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Of the words thus given, what is remarked? From what has been said, what will now appear; and what are they? What is here required; and of the writings of Dean Swift, what is observed? To observe what, had our author before occasion? What, in every sort of writing, is a great beauty? But against what must we be on our guard? To what only was Dean Swift attentive? What is the highest attainment in writing? What may different kinds of composition require; but what must we study never to sacrifice?

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LECTURE XI.

STRUCTURE OF SENTENCES.

HAVING begun to treat of style, in the last lecture I considered its fundamental quality, perspicuity. What I have said of this, relates chiefly to the choice of words. From words I proceed to sentences; and as, in all writing and discourse, the proper composition and structure of sentences is of the highest importance, I shall treat of this fully. Though perspicuity be the general head under which I, at present, consider language, I shall not confine myself to this quality alone, in sentences, but shall inquire also, what is requisite for their grace and beauty: that I may bring together, under one view, all that seems necessary to be attended to in the construction and arrangement of words in a sentence.

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It is not easy to give an exact definition of a sentence, or period, farther, than as it always implies some one complete proposition or enunciation of thought. Aristotle's definition is, in the main, a good one : Λεξις έχυσα αρχην και τελευτην καθ' αυτήν, και μέγεθος ευσύνοπτον: A form of speech which hath a beginning and an end within itself, and is of such a length as to be easily comprehended at once." This, however, admits of great latitude. For a sentence, or period, consists always of component parts, which are called its members; and as these members may be either few or many, and may be connected in several different ways, the same thought, or mental proposition, may often be either brought into one sentence, or split into two or three, without the material breach of any rule.

The first variety that occurs in the consideration of sentences, is, the distinction of long and short ones. The precise length of sentences, as to the number of words, or the number of members, which may enter into them, cannot be ascertained by any definite measure. At the same time it is obvious, there may be an extreme on either side. Sentences immoderately long, and consisting of too many members, always transgress some one or other of the rules which I shall mention soon, as necessary to be observed in every good sentence. In discourses that are to be spoken, regard must be had to the easiness of pronunciation, which is not consistent with too long periods. In compositions where pronunciation has no place, still,

however, by using long periods too frequently, an author overloads the reader's ear, and fatigues his attention. For long periods require, evidently, more attention than short ones, in order to perceive clearly the connexion of the several parts, and to take in the whole at one view. At the same time, there may be an excess in too many short sentences also; by which the sense is split and broken, the connexion of thought weakened, and the memory burdened by presenting to it a long succession of minute objects.

With regard to the length and construction of sentences, the French critics make a very just distinction of style, into style periodique and style coupé. The style periodique is where the sentences are composed of several members linked together, and hanging upon one another; so that the sense of the whole is not brought out till the close. This is the most pompous, musical, and oratorical manner of composing; as in the following sentence of Sir William Temple: 'If you look about you, and consider the lives of others as well as your own; if you think how few are born with honour, and how many die without name or children; how little beauty we see, and how few friends we hear of; how many diseases, and how much poverty there is in the world; you will fall down upon your knees, and, instead of repining at one affliction, will admire so many blessings which you have received from the hand of God.' (Letter to Lady Essex.) Cicero abounds with sentences constructed after this manner.

The style coupé is, where the sense is formed into short independent propositions, each complete within itself; as in the following of Mr. Pope: 'I confess it was want of consideration that made me an author. I writ, because it amused me. I corrected, because it was as pleasant to me to correct as to write. I published, because I was told, I might please such as it was a credit to please.' (Preface to his works.) This is very much the French method of writing; and always suits gay and easy subjects. The style periodique, gives an air of gravity and dignity to composition. The style coupé, is more lively and striking. According to the nature of the composition, therefore, and the general character it ought to bear, the one or other may be predominant. But in almost every kind of composition, the great rule is to intermix them. For the ear tires of either of them when too long continued: whereas, by a proper mixture of long and short periods, the ear is gratified, and a certain sprightliness is joined with majesty in our style. Non semper,' says Cicero, (describing very expressively, these two different kinds of styles, of which I have been speaking,) non semper utendum est perpetuitate, et quasi conversione verborum ; sed sæpe carpenda membris minutioribus oratio est.'*

This variety is of so great consequence, that it must be studied, not only in the succession of long and short sentences, but in the structure of our sentences also. A train of sentences, constructed

"It is not proper always to employ a continued train, and a sort of regular com. pass of phrases; but style ought to be often broken down into smaller members."

in the same manner, and with the same number of members, whether long or short, should never be allowed to succeed one another. However musical each of them may be, it has a better effect to introduce even a discord, than to cloy the ear with the repetition of similiar sounds: for, nothing is so tiresome as perpetual uniformity. In this article of the construction and distribution of his sentences, Lord Shaftesbury has shown great art. In the last lecture, I observed, that he is often guilty of sacrificing precision of style to pomp of expression; and that there runs through his whole manner, a stiffness and affectation, which render him very unfit to be considered as a general model. But as his ear was fine, and as he was extremely attentive to every thing that is elegant, he has studied the proper intermixture of long and short sentences, with variety and harmony in their structure, more than any other English author; and for this part of composition he deserves attention.

From these general observations, let us now descend to a more particular consideration of the qualities that are required to make a sentence perfect. So much depends upon the proper construction of sentences, that, in every sort of composition, we cannot be too strict in our attentions to it. For, be the subject what it will, if the sentences be constructed in a clumsy, perplexed, or feeble manner, it is impossible that a work, composed of such sentences, can be read with pleasure, or even with profit. Whereas, by giving attention to the rules which relate to this part of style, we acquire the habit of expressing ourselves with perspicuity and elegance; and, if a disorder chance to arise in some of our sentences, we immediately see where it lies, and are able to rectify it.*

The properties most essential to a perfect sentence, seem to me the four following: 1. Clearness and precision. 2. Unity. 3. Strength. 4. Harmony. Each of these I shall illustrate separately, and at some length.

The first is, clearness and precision. The least failure here, the least degree of ambiguity, which leaves the mind in any sort of suspense as to the meaning, ought to be avoided with the greatest care; nor is it so easy a matter to keep always clear of this, as one might, at first, imagine. Ambiguity arises from two causes: either from a wrong choice of words, or a wrong collocation of them. Of the choice of words, as far as regards perspicuity, I treated fully in the last lecture. Of the collocation of them, I am now to treat. The first thing to be studied here, is, to observe exactly the rules of grammar, as far as these can guide us. But as the grammar of our language is not extensive, there may often be an ambiguous colloca

* On the structure of sentences, the ancients appear to have bestowed a great deal of attention and care. The Treatise of Demetrius Phalereus, eg Egunvas, abounds with observations upon the choice and collocation of words, carried to such a degree of nicety, as would frequently seem to us minute. The Treatise of Dyonysius of Halicarnassus, eg σubs ovoμarov, is more masterly; but is chiefly confined to the musical structure of periods; a subject for which the Greek language afforded much more assistance to their writers, than our tongue admits. On the arrangement of words in English sentences, the xviiith chapt. of Lord Kaims's Elements of Criticism, ought to be consulted; and also the 2d volume of Dr. Campbell's Philosophy of Rhetoric.

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tion of words, where there is no transgression of any grammatical rule. The relations which the words, or members of a period, bear to one another, cannot be pointed out in English, as in the Greek or Latin, by means of termination; it is ascertained only by the position in which they stand. Hence a capital rule in the arrangement of sentences is, that the words or members most nearly related, should be placed in the sentence, as near to each other as possible; so as to make their mutual relation clearly appear. This is a rule not always observed, even by good writers, as strictly as it ought to be. It will be necessary to produce some instances, which will both show the importance of this rule, and make the application of it understood. First, in the position of adverbs, which are used to qualify the signification of something which either precedes or follows them, there is often a good deal of nicety. By greatness,' says Mr. Addison, in the Spectator, No. 412. 'I do not only mean the bulk of any single object, but the largeness of a whole view.' Here the place of the adverb only, renders it a limitation of the following word mean. 'I do not only mean.' The question may then be put, What does be more than mean? Had he placed it after bulk, still it would have heen wrong. 'I do not mean the bulk only of any single object.' For we might then ask, What does he mean more than the bulk? Is it the colour? Or any other property? Its proper place, undoubtedly, is, after the word object. By greatness, I do not mean the bulk of any single object only;' for then, when we put the question, What more does he mean than the bulk of a single object? The answer comes out exactly as the author intends, and gives it; 'The largeness of a whole view.' 'Theism,' says Lord Shaftesbury, can only be opposed to polytheism, or atheism.' Does he mean that theism is capable of nothing else, except being opposed to polytheism or atheism? This is what his words literally import, through the wrong collocation of only. He should have said, 'Theism can be opposed only to polytheism or atheism.' In like manner, Dean Swift, (Project for the advancement of Religion,) The Romans understood liberty, at least, as well as we.' These words are capable of two different senses, according as the emphasis, in reading them, is laid upon liberty, or upon at least. In the first case, they will signify, that whatever other things we may understand better than the Romans, liberty, at least, was one thing, which they understood as well as we. In the second case, they will import, that liberty was understood, at least as well by them as by us; meaning that by them it was better understood. If this last, as I make no doubt, was Dean Swift's own meaning, the ambiguity would have been avoided, and the sense rendered independent of the manner of pronouncing, by arranging the words thus: "The Romans understood liberty as well, at least, as we.' The fact is, with respect to such adverbs, as only, wholly, at least, and the rest of that tribe, that in common discourse, the tone and emphasis we use in pronouncing them, generally serves to show their reference, and to make the meaning clear; and hence we acquire a habit of throw

ing them in loosely in the course of a period. But, in writing, where a man speaks to the eye, and not to the ear, he ought to be more accurate; and so to connect those adverbs with the words which they qualify, as to put his meaning out of doubt, upon the first inspection.

Secondly, when a circumstance is interposed in the middle of a sentence, it sometimes requires attention how to place it, so as to divest it of all ambiguity. For instance; Are these designs,' says Lord Bolingbroke, Dissert. on Parties, Dedicat. Are these designs, which any man, who is born a Briton, in any circumstances, in any situation, ought to be ashamed or afraid to avow?' Here we are left at a loss, whether these words, 'in any circumstances, in any situation,' are connected with, 'a man born in Briton, in any circumstances, or situation,' or with that man's 'avowing his designs, in any circumstances, or situation, into which he may be brought?" If the latter, as seems most probable, was intended to be the meaning, the arrangement ought to have been conducted thus; 'Are these designs, which any man who is born a Briton, ought to be ashamed or afraid, in any circumstances, in any situation, to avow?' But,

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Thirdly, still more attention is required to the proper disposition of the relative pronouns, who, which, what, whose, and of all those particles which express the connexion of the parts of speech with one another. As all reasoning depends upon this connexion, we cannot be too accurate and precise here. A small error may overcloud the meaning of the whole sentence; and even where the meaning is intelligible, yet where these relative particles are out of their proper place, we always find something awkward and disjointed in the structure of the sentence. Thus, in the Spectator, (No. 54.) This kind of wit,' says Mr. Addison, was very much in vogue among our countrymen, about an age or two ago, who did not practise it for any oblique reason, but purely for the sake of being witty.' We are at no loss about the meaning here; but the construction would evidently be mended by disposing of the circumstance, about an age or two ago,' in such a manner as not to separate the relative who, from its antecedent our countrymen; in this way: 'About an age or two ago, this kind of wit was very much in vogue among our countrymen, who did not practise it for any oblique reason, but purely for the sake of being witty.' Spectator, No. 412. We no where meet with a more glorious and pleasing show in nature, than what appears in the heavens at the rising and setting of the sun, which is wholly made up of those different stains of light, that show themselves in clouds of a different situation.' Which is here designed to connect with the word show, as its antecedent; but it stands so wide from it, that without a careful attention to the sense, we would be naturally led, by the rules of syntax, to refer it to the rising and setting of the sun, or to the sun itself; and, hence, an indistinctness is thrown over the whole sentence. The following passage in Bishop Sherlock's sermons, (vol. ii. serm. 15.) is still more censurable: 'It is folly to pretend to arm ourselves against

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