The art of writing English : a manual for students, with chapters on paraphrasing, essay-writing, précis-writing, punctuation, and other matters

Front matter

PROFESSOR

THE ART OF WRITING INGUSH

CORNELL

Preface

This book has been written for the purpose of guiding the young student into the right path, and of saving him from wasting his time in exercises that are not only of no use to him, but are positive hindrances in the way of his learning to write good, clear, and firm English. The use of Analysis as a guide to Composition — as it is sometimes called — proves to be the veriest Slough of Despond, in which the student can neither swim nor walk. The writer has not worried his pupils with a large number of rules and meticulous directions, but has tried to set their feet in a plain path, has tried td show them the road to freedom and power — and perhaps even to delight in adequate and rhythmic expression.

Whatever utility may exist in this book is to be found chiefly in its exercises. These may seem to be too numerous. But it takes several years to master — or even to come near mastering — the violin or the piano: how many more years ought it to take to enable any writer to come within sight of the goal of mastering the complexities, the intricacies, the beauties, and the subtleties of the English tongue ?

Again, when a young student is learning to write, he is also learning to think. In his unceasing quest for the right word, for the adequate and perfectly truthful vi THE ART OF WRITING ENGLISH

expression, he comes to many avenues in the wanderings of careful thought, and learns to choose between right and wrong. He is likewise on the way to possessing himself of some of the countless treasures of his mother-tongue ; and, in both these respects, he is not unlike a great historical personage — Saul, the son of Kish, who went out to seek his father's asses, and found a kingdom.

All the exercises are very short ; and the Teacher is earnestly advised to discourage and even to forbid long dissertations and lengthy essays, which absorb too much of the Teacher's time, and promote in the Pupil habits of verbosity and loose writing. A short exercise of ten lines, carefully and thoroughly polished, will do more for the pupil than a wordy 'essay' of as many pages. Once he has been shown the way, it is the Pupil who ought to do the polishing, and not the Teacher.

Some of the exercises and material of this book have been recovered from some other books of mine, which are now out of print.

I am also indebted to Professors Nichol and Minto; to Matzner, Lanson, Dr. Probst, Professor Straub ; and other French and German writers.

W It is not at all necessary that the young student should work through all the exercises ; he should select those that seem to be most useful for his own stage of development.

W Correcting exercises is the bane of the Teacher's profession. It paralyses his mental powers, and granulates the fibre of his brain. It is recommended that all exercises be short ; that they be read aloud in Class ; that, as a rule, they should be corrected there ; that questions be put on them and answers demanded ; that questions and criticisms from the class be invited j and that the correction of exercises be made an occasion for lively social discussion.

Contents

VI.

VIL

vni.

IX.

x.

Prologue

INTRODUCTION .

WHAT A GOOD SENTENCE IS

PUNCTUATION .

IDIOMATIC USE OF PREPOSITIONS

PRECISION IN THE USE OF SYNONYMS .

THE TWO LANGUAGES IN THE ENGLISH LANGUAGE

XI. PITH

XVI.

XVII.

XVIII.

THE USE OF DETAIL .

3 15 31

IZI

XIX. THE DICTION OP PROSE AND THE DICTION OP POETRY XX. THE DIVISIONS OP PROSE STYLE XXI. COMMON ERRORS IN ENGLISH AND IN GRAMMAR XXII. GENERAL RULES ....

XXIII. SHORT ESSAYS WITH MOTTOES .

XXIV. VOCABULARY OP TERMS

PAGE, 257

Prologue

Chapter I Prologue

A FAMILIAR TALK ABO0T THE WRITING OF ENGLISH (with some Suggestions and a little Advice)

A young student wishes to be able to write good English, to express his thoughts in clear and fitting language, in neat and well-turned sentences. How is he to set about it ? He naturally goes to his Teacher and consults with him.

His Teacher tells him that he cherishes a most praiseworthy desire, that it is of great importance to be able to use one's mother-tongue rightly, and that his mother-tongue — English — is probably the richest language in Europe, that is, that it contains the largest choice of words and phrases from which to select for the true and adequate expression of thought. 'Shall I read books about the " Art of Composition " ? ' — ' Not at all,' replies the Teacher; *at least, not in the meantime. These books will fill your mind with theories and principles. But you don't want any theory of writing ; and you do not require what are called "principles of style." All you want for the present is practice in writing down your own sense in plain and clear English ; and this practice you can have any day or every day.

' There is a well-known story about a French lady, who was governess to the young sons of Louis xiv. One day she asked one of them — the Due de Maine — to write a letter to his father. " Oh, I can't write letters," he replied ; "I haven't the slightest idea how to write a letter!" — " Well," said the lady, " but you sometimes think about your father, I suppose."—" Oh yes ! " said the boy ; " I am very sorry that he has gone away." — " Very good, very good; then just write that down. But is that all you think about him ? Have you nothing else to say ? " — " Well, I should be very glad if he would come back." — " There 's your letter all ready made," replied the lady ; "just put down these two thoughts of yours, give it a beginning and an ending ; and the letter is done." — " Oh ! I didn't know it was so very easy to write a letter ; I thought one had to put down all sorts of big words and phrases, and to show that you know a lot of things that you really don't know." — " Nothing of the sort : all you have to do is to put into clear and simple words what you think or feel." '

All this is quite plain. But the young student will ask, ' How about the rules of Grammar ? Am I not obliged to take these with me, to keep them in mind, and to think about them while I am writing ? ' To this the teacher replies : ' Certainly not. Rules of grammar will only get in your way. You will be like a gentleman going for the first time to the Queen's Drawing-room : he puts on a sword for the first time, and he thinks so much about it that it gets between his legs and perhaps trips him up. In writing, your whole mind must be full of the subject you are writing about; and there must be no room for rules about this or that turn of language, this or that form of expression.' — ' But then I shall go wrong, and write bad grammar.' — 'That is possible; but you will of course read over what you have written, after you

PROLOGUE 5

have written it, and see that it contains no bad grammar or bad English. If it does, then of course you will correct it. But, while you are writing, keep your mind entirely fixed on the subject you are writing about.'

' Well, then, there is Analysis : surely that is useful in composition — surely I shall get some guidance from that.' — 'Worse and worse, my young friend, analysis will simply paralyse the movements of your mind and make any writing you produce as stiff as a poker.' — ' But analysis tells us all about the build of sentences (about the anatomy of them), about co-ordinate and subordinate clauses, about complex and compound sentences, and so on. Now, as composition is merely the making of sentences, and every paragraph and every book is made up of large numbers of sentences, surely the part of grammar which tells you all about the nature of sentences must be extremely useful to you ? ' — ' So it would seem ; but so indeed it is not. Analysis is not only no help in the process of composition ; it is the very greatest hindrance. What would you think of a person who, when ordering you to walk, told you that you must set in motion the crural muscles and the tibial muscles, and that you must not forget to make the adductor muscle act in combination with the sartorial muscle and the peroneus longus ? Keep a look-out also on the action of the "extensor cruris particeps," and likewise on the "extensor digitorum communis longus ! " Your own common-sense would tell you that all this is superfluous rubbish ; and that, while it is useful to know the names of the chief muscles in the leg, such scientific knowledge is quite out of place in learning to walk. The human race learned to walk thousands of years before the names of these muscles were known ; human beings learned to walk by seeing other people walk, and by trying it themselves.

Walking, talking, and writing are all quite easy : the one is as easy as the other, and every one of them is to be learned by practice. It is true I have seen books in which exercises like this were set : " Make three sentences in which there shall be one principal sentence, two subordinate, and two sub-subordinate clauses." Or like this : "Construct six sentences on this model: A+b+c+d.'" But the complete answer to all this is that no one, when left to his own nature and his own common-sense, ever does make sentences on these patterns, or on any pattern at all. He writes or talks about what he knows ; and his words and phrases, all unconsciously, fall into line and marshal themselves in sentences. The fact is that the two processes of the mind, Analysis and Composition, are exactly opposed to each other, and mutually exclusive. Analysis is the critical examination, the dissection of what has been written ; composition is the production of thoughts or feelings in words. Analysis is critical ; composition is creative. Composition is a form of life ; analysis is a kind of dissection. If you keep your mind intent on the construction of your sentences, while you are writing them, you will find analysis a great hindrance both to thought and to expression.'

'Well, you surprise me,' replies the student. 'I thought that, when I was learning grammar and analysis, I was on the highroad to writing good English.' — 'You were on the highroad to knowing what good English is ; but the knowledge of grammar does not at all help you in turning out sentences, or stimulate you to write with vigour. The knowledge of grammar has rather a contrary tendency ; it makes you fearful and cautious, it teaches you to be constantly on the watch lest you write bad grammar.' — 'Then I suppose I must throw away my books on grammar and analysis, and

PROLOGUE 7

trust to myself to write good English. 1 — ' By no means : your books on grammar and analysis are all very well in their own place and at their own time; but they are no guides in the practice of composition.' — 'What are the guides, then?' — 'The guides are good and lively, writers — such as Macaulay, Froude, Kinglake, and others. When you find a passage in such writers that strikes your fancy and excites your feelings of admiration, then set to work, make a short abridgment of the passage, and lay it aside for a day or two. Then take out your paper and rewrite the passage from your own abridgment, imitating the author as closely as you can. Next, compare your own version with the original and note carefully in what parts — in what words or phrases — you have been deficient, and correct your own paper from the original. Do this two or three times a week ; and you will soon be able to write excellent English — to write sentences that are neat, clear, and vigorous.'' — ' But this is only imitation; and some great thinkers say that nothing is to be gained by imitation but dulness and second-hand monotony.' — ' It is true that, in Art, a copy of a fine picture is not of so great value as the original from which the copy is made ; but, when a young man is learning, the best way for him to learn is to keep imitating the great Masters of the Art he is trying to study. This was the way Louis Stevenson learned to write English; and few writers of this century write brighter or finer or more exquisite English than he.

When a student at Edinburgh, he would imitate passages from Macaulay for a month, then he would copy Froude ; he did not omit to write even Carlylese for the same time ; and thus, by what he called " sedulous aping," he acquired that power of expression which is to-day the admiration of all his readers. So, if you want an electioncry, take the cry of " Imitate ! Imitate ! Imitate ! " and you will come out all right. 1 — ' Then,' replies the bewildered student, ' what is the use of books on composition at all ? What is the good of this very book on composition that you have just put into my band ? Am I to follow this book or the good writers you have just mentioned ?' — 'Well, to be perfectly frank, the plan I have recommended — if pursued with perseverance and thoughtfulness — will do much more for you than all the books on composition ever written. Nay, I will go further and say : if the Teacher of a form were to begin the practice of composition as soon as the child was able to write, and ask him to write only two sentences a day — one, from memory, out of his reading-book, the other about what he has seen or done during the day, the child would get to write sentences just as naturally as he talks, and composition would cease to be a Subject. It would be no more a Subject than eating or breathing or running.' — ' Well, this is all very well : but what of this book ? ' — ' This book has been prepared to supply the deficiencies in your earlier education — or rather, to make up for the absence of that practice in writing English which is now necessary to every educated person. Hence there is practice in building sentences — the materials, like bricks for a house, being supplied ; practice in varying statements or in expanding them; practice in the art of using words in their right and exact meaning (and this turns out to be a training in the art of thinking also); practice in making precis; practice in paraphrasing, and so on.' — ' Paraphrasing ! Come, tell us something about that. We

have heard that it is a somewhat unprofitable exercise

perhaps even entirely useless.' — ' Well, no, it is not quite useless. It gives the writer practice in the art of drawing on his stock of words and phrases ; and unless he

PROLOGUE 9

uses his stock, the young writer will find that it will diminish until the supply is almost gone, and the words that remain come slowly and unwillingly to the point of the pen. Practice — exercise — movement — these are the conditions of all life ; and unless what we possess is used, it will not ,grow, it will dwindle. " Greater need draws better deed," to quote an old proverb.' — 'Still, you must admit that it is slightly stupid (and sometimes stupefying) to change good poetry into bad prose, to take a passage from a great author, who understood the art of choosing and of employing words, and turn it into poor and feeble English.' — 'From that point of view, you are quite right; but there is a distinct utility in paraphrasing. In the first place, by it you prove to your Teacher and to yourself that you fully understand the passage you paraphrase ; in the second place, you put in circulation your stock of words and promote the growth of your vocabulary.' — ' Yes, I see that ; but are there not dangers in paraphrasing that one needs to be cautioned against ? ' — ' Certainly, there are some dangers. But the greatest danger of all is what may be called literalness. This leads the writer to turn the verse he has to paraphrase not only into prose, but into a prose that is both prosy and prosaic. In other words the young student has not paraphrased in the spirit of the original, but has brought down the sense of his author to a lower plane — has, in fact vulgarised the sense. There is a well-known instance given by M. Arnold, where a young student was asked to translate into other English the famous line in " Macbeth " : —

" Canst thou not minister to a mind diseased ? "

He turned this simple line into : —

"Canst thou not wait upon a lunatic ?"

Here is another example which was sent me the other day. In " The Lady of the Lake" Fitzjames says, looking down on his dead horse : —

" I little thought, when first thy rein I slack'd upon the banks of Seine, That Highland eagle e'er should feed On thy fleet limbs, my matchless steed ! "

The last couplet was faithfully — too "faithfully"— rendered, "That eagles of Scotland would ever make their dinner off your quick legs, my dear horse ! " Here " fidelity " becomes literalness of the most prosaic kind.' — 'How is this literalness to be avoided?' — 'Well, in all translating, the translations must be made in the spirit of the original. If you are paraphrasing Milton, you must paraphrase in a style not too terribly unworthy of Milton; if you are paraphrasing Tennyson, you must make your own prose not too distant from the noble language and fine rhythm of the original. To succeed in this, it is necessary to read the original carefully and sympathetically ; next to read it aloud once or twice — with as much feeling and eloquence as is possible to you ; and then try to seize the thought of each part of the passage, and give that thought in your own words. 1 — 'And we must always write good English ? '-7-' Yes, your paper should read, in so far as that is possible, like an original composition, and be both intelligible and pleasant to those who had never seen the original. Of course you must avoid poetic words and phrases, and also poetic combinations of words. You must not say " eveninglighted," or " incense-pillowed," or " moon-led," or " smooth-lipped," or " thought-rapt," or any words like these. They are all right in poetry — in their own place; in prose they are inadmissible.'

'What should we aim at in learning to write English,

PROLOGUE 11

what should be our chief aim in the study of composition? 1 — 'Two things; and only two things: clearness and neatness. 1 These two qualities of style any person of average brains can achieve, with moderate diligence and thoughtfulness. If you have in you the power of eloquence or of picturesque writing, it is sure to come out. But, if you labour to be eloquent or picturesque, the result will most probably be affectation or futility.' — 'But surely any one can write clearly and neatly : it seems to be quite natural.' — ' It is not so easy as you think to write in a clear and neat style. Now-adays everybody is so hurried ; he takes an interest in so many things ; he has to pass so many examinations ; he reads so many magazines and newspapers, that he is always in danger of enlisting permanently in the crowded ranks of " The Muddleheaded." And then you perhaps produce something like this : —

" Oliver Cromwell was a man with an iron will and a large red nose, but under it were deeply religious feelings. He fought the battle of Worcester on the anniversary of his death."

Or this :—

" The Wars of the Roses were brought about by Henry v. " of Battenberg, who was not a correct descendant to the throne."

Or this short Life of Oliver Cromwell : —

" Cromwell was brought up in Cambridge, then famous for its manufactured goods. As regards personal appearance, he was not prepossessing. On the contrary, he would in these advanced times be even styled ugly. The brow was massive and the perceptive bumpswere well developed. Cromwell'slast days were embittered by a book which threatened to kill him."

1 As regards these two qualities, composition may be compared with handwriting. A sensible person writes clearly, out of respect for the person or persons who have to read his writing ; and he writes neatly, out of respect for himself.

The following account of the Crusades does not show either clear thinking or neat expression : —

"The Crusades were an attempt to rescue the Ark of the Covenant from the Turks. They were a band of missionaries and were greatly insulted by the Moslems. But the Crusades didn't care. Peter the Hermit went about preaching the gospel the same as ever, and was successful in getting some of the people converted. Richard was the third Crusade. He was imbibed with a rage for crusading. Richard's character cannot be very well described, he being so little at home."

But perhaps the following reaches the highest point of " mixed " thought and information : —

" Sir Thomas More was an Irishman. He was also a great lyrical poet. He soon gave up poetry, however, and went into the army. Shortly after he won the great battle of Corunna in the Peninsular war. He was killed while walking about the deck with all his medals on ; but he did not die ere he knew that he had won the great victory of Trafalgar."

These brilliant young writers come from schools of all classes ; but all of them forgot or never seemed to have heard of Thackeray's simple advice to be perfectly certain of what they mean, and then to say it as plainly as possible. They tried at more than they could seize ; and • to grasp more than they could hold.' — ' Yes, I see ; and so they got hopelessly mixed.'

' I will give you only one more piece of advice. If you know French, translate from a good French prose writer a short paragraph once or twice a week. Good French prose is the best prose in the world. With a little practice in translating from it, your own prose will get something of the lightness and brightness, the vigour and the spring of the original.'

Chapter II Introduction

1. What is Composition ? — The writing of English is commonly called Composition; and there are two prevalent errors regarding its character which meet us at the very threshold. The first error is the idea that Composition is to be learned by grammatical rules, and that it has to follow the study of Grammar — and not precede it. Now Composition is a constructive, or creative, or synthetic act ; and it is to be learned partly by doing it and partly by imitating the doings of other people "in it. The study of Grammar, on the other hand, is a series of critical, examinatory or analytic acts of the mind ; and its relation to Composition is that of a mere corrective. Grammar is to Composition what medicine is to food. Grammar may come in as a corrective after the composition has been produced ; but it is not an inspiring power which aids in the production. The second error is the idea that Composition is an artificial process. It is true that it is not quite so natural as speech; but that is simply because the pen intervenes between the thought and the expression, and the moving of the pen is certainly a more artificial act than mere speaking. But, if we consider Composition as the living expression of living thought, we shall see that it is just as 'natural' as speech itself. Speaking and writing — writing down what you have spoken — are not two different activities of the mind ; they are fundamentally one.

(i) The constructive force shuts out the analytical; the analytical force shuts out the constructive.

(ii) It follows from the above considerations that all written composition should be preceded by oral composition. The young writer should be invited, first of all, to state, slowly, clearly, and consecutively, what he is going to write down.

(iii) Composition is on the same level of artificiality that cooking is. It is more ' natural ' for the human animal to eat his food raw ; but, in the present state of human civilisation, the application of fire, though quite 'artificial",' is just as natural and as necessary as the process of mastication.

(iv) The idea that Composition is artificial, and the fact that we postpone the teaching of it till very late, gives rise to the vulgar belief that it is a 'subject,' like French, or Latin, or History. But Composition is not a 'subject.* It is a quite ordinary practice — a very general activity ; but it is a practice which, if pursued lovingly, with skill and intelligence, may blossom into an art. If it is not a 'subject,' oral composition ought to be begun as soon as the pupil can read, and written composition as soon as the pupil can write. In fact, writing and speaking are simply two forms of one mental act — the act of expression; and the art of expression itself is ' Nature ' and natural.

(v) ... Nature is made better by no mean,

But Nature makes that mean ; so, o'er that art, Which you say adds to Nature, is an art That Nature makes. . . . This is an art Which does mend Nature, change it rather, but The art itself is Nature.

Winter's Tale, iv. 4, 89.

(vi) A rule commonly given is, ' Write as you would speak.' But this advice must be taken with a grain of allowance. None of us speak in the finished and elaborate style in which we are obliged to write; if we did, we should be terrible bores. But there is no doubt that a pleasant and sensible way of speaking is a help to a pleasant and sensible style.

2. The Conditions of Good Composition. — The conditions of good composition are : (i) a full mind ; (ii) a clear perception of the relative weight and value of each part of the subject; (iii) a clear understanding of the relations to each other of each part of the subject; (iv) the power of writing a clear sentence ; and (v) the power of writing a rhythmical sentence. If we wish to train ourselves to write good English, we ought (i) to read slowly and leisurely the best and most vigorous writers ; (ii) to form perfectly clear conceptions of what they say ; (iii) to practise writing frequently ; and (iv) to polish slowly and carefully what we have written.

(i) A great French critic — who was also a great writer — says that ' the chief aim in style ought to be absolute precision. There is only one noun that can express your idea, only one verb that can set that idea in motion, and only one adjective that is the proper epithet for that noun.' The great writer was Flaubert ; and Flaubert sometimes laboured for a whole day to find the true epithet that he wanted. Unhappily, we have not time for that in England.

(ii) If, instead of finding for ourselves the words that will precisely and exactly and truly express our ideas, we simply adopt the words and phrases of other writers, we are like a man who goes to the slop-dealer for a suit of clothes, instead of being properly fitted by an intelligent clothier. Beady-made clothes fit everybody ; and nobody.

(iii) The best way to gain the power of writing a rhythmical sentence is the constant study of the Authorised Version of the Bible. The best rhythms are to be found there; because that translation was made at a time when the English language had not been spoiled by the imitation of foreign rhythms, and because the English mind was at that time probably more full of deep, serious, and homely feeling than it ever was before or has been since.

(iv) Mr. Ruskin says : ' My mother forced me, by steady, daily toil, to learn long chapters of the Bible by heart ; as well as to read it every syllable through, aloud, hard names and all, from Genesis to the Apocalypse, about once a year ; and to that discipline — patient, accurate, resolute — I owe, not only a knowledge of the Book, but much of my general power of taking pains, and the best part of my taste in Literature.'