definite; there is no mis- 
 taking the kind of wave meant, nor missing the sight of 
 it. Then the term " changing " has a peculiar force also. 
 Most people think of waves as rising and falling. But if 
 they look at the sea carefully, they will perceive that the 
 
 230 waves do not rise and fall. They change. Change both 
 place and form, but they do not fall ; one wave goes on, 
 and on, and still on ; now lower, now higher, now tossing 
 its mane like a horse, now building itself together like a 
 wall, now shaking, now steady, but still the same wave, till 
 
 235 at last it seems struck by something, and changes, one 
 knows not how, becomes another wave. 
 
 The close of the line insists on this image, and paints it 
 still more perfectly, "foam that passed away." Not 
 
 pies? How does the section 11. 214-227, in the kind of exposition em- 
 ployed, exemplify Rhet. p. 390, 2? How do 11. 227-236 answer to 
 Rhet. p. 391, 3? What striking metaphor, almost like a personifica- 
 tion, betrays the writer's descriptive delight in portraying the object ? 
 How does the same figure exemplify Rhet. p. 92, 3? 
 
 240. The absolute ocean fact, how does this substantiate 11. 
 203-208? Observe, in order to express himself with exactness and 
 vigor, both of which qualities are here needed, the author turns a noun 
 
JOHN RUSK IN. 245 
 
 merely melting, disappearing, but passing on, out of sight, 
 on the career of the wave. Then, having put the absolute 240 
 ocean fact as far as he may before our eyes, the poet leaves 
 us to feel about it as we may, and to trace for ourselves 
 the opposite fact, the image of the green mounds that do 
 not change, and the white and written stones that do not 
 pass away ; and thence to . follow out also the associated 2 4S 
 images of the calm life with the quiet grave, and the 
 despairing life with the fading foam : 
 
 " Let no man move his bones." 
 
 " As for Samaria, her king is cut off like the foam upon the water." 
 
 But nothing of this is actually told or pointed out, and 250 
 the expressions, as they stand, are perfectly severe and* 
 accurate, utterly uninfluenced by the firmly governed emo- 
 tion of the writer. Even the word "mock" is hardly an 
 exception, as it may stand merely for "deceive" or "de- 
 feat," without implying any impersonation of the waves. 255 
 
 It may be -well, perhaps, to give one or two more in- 
 stances to show the peculiar dignity possessed by all pas- 
 
 into an adjective. It is an epithet employed not for picturesqueness, 
 but for condensed energy. 242. And trace for ourselves the op- 
 posite fact, what kind of exposition is here employed ? 248, 249. 
 The two citations here given quite break off the grammatical continuity ; 
 why are they introduced, and what do they exemplify? 
 
 251. Perfectly severe, what is the exact force of this word, as 
 here used? How distinguished from accurate, 1. 252? 253-255. 
 What evidence of care in the study and estimation of words ? There is 
 no procedure so particular as exposition in measuring and maintaining 
 the exact suggestion of words, and Ruskin's exposition is fully worthy 
 of the requirement. 
 
 256-259. What is the object in giving the coming instances, and by 
 what one word best represented? How does this object differ from the 
 one last in mind (11. 189-191)? 256. One or two more instances, 
 
246 STUDIES IN INVENTION. 
 
 sages which thus limit their expression to the pure fact, and 
 leave the hearer to gather what he can from it. Here is 
 360 a notable one from the Iliad. ' Helen, looking from the 
 Scaean gate of Troy over the Grecian host, and telling 
 Priam the names of its captains, says at last : 
 
 " I see all the other dark-eyed Greeks ; but two I cannot see, 
 Castor and Pollux, whom one mother bore with me. Have they not 
 265 followed from fair Lacedaemon, or have they indeed come in their sea- 
 wandering ships, but now will not enter into the battle of men, fearing 
 the shame and the scorn that is in me ? " 
 
 Then Homer : 
 
 " So she spoke. But them, already, the life-giving earth possessed, 
 270 there in Lacedaemon, in the dear fatherland." 
 
 Note, here, the high poetical truth carried to the extreme. 
 The poet has to speak of the earth in sadness, but he will 
 not let that sadness affect or change his thoughts of it. 
 No ; though Castor and Pollux be dead, yet the earth is 
 275 our mother still, fruitful, life-giving. These are the facts 
 of the thing. I see nothing else than these. Make what 
 you will of them. . . . 
 
 only one of the instances is quoted here, though the author gives two ; 
 the second, though a fine instance, depends for its effect on the reader's 
 understanding of a French poem, of which it quotes thirty-six lines. 
 
 271-277. On what antithesis does the effectiveness of this instance 
 depend? 275, 277. Note the effect of the short sentences, and com- 
 pare Rhet. p. 1 86, i. The same manner of expression is employed, at 
 greater length, in the comment on the French poem mentioned above : 
 '* Yes, that is the fact of it. Right or wrong, the poet does not say. 
 What you may think about it, he does not know. He has nothing to 
 do with that. There lie the ashes of the dead girl in her chamber. 
 There they danced, till the morning, at the Ambassador's of France. 
 Make what you will of it." Curious examples these, of the effect of 
 instances of a peculiar kind on the writer's manner of expression. 
 
JOHN RUSK IN. 247 
 
 Now in this there is the exact type of the consummate 
 poetical temperament. For, be it clearly and constantly 
 remembered, that the greatness of a poet depends upon 2 8<i 
 the two faculties, acuteness of feeling, and command of 
 it. A poet is great, first in proportion to the strength of 
 his passion, and then, that strength being granted, in pro- 
 portion to his government of it ; there being, however, 
 always a point beyond which it would be inhuman and 2 s s 
 monstrous if he pushed this government, and, therefore, 
 a point at which all feverish and wild fancy becomes just 
 and true. Thus the destruction of the kingdom of Assyria 
 cannot be contemplated firmly by a prophet of Israel. The 
 fact is too great, too wonderful. It overthrows him, dashes age 
 him into a confused element of dreams. All the world is, 
 to his stunned thought, full of strange voices. " Yea, the 
 fir-trees rejoice at thee, and the cedars of Lebanon, saying, 
 Since thou art gone down to the grave, no feller is come 
 up against us." So, still more, the thought of the presence 295 
 of Deity cannot be borne without this great astonishment. 
 " The mountains and the hills shall break forth before you 
 into singing, and all the trees of the field shall clap their 
 hands." 
 
 277. The instance here omitted, with the comment thereon, takes 
 up about a page and a half of the original. 
 
 278-282. The explanation here given virtually repeats what has 
 already been asserted, 11. 49-52 ; how does it add to and complete it? 
 284-298. The explanation here added is quite necessary, or at least 
 very serviceable, to open further an idea that has been merely suggested 
 before (11. 137-144; 149-153), but not exemplified. The Scripture 
 citations, 11. 292 and 297, which may be found in Isaiah xiv. 8 and Iv. 
 12, evidence Ruskin's intimate familiarity not only with the words but 
 with the very tissue and spirit of the Bible, a familiarity which, more 
 than any other one thing perhaps, has operated to form both his literary 
 style and his general view of things. 
 
248 STUDIES IN INVENTION. 
 
 3 oo But by how much this feeling is noble when it is justi- 
 fied by the strength of its cause, by so much it is ignoble 
 when there is not cause enough for it ; and beyond all 
 other ignobleness is the mere affectation of it, in hardness 
 of heart. Simply bad writing may almost always, as above 
 
 305 noticed, be known by its adoption of these fanciful meta- 
 phorical expressions, as a sort of current coin ; yet there 
 is even a worse, at least a more harmful, condition of writ- 
 ing than this, in which such expressions are not ignorantly 
 and feelinglessly caught up, but, by some master, skilful in 
 
 3 io handling, yet insincere, deliberately wrought out with chill 
 and studied fancy ; as if we should try to make an old lava 
 stream look red-hot again, by covering it with dead leaves, 
 or white-hot, with hoar frost. 
 
 When Young is lost in veneration, as he dwells on the 
 
 315 character of a truly good and holy man, he permits himself 
 for a moment to be overborne by the feeling so far as to 
 exclaim 
 
 " Where shall I find him ? angels, tell me where. 
 You know him ; he is near you ; point him out. 
 320 Shall I see glories beaming from his brow, 
 
 Or trace his footsteps by the rising flowers ? " 
 
 Do lines 90-104, preceding, require the further elucidation given to the 
 idea with which they deal, in 11. 300-361? 304. As above noticed, 
 see 11. 194-203. 307. A worse, at least a more harmful, what 
 is the advantage of the second of these words over the first? Cf. Rhet. p. 
 31, note. Why use the first at all, if it is to be so immediately corrected? 
 
 308. Are not, etc., but, etc., note the different orders of the 
 verbs in these two clauses ; what stress is thus effected ? 310. Chill 
 and studied fancy, note how much more effective is this epithet 
 chill than the word cold would be. Why? 311-313. Analyze the 
 figure here by Rhet. p. 395. 
 
 314 sq. The quotation from Young may be " true and right" as re- 
 gards emotion, but it is not very remarkable poetry. How does it flat 
 
JOHN R USKIN. 249 
 
 This emotion has a worthy cause, and is thus true and 
 right. But now hear the cold-hearted Pope say to a shep- 
 herd girl : 
 
 Where'er you walk, cool gales shall fan the glade ! 325 
 
 Trees, where you sit, shall crowd into a shade ; 
 Your praise the birds shall chant in every grove, 
 And winds shall waft it to the powers above. 
 But would you sing, and rival Orpheus' strain, 
 The wondering forests soon should dance again ; 33 o 
 
 The moving mountains hear the powerful call, 
 And headlong streams hang, listening, in their fall." 
 
 This is not, nor could it for a moment be mistaken for, 
 the language of passion. It is simple falsehood, uttered 
 by hypocrisy ; definite absurdity, rooted in affectation, and 335 
 coldly asserted in the teeth of nature and fact. Passion 
 will indeed go far in deceiving itself ; but it must be a 
 strong passion, not the simple wish of a lover to tempt his 
 mistress to sing. Compare a very closely parallel passage 
 in Wordsworth, in which the lover has lost his mistress : 34 
 
 ** Three years had Barbara in her grave been laid, 
 When thus his moan he made : 
 
 Oh, move, thou cottage, from behind yon oak, 
 
 Or let the ancient tree uprooted lie, 
 That in some other way yon smoke 345 
 
 May mount into the sky. 
 
 a note, as described and exemplified Rhet. p. 83? From the forego- 
 ing it appears that this citation from Young is introduced merely to 
 prepare for and set off by antithesis the succeeding from Pope. Ex- 
 actly what does the citation from Pope exemplify? How do the lines, 
 and especially 11. 331, 332, exemplify what is said of hyperbole, Rhet. 
 p. 99? What consideration, according to Ruskin, saves the citation 
 from Wordsworth, 11. 341-350, from being overstrained and ludicrous? 
 Point out exactly what it illustrates. 
 
250 STUDIES IN INVENTION. 
 
 * If still behind yon pine-tree's ragged bough, 
 Headlong, the waterfall must come, 
 Oh, let it, then, be dumb 
 350 Be anything, sweet stream, but that which thou art no\r.' " 
 
 Here is a cottage to be moved, if not a mountain, and a 
 waterfall to be silent, if it is not to hang listening ; but with 
 what different relation to the mind that contemplates them ! 
 Here, in the extremity of its agony, the soul cries out wildly 
 
 355 for relief, which at the same moment it partly knows to be 
 impossible, but partly believes possible, in a vague impres- 
 sion that a miracle might be wrought to give relief even to 
 a less sore distress, that nature is kind, and God is kind, 
 and that grief is strong ; it knows not well what is possible 
 
 360 to such grief. To silence a stream, to move a cottage 
 wall, one might think it could do as much as that! 
 
 I believe these instances are enough to illustrate the 
 main point I insist upon respecting the pathetic fallacy, 
 that so far as it is a fallacy, it is always the sign of a mor- 
 
 365 bid state of mind, and comparatively of a weak one. Even 
 in the most inspired prophet it is a sign of the incapacity 
 of his human sight or thought to bear what has been 
 revealed to it. In ordinary poetry, if it is found in the 
 thoughts of the poet himself, it is at once a sign of his 
 
 37 belonging to the inferior school ; if in the thoughts of the 
 characters imagined by him, it is right or wrong according 
 to the genuineness of the emotion from which it springs ; 
 always, however, implying necessarily some degree of weak- 
 ness in the character. 
 
 362-374. In this paragraph the author begins to summarize his 
 thought. 364. A morbid state of mind, in what sense are we to 
 take the term morbid here ? It is evidently to be regarded as not in- 
 consistent with the possibility of being right as well as wrong (1. 371). 
 373. Some degree of -weakness, how is this implication related 
 
JOHN RUSK IN. 251 
 
 Take two most exquisite instances from master hands. 373 
 The Jessy of Shenstone, and the Ellen of Wordsworth, 
 have both been betrayed and deserted. Jessy, in the 
 course of her most touching complaint, says : 
 
 " If through the garden's flowery tribes I stray, 
 
 Where bloom the jasmines that could once allure, 3 8o 
 
 ' Hope not to find delight in us,' they say, 
 * For we are spotless, Jessy, we are pure.' " 
 
 Compare with this some of the words of Ellen : 
 
 " ' Ah, why,' said Ellen, sighing to herself, 
 ' Why do not words, and kiss, and solemn pledge, 385 
 
 And nature, that is kind in woman's breast, 
 And reason, that in man is wise and good, 
 And fear of Him who is a righteous Judge, 
 Why do not these prevail for human life, 
 
 To keep two hearts together, that began 390 
 
 Their springtime with one love, and that have need 
 Of mutual pity and forgiveness, sweet 
 To grant, or be received ; while that poor bird 
 O, come and hear him ! Thou who hast to me 
 Been faithless, hear him ; though a lowly creature, 395 
 
 One of God's simple children, that yet know not 
 The Universal Parent, how he sings ! 
 As if he wished the firmament of heaven 
 Should listen, and give back to him the voice 
 Of his triumphant constancy and love. 4CXJ 
 
 The proclamation that he makes, how far 
 His darkness doth transcend our fickle light.' " 
 
 to the examples further adduced? see the explanation of them, 11. 
 405-421. 377. Have both, etc., compare note on 1. 209. 405. 
 Insuperable, a rather unusual sense in which to employ the word. 
 Can you suggest an equivalent? 405-421. Exactly what phase of the 
 subject do these examples round out and illustrate ? 
 
252 STUDIES IN INVENTION. 
 
 The perfection of both these passages, as far as regards 
 truth and tenderness of imagination in the two poets, is 
 
 405 quite insuperable. But, of the two characters imagined, 
 Jessy is weaker than Ellen, exactly in so far as something 
 appears to her to be in nature which is not. The flowers 
 do not really reproach her. God meant them to comfort 
 her, not to taunt her ; they would do so if she saw them 
 
 410 rightly. 
 
 Ellen, on the other hand, is quite above the slightest 
 erring emotion. There is not the barest film of fallacy in 
 all her thoughts. She reasons as calmly as if she did not 
 feel. And, although the singing of the bird suggests to 
 
 415 her the idea of its desiring to be heard in heaven, she does 
 not for an instant admit any veracity in the thought. " As 
 if," she says, "I know he means nothing of the kind ; 
 but it does verily seem as if." The reader will find, by 
 examining the rest of the poem, that Ellen's character 
 
 420 is throughout consistent in this clear though passionate 
 strength. 
 
 It then being, I hope, now made clear to the reader in 
 all respects that the pathetic fallacy is powerful only so far 
 as it is pathetic, feeble so far as it is fallacious, and, there- 
 
 425 fore, that the dominion of Truth is entire, over this, as ovej 
 every other natural and just state of the human mind, we 
 may go on to the subject for the dealing with which this 
 prefatory inquiry became necessary ; and why necessary, 
 
 we shall see forthwith. 
 
 From MODERN PAINTERS, Vol. III. 
 
 422-426. Another summary, introduced subordinately, but adding 
 an important element of definition to the previous, one, 11. 362-374. 
 What does it add to that? 424. Feeble, this word stands here, by 
 way of antithesis to powerful, in \. 423, as the equivalent of morbid 
 and weak, 11. 364, 365. And therefore, etc., how does this sum* 
 marize and complete what is said previously, 11. 100, 101 ? 
 
NOTES ON EXPOSITION IN PREVIOUS SELECTIONS. 
 
 SEVERAL of the Selections already given, being expository, may be 
 profitably studied both for the individual qualities they display, as to 
 choice and treatment of subject, and for the models of exposition that 
 they afford, to guide and influence other writers. Let us look at a few 
 of the more prominent features of them. 
 
 De Quincey : Pages 8-16. Quite in accordance with the refined 
 and refining quality of his mind, De Quincey has chosen a peculiarly 
 subtle idea to expound. What is it, as gathered from the first para- 
 graph, 11. 1-9? 
 
 The exposition groups itself around two questions : I . What object 
 is to be accomplished (defined in 11. 37-84) ; and 2. How the knocking 
 at the gate works in accomplishing it (set forth in 11. 84-132). 
 
 1. In defining the object to be accomplished, what change is to 
 be wrought in our ordinary view of murder? What gives importance 
 to the close exposition of the idea of sympathy? Explain 11. 51-53, 
 together with the note thereon, by Rhet. p. 389, I. How is this object 
 necessitated by the claims of poetry? In the case before us, in order 
 to satisfy the claims of poetical treatment, what antithesis (notice that 
 De Quincey views this as an instrument of exposition, 1. 74) must be 
 presented, and how does the character of Duncan affect the requirement 
 of it, as to energy ? Exactly what office does De Quincey attribute to 
 the knocking at the gate (1. 82) in promoting the object? 
 
 2. In setting forth this office of the knocking at the gate, what means 
 of exposition is first used, 11. 84-113? See Rhet. p. 395. Do the two 
 cases illustrate exactly the same point? Cf. 11. 86 and 99. What call 
 is there to labor, as De Quincey evidently does, to make the description 
 of the city streets, 11. 89-95, particularly vivid, and what kind of expo- 
 sition does this involve? How does he explain his object, 1. 103? 
 In applying his analogies to the case in hand, on what means of exposi- 
 tion does he bestow especial labor, in 11. 115-124, also 11. 124-132? 
 See Rhet. p. 393. Does the importance of these passages in the treat- 
 ment require such pains ? 
 
254 STUDIES IN INVENTION. 
 
 Professor Minto says of De Quincey, " The great obstacle to his 
 success in exposition was the want of simplicity. He was . . . too 
 persistently scholastic for the ordinary reader, making an almost osten- 
 tatious use of logical forms and scientific technicalities." Can you point 
 out instances of this over-learnedness, as measured by the requirements 
 of the subject (which in this case is especially subtle), and as related 
 to the capacity of the readers to whom such a subject would appeal ? 
 
 Burke: Pages 18-23. The idea of National Chivalry, here ex- 
 pounded, is an idea of very different kind from that treated by De Quin- 
 cey, and potent in a very different region, so to say, of the human mind. 
 It is an oratorical idea, and we may call this, although occurring in a 
 discourse published in epistolary form, a good example of oratorical 
 exposition. We look therefore for the expedients of spoken discourse, 
 and for the more large and striking expository elements. 
 
 The idea being introduced, 1. 18, what step of exposition is first 
 taken, 11. 18-20? By what means of exposition is this followed, 11. 20- 
 31? For both of these questions, see Rhet. p. 393 ; and compare .Rhet, 
 PP- 2 93> 3> an d 292, i. What expository force have the lines 1-18, 
 which precede the introduction of the idea? 
 
 It is only indirectly that the exposition of the idea of National Chiv- 
 alry enters into the treatment of Burke's present subject; but the 
 succeeding paragraphs, by defining its effect in civilization, and the 
 baneful effect of its opposite on national temper and the commonwealth, 
 deepens and broadens our idea of what it is, and what is its importance. 
 
 Huxley: Pages 67-75. What idea has the author to expound? 
 What means of exposition is used, 11. 9-55? Trace it. How is expo- 
 sition by definition employed, 11. 122-136? Explain by Rhet, p. 391, 3. 
 
 Newman : Pages 76-80. Trace the analogy, 11. 1-45, and evolve 
 from it a definition of the author's idea. How is the paragraph, 
 11. 46-68, related to the exposition of the idea? Does it set it forth 
 directly? How is the analogy modified in the paragraph, 11. 69-83, 
 and what different phase of the idea does it elucidate, as compared with 
 the first paragraph ? 
 
 Addison : Pages 141-146. How does the exposition of the ob- 
 verse enter into the presentation of Addison's idea? What is the most 
 useful and striking means of exposition that he employs, in the first 
 paragraph? By what expository means is the subject finished and 
 applied ? 
 
XXIV. 
 JOHN TYNDALL. 
 
 THE METEORIC THEORY OF THE SUN*S HEAT. 
 
 IF we know the velocity and weight of any projectile, we 
 can calculate with ease the amount of heat developed by 
 the destruction of its moving force. For example, know- 
 ing as we do the weight of the earth and the velocity with 
 which it moves through space, a simple calculation enables s 
 us to state the exact amount of heat which would be de- 
 veloped, supposing the earth to strike against a target 
 
 The principles of Argumentation are so numerous and complex 
 that it would take much more space than this Handbook has at com- 
 mand to exemplify them all. Some of the more usual and important 
 aspects of the subject, however, will be studied in this Selection and 
 the one following ; which presuppose a knowledge of the Rhetoric as 
 far as page 446. 
 
 The present Selection exemplifies some of the main procedures of an 
 Inductive Argument (Rhet. pp. 416-423), as applied to scientific in- 
 vestigation. The argument invites our study as literature, its aim 
 being not only scholarly but popular ; or, as the author defines the aim 
 of the book from which it is taken, " to combine soundness of matter 
 with a style which should arouse interest and sympathy in persons un- 
 cultured in science." It may thus be regarded as a fair specimen of the 
 kind of writing which has done so much in this century to popularize 
 scientific culture and modes of thought- 
 
 For what basis do we look, according to Rhet. p. 416, as the begin- 
 ning of our induction? How is this requisite supplied, in 11. 24-28? 
 Is the argument to be a priori or a posteriori? See Rhet. p. 417. 
 
 A hypothesis is not " made up out of whole cloth " ; there are always 
 
256 STUDIES IN INVENTION. 
 
 strong enough to stop its motion. We could tell, for ex- 
 ample, the number of degrees which this amount of heat 
 
 to would impart to a globe of water equal to the earth in size. 
 Mayer and Helmholtz have made this calculation, and 
 found that the quantity of heat which would be generated 
 by this colossal shock would be quite sufficient, not only 
 to fuse the entire earth, but to reduce it, in great part, to 
 
 15 vapor. Thus, by the simple stoppage of the earth in its 
 orbit, " the elements " might be caused " to melt with fer- 
 vent heat.'* The amount of heat thus developed would be 
 equal to that derived from the combustion of fourteen 
 globes of coal, each equal to the earth in magnitude. And 
 
 20 if, after the stoppage of its motion, the earth should fall 
 into the sun, as it assuredly would, the amount of heat 
 generated by the blow would be equal to that developed 
 by the combustion of 5,600 worlds of solid carbon. 
 
 Knowledge such as that which you now possess has 
 
 2 s caused philosophers, in speculating on the mode in which 
 the sun's power is maintained, to suppose the solar heat 
 and light to be caused by the showering down of meteoric 
 matter upon the sun's surface. The Zodiacal Light is sup- 
 posed to be a cloud of meteorites, and from it, it has been 
 
 some facts, lying on the surface as it were, that go to make it to some 
 degree probable. How does the first paragraph, 11. 1-23, contribute to 
 such probability? Does it deal with an actual cause, or with a possible 
 one? Does it deal with a cause which, if actual, would be adequate to 
 produce the known effect? Exactly what, then, may we infer as look- 
 ing toward the hypothesis here laid down? 
 
 24-38. What phenomenon is so accounted for here as to give color 
 to the theory here propounded ? Is this in itself a conclusive indica- 
 tion? How would you define its nature, from Rhet. p. 419? How 
 does the author manifest toward this argument the caution inculcated 
 Rhet. p. 419? From 11. 36-38, in what line of questioning must the 
 strength of the investigation be spent ? 
 
JOHN TYNDALL. 257 
 
 imagined, the rain of meteoric matter was derived. Now, 3 
 whatever be the value of this speculation, it is to be borne 
 in mind that the pouring down of meteors in the way indi- 
 cated would be competent to produce the light and heat of 
 the sun. I shall develop the theory on a future occasion. 
 With regard to its probable truth or fallacy, it is not neces- 35 
 sary that I should offer an opinion ; the theory deals with 
 a cause which, if in sufficient operation, would certainly be 
 competent to produce the effects ascribed to it. 
 
 ****** 
 
 The total amount of solar heat received by the earth in 
 a year, if distributed uniformly over the earth's surface, 40 
 would be sufficient to liquefy a layer of ice one hundred 
 feet thick, and covering the whole earth. It would also 
 heat an ocean of fresh water sixty-six miles deep, from 
 the temperature of melting ice to the temperature of 
 ebullition. 45 
 
 Knowing thus the annual receipt of the earth, we can 
 calculate the entire quantity of heat emitted by the sun in 
 a year. Conceive a hollow sphere to surround the sun, its 
 centre being the sun's centre, and its surface at the dis- 
 tance of the earth from the sun. The section of the earth 5 
 
 This first part of the treatment, which lays down the hypothesis and 
 shows what makes it antecedently probable, is taken from the early part 
 of the treatise ; what follows, taken from near the end of the volume, is 
 the fulfilment of the promise made in line 34. 
 
 In order to reason rightly from a known effect to its unknown cause, 
 two things must be presented with care and clearness : I . Exactly the 
 extent of the effect to be accounted for; 2. The adequacy of the postu- 
 lated cause to account for it. 
 
 With which of these do 11. 39-64 deal? How does the author's aim, 
 expressed at the beginning, explain the manner in which he gives these 
 estimates, in terms of combustion, liquefaction, and ebullition, instead 
 of by some scientific unit ? Why expressed in several ways ? Trace 
 
258 STUDIES IN INVENTION. 
 
 cut by this surface is, to the whole area of the hollow 
 sphere, as I : 2,300,000,000; hence, the quantity of solar 
 heat intercepted by the earth is only ^- 3000 1 0000 ^- of the 
 total radiation. 
 
 55 The heat emitted by the sun, if used to melt a stratum 
 of ice applied to the 'sun's surface, would liquefy the ice 
 at the rate of 2,400 feet an hour. It would boil, per 
 hour, 700,000 millions of cubic miles of ice-cold water. 
 Expressed in another form, the heat given out by the sun, 
 
 60 per hour, is equal to that which would be generated by the 
 combustion of a layer of solid coal, ten feet thick, entirely 
 surrounding the sun ; hence, the heat emitted in a year is 
 equal to that which would be produced by the combustion 
 of a layer of coal seventeen miles in thickness. 
 
 6 S This, then, is the sun's expenditure which has been 
 going on for ages, without our being able, in historic times, 
 to detect the loss. When the tolling of a bell is heard at 
 a distance, the sonorous vibrations are quickly wasted, and 
 renewed strokes are necessary to maintain the sound. Like 
 
 7 o the bell 
 
 " Die Sonne tont nach alter Weise." 
 
 But how is its tone sustained ? How is the perennial loss 
 
 made good ? We are apt to overlook the wonderful in 
 
 the common. Possibly to many of us and even to some 
 
 75 of the most enlightened among us the sun appears as 
 
 what part each of the three paragraphs in these lines fulfils in working 
 out the general object. 
 
 Lines 65-70 draw the conclusion of the foregoing stage of the argu- 
 ment, and suggest by an analogy the condition of things to be explained. 
 Is the analogy of use, either as exposition or argument, or otherwise 
 than as a means of increasing the literary interest? The German 
 quotation, which is the first line of the Prologue to Goethe's Faust, 
 means " The sun sounds after the ancient manner." 
 
JOHN TYNDALL. 259 
 
 a fire, differing from our terrestrial fires only in the 
 magnitude and intensity of its combustion. But what is 
 the burning matter which can thus maintain itself? All 
 that we know of cosmical phenomena declares our brother- 
 hood with the sun affirms that the same constituents 8c 
 enter into the composition of his mass as those already 
 known to chemistry. But no earthly substance with which 
 we are acquainted no substance which the fall of meteors 
 has landed on the earth would be at all competent to 
 maintain the sun's combustion. The chemical energy of 85 
 such substances would be too weak, and their dissipation 
 too speedy. Were the sun a block of burning coal, and 
 were it supplied with oxygen sufficient for the observed 
 emission, it would be utterly consumed in five thousand 
 years. On the other hand, to imagine it a body originally 90 
 endowed with a store of heat a hot globe now cooling 
 necessitates the ascription to it of qualities wholly different 
 from those possessed by terrestrial matter. If we knew 
 the specific heat of the sun, we could calculate its rate of 
 cooling. Assuming the specific heat to be the same as 95 
 that of water the terrestrial substance which possesses 
 the highest specific heat at its present rate of emission, 
 the entire mass of the sun would cool down 1 5,000 Fahr. 
 in five thousand years. In short, if the sun be formed of 
 matter like our own, some means must exist of restoring io 
 to it its wasted power. 
 
 The question being propounded, 11. 72, 73, a natural stage in the 
 inquiry would be to ask whether there may be some other answer than 
 the one under consideration. 
 
 Accordingly, what is the office, in the argument, of 11. 74-116, and 
 how explained by Rhet. p. 431 ? 
 
 Beginning with the supposition apparently most near and natural 
 (cf. Rhet. p. 442, bottom), on what grounds must we rule out the possi- 
 
260 STUDIES IN INVENTION. 
 
 The facts are so extraordinary, that the soberest hy- 
 pothesis regarding them must appear wild. The sun we 
 know rotates upon his axis once in about twenty-five days ; 
 
 os and the notion has been entertained that the friction of the 
 periphery of this wheel against something in surrounding 
 space produces the light and heat. But what forms the 
 brake, and by what agency is it held, while it rubs against 
 the sun ? Granting, moreover, the existence of the brake, 
 
 MO we calculate the total amount of heat which the sun could 
 generate by such friction. We know his mass ; we know 
 his time of rotation ; we know the mechanical equivalent 
 of heat ; and, from these data, we can deduce, with cer- 
 tainty, that the force of rotation, if entirely converted into 
 
 us heat, would cover less than two centuries of emission 
 There is nothing hypothetical in this calculation. 
 
 I have already alluded to another theory, which, however 
 bold it may at first sight appear, deserves our serious atten- 
 tion the Meteoric Theory of the Sun. Kepler's celebrated 
 
 120 statement, that " there are more comets in the heavens 
 than fish in the ocean," implies that a small portion only 
 of the total number of comets belonging to our system are 
 seen from the earth. But, besides comets, and planets, 
 and moons, a numerous class of bodies belong to our sys- 
 
 ble answer suggested in 11. 74-90? How does it come into collision 
 with observed facts ? What is the second supposition, 11. 90-101, and 
 what consideration rules it out? What is the force in assuming the sun's 
 specific heat to be the same as that of water? Observe, in 11. 90, 91, 
 how scientific modes of expression are simplified for ordinary readers. 
 Another example is seen below, in 11. 107-109. 99. If the sun be 
 formed of matter like our own, this condition is the only basis 
 on which the author can reason ; what color has he for it, as expressed 
 above, 11. 78, 79? It will be observed, accordingly, that all solar phe- 
 nomena throughout the argument are estimated by standards afforded 
 
JOHN TYNDALL. 261 
 
 tem, which, from their smallness, might be regarded as 125 
 cosmical atoms. Like the planets and the comets, these 
 smaller asteroids obey the law of gravity, and revolve in 
 elliptic orbits round the sun. It is they which, when they 
 come within the earth's atmosphere, and are fired by fric- 
 tion, appear to us as meteors and falling stars. 130 
 
 On a bright night, twenty minutes rarely pass at any 
 part of the earth's surface without the appearance of at 
 least one meteor. Twice a year (on the I2th of August 
 and 1 4th of November) they appear in enormous numbers. 
 During nine hours in Boston, when they were described 135 
 as falling as thick as snow-flakes, 240,000 meteors were' 
 observed. The number falling in a year might, perhaps, 
 be estimated at hundreds or thousands of millions, and 
 even these would constitute but a small portion of the total 
 
 by phenomena of the earth ; aside from these there is no intelligible 
 basis of comparison. 
 
 What is the third supposition, 11. 102-116, and how invalidated? 
 What does the last sentence, 1. 116, imply as to the conclusiveness of 
 the consideration against it? 
 
 The way being thus cleared by the removal of more plausible but 
 untenable theories, we may advance without obstacle to the statement, 
 more in full, of the hypothesis already propounded. What attitude 
 toward the argument does the author profess (see 11. 117, 118; 201- 
 206), and how does it agree with Rhet. p. 417? 117. I have already 
 alluded, etc., see above, 1. 34, and note on that part of the treat- 
 ment. 119. It is quite in accord with the literary habit of our author's 
 mind, as well as with his object, that he should begin his statement 
 with this striking assertion from Kepler ; see similar instances of popu- 
 lar treatment, 11. 16, 71. Also it is natural and necessary that he 
 should begin with an observed fact, and work as far as possible in the 
 realm of observed facts. What parallel does the earth furnish, 11. 128- 
 130, to make our hypothesis more natural ? 125. Might be regarded 
 as cosmical atoms, derivation and meaning of cosmical? How 
 different from ordinary atoms ? To the readers of the whole volume 
 
262 STUDIES IN INVENTION. 
 
 140 crowd of asteroids that circulate round the sun. From 
 the phenomena of light and heat, and by direct observa- 
 tions on Encke's comet, we learn that the universe is filled 
 by a resisting medium, through the friction of which all 
 the masses of our system are drawn gradually toward the 
 
 145 sun. And though the larger planets show, in historic 
 times, no diminution of their periods of revolution, it may 
 be otherwise with the smaller bodies. In the time re- 
 quired for the mean distance of the earth to alter a single 
 yard, a small asteroid may have approached thousands of 
 
 150 miles nearer to the sun. 
 
 Following up these reflections, we should be led to the 
 conclusion that, while an immeasurable stream of ponderable 
 meteoric matter moves unceasingly toward the sun, it must 
 augment in density as it approaches its centre of converg- 
 
 from which this argument is taken, an illustration and corroboration of 
 our theory is supplied in an earlier section, to which these words are 
 an allusion. "Our theory," he says, "is applicable not only to suns 
 and planets, but equally so to atoms. Most of you know the scientific 
 history of the diamond that Newton, antedating intellectually the 
 discoveries of modern chemistry, pronounced it to be an unctuous or 
 combustible substance. Everybody now knows that this brilliant gem 
 is composed of the same substance as common charcoal, graphite, or 
 plumbago. A diamond is pure carbon, and carbon burns in oxygen. 
 Here is a diamond, held fast in a loop of platinum-wire ; heating the 
 gem to redness in this flame, I plunge it into this jar, which contains 
 oxygen gas. See how it brightens on entering the jar of oxygen, and 
 now it glows, like a little star, with a pure white light. How are we to 
 figure the action here going on ? Exactly as you would present to your 
 minds the idea of meteorites showering down upon the sun. The con- 
 ceptions are, in quality, the same, and to the intellect the one is not 
 more difficult than the other. You are to figure the atoms of oxygen 
 showering against this diamond on all sides. They are urged toward 
 it by what is called chemical affinity ; but this force, made clear, pre- 
 sents itself to the mind as pure attraction, of the same mechanical quality, 
 
JOHN TYNDALL. 263 
 
 ence. And here the conjecture naturally rises, whether 155 
 that vast nebulous mass, the Zodiacal Light, which em- 
 braces the sun, may not be a crowd of meteors. It is at 
 least proved that this luminous phenomenon arises from 
 matter which circulates in obedience to planetary laws ; 
 hence the entire mass of the zodiacal light must be con- 160 
 stantly approaching and incessantly raining its substance 
 down upon the sun. 
 
 It is easy to calculate both the maximum and the mini- 
 mum velocity, imparted by the sun's attraction to an aste- 
 roid circulating round him. The maximum is generated 165 
 when the body approaches the sun from an infinite dis- 
 tance ; the entire pull of the sun being then exerted upon 
 it. The minimum is that velocity which would barely en- 
 
 if I may use the term, as gravity. Every oxygen atom as it strikes the 
 surface, and has its motion of translation destroyed by its collision with 
 the carbon, assumes the motion which we call heat ; and this heat is so 
 intense, the attractions exerted at these molecular distances are so 
 mighty, that the crystal is kept white-hot, and the compound, formed by 
 the union of its atoms with those of the oxygen, flies away as carbonic- 
 acid gas." " In short," he concludes his chapter on the Theory of 
 Combustion, "all cases of combustion are to be ascribed to the collision 
 of atoms which have been urged together by their mutual attractions." 
 It seems no more than fair that what the readers of the volume had in 
 their possession for the understanding of this argument, should also be 
 put in ours. What then, in our present theory, corresponds to the atoms 
 of the above note ? 
 
 In constructing an argument a priori (and indeed any argument 
 dealing with cause and effect), Rhet. represents, p. 419, that three 
 things must be shown or made evident. How do 11. 131-150 meet the 
 first of these? Show how the statements are made probable from 
 observed phenomena, and how possible objections or difficulties are 
 answered. 
 
 151-162. It is in this paragraph that conjecture begins, what con- 
 jecture ? What proved fact gives color and plausibility to the conjecture ? 
 
264 STUDIES IN INVENTION. 
 
 able the body to revolve round the sun close to his surface. 
 
 170 The final velocity of the former, just before striking the 
 sun, would be 390 miles a second, that of the latter 276 
 miles a second. The asteroid, on striking the sun, with 
 the former velocity, would develop more than nine thou- 
 sand times the heat generated by the combustion of an 
 
 175 equal asteroid of solid coal ; while the shock, in the latter 
 case, would generate heat equal to that of the combustion 
 of upward of four thousand such asteroids. It matters 
 not, therefore, whether the substances falling into the sun 
 be combustible or not ; their being combustible would not 
 
 180 add sensibly to the tremendous heat produced by their 
 mechanical collision. 
 
 Here, then, we have an agency competent to restore his 
 lost energy to the sun, and to maintain a temperature at 
 his surface which transcends all terrestrial combustion. In 
 
 185 the fall of asteroids we find the means of producing the 
 solar light and heat. It may be contended that this 
 showering down of matter necessitates the growth of the 
 sun ; it does so ; but the quantity necessary to maintain 
 the observed calorific emission for four thousand years 
 
 190 would defeat the scrutiny of our best instruments. If the 
 earth struck the sun, it would utterly vanish from percep- 
 tion ; but the heat developed by its shock would cover the 
 expenditure of a century. . . . 
 
 How do 11. 163-181 meet the second condition required Rhet. p. 419, 
 and what conclusion is accordingly drawn, 11. 182-186? How is the 
 expression popularized, as to measurements and quantities of heat de- 
 scribed? What objection is met, 11. 186-193? How does this answer 
 meet the third condition, Rhet. p. 419? How, in accordance with 
 former procedures, is it made striking and palpable to an ordinary 
 reader ? 
 
 193. The periods here mark the omission of a page of matter relat- 
 
JOHN TYNDALL. 265 
 
 Such is an outline of the Meteoric Theory of the Sun, 
 as extracted from Mayer's " Essay on Celestial Dynamics." 195 
 I have held closely to his statements, and in most cases 
 simply translated his words. But the sketch conveys no 
 adequate idea of the firmness and consistency with which 
 he has applied his principles. He deals with true causes ; 
 and the only question that can affect his theory refers to 200 
 the quantity of action ascribed by him to these causes. I 
 do not pledge myself to this theory, nor do I ask you to 
 accept it as demonstrated ; still, it would be a great mis- 
 take to regard it as chimerical. It is a noble speculation ; 
 and, depend upon it, the true theory, if this, or some form 2 s 
 of it, be not the true one, will not appear less wild or less 
 
 astounding. 
 
 From HEAT CONSIDERED AS A MODE OF MOTION. 
 
 ing to broader considerations regarding the structure of the sun and 
 " the permanence of our present terrestrial conditions " ; which matter 
 is not at all essential, and indeed seems disturbing, to our present 
 argument. 
 
 In conclusion, what gives weight to this theory, 11. 199-201, as an 
 inductive argument? How is the thought of its boldness met, in 11. 204- 
 207? How was this thought forestalled and prepared for, 11. .102, 103? 
 
XXV. 
 
 THOMAS BABINGTON, LORD MACAULAY. 
 
 QUEEN ELIZABETH A PERSECUTOR. 
 
 IT is vehemently maintained by some writers of the 
 present day that Elizabeth persecuted neither Papists nor 
 Puritans as such, and that the severe measures which she 
 occasionally adopted were dictated, not by religious intol- 
 s erance, but by political necessity. Even the excellent 
 account of those times which Mr. Hallam has given has 
 not altogether imposed silence on the authors of this fal- 
 lacy. The title of the Queen, they say, was annulled by 
 
 The present Selection lends itself to study in two ways. As to prin- 
 ciple, it exemplifies the main procedures of Deductive reasoning (Rhet. 
 pp. 424-429), being concerned with establishing a truth expressed vir- 
 tually in a syllogism. As to form it is a Refutation (Rhet. pp. 432- 
 439), being concerned with exposing and tearing down, point by point, 
 a fallacy. This mode of putting a course of reasoning in the form oi 
 refutation is quite characteristic of Macaulay. " His great powers of 
 debate," says Professor Minto, " appear chiefly in refutation. He is 
 critical rather than constructive. He takes delight in exposing false 
 analogies and false generalities, and in showing that anticipations are 
 not warranted by previous experience." 
 
 Let us first examine the refutation, with its main and minor points ; 
 and then, by way of recapitulation, note the force of the whole as a 
 positive syllogistic argument. 
 
 Lines 1-13. What is the position that Macaulay sets out to refute, 
 and on what does it principally turn ? Explain how his opponents ar- 
 rive at their position, by Rhet. p. 428. 7. This fallacy, the word 
 
LORD MACAULAY. 267 
 
 the Pope ; her throne was given to another ; her subjects 
 were incited to rebellion ; her life was menaced ; every 10 
 Catholic was bound in conscience to be a traitor ; it was 
 therefore against traitors, not against Catholics, that the 
 penal laws were enacted. 
 
 In order that our readers may be fully competent to 
 appreciate the merits of this defence, we will state, as 15. 
 concisely as possible, the substance of some of these 
 laws. 
 
 As soon as Elizabeth ascended the throne, and before 
 the least hostility to her government had been shown by 
 the Catholic population, an act passed prohibiting the 20 
 celebration of the rites of the Romish Church, on pain of 
 forfeiture for the first offence, of a year's imprisonment 
 for the second, and of perpetual imprisonment for the 
 third. 
 
 A law was next made in 1 562, enacting, that all who 25 
 had ever graduated at the Universities or received holy 
 
 fallacy is a general term to denote any error by which reasoning is 
 made inconclusive. Such error may lie either (i) in the fact alleged; 
 or (2) in the use of terms ; or (3) in the course of reasoning. It is the 
 business of refutation to expose whatever is fallacious in an opponent's 
 argument, according to the need of the occasion. 
 
 With which aspect of the fallacy do the four paragraphs, 11. 14-58, 
 deal? Does the author understate or overstate his object, 11. 14, 15? 
 It will be observed that not only are facts stated, but in each case such 
 accompaniments and aspects of the facts are also given as will lend an 
 argumentative force to them. This of course is fair, but it is also wise. 
 
 18-24. In giving the substance of this first enactment, does the force 
 lie in the enactment itself, or in some accompaniment which invalidates 
 it as argument ? How is this brought out in the structure of the first 
 sentence? Cf. Rhet. p. 181, 4. 
 
 25-52. The argumentative force of this statement lies in the bald 
 and direct way in which the obnoxious character of the law is made to 
 
268 STUDIES IN INVENTION. 
 
 orders, all lawyers, and all magistrates, should take the 
 oath of supremacy when tendered to them, on pain of 
 forfeiture and imprisonment during the royal pleasure. 
 
 30 After the lapse of three months, the oath might again be 
 tendered to them; and, if it were again refused, the 
 recusant was guilty of high treason. A prospective law, 
 however severe, framed to exclude Catholics from the 
 liberal professions, would have been mercy itself compared 
 
 35 with this odious act. It is a retrospective statute ; it is 
 a retrospective penal statute ; it is a retrospective penal 
 statute against a large class. We will not positively affirm 
 that a law of this description must always, and under all 
 circumstances, be unjustifiable. But the presumption 
 
 40 against it is most violent ; nor do we remember any crisis, 
 either in our own history, or in the history of any other 
 country, which would have rendered such a provision nec- 
 essary. In the present case, what circumstances called 
 for extraordinary rigor ? There might be disaffection 
 
 45 among the Catholics. The prohibition of their worship 
 would naturally produce it. But it is from their situation, 
 not from their conduct, from the wrongs which they had 
 suffered, not from those which they had committed, that 
 the existence of discontent among them must be inferred. 
 
 so There were libels, no doubt, and prophecies, and rumors, 
 
 stand out, free from any disguise of verbiage. This, also, is the rea- 
 soner's fair privilege. Point out how rhetorical strength is given to 
 the characterization of the law, in 11. 32-37 ; especially what figures of 
 emphasis. In answering it, what consideration would naturally come 
 first in order, according to Rhet. p. 442 (middle), and how does this 
 agree, in 11. 37-43? Having established an antecedent presumption 
 against it, what further answer does he make, 11. 43-52, and in what 
 consideration does it centre? Does it break down the defence, as 
 regards this enactment? 
 
LORD MACAULAY. 269 
 
 and suspicions, strange grounds for a law inflicting capital 
 penalties, ex post facto, on a large body of men. 
 
 Eight years later, the bull of Pius deposing Elizabeth 
 produced a third law. This law, to which alone, as we 
 conceive, the defence now under our consideration can 55 
 apply, provides that, if any Catholic shall convert a Prot- 
 estant to the Romish Church, they shall both suffer death 
 as for high treason. 
 
 We believe that we might safely content ourselves with 
 stating the fact, and leaving it to the judgment of every 60 
 plain Englishman. Recent controversies have, however, 
 given so much importance to this subject, that we will 
 offer a few remarks on it. 
 
 In the first place, the arguments which are urged in 
 favor of Elizabeth apply with much greater force to the 6 5 
 case of her sister Mary. The Catholics did not, at the 
 time of Elizabeth's accession, rise in arms to seat a Pre- 
 tender on her throne. But before Mary had given, or 
 could give, provocation, the most distinguished Protestants 
 attempted to set aside her rights in favor of the Lady 7 o 
 Jane. That attempt, and the subsequent insurrection of 
 Wyatt, furnished at least as good a plea for the burning of 
 
 53-58. What gives force to the statement of this enactment, the 
 law itself, or its occasion? How is this indicated in the manner of 
 stating it? 54. To which alone the defence can apply, show on 
 vhat grounds, by comparison with 11. 8-13 above. 
 
 The fallacy in the fact alleged is clear enough, in Macaulay's view 
 (11. 59-61), to invalidate the opponent's position; but he proceeds to 
 make his answer doubly strong, in what he calls " a few remarks." 
 
 How does the paragraph, 11. 64-74, exemplify Rhet. p. 438, I, top? 
 As to kind of argument, how explained by Rhet. p. 421, bottom ? Trace 
 its character on this line. And yet, after all is done, what estimate 
 does Macaulay set upon it, 1. 75? What is the use then, rhetorical 
 or other, in introducing this argument at all ? 
 
270 STUDIES IN INVENTION. 
 
 Protestants, as the conspiracies against Elizabeth furnish 
 for the hanging and embowelling of Papists. 
 
 7S The fact is that both pleas are worthless alike. If such 
 arguments are to pass current, it will be easy to prove that 
 there never was such a thing as religious persecution 'since 
 the creation. For there never was a religious persecution 
 in which some odious crime was not, justly or unjustly, 
 
 so said to be obviously deducible from the doctrines of the 
 persecuted party. We might say that the Caesars did not 
 persecute the Christians ; that they only punished men 
 who were charged, rightly or wrongly, with burning Rome, 
 and with committing the foulest abominations in secret 
 
 8 5 assemblies ; and that the refusal to throw frankincense on 
 the altar of Jupiter was not the crime but only evidence of 
 the crime. We might say, that the massacre of St. Bar- 
 tholomew was intended to extirpate, not a religous sect, 
 but a political party. For, beyond all doubt, the proceed- 
 
 9 o ings of the Huguenots, from the conspiracy of Amboise to 
 the battle of Moncontour, had given much more trouble 
 to the French monarchy than the Catholics have ever 
 given to the English monarchy since the Reformation ; 
 and that too with much less excuse. 
 
 95 The true distinction is perfectly obvious. To punish a 
 man because he has committed a crime, or because he is 
 
 The division of the argument, 11. 75-111, as indicated by 11. 75-78, 
 deals with the use of what term, and accordingly takes up what aspect of 
 the fallacy, as indicated above? Explain the two arguments, 11. 81- 
 87 and 87-94, by which he first meets the fallacy, by Rhet. p. 421, i ; 
 also by Rhet. p. 438, i. What is there of an a fortiori force in the 
 second of these? What exposition of terms is necessary to break the 
 force of these counter-arguments ? 
 
 95-102. Explain the instruments of exposition here used by Rhet. 
 pp. 387 and 392. Explain the instrument of exposition used in 11. 103- 
 
LORD MACAULAY. 271 
 
 believed, though unjustly, to have committed a^ crime, is 
 not persecution. To punish a man, because we infer from 
 the nature of some doctrine which he holds, or from the 
 conduct of other persons who hold the same doctrines with ioa 
 him, that he will commit a crime, is persecution, and is, in 
 every case, foolish and wicked. 
 
 When Elizabeth put Ballard and Babington to death, 
 she was not persecuting. Nor should we have accused 
 her government of persecution for passing any law, how- 105 
 ever severe, against overt acts of sedition. But to argue 
 that, because a man is a Catholic, he must think it right 
 to murder a heretical sovereign, and that because he thinks 
 it right he will attempt to do it, and then, to found on this 
 conclusion a law for punishing him as if he had done it, is 
 plain persecution. 
 
 If, indeed, all men reasoned in the same manner on the 
 same data, and always did what they thought it their duty 
 to do, this mode of dispensing punishment might be ex 
 tremely judicious. But as people who agree about prem- n$ 
 ises often disagree about conclusions, and as no man in 
 the world acts up to his own standard of right, there are 
 two enormous gaps in the logic by which alone penalties 
 
 111 by Rhet. p. 394. Observe that the second of these examples, 11. 
 106-111, is not in the form of a specific case ; it rather defines exactly 
 what Elizabeth is admitted to have done, and puts it under the cate- 
 gory established in general terms above, the category, of persecution. 
 This in the interests of exact usage. 
 
 With 1. 112 a new section of the refutation begins, dealing, as gath- 
 ered from 11. 117-119, with what new aspect of the fallacy, as indicated 
 above? Let us trace the two enormous gaps in the logic, here 
 alleged. What they are appears from Macaulay's negation of them : 
 i. From 11. 115, 116, the argument of the opponents presupposes what? 
 How is this presupposition proved fallacious, in 11. 119-138? How does 
 this manner of refutation exemplify Rhet. p. 438? What does Macau- 
 
272 STUDIES IN INVENTION. 
 
 for opinions can be defended. The doctrine of reproba- 
 
 120 tion, in the judgment of many very able men, follows by 
 syllogistic necessity from the doctrine of election. Others 
 conceive that the Antinomian heresy directly follows from 
 the doctrine of reprobation ; and it is very generally thought 
 that licentiousness and cruelty of the worst description are 
 
 125 likely to be the fruits, as they often have been the fruits, 
 of Antinomian opinions. This chain of reasoning, we 
 think, is as perfect in all its parts as that which makes out 
 a Papist to be necessarily a traitor. Yet it would be rather 
 a strong measure to hang all the Calvinists, on the ground 
 
 130 that, if they were spared, they would infallibly commit all 
 the atrocities of Matthias and Knipperdoling. For, reason 
 the matter as we may, experience shows us that a man may 
 believe in election without believing in reprobation, that 
 he may believe in reprobation without being an Antino- 
 
 135 mian, and that he may be an Antinomian without being a 
 bad citizen. Man, in short, is so inconsistent a creature 
 that it is impossible to reason from his belief to his con- 
 duct, or from one part of his belief to another. 
 
 We do not believe that every Englishman who was 
 
 MO reconciled to the Catholic Church would, as a necessary 
 consequence, have thought himself justified in deposing or 
 assassinating Elizabeth. It is not sufficient to say that the 
 convert must have acknowledged the authority of the Pope, 
 and that the Pope had issued a bull against the Queen. We 
 
 lay call this argument, as to form (1. 126), and how does it correspond 
 in this respect with the position refuted ? What conclusion is drawn 
 from the whole? 
 
 2. From 11. 116, 117 (cf. 1. 113), the argument of the opponents, as a 
 second "gap in the logic," presupposes what? By what parallel argu- 
 ment is this met, 11. 139-150 ? By what concession (cf. Rhet. p. 445, 3) 
 is the argument followed, and how is the concession answered ? Does 
 
LORD MACAULAY. 273 
 
 know through what strange loopholes the human mind con- 141 
 trives to escape, when it wishes to avoid a disagreeable 
 inference from an admitted proposition. We know how 
 long the Jansenists contrived to believe the Pope infallible 
 in matters of doctrine, and at the same time to believe 
 doctrines which he pronounced to be heretical. Let it 150 
 pass, however, that every Catholic in the kingdom thought 
 that Elizabeth might be lawfully murdered. Still the old 
 maxim, that what is the business of everybody is the busi- 
 ness of nobody, is particularly likely to hold good in a case 
 in which a cruel death is the almost inevitable consequence 155 
 of making any attempt. 
 
 Of the ten thousand clergymen of the Church of Eng- 
 land, there is scarcely one who would not say that a man 
 who should leave his country and friends to preach the 
 Gospel among savages, and who should, after laboring 160 
 indefatigably without any hope of reward, terminate his 
 life by martyrdom, would deserve the warmest admiration. 
 Yet we doubt whether ten of the ten thousand ever thought 
 of going on such an expedition. Why should we suppose 
 that conscientious motives, feeble as they are constantly 165 
 found to be in a good cause, should be omnipotent for 
 evil ? Doubtless there was many a jolly Popish priest in 
 the old manor-houses of the northern counties, who would 
 have admitted, in theory, the deposing power of the Pope, 
 but who would not have been ambitious to be stretched on 170 
 the rack, even though it were to be used, according to the 
 
 the a fortiori significance given to the answer serve adequately to make 
 the " old maxim " conclusive ? The old maxim at least introduces a 
 suggestion which gives point to the succeeding argument; compare 
 11. 155, 156 with 11. 170-178. 
 
 Explain how the counter argument, 11. 157-178 is a fortiori, from 
 the suggestiveness of 11. 164-167. 
 
274 STUDIES IN INVENTION. 
 
 benevolent proviso of Lord Burleigh, "as charitably as 
 such a thing can be," or to be hanged, drawn, and quar- 
 tered, even though, by that rare indulgence which the 
 
 175 Queen, of her special grace, certain knowledge, and mere 
 motion, sometimes extended to very .mitigated cases, he 
 were allowed a fair time to choke before the hangman 
 began to grabble in his entrails. 
 
 But the laws passed against the Puritans had not even 
 
 180 the wretched excuse which we have been considering. In 
 this case, the cruelty was equal, the danger infinitely less. 
 In fact, the danger was created solely by the cruelty. But 
 it is superfluous to press the argument. By no artifice of 
 ingenuity can the stigma of persecution, the worst blemish 
 
 185 of the English Church, be effaced or patched over. 
 
 From Essay on HALLAM'S CONSTITUTIONAL HISTORY. 
 
 Thus the refutation has met in turn the three successive aspects of 
 the fallacy, and has exposed them all. Note also, as indicated in 11. 
 179-182, the wisdom displayed in refutation (Rhet. p. 438), in meeting 
 the stronger case first (for there were two cases, that of the Catholics 
 and that of the Puritans; cf. 11. 1-3), and having demolished that, 
 leaving the other to fall of itself. 
 
 As intimated at the beginning, this argument, though in form a 
 refutation, is in principle a syllogism (Rhet. p. 424), with major premise, 
 minor premise, and conclusion fully involved, though not expressed in 
 plain words. The syllogism may be expressed thus : 
 
 MINOR PREMISE : Elizabeth put Catholics to death for holding doc- 
 trines presumably tending to crime. 
 
 MAJOR PREMISE : So to do is persecution. 
 
 CONCLUSION : Hence Elizabeth was guilty of persecution. 
 
 By what various means is the first premise (the minor coming here 
 first in order) established? How explained by Rhet. p. 427? From 
 the nature of the major premise, what means of establishing it do you 
 expect, and what means are used here ? How does the exposure of the 
 " two enormous gaps in the logic " affect the strength of the major 
 premise? Point out where and how the conclusion is expressed. 
 
XXVI. 
 
 GEORGE WILLIAM CURTIS. 
 
 THE PUBLIC DUTY OF EDUCATED MEN. 
 
 An oration delivered at the commencement of Union College, June 27th, 
 1877, the orator being at the time honorary Chancellor of Union University. 
 
 IT is with diffidence that I rise to add any words of 
 mine to the music of these younger voices. This day, 
 Gentlemen of the Graduating Class, is especially yours. 
 It is a day of high hope and expectation, and the counsels 
 that fall from older lips should be carefully weighed, lest 5 
 they chill the ardor of a generous enthusiasm or stay the 
 all-conquering faith of youth that moves the world. To 
 those who, constantly and actively engaged in a thousand 
 
 This final Selection will be studied for the manner in which it exem- 
 plifies the principles of Persuasion, as embodied in Oratory; and pre- 
 supposes a knowledge of the Rhetoric as far as page 474. The present 
 Oration, being somewhat recent, is selected for study, not only as 
 exhibiting the essential and perennial requisites of oratorical discourse, 
 but also as fairly and favorably illustrating the kind of oratory espe- 
 cially adapted to move the vigorous and practical mind of this day. 
 
 I. The Introduction, or Exordium : A brief inquiry will suffice, 
 in the case before us, to reveal the speaker's alliance with his audience 
 (Rhet. p. 449). The speaker a man thoroughly familiar with public 
 affairs, and eminent in activities devoted to the country's good. The 
 audience a class of young men, just at the end of their college course, 
 and looking forward into the untried life of sterner duties that lies before 
 
276 STUDIES IN INVENTION. 
 
 pursuits, are still persuaded that educated intelligence 
 
 10 moulds states and leads mankind, no day in the year is 
 more significant, more inspiring, than this of the College 
 Commencement. It matters not at what college it may 
 be celebrated. It is the same at all. We stand here 
 indeed beneath these College walls, beautiful for situation, 
 
 is girt at this moment with the perfumed splendor of mid- 
 summer, and full of tender memories and joyous associa- 
 tions to those who hear me. But on this day, and on 
 other days, at a hundred other colleges, this summer sun 
 beholds the same spectacle of eager and earnest throngs. 
 
 20 The faith that we hold, they also cherish. It is the same 
 God that is worshipped at the different altars. It is the 
 same benediction that descends upon every reverent head 
 and believing heart. In this annual celebration of faith 
 in the power and the responsibility of educated men, all. 
 
 25 the colleges in the country, in whatever state, of whatever 
 age, of whatever religious sympathy or direction, form but 
 one great Union University. 
 
 But the interest of the day is not that of mere study, of 
 
 them. How does the speaker, in 11, 45-51, define his relation to his 
 hearers, and how does he make common cause with them? See Rhet. 
 p. 449, i. To what character, assumed as existing in his audience, does 
 the speaker address himself, 11. 1-7 ? What kind of adaptation to his 
 audience does the speaker recognize as incumbent on him? See Rhet. 
 p. 453, 2. How is the occasion, combined with the character attributed 
 to the audience, utilized toward the suggestion of the theme, 11. 23-25? 
 Finally, report how the subject is broadened in its application, and in 
 what graceful play upon words this occasion is connected with similar 
 occasions. 
 
 14. These College -walls, beautiful for situation, the build- 
 ings of Union College are on a broad plateau at the summit of a gentle 
 slope northeast of the city of Schenectady, and command a beautiful 
 view of the Mohawk valley westward. Compare 11. 58, 49, below. 
 
GEORGE WILLIAM CURTIS. 277 
 
 sound scholarship as an end, of good books for their own 
 sake, but of education as a power in human affairs, of edu- 3 
 cated men as an influence in the commonwealth. "Tell 
 me," said an American scholar of Goethe, the many-sided, 
 " what did he ever do for the cause of man ? " The scholar, 
 the poet, the philosopher, are men among other men. From 
 these unavoidable social relations spring opportunities and 35 
 duties. How do they use them ? How do they discharge 
 them ? Does the scholar show in his daily walk that he 
 has studied the wisdom of ages in vain ? Does the poet 
 sing of angelic purity and lead an unclean life ? Does the 
 philosopher peer into other worlds, and fail to help this 4 
 world upon its way ? Four years before our civil war, the 
 same scholar it was Theodore Parker said sadly : " If 
 our educated men had done their duty, we should not now 
 be in the ghastly condition we bewail." The theme of 
 to-day seems to me to be prescribed by the occasion. It 45 
 is the festival of the departure of a body of educated 
 young men into the world. This company of picked 
 recruits marches out with beating drums and flying colors 
 
 How is the theme of the oration expressed, 11. 51-54? Show how 
 this is a true oratorical theme, as defined Rhet. p. 447. How does the 
 order and manner in which it is introduced exemplify Rhet. p. 267, 
 note ? As contributing thoughts toward the suggestion of it, what does 
 the first paragraph, 11. 1-27 supply? What does the second paragraph. 
 11. 28-54, add to this? In the style of this second paragraph much is 
 left to implication. Fill up the implication conveyed by the quotation, 
 11. 31-33. Also the implication of 11. 41-44. How do these illustrate 
 Rhet. p. 300? 
 
 II. The Body of the Oration. Let us first study, and write out 
 in tabular form, the plan of the discourse ; compare Rhet. p. 264. 
 
 Express in brief terms the approach made to the discussion, in 
 11. 55-96, and indicate by subdivisions how it is developed. Perhaps 
 Rhet- p. 291, 2, may be suggestive here. What is the office of the 
 
278 STUDIES IN INVENTION. 
 
 to join the army. We who feel that our fate is gracious 
 
 50 which allowed a liberal training, are here to welcome and 
 to advise. On your behalf, Mr. President and Gentlemen, 
 with your authority, and with all my heart, I shall say a 
 word to them and to you of the public duty of educated 
 men in America. 
 
 ss I shall not assume, Gentlemen Graduates, for I know 
 that it is not so, that what Dr. Johnson says of the teach- 
 ers of Rasselas and the princes of Abyssinia can be truly 
 said of you in your happy valley : " The sages who in- 
 structed them told them of nothing but the miseries of 
 
 60 public life, and described all beyond the mountains as 
 regions of calamity where discord was always raging, and 
 where man preyed upon man." The sages who have in- 
 structed you are American citizens. They know that 
 patriotism has its glorious opportunities and its sacred 
 
 65 duties. They have not shunned the one, and they have 
 well performed the other. In the sharpest stress of our 
 awful conflict, a clear voice of patriotic warning was heard 
 from these peaceful Academic shades, the voice of the 
 
 paragraph, 11. 97-114, and why necessary at the outset? See Rhet. 
 p. 387, and cf. p. 440, i. Having answered the question what, explain 
 in what way the orator, 11. 115-178, answers the question how. Sub- 
 divide this section. Lines 179-266 represent the scholar in what 
 broad relation? In what narrower relation do 11. 267-507, the longest 
 main division of the oration, represent the scholar? In what deeper 
 relation is he represented, 11. 508-552, and how does this aspect of the 
 theme follow naturally upon the foregoing? The answer to the above 
 questions will give a scheme for the main plan of the oration. 
 
 The sub-divisions will be better left, perhaps, to the more detailed 
 study of the oration, on which let us now enter. 
 
 62-73. It is not only graceful and courteous, but also the most 
 practical means of promoting his object, for the orator to begin his 
 treatment of his theme by illustrations drawn from the students 1 daily 
 
GEORGE WILLIAM CURTIS. 279 
 
 venerated teacher whom this University still freshly de- 
 plores, drawing from the wisdom of experience stored in 7 
 his ample learning, a lesson of startling cogency and 
 .power from the history of Greece for the welfare of 
 America. 
 
 This was the discharge of a public duty by an educated 
 man. It illustrated an indispensable condition of a pro- 75 
 gressive republic, the active, practical interest in politics 
 of the most intelligent citizens. Civil and religious liberty 
 in this country can be preserved only through the agency 
 of our political institutions. But those institutions alone 
 will not suffice. It is not the ship so much as the skilful so 
 sailing that assures the prosperous voyage. American 
 institutions presuppose, not only general honesty and intel- 
 ligence in the people, but their constant and direct appli- 
 cation to public affairs. Our system rests upon all the 
 people, not upon a part of them, and the citizen who s s 
 evades his share of the burden betrays his fellows. Our 
 safety lies not in our institutions but in ourselves. It was 
 under the forms of the republic that Julius Caesar made 
 
 surroundings and companionships. What use in employing the quota- 
 tion from Johnson's Rasselas? 69. The venerated teacher, etc., 
 the reference is to Dr. Tayler Lewis, professor of the Greek and 
 Oriental languages and literature in Union College, who died May u, 
 1877, only a month and a half before this oration was delivered. The 
 clear voice of patriotic warning here mentioned refers to a work of 
 his entitled " State Rights a Photograph of the Ruins of Ancient 
 Greece," published in 1864. 
 
 How is this illustration directly applied to the theme ? How is its 
 application defined and broadened ? Point out the striking figure by 
 which the thought of 11. 74-96 is enforced. What is the exact point 
 of the two illustrations, 11. 87-91? What is the practical use of the 
 personification, 11. 93-96? 
 
 As exposition, how do 11. 97-114 exemplify Rhet. p. 391, 3, and 
 
280 STUDIES IN INVENTION. 
 
 himself emperor of Rome. It was professing reverence 
 
 9 o for the national traditions that James the Second was de- 
 stroying religious liberty in England. To labor, said the 
 old monks, is to pray. What we earnestly desire we ear- 
 nestly toil for. That she may be prized more truly, heaven- 
 eyed Justice flies from us, like the Tartar maid from her 
 
 95 lovers, and she yields her embrace at last only to the 
 swiftest and most daring of her pursuers. 
 
 By the words public duty I do not necessarily mean 
 official duty, although it may include that. I mean simply 
 that constant and active practical participation in the de- 
 
 100 tails of politics without which, upon the part of the most 
 intelligent citizens, the conduct of public affairs falls under 
 the control of selfish and ignorant, or crafty and venal men. 
 I mean that personal attention which, as it must be inces- 
 sant, is often wearisome and even repulsive, to the details 
 
 105 of politics, attendance at meetings, service upon commit- 
 tees, care and trouble and expense of many kinds, patient 
 endurance of rebuffs, chagrins, ridicules, disappointments, 
 defeats in a word, all those duties and services which, 
 when selfishly and meanly performed, stigmatize a man as 
 
 no a mere politician, but whose constant, honorable, intelligent 
 and vigilant performance is the gradual building, stone by 
 
 as amplification how do they exemplify Rhet. p. 292, 2? Observe that 
 the exposition is introduced not merely for its own sake, though it does 
 make a needed explanation ; but it also, in the true oratorical spirit, 
 holds up the expounded idea in the light of duty and motive, that is, 
 gives it a practical issue in conduct. See Rhet. p. 447. Observe fur- 
 ther that the exposition is not applied to all aspects of the idea, but 
 confines itself to the single discrimination needed for the enforcement 
 of the object. What is that? 
 
 115-178. The section included in these lines has been represented 
 above as a general answer to the question how to discharge public duty ; 
 
GEORGE WILLIAM CURTIS. 281 
 
 stone, and layer by layer, of that great temple of self- 
 restrained liberty which all generous souls mean that our 
 government shall be. 
 
 Public duty in this country is not discharged, as is so u 5 
 often supposed, by voting. A man may vote regularly, 
 and still fail essentially of his political duty, as the Phar- 
 isee who gave tithes of all that he possessed, and fasted 
 three times in the week, yet lacked the very heart of relig- 
 ion. When an American citizen is content with voting i 20 
 merely, he consents to accept what is often a doubtful 
 alternative. His first duty is to help shape the alternative. 
 This, which was formerly less necessary, is now indispen- 
 sable. In a rural community such as this country was a 
 hundred years ago, whoever was nominated for office was 125 
 known to his neighbors, and the consciousness of that 
 knowledge was a conservative influence in determining 
 nominations. But in the local elections of the great cities 
 of to-day, elections that control taxation and expenditure, 
 the mass of the voters vote in absolute ignorance of the 130 
 candidates. The citizen who supposes that he does all his 
 duty when he votes, places a premium upon political knav- 
 ery. Thieves welcome him to the polls and offer him a 
 choice, which he has done nothing to prevent, between 
 Jeremy Diddler and Dick Turpin. The party cries for i 35 
 
 but in answering this question it really does much more. Show how it 
 also applies the answer to the hearer's will, and how it makes evident 
 that the duty is (i) important, (2) practicable, (3) one for whose neglect 
 he only is responsible. How is the duty defined negatively? How is 
 it defined positively? How does the allusion, 11. 117-120, exemplify 
 Rhet. p. 299, bottom? 123. Is now indispensable, what consid- 
 erations go to the proving of this ? 135. Jeremy Diddler and Dick 
 Turpin, these are names of characters so notorious as to have become 
 symbolical. Jeremy Diddler, in Kenney's play Raising the Wind, is " an 
 
282 STUDIES IN INVENTION. 
 
 which he is responsible are : " Turpin and Honesty," 
 " Diddler and Reform." And within a few years, as a 
 result of this indifference to the details of public duty, the 
 most powerful politician in the Empire State of the Union 
 
 MO was Jonathan Wild, th'e Great, the captain of a band of 
 plunderers. I know it is said that the knaves have taken 
 the honest men in a net, and have contrived machinery 
 which will inevitably grind only the grist of rascals. The 
 answer is, that when honest men did once what they ought 
 
 MS to do always, the thieves were netted and their machine 
 was broken. To say that in this country the rogues must 
 rule,, is to defy history and to despair of the republic. It 
 is to repeat the imbecile executive cry of sixteen years 
 ago, " Oh dear ! the states have no right to go ; and, Oh 
 
 150 dear ! the nation has no right to help itself." Let the 
 Union, stronger than ever and unstained with national 
 wrong, teach us the power of patriotic virtue and Lud- 
 low street jail console those who suppose that American 
 politics must necessarily be a game of thieves and bullies. 
 
 155 If ignorance and corruption and intrigue control the 
 primary meeting, and manage the convention, and dictate 
 the nomination, the fault is in the honest and intelligent 
 workshop and office, in the library and the parlor, in the 
 church and the school. When they are as constant and 
 
 160 faithful to their political rights as the slums and the grog- 
 artful swindler, a clever, seedy vagabond, who borrows money or obtains 
 credit by his songs, witticisms, or other expedients." Dick Turpin was 
 a noted English highwayman, executed at York in 1739. Note the 
 ironical correspondence between the party cries here given and the 
 characters of the men. 140. Jonathan Wild, the Great, a noted 
 English villain, cool, clever, heartless; utterly wicked, who lived from 
 1682 to 1725, and was executed at Tyburn for housebreaking. Both 
 Defoe and Fielding have made him the hero of romances. The name 
 
GEORGE WILLIAM CURTIS. 283 
 
 shops, the pool-rooms and the kennels ; when the educated, 
 industrious, temperate, thrifty citizens are as zealous and 
 prompt and unfailing in political activity as the ignorant 
 and venal and mischievous, or when it is plain that they 
 cannot be roused to their duty, then, but not until then 16$ 
 if ignorance and corruption always carry the day there 
 can be no honest question that the republic has failed. 
 But let us not be deceived. While good men sit at home, 
 not knowing that there is anything to be done, nor caring 
 to know ; cultivating a feeling that politics are tiresome i 7 c 
 and dirty, and politicians vulgar bullies and bravoes ; half 
 persuaded that a republic is the contemptible rule of a 
 mob, and secretly longing for a splendid and vigorous des- 
 potism then remember it is not a government mastered 
 by ignorance, it is a government betrayed by intelligence ; i 75 
 it is not the victory of the slums, it is the surrender of the 
 schools ; it is not that bad men are brave, but that good 
 men are infidels and cowards. 
 
 But, gentlemen, when you come to address yourselves 
 to these primary public duties, your first surprise and dis- iSo 
 may will be the discovery that, in a country where educa- 
 tion is declared to be the hope of its institutions, the 
 higher education is often practically held to be almost a 
 disadvantage. You will go from these halls to hear a very 
 common sneer at college-bred men to encounter a jeal- 185 
 
 is used here to designate William M. Tweed, the leader of a New York 
 political ring. These symbolical names give to the passage, 11. 133-141, 
 the color of what figure? 141-154. These lines are the answer to 
 what implicit question here arising? In what trenchant sentence is the 
 answer condensed ? Compare a similarly trenchant way of putting the 
 thought in 11. 131-133 above. These sentences illustrate the value of 
 aphoristic expression in the defining part of orations ; see Rhet. p. 286. 
 How does the paragraph, 11. 155-178, bring the thought of this 
 
284 STUDIES IN INVENTION. 
 
 ousy of education as making men visionary and pedantic 
 and impracticable to confront a belief that there is 
 something enfeebling in the higher education, and that 
 self-made men, as they are called, are the sure stay of the 
 
 i 9 o state. But what is really meant by a self-made man ? It 
 is a man of native sagacity and strong character, who was 
 taught, it is proudly said, only at the plough or the anvil 
 or the bench. He was schooled by adversity, and was 
 polished by hard attrition with men. He is Benjamin 
 
 195 Franklin, the printer's boy, or Abraham Lincoln, the rail- 
 splitter. They never went to college, but nevertheless, 
 like Agamemnon, they were kings of men, and the world 
 blesses their memory. 
 
 So it does ; but the sophistry here is plain enough, 
 
 200 although it is not always detected. Great genius and force 
 of character undoubtedly make their own career. But 
 because Walter Scott was dull at school, is a parent to see 
 with joy that his son is a dunce? Because Lord Chatham 
 was of a towering conceit, must we infer that pompous 
 
 205 vanity portends a comprehensive statesmanship that will 
 fill the world with the splendor of its triumphs ? Because 
 Sir Robert Walpole gambled and swore and boozed at 
 Houghton, are we to suppose that gross sensuality and 
 coarse contempt of human nature are the essential secrets 
 
 210 of a power that defended liberty against tory intrigue and 
 
 section home to the hearers? To what motive (see Rhet. p. 464, 3) is 
 appeal here made ? Is the appeal direct or implicit ? By what figura- 
 tive means is the thought made pointed and cogent at the end? 
 
 The section, 11. 179-266, which treats of the Scholar in Politics, is in 
 form a refutation. What call to put it in this negative form is apparent 
 in the opening lines ? To what fallacious definition of terms (11. 190- 
 193) does the refutation address itself ? What argument from example 
 (Rhet. p. 421, i) is referred to as supporting the fallacious definition? 
 
GEORGE WILLIAM CURTIS. 285 
 
 priestly politics ? Was it because Benjamin Franklin was 
 not college-bred that he drew the lightning from heaven 
 and tore the sceptre from the tyrant ? Was it because 
 Abraham Lincoln had little schooling that his great heart 
 beat true to God and man, lifting him to free a race and 2 i S 
 die for his country ? Because men naturally great have 
 done great service in the world without advantages, does it 
 follow that lack of advantage is the secret of success ? 
 Was Pericles a less sagacious leader of the state, during 
 forty years of Athenian glory, because he was thoroughly 220 
 accomplished in every grace of learning ? Or, swiftly pass- 
 ing from the Athenian agora to the Boston town-meeting, 
 behold Samuel Adams, tribune* of New England against 
 Old England of America against Europe of liberty 
 against despotism. Was his power enfeebled, his fervor 225 
 chilled, his patriotism relaxed, by his college education? 
 No, no ; they were strengthened, kindled, confirmed. Tak- 
 ing his Master's Degree one hundred and thirty-four years 
 ago, thirty-three years before the Declaration of Indepen- 
 dence, Samuel Adams, then twenty-one years old, declared 230 
 in a Latin discourse the first flashes of the fire that 
 blazed afterward in Faneuil Hall and kindled America 
 that it is lawful to resist the supreme magistrate if the 
 commonwealth cannot otherwise be preserved. In the 
 
 A series of examples is adduced to expose the sophistry of this 
 view, and they answer it in various ways. The two examples quoted 
 from his opponents are how answered, in 11. 211-218? What sugges- 
 tion does each of the three examples, 11. 201-211, furnish toward this 
 answer? How do these three examples illustrate Rhet. p. 438, i, top? 
 In what different aspect do the two examples, 11. 219-239, present the 
 argument? What call for presenting all these examples in interroga- 
 tion, and what is gained by it ? What circumstance is used to give the 
 last adduced example a special interest for the present audience ? 
 
286 STUDIES IN INVENTION. 
 
 235 very year that Jefferson was born, the college boy, Samuel 
 Adams, on a Commencement day like this, on an academ- 
 ical platform like this on which we stand, struck the key- 
 note of American independence, which still stirs the heart 
 of man with its music. 
 
 240 Or, within our own century, look at the great modern 
 statesmen who have shaped the politics of the world. 
 They were educated men ; were they therefore visionary, 
 pedantic, impracticable ? Cavour, whose monument is 
 United Italy one from the Alps to Tarentum, from the 
 
 245 lagunes of Venice to the gulf of Salerno : Bismarck, who 
 has raised the German empire from a name to a fact: 
 Gladstone, to-day the incarnate heart and conscience of 
 England : they are the perpetual refutation of the sneer 
 that high education weakens men for practical affairs. 
 
 250 Trained themselves, such men know the value of training. 
 All countries, all ages, all men, are their teachers. The 
 broader their education, the wider the horizon of their 
 thought and observation, the more affluent their resources, 
 the more humane their policy. Would Samuel Adams 
 
 955 have been a truer popular leader had he been less an edu- 
 cated man ? Would Walpole the less truly have served 
 his country had he been, with all his capacities, a man 
 whom England could have revered and loved? Could 
 Gladstone so sway England with his serene eloquence, as 
 
 The next paragraph, 11. 240-266, continues the refutation and sum- 
 marizes it; compare 11. 261-266 with 199, 200. What advantages, for 
 the present audience, in choosing modern examples, 11. 243-249? 
 What force in mentioning the work that each has done ? How are the 
 repeated examples, 11. 254-261, varied, in each case, from their first 
 introduction ? 
 
 Why does the next section, 11. 267-507, which treats of the Scholar 
 in his Party, need to be the longest and most elaborate of the oration? 
 
GEORGE WILLIAM CURTIS. 287 
 
 the moon the tides, were he a gambling, swearing, boozing 2 6a 
 squire like Walpole ? There is no sophistry more poison- 
 ous to the state, no folly more stupendous and demoraliz- 
 ing, than the notion that the purest character and the 
 highest education are incompatible with the most com- 
 manding mastery of men and the most efficient adminis- 265 
 tration of affairs. 
 
 Undoubtedly a practical and active interest in politics 
 will lead you to party association and co-operation. Great 
 public results the repeal of the corn-laws in England, 
 the abolition of slavery in America are due to that 270 
 organization of effort and concentration of aim which 
 arouse, instruct and inspire the popular heart and will. 
 This is the spring of party, and those who earnestly seek 
 practical results instinctively turn to this agency of united 
 action. But in this tendency, useful in the state as the 2 7S 
 fire upon the household hearth, lurks, as in that fire, the 
 deadliest peril. Here is our republic it is a ship with 
 towering canvas spread, sweeping before the prosperous 
 gale over a foaming and sparkling sea : it is a lightning 
 train darting with awful speed along the edge of dizzy 28* 
 abysses and across bridges that quiver over unsounded 
 gulfs. Because we are Americans, we have no peculiar 
 charm, no magic spell, to stay the eternal laws. Our safety 
 lies alone in cool self-possession, directing the forces of 
 
 How does the paragraph, 11. 267-297, first set forth the question and 
 its answer in general terms ? What casual preliminary definition do 
 you find in 11. 270-272? Point out the strong and striking figures by 
 which the importance of the subject is made palpable. Point out some 
 of the tropes and epithets by which the figures themselves are expressed 
 in more vivid terms. What relation does the paragraph bear to the 
 emotions of the audience, and how does its style illustrate Rhet. p. 
 460, 2 ? In the orator's speech on Civil Service Reform in New York, 
 
288 STUDIES IN INVENTION, 
 
 285 wind and wave and fire. If once the madness to which 
 the excitement tends usurps control, the catastrophe is 
 inevitable. And so deep is the conviction that sooner or 
 later this madness must seize every republic, that the most 
 plausible suspicion of the permanence of the American 
 
 290 government is founded in the belief that party spirit can- 
 not be restrained. It is indeed a master passion, but its 
 control is the true conservatism of the republic and of 
 happy human progress : and it is men made familiar by 
 education with the history of its ghastly catastrophes, men 
 
 295 with the proud courage of independence, who are to tem- 
 per by lofty action, born of that knowledge, the ferocity of 
 party spirit. 
 
 The first object of concerted political action is the high- 
 est welfare of the country. But the conditions of party 
 
 3o association are such that the means are constantly and 
 easily substituted for the end. The sophistry is subtle and 
 seductive. Holding the ascendency of his party essential 
 to the national welfare, the zealous partisan merges patri- 
 
 May 29, 1888, the same thought is presented, to a different kind of 
 audience (the National Civil Service Reform League), in a more pre- 
 dominantly intellectual form : "The well-meaning and eloquent orators 
 who rebuke political independence by declaring that we can achieve 
 great results only by party, which is a fact that nobody denies, forget 
 that party spirit is the one fire that needs no fanning. The first duty of 
 patriotism is to keep that fire low. The natural tendency of party is 
 to magnify and extend its sway, to identify itself with the country, and 
 to seek its own power and aggrandizement. Party spirit instinctively 
 sophisticates the individual conscience and divides the whole country 
 into two hostile camps, whose soldiers hold each other to be practically 
 traitors to the common welfare. 11 Comparing this citation with the 
 text before us, what difference do you note in the hortatory elements, 
 according to Rhet. p. 457, 2, and how does the different occasion ex- 
 plain it? 293. And it is men made familiar by education, etc., 
 
GEORGE WILLIAM CURTIS. 289 
 
 otism in party. He insists that not to sustain the party is 
 to betray the country, and against all honest doubt and ss 
 reasonable hesitation and reluctance, he vehemently urges 
 that quibbles of conscience must be sacrificed to the pub- 
 lic good ; that wise and practical men will not be squeam- 
 ish ; that every soldier in the army cannot indulge his own 
 whims ; and that if the majority may justly prevail in de- 3 
 termining the government, it must not be questioned in 
 the control of a party. 
 
 This spirit adds moral coercion to sophistry. It de- 
 nounces as a traitor him who protests against party tyr- 
 anny, and it makes unflinching adherence to what is called 315 
 regular party action the condition of the gratification of 
 honorable political ambition. Because a man who sympa- 
 thizes with the party aims refuses to vote for a thief, this 
 spirit scorns him as a rat and a renegade. Because he 
 holds to principle and law against party expediency and 320 
 dictation, he is proclaimed to have betrayed his country, 
 justice and humanity. Because he tranquilly insists upon 
 deciding for himself when he must dissent from his party, 
 
 what influence, practical and hortatory, brings this element of the 
 sentence to the beginning by prospective reference (Rhet. p. 133) ? 
 
 Having laid out in general terms the scholar's duty to his party, the 
 orator, in the paragraphs 11. 298-462, portrays more particularly the 
 sophistry of party spirit and its consequences. How is this sophistry 
 defined in a word, 11. 302-304, and how summarized at the end, 11. 
 458-462 ? To what motive is appeal implicitly made in each case ? 
 
 The four paragraphs beginning with 1. 313 reduce the dangerous 
 aspects of party spirit to vigorous and trenchant definitions, which are 
 then applied to the will and conscience of the auditors. 
 
 313-334. Point out the definitive sentence in this paragraph. How 
 is it amplified and explained? Point out the masterly way in which 
 party abuse is shown in the light of morals and manliness. 319. A 
 rat and a renegade ; 324. A popinjay and a visionary fool, 
 
290 STUDIES IN INVENTION. 
 
 he is reviled as a popinjay and a visionary fool. Seeking 
 
 325 with honest purpose only the welfare of his country, the 
 hot air around him hums with the cry of " the grand old 
 party," "the traditions of the party," " loyalty to the 
 party," "future of the party," "servant of the party;" and 
 he sees and hears the gorged and portly money-changers 
 
 33 in the temple usurping the very divinity of the God. 
 Young hearts ! be not dismayed. If ever any one of you 
 shall be the man so denounced, do not forget that your own 
 individual convictions are the whip of small cords which 
 God has put into your hands to expel the blasphemers. 
 
 335 The same party spirit naturally denies the patriotism of 
 its opponents. Identifying itself with the country, it 
 regards all others as public enemies. This is substantially 
 revolutionary politics. It is the condition of France, where, 
 in its own words, the revolution is permanent. Instead of 
 
 340 regarding the other party as legitimate opponents in the 
 English phrase, His Majesty's Opposition lawfully seek- 
 ing a different policy under the government, it decries that 
 party as a conspiracy plotting the overthrow of the govern- 
 ment itself. History is lurid with the wasting fires of this 
 
 345 madness. We need not look to that of other lands. Our 
 own is full of it. It is painful to turn to the opening years 
 
 these expressions exemplify what has been pointed out (see Bain, Com- 
 position Grammar, p. 206), that the language of abuse resorts most 
 naturally to the Saxon derivatives, as stronger and nearer to the emotions. 
 The words renegade and popinjay, if not Saxon in origin, are at least 
 thoroughly naturalized and old words, while the words rat and fool de- 
 rive their very energy from being homely and brief. 329-334 sq. 
 Explain the allusion by John ii. 13-17, and point out how ingeniously the 
 incident referred to is turned to the duty that should be potent here. 
 
 335-378. Point out the short sentence in which the thought of this 
 paragraph is defined. How does it exemplify Rhet. p. 433, i? 341, 
 His Majesty's Opposition, what argument for more wholesome 
 
GEORGE WILLIAM CURTIS. 291 
 
 of the Union, and see how the great men whom we are 
 taught to revere, and to whose fostering care the beginning 
 of the republic was entrusted, fanned their hatred and sus- 
 picion of each other. Do not trust the flattering voices 35* 
 that whisper of a Golden Age behind us, and bemoan our 
 own as a degenerate clay. The castles of hope always 
 shine along the horizon. Our fathers saw theirs where we 
 are standing. We behold ours where our fathers stood. 
 But pensive regret for the heroic past, like eager anticipa- 355 
 tion of the future, shows only that the vision of a loftier 
 life forever allure:, the human soul. We think our fathers 
 to have been wiser than we, and their day more enviable. 
 But eighty years ago the Federalists abhorred their oppo- 
 nents as Jacobins, and thought Robespierre and Marat no 360 
 worse than Washington's secretary of state. Their oppo- 
 nents retorted that the Federalists were plotting to estab- 
 lish a monarchy by force of arms. The New England 
 pulpit anathematized Tom Jefferson as an atheist and a 
 satyr. Jefferson denounced John Jay as a rogue, and the 365 
 chief newspaper of the opposition, on the morning that 
 Washington retired from the presidency, thanked God that 
 the country was now rid of the man who was the source of 
 all its misfortunes. There is no mire in which party spirit 
 wallows to-day, with which our fathers were not befouled, 370 
 and how little sincere the vituperation was, how shallow a 
 fury, appears when Jefferson and Adams had retired from 
 public life. Then they corresponded placidly and familiarly, 
 
 politics lies implied in this phrase? What is the advantage of choosing 
 the examples here adduced from our own past history? To what use- 
 ful appeal to the spirit of the present audience does this lead? Observe 
 how this implicit appeal, 11. 350-357, serves to relieve what might other- 
 wise seem too prevailingly dark a picture, and thus infuses hope instead 
 of discouragement. How is the picture of past party bitterness turned 
 
292 STUDIES IN INVENTION. 
 
 each at last conscious of the other's fervent patriotism ; 
 
 375 and when they died, they were lamented in common by 
 
 those who in their names had flown at each other's throats, 
 
 as the patriarchal Castor and Pollux of the pure age of our 
 
 politics now fixed as a constellation of hope in our heaven. 
 
 The same brutal spirit showed itself at the time of 
 
 380 Andrew Johnson's impeachment. Impeachment is a pro- 
 ceeding to be instituted only for great public reasons, which 
 should, presumptively, command universal support. To 
 prostitute the power of impeachment to a mere party pur- 
 pose, would readily lead to the reversal of the result of an 
 
 385 election. But it was made a party measure. The party 
 was to be whipped into it$ support : and when certain sen- 
 ators broke the party yoke upon their necks, and voted 
 according to their convictions, as honorable men always 
 will, whether the party whips like it or not, one of the 
 
 390 whippers-in exclaimed of a patriotism, the struggle of obe- 
 dience to which cost one senator at least, his life " If 
 there is anything worse than the treachery, it is the cant 
 which pretends that it is the result of conscientious con- 
 viction ; the pretence of a conscience is quite unbearable." 
 
 395 This was the very acridity of bigotry, which in other times 
 and countries raised the cruel tribunal of the Inquisition, 
 and burned opponents for the glory of God. The party 
 madness that dictated these words, and the sympathy that 
 approved them, was treason not alone to the country but 
 
 against itself? 377. The patriarchal Castor and Pollux, ex- 
 plain the allusion. 
 
 379-415. What is the general lesson embodied in this paragraph? 
 How is it defined in 11. 395-397, and how is the party cry turned 
 against itself in 11. 411-415? 386. To be whipped, another ex- 
 ample of energy gained by a plain Saxon word. Observe how unspar- 
 ingly the orator reduces the conduct he is combatting to its plainest 
 
GEORGE WILLIAM CURTIS. 293 
 
 to well-ordered human society. Murder may destroy great 400 
 statesmen, but corruption makes great states impossible ; 
 and this was an attempt at the most insidious corruption. 
 The man who attempts to terrify a senator of the United 
 States to cast a dishonest vote, by stigmatizing him as a 
 hypocrite and devoting him to party hatred, is only a more 405 
 plausible rascal than his opponent who gives Pat O' Flana- 
 gan a fraudulent naturalization paper or buys his vote with 
 a dollar or a glass of whiskey. Whatever the offences of 
 the president may have been, they were as nothing when 
 compared with the party spirit which declared that it was 410 
 tired of the intolerable cant of honesty. So the sneering 
 cavalier was tired of the cant of the Puritan conscience, 
 but the conscience of which plumed Injustice and coro- 
 neted Privilege were tired, has been for three centuries 
 the invincible body-guard of civil and religious liberty. 415 
 
 Gentlemen, how dire a calamity the same party spirit 
 was preparing for the country within a few months, we can 
 now perceive with amazement and with hearty thanksgiv- 
 ing for a great deliverance. The ordeal of last winter was 
 the severest strain ever yet applied to republican institu- 4? 
 tions. It was a mortal strain along the very fibre of our 
 system. It was not a collision of sections, nor a conflict 
 of principles of civilization. It was a supreme and tri- 
 
 moral portraiture (see especially 11. 397-411) ; this is one of the strong 
 resources of oratory, to " call a spade a spade," and to unmask the real 
 significance of what is opposed. How does this exemplify Rhet. p. 
 466, 3dly, also p. 433, i? 413. Plumed Injustice and coroneted 
 Privilege, what figure is involved? How do the epithets exemplify 
 Rhet. p. 57, 3dly? 
 
 416-454. What is the fitness of introducing this more encouraging 
 example as the last of the illustrations of party spirit? Exactly what 
 does the paragraph illustrate ? 419. The ordeal of last winter, 
 
294 STUDIES IN INVENTION. 
 
 umphant test of American patriotism. Greater than the 
 425 declaration of independence by colonies hopelessly alienated 
 from the crown and already in arms ; greater than emanci- 
 pation, as a military expedient, amid the throes of civil 
 war, was the peaceful and reasonable consent of two vast 
 parties in a crisis plainly foreseen and criminally neg- 
 430 lected a crisis in which each party asserted its solution 
 to be indisputable to devise a lawful settlement of the 
 tremendous contest, a settlement which, through furious 
 storms of disappointment and rage, has been religiously 
 respected. We are told that our politics are mean that 
 435 already, in its hundredth year, the decadence of the Amer- 
 ican republic appears and the hope of the world is clouded. 
 But tell me, scholars, in what high hour of Greece, when, 
 as De Witt Clinton declared, "the herb-woman of Athens 
 could criticise the phraseology of Demosthenes, and the 
 
 the orator refers to the contested election of 1876. A quotation from 
 the Civil Service Reform Speech already mentioned will illustrate the 
 somewhat less impassioned, but still equally earnest, language employed 
 with an older and more matter-of-fact audience : " The exigencies and 
 tests of liberty in this country have been many and great, but a more 
 crucial hour the country never saw than that of the contested election 
 of 1876. Constitution, law, and precedent, were all obscured. Party 
 was arrayed angrily against party, and the peaceful continuance of the 
 G.overnment itself was involved. It was a strain along the very fibre 
 of the American people and by the grace of God it did not give. 
 Party spirit yielded to patriotic instinct, and the great victory of popu- 
 lar government was won. In that supreme hour who was the traitor to 
 liberty, to Republican Government, to America? It was any man who 
 vociferated that party discipline must be maintained, and that every 
 man must stand by his party, because only by party could the Govern- 
 ment be carried on. Happily the cry was vain. The crisis was beyond 
 party, and only because the people for that high hour rose superior to 
 party was the Government maintained and the country saved." - 
 437. But tell me, scholars, how do the examples adduced make 
 
GEORGE WILLIAM CURTIS. 295 
 
 meanest artisan could pronounce judgment on the works of 44 
 Apelles and Phidias," or at what proud epoch of imperial 
 Rome or millennial moment of the fierce Italian republics, 
 was ever so momentous a party difference so wisely, so 
 peacefully, so humanely, composed? Had the sophistry of 
 party prevailed, had each side resolved that not to insist 445 
 upon its own claim at every hazard was what the mad party 
 spirit of each side declared it to be, a pusillanimous sur- 
 render : had the spirit of Marius mastered one party and 
 that of Sylla the other, this waving valley of the Mohawk 
 would not to-day murmur with the music of industry, and 450 
 these tranquil voices of scholars blending with its happy 
 harvest-song ; it would have smoked and roared with fra- 
 ternal war, and this shuddering river would have run red 
 through desolated meadows and by burning homes. 
 
 It is because these consequences are familiar to the 455 
 knowledge of educated and thoughtful men that such men 
 are constantly to assuage this party fire and to take care 
 that party is always subordinated to patriotism. Perfect 
 party discipline is the most dangerous weapon of party 
 spirit, for it is the abdication of the individual judgment : 460 
 it is the application to political parties of the Jesuit prin- 
 ciple of implicit obedience. 
 
 It is for you to help break this withering spell. It is 
 for you to assert the independence and the dignity of the 
 individual citizen, and to prove that party was made for 465 
 the voter, not the voter for party. When you are angrily 
 
 this appeal to scholarship appropriate ? What offset does this illustra- 
 tion furnish to the implication of 11. 261-266 above, and how does it 
 correspond to the speaker's feeling of responsibility at the outset? See 
 11. 4-7. 
 
 455-462. From the knowledge of history just appealed to, what 
 sentiment is drawn, and how does this correspond to the prevailing 
 
296 STUDIES IN INVENTION. 
 
 told that if you erect your personal whim against the reg- 
 ular party behest, you make representative government 
 impossible by refusing to accept its conditions, hold fast 
 
 470 by your own conscience and let the party go. There is 
 not an American merchant who would send a ship to sea 
 under the command of Captain Kidd, however skilful a 
 sailor he might be. Why should he vote to send Captain 
 Kidd to the legislature or to put him in command of the 
 
 475 ship of state because his party directs ? The party which 
 
 . to-day nominates Captain Kidd, will to-morrow nominate 
 
 Judas Iscariot, and to-morrow, as to-day, party spirit will 
 
 spurn you as a traitor for refusing to sell your master. 
 
 "I tell you," said an ardent and well-meaning partisan, 
 
 4 8o speaking of a closely contested election in another state, 
 " I tell you it is a nasty state, and I hope we have done 
 nasty work enough to carry it." But if your state has 
 been carried by nasty means this year, success will require 
 nastier next year, and the nastiest means will always carry 
 
 485 it. The party may win, but the state will have been lost, 
 for there are successes which are failures. When a man 
 is sitting upon the bough of a tree and diligently sawing 
 it off between himself and the trunk, he may succeed, but 
 his success will break his neck. 
 
 490 The remedy for the constant excess of party spirit lies, 
 and lies alone, in the courageous independence of the 
 individual citizen. The only way, for instance, to procure 
 the party nomination of good men, is for every self-respect- 
 ing voter to refuse to vote for bad men. In the medieval 
 
 495 theology the devils feared nothing so much as the drop of 
 
 motive to which appeal is made throughout the oration? How does 
 this paragraph summarize the previous paragraphs, and what implied 
 duty is deduced, by contrast, from the summary? 
 
GEORGE WILLIAM CURTIS. 297 
 
 t 
 
 holy water and the sign of the cross, by which they were 
 exorcised. The evil spirits of party fear nothing so much 
 as bolting and scratching. In hoc signo vinces. If a 
 farmer would reap a good crop, he scratches the weeds 
 out of his field. If we would have good men upon the 5M 
 ticket, we must scratch bad men off. If the scratching 
 breaks down the party, let it break : for the success of the 
 party by such means would break down the country. The 
 evil spirits must be taught by means that they can under- 
 stand. "Them fellers," said the captain of a canal-boat 5 o 5 
 of his men " them fellers never think you mean a thing 
 until you kick 'em. They feel that, and understand." 
 
 It is especially necessary for us to perceive the vital 
 relation of individual courage and character to the common 
 welfare because ours is a government of public opinion, 5 
 and public opinion is but the aggregate of individual 
 thought. We have the awful responsibility as a commu- 
 nity of doing what we choose ; and it is of the last impor- 
 tance that we choose to do what is wise and right. In 
 the early days of the anti-slavery agitation, a meeting was 515 
 called at Faneuil Hall, in Boston, which a good-natured 
 
 Having thus brought to a practical conclusion the thought of this 
 section, for what purpose does the orator append the next two para- 
 graphs, 11. 463-507? See Rhet. p. 457, 2, and p. 463, I. In 11. 466- 
 470, what motive is appealed to? What is the practical force of the 
 illustrations given in 11. 470-489 ? What is effected, by way of sug- 
 gestion, in the copious repetition of the word nasty, 11. 481-485? 
 How is epigram employed to give point to the thought? 
 
 490-507. How is "the remedy" here defined related to what has 
 already been implied, 11. 458-462? Once defined, how is it translated 
 into practical deeds? 498. In hoc signo vinces, what signunt 
 is referred to here, and how is it emphasized by utilizing the sugges- 
 tiveness of a word, as in 11. 481-485 above? How do 11. 503-507 
 illustrate Rhet. p. 468, top? 505. "Them fellers" is repeated after 
 
298 STUDIES IN INVENTION. 
 
 mob of soldiers was hired to suppress. They took posses- 
 sion of the floor and danced breakdowns and shouted cho- 
 ruses and refused to hear any of the orators upon the 
 
 520 platform. The most eloquent pleaded with them in vain. 
 They were urged by the memories of the Cradle of Lib- 
 erty, for the honor of Massachusetts, for their own honor 
 as Boston boys, to respect liberty of speech. But they 
 still laughed and sang and danced, and were proof against 
 
 525 every appeal. At last a man suddenly arose from among 
 themselves, and began to speak. Struck by his tone and 
 quaint appearance, and with the thought that he might 
 be one of themselves, the mob became suddenly still. 
 "Well, fellow-citizens," he said, "I wouldn't be quiet if 
 
 530 I didn't want to." The words were greeted with -a roar 
 of delight from the mob, which supposed it had found its 
 champion, and the applause was unceasing for five min- 
 utes, during which the strange orator tranquilly awaited 
 his chance to continue. The wish to hear more hushed 
 
 535 the tumult, and when the hall was still he resumed : 
 " No, I certainly wouldn't stop if I hadn't a mind to ; but 
 then, if I were you, I would have a mind to ! " The oddity 
 of the remark and the earnestness of the tone, held the 
 
 the interpolation ; see also a similar instance, 1. 481 above. This repe- 
 tition is how dictated by the kind of discourse and occasion ? 
 
 The next section of the oration, 11. 508-552, which treats of the 
 scholar in his relation to Public Opinion, may be shorter and less 
 elaborated than the previous ones, perhaps because of them. How do 
 the previous sections involve the thought of this, and how is this 
 accordingly related to them? How is the sentiment here enforced 
 made to grow out of what has been said regarding the individual ? 
 A single well-told incident is sufficient to suggest the thought of this 
 section. Exactly what does it illustrate as to the power of public opin- 
 ion? It also suggests something as to the way in which public 
 opinion may be controlled and directed ; how does the quaint orator's 
 
GEORGE WILLIAM CURTIS. 299 
 
 crowd silent, and the speaker continued: "Not because 
 this is Faneuil Hall, nor for the honor of Massachusetts, S4 o 
 nor because you are Boston boys, but because you are 
 men, and because honorable and generous men always love 
 fair play." The mob was conquered. Free speech and 
 fair play were secured. Public opinion can do what it has 
 a mind to in this country. If it be debased and demoral- 545 
 ized, it is the most odious of tyrants. It is Nero and 
 Caligula multiplied by millions. Can there then be a more 
 stringent public duty for every man and the greater the 
 intelligence the greater the duty than to take care, by 
 all the influence he can command, that the country, the 55 
 majority, public opinion, shall have a mind to do only 
 what is just and pure, and humane ? 
 
 Gentlemen, leaving this college to take your part in the 
 discharge of the duties of American citizenship, every sign 
 encourages and inspires. The year that is now ending, sss 
 the year that opens the second century of our history, has 
 furnished the supreme proof that in a country of rigorous 
 party division the purest patriotism exists. That and that 
 only is the pledge of a prosperous future. No mere party 
 fervor, or party fidelity, or party discipline, could fully 56* 
 
 success with the mob illustrate Rhet. p. 467, bottom? Distinguish the 
 motives appealed to in that incident, and the motives that were actually 
 operative. Show how the summary of this section may stand as the 
 summary of all that has been inculcated ; and how does it illustrate 
 Rhet. p. 281, 2? 
 
 III. The Conclusion, or Peroration. What is there in the 
 audience and the occasion to make a forward-looking conclusion appro- 
 priate, and how does this correspond with the speaker's attitude assumed 
 at the beginning? What concrete instance does he choose (11. 555- 
 559) as the suggester and guarantee of a hopeful outlook? 556. Has 
 furnished the supreme proof, see 11. 416-454, above, and note 
 thereon. The reversion to this instance furnishes also occasion to 
 
300 STUDIES IN INVENTION. 
 
 restore a country torn and distracted by the fierce debate 
 of a century and the convulsions of civil war ; nothing less 
 than a patriotism all-embracing as the summer air could 
 heal a wound so wide. I know, no man better, how 
 
 565 hard it is for earnest men to separate their country from 
 their party, or their religion from their sect. But never- 
 theless the welfare of the country is dearer than the mere 
 victory of party, as truth is more precious than the interest 
 of any sect. You will hear this patriotism scorned as an 
 
 570 impracticable theory, as the dream of a cloister, as the 
 whim of a fool. But such was the folly of the Spartan 
 Leonidas, staying with his three hundred the Persian 
 horde and teaching Greece the self-reliance that saved 
 her. Such was the folly of the Swiss Arnold von Winkel- 
 
 575 ried, gathering into his own breast the host of Austrian 
 spears, making his dead body the bridge of victory for his 
 countrymen. Such was the folly of the American Nathan 
 Hale, gladly risking the seeming disgrace of his name, and 
 grieving that he had but one life to give for his country. 
 
 580 Such are the beacon-lights of a pure patriotism that burn 
 forever in men's memories and answer each other through 
 the illuminated ages. And of the same grandeur, in less 
 heroic and poetic form, was the patriotism of Sir Robert 
 Peel in recent history. He was the leader of a great party 
 
 585 and the prime minister of England. The character and 
 
 lead the thought to a culmination, in the sentiment that has been all 
 along the supreme motive of the oration ; what is that ? Accordingly, 
 how does the theme, in its highest outcome, correspond to the ideal 
 of an oratorical theme, as shown Rhet. p. 258, top, and p. 456, top? 
 Put in words the imperative of the oration. 
 
 563. A patriotism all-embracing as the summer air, how is 
 this applied to the recent task of government ? How to the hardships 
 and scorns of practical political activity ? 571. Such was the folly, 
 
GEORGE WILLIAM CURTIS. 301 
 
 necessity of party were as plain to him as to any man. 
 But when he saw that the national welfare demanded the 
 repeal of the corn-laws which he had always supported, he 
 did not quail. Amply avowing the error of a life and the 
 duty of avowing it foreseeing the probable overthrow of 59 
 his party and the bitter execration that must fall upon 
 him, he tranquilly did his duty. With the eyes of England 
 fixed upon him in mingled amazement, admiration and 
 indignation, he rose in the House of Commons to perform 
 as great a service as any English statesman ever performed 595 
 for his country, and in closing his last speech in favor of 
 the repeal, describing the consequences that its mere pros- 
 pect had produced, he loftily exclaimed : "Where there 
 was dissatisfaction I see contentment ; where there was 
 turbulence, I see there is peace ; where there was disloy- 600 
 alty, I see there is loyalty. I see a disposition to confide 
 in you, and not to agitate questions that are the founda- 
 tions of your institutions." When all was over, when he 
 had left office, when his party was out of power, and the 
 fury of party execration against him was spent, his posi- 605 
 tion was greater and nobler than it had ever been. Cob- 
 den said of him, " Sir Robert Peel has lost office, but he 
 has gained a country ; " and Lord Dalling said of him, what 
 may truly be said of Washington: "Above all parties, 
 
 this manner of introducing the examples here adduced makes them 
 continually maintain what antithesis? The three examples from his- 
 tory, 11. 571-579, are regarded by the speaker, according to the impli- 
 cation, 1. 582, as having what character? How, therefore, suited to 
 this audience? If the grandeur of Sir Robert Peel's patriotism, as 
 described, 11. 582-611, is "less heroic and poetic" in form, what is 
 there in it to make it after all a true climax with the preceding illustra- 
 tions? Is there anything in its occasion and manifestation to give it 
 more interest and cogency for present affairs ? 608. What may truly 
 
302 STUDIES IN INVENTION. 
 
 610 himself a party, he had trained his own mind into a dis- 
 interested sympathy with the intelligence of his country." 
 A public spirit so lofty is* not confined to other ages and 
 lands. You are conscious of its stirrings in your souls. 
 It calls you to courageous service, and I am here to bid 
 
 615 you obey the call. Such patriotism may be ours. Let it 
 be your parting vow that it shall be yours. Bolingbroke 
 described a patriot king in England ; I can imagine a pa- 
 triot president in America. I can see him indeed the 
 choice of a party, and called to administer the government 
 
 620 when sectional jealousy is fiercest and party passion most 
 inflamed. I can imagine him seeing clearly what justice 
 and humanity, the national law and the national welfare 
 require him to do, and resolve to do it. I can imagine 
 him patiently enduring not only the mad cry of party hate, 
 
 625 the taunt of "recreant" and "traitor," of "renegade" and 
 " coward," but what is harder to bear, the amazement, the 
 doubt, the grief, the denunciation, of those as sincerely 
 devoted as he to the common welfare. I can imagine him 
 pushing firmly on, trusting the heart, the intelligence, the 
 
 6 3 o conscience of his countrymen, healing angry wounds, cor- 
 
 be said of Washington, thus the historical instance drawn from 
 another nation is connected in a lofty sentiment with the heroic life of 
 our own. 
 
 In the last paragraph, 11. 612-637, how is the theme brought home 
 to the present audience and occasion? The portrayal of a patriot 
 president, 11. 616-633, furnishes occasion for an informal summary of 
 the most practical things that have been inculcated ; trace them. 
 What standard, highest and most comprehensive of all, is brought in 
 the last sentence, 11. 634-637, to bear on the sentiment that has in- 
 spired the oration? 636. The celestial secret, what is the force 
 of the epithet? 
 
 How does the style of the peroration correspond to what is said of 
 the conclusion, Rhet. p. 282? 
 
GEORGE WILLIAM CURTIS. 303 
 
 recting misunderstandings, planting justice on surer founda- 
 tions, and, whether his party rise or fall, lifting his country 
 heavenward to a more perfect union, prosperity and peace. 
 This is the spirit of a patriotism that girds the common- 
 wealth with the resistless splendor of the moral law the 635 
 invulnerable panoply of states, the celestial secret of a 
 great nation and a happy people. 
 
DIRECTORY OF SELECTIONS. 
 
 I. Bunyan, Pilgrim's Progress, Golden Treasury edition, p. 57. 
 Spelling, capitals, italics, and punctuation modernized. Legend, 
 Macaulay, Essay on Southey's Edition of the Pilgrim's Progress, 
 Essays, Riverside edition, Vol. II. p. 266. 
 
 II. De Quincey, Works, Riverside edition, Vol. IV. p. 533. Legend, 
 Minto, Manual of English Prose Literature, p. 62. 
 
 III. Burke, Select Works (edited by E. J. Payne), Vol. II. p. 89. 
 Legend, Morley on Burke (English Men of Letters), American edition, 
 p. 210. 
 
 IV. Thackeray, Roundabout Papers, Works, English Library edition, 
 Vol. XX. p. 185. Legend, Whipple, Character and Characteristic Men, 
 p. 208. 
 
 V. Ruskin, Stones of Venice, Vol. II. p. 70. Legend, Harper's 
 Magazine, February, 1889, p. 386. 
 
 VI. Lowell, Fireside Travels, Riverside Aldine edition, p. 250. 
 Legend, Stedman, Poets of America, p. 328. 
 
 VII. Carlyle, Life of Sterling, Works, Sterling edition, Vol. II. p. 
 52. Legend, Littell's Living Age, Vol. CLVI. p. 447. 
 
 VIII. Huxley, Lay Sermons and Addresses, American edition, p. 
 31. Legend, International Review, Vol. XL p. 530. 
 
 IX. Newman, Idea of a University, pp. 331, 291. Legend, Fort- 
 nightly Review, Vol. XXXII. p. i. 
 
 X. Hawthorne, Scarlet Letter, Works, Riverside edition, Vol. V. 
 p. 32. Legend, Whipple, Character and Characteristic Men, p. 239. 
 
 XL Arnold, Essays in Criticism, Macmillan's edition, p. 48. 
 Legends, Contemporary Review, Vol. LIII. p. 870; English Illustrated 
 Magazine, Vol. I. p. 245. 
 
 XII. Macaulay, Essay on History, Essays, Riverside edition, Vol. I- 
 p. 423. Legend, International Review, Vol. III. p. 691. 
 
 XIII. Morley, Burke, a Historical Study, p. 63. 
 
306 DIRECTORY OF SELECTIONS. 
 
 XIV. Addison, Spectator, Morley's edition, Vol. III. p. 187. 
 
 XV. Helps, Friends in Council, American edition, Vol. I. p 92. 
 
 XVI. Blackmore, Lorna Doone, Harper's edition, pp. 98, 23. 
 
 XVII. Green, Short History of the English People, American re- 
 vised edition, p. 370. 
 
 XVIII. Stanley, Sinai and Palestine, American edition, p. 186. 
 
 XIX. Hughes, Tom Brown at Oxford, American edition, Vol. I. 
 p. 214. 
 
 XX. Shorthouse, John Inglesant, p. 76. 
 
 XXI. Scott, Kenil worth, Waverley Novels, Handy Volume edition, 
 Vol. XII. p. 142. Legend, Fuller's Worthies of England, Vol. I. p. 419. 
 
 XXII. Mill, Three Essays on Religion, American edition, p. 3. 
 
 XXIII. Ruskin, Modern Painters, Vol. III. p. 158. 
 
 XXIV. Tyndall, Heat Considered as a Mode of Motion, American 
 edition, pp. 41, 443. 
 
 XXV. Macaulay, Essay on Hallam's Constitutional History, Essays, 
 Riverside edition, Vol. I. p. 439. 
 
 XXVI. Curtis, The Public Duty of Educated Men, published in 
 Pamphlet Form by J. Munsell, Albany, N.Y. 
 
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