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fared hardly, having no other riches than a breed of lean sheep, whose flesh was rank and unsavoury, by reason of their continual feeding upon sea-fish." Here the scene is changed upon us again and again. The march of the Greeks, the description of the inhabitants through whose country they travelled, the account of their sheep and the cause of their sheep being ill-tasted food, form a jumble of objects, slightly related to each other, which the reader cannot, without much difficulty, comprehend under one view.

These examples have been taken from sentences of no great length, yet very crowded. Writers who deal in long sentences, are very apt to be faulty in this article. Take, for an instance, the following from Temple. "The usual acceptation takes profit and pleasure for two different things, and not only calls the followers or votaries of them, by the several names of busy and idle men; but distinguishes the faculties of the mind, that are conversant about them; calling the operations of the first, Wisdom; and of the other, Wit: which is a Saxon word, used to express what the Spaniards and Italians call Ingenio, and the French Esprit, both from the Latin; though I think wit more particularly signifies that of poetry, as may occur in remarks on the Runic language." When the reader arrives at the end of this perplexed sentence, he is surprised to find himself at so great a distance from the object with which he set out.

It is a frequent and capital error, in the writings even of some distinguished authors, to introduce two or more leading thoughts or agents, which have no natural relation to, or dependence on one another, which cannot concur in pointing towards any one object, and which must therefore destroy the unity of the sentence. Shaftsbury has the following sentence. "As much as the fertile mould is fitted to the tree; as much as the strong and upright trunk of the oak or elm, is fitted to the twining branches of the vine or ivy; so much are the very leaves, the seeds and fruits of these trees, fitted to the various animals: these, again, to one another, and to the elements where they live, and to which they are as appendices in a manner, fitted and joined; as either by wings for the air, fins for the water, feet for the earth, and by other correspondent inward parts, of more curious frame and texture." This long and complicated period presents two agents: trees lead the first member; animals, the second and the third. The sentence, should, therefore, it seems, be divided into two, or perhaps, into three sentences, with the proper agents prefixed. In this view, the first member may remain as it is; but the second and third members will assume the following appearance. "Animals, again, are fitted to one another, and to the elements VOL. I.

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where they live, and to which they are as appendices. They are adapted by wings for the air, fins for the water, feet for the earth, and by other correspondent inward parts, of more curious frame and texture."

Sir William Temple, speaking of the worship of the Saxons, says, "This religious worship the Saxons introduced with them, and continued long in England, till they subdued the Britons, reduced it under their heptarchy, persecuted the British Christians, and drove them with their religion into Wales; where they continued under their primitive priests and bishops, who, with their monks, were all under the superintendance of one arch-priest or bishop of Carleon, the bound of the British principality." This clumsy period, like the preceding one, contains two agents: it begins with the Saxons, and passes from them to the British Christians; thus diminishing the perspicuity, and destroying the unity. It should have formed two

sentences.

Long, involved, and intricate sentences, are great blemishes in composition. In writers of considerable correctness, we find a period sometimes running out so far, and comprehending so many particulars, as to be more properly a discourse than a sentence. An author, speaking of the progress of our language after the time of Cromwell, runs on in this manner: "To this succeeded that licentiousness which entered with the restoration, and, from infecting our religion and morals, fell to corrupt our language; which last was not like to be much improved by those who at that time made up the court of king Charles the second; either such as had followed him in his banishment, or who had been altogether conyersant in the dialect of these times, or young men who had been educated in the same country: so that the court, which used to be the standard of correctness and propriety of speech, was then, and I think has ever since continued, the worst school in England for that accomplishment; and so will remain, till better care be taken in the education of our nobility, that they may set out into the world with some foundation of literature, in order to qualify them for patterns of politeness."

The author, in place of a sentence, has here given a loose dissertation upon several subjects. How many different facts, reasonings, and observations, are here presented to the mind at once! and yet so linked together by the author that they all make parts of a sentence, which admits of no greater division in pointing, than a colon between any of its members.

It may be of use here to give a specimen of a long sentence, broken down into several periods; by which we shall more clearly perceive the disadvantages of long sentences, and how easily they may be amended. Here follows the sentence in

its orginal form: "Though, in yesterday's paper, we showed how every thing that is great, new, or beautiful, is apt to affect the imagination with pleasure, we must own, that it is impossible for us to assign the necessary cause of this pleasure, because we know neither the nature of an idea, nor the substance of a human soul: and therefore, for want of such a light, all that we can do, in speculations of this kind, is, to reflect on those operations of the soul that are most agreeable and to range under their proper heads, what is pleasing or displeasing to the mind, without being able to trace out the several necessary and efficient causes, from whence the pleasure or displeasure arises."

The following amendment, besides breaking down the period into several sentences, exhibits some other useful alterations "In yesterday's paper, we showed that every thing which is great, new, or beautiful, is apt to affect the imagination with pleasure. We must own, that it is impossible for us to assign the efficient cause of this pleasure, because we know not the nature either of an idea, or of the human soul. All that we can do, therefore, in speculations of this kind, is to reflect on the operations of the soul which are most agreeable, and to range under proper heads what is pleasing or displeasing to the mind."

A third rule for preserving the unity of sentences, is, to keep clear of all unnecessary parentheses.

On some occasions, when the sense is not too long suspended by them, and when they are introduced in a proper place, they may add both to the vivacity, and to the energy, of the sentence. But for the most part their effect is extremely bad. They are wheels within wheels; sentences in the midst of sentences; the perplexed method of disposing of some thought which a writer wants judgment to introduce in its proper place. The parenthesis in this sentence, is striking and proper :

"And was the ransom paid? It was; and paid

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(What can exalt the bounty more ?) for thee."

But in the following sentence, we become sensible of an impropriety in the use of it. "If your hearts secretly reproach you, for the wrong choice you have made, (as there is time for repentance and retreat; and a return to wisdom is always honourable,) bethink yourselves that the evil is not irreparable." It would be much better to express, in a separate sentence, the thoughts contained in this parenthesis; thus, "If your hearts secretly reproach you for the wrong choice you have made, bethink yourselves that the evil is not irreparable. Still

there is time for repentance and retreat; and a return to wisdom is always honourable."

CHAPTER III

OF THE STRENGTH OF A SENTENCE.

See Vol. ii. Part 5. Exercises. Strength. Chap. 3.

THE THIRD requisite of a perfect sentence, is, Strength.

By this is meant such a disposition and management of the several words and members, as shall bring out the sense to the best advantage, and give every word, and every member, its due weight and force.

A sentence may be clear, it may also be compact in all its parts, or have the requisite unity, and yet, by some circumstance in the structure, may fail in that strength of impression, which a better management would have produced.

The first rule for promoting the strength of a sentence, is, to prune it of all redundant words and members.

It is a general maxim, that any words which do not add some importance to the meaning of a sentence, always injure it. Care should therefore be exercised, with respect to synonymous words, expletives, circumlocutions, tautologies, and the expression of unnecessary circumstances. The attention becomes remiss, when words are multiplied without a correspondent multiplication of ideas. "Content with deserving a triumph, he refused the honour of it;" is better language than to say, "Being content with deserving it," &c.

"In the Attic commonwealth," says an author, "it was the privilege and birthright of every citizen and poet, to rail aloud and in public." Better simply thus: " In the Attic commonwealth, it was the privilege of every citizen to rail in public."

Another expresses himself thus: "They returned back again to the same city from whence they came forth;" instead of, "They returned to the city whence they came." The five words, back, again, same, from, and forth, are mere expletives, that have neither use nor beauty, and are therefore to be regarded as incumbrances.

The word but is often improperly used with that; as, "There can be no doubt but that he seriously means what he says." It is not only useless, but cumbersome: "There can be no doubt that he seriously means what he says." By transposing the parts of the sentence, we shall immediately perceive the pro

priety of omitting this word: "That he seriously means what he says, there can be no doubt."

Adverbs promote energy of expression. But this happens only when they promote brevity too, and are sparingly used, and chosen with judgment. A superabundance of them, or of adjectives, makes a style unwieldy and tawdry. For it is from its nouns, rather than from its attributives, that language derives strength: even as a building derives stability, rather from the walls and rafters, than from the plastering, wainscotting, and painting. Young writers, however, are apt to think otherwise; and, with a view to invigorate their expression, qualify every verb with an adverb, and every noun with an epithet. By this means, their compositions resemble a house, whose walls are supported by posts and buttresses; which not only make it unseemly to the eye, and inconvenient by taking up too much room, but also justify a suspicion of weakness in the work, and unskilfulness in the architect. Such a period as the following will explain our meaning.

"I am honestly, seriously, and unalterably of opinion, that nothing can possibly be more incurably and emphatically destructive, or more decisively fatal, to a kingdom, than the introduction of thoughtless dissipation, and the pomp of lazy luxury." Would not the full import of this noisy sentence be better expressed thus: "I am of opinion, that nothing is more ruinous to a kingdom, than luxury, and dissipation."

Some writers use much circumlocution in expressing their ideas. A considerable one, for so very simple a thing as a man's wounding himself, says, "To mangle, or wound, his outward form and constitution, his natural limbs or body."

But, on some occasions circumlocution has a peculiar force; as in the following sentence: "Shall not the Judge of all the earth do right?"

In the sentences which follow, the ill effects of tautology appear.

"So it is, that I must be forced to get home, partly by stealth, and partly by force."

"Never did Atticus succeed better in gaining the universal love and esteem of all men."

The subsequent sentence contains several unnecessary circumstances." On receiving this information, he arose, went out, saddled his horse, mounted him, and rode to town." All is implied in saying, "On receiving this information, he rode to town."

This manner, however, in a certain degree, is so strongly characteristic of the simple style of remote ages, that in books of the highest antiquity, particularly the Bible, it is not at all ungraceful. Of this kind are the following Scriptural phrases.

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