William Atkinson - The Complete Works of William Walker Atkinson

“ They were persons of such moderate Intellects, even before they were impaired by their passion, that their irregularities could not furnish sufficient variety of folly.”—STEELE.

“It was the loss of his son on whom he had looked with an affection which belonged to his character, with an exaggerated admiration which was a most pardonable exercise of his fancy which struck the fatal blow to his spirit as well as to his body.”—MAURICE.

“Rasselas was the fourth son of the mighty emperor in whose dominions the Father of Waters begins his course; whose bounty pours down the streams of plenty, and scatters over half the world the harvests of Egypt.”—JOHNSON.

Hill makes the following very proper criticism regarding the fault of “fine writing,” which is also equally noticeable in the speech of many people who pride themselves upon the assortment of “choice terms:” “In fine writing every clapping of hands is an ‘ovation,’ every fortune ‘colossal,’ every marriage an ‘alliance,’ every crowd ‘a sea of faces.’ A hair-dresser becomes a ‘tonsorial artist;’ an apple-stand, a ‘bureau of Pomona;’ an old carpenter, ‘a gentleman long identified with the building interest.’ A man does not breakfast, but he ‘discusses (or “partakes of”) the morning repast;’ he does not sit down at table, but he ‘repairs to the festive board;’ he does not go home, but he ‘proceeds to his residence;’ he does not go to bed, but he ‘retires to his downy couch;’ he sits, not for his portrait, but for his ‘counterfeit presentment;’ he no longer waltzes, but he ‘participates in round dances;’ he is not thanked, but he is ‘the recipient of grateful acknowledgments.’ A home is not building, but is ‘in process of erection;’ it is not burned down, but is ‘destroyed in its entirety by the devouring element.’ A ship is not launched, but it ‘glides into its native element.’ When a man narrowly escapes drowning, ‘the waves are balked of their prey.’ Not only presidents, but aqueducts, millinery shops, and railroad strikes are ‘inaugurated.’ We no longer threaten, but we ‘indulge in minatory expressions.’ This vulgar finery is so much worn in the pulpit as to render plain language there offensive. An American clergyman was subjected to a severe censure for using the word ‘beans’ in a sermon; and a recent English magazine relates a similar incident: ‘I remember quite a sensation running through a congregation when a preacher one evening, instead of talking about ‘habits of cleanliness’ and the ‘necessity of regular ablution,’ remarked that ‘plenty of water had a healthy, bracing effect upon the body, and so indirectly benefited the mind.’”

We refer the student to Macaulay’s “History of England” as a model of clear style and almost perfect choice of words. ‘A study of this work will do much to impart clearness and to cure one of the faults of ambiguity and obscurity.

Table of Content

THE SECOND essential in the choice of words is force, or strength . In certain forms of composition, as for instance judicial opinions, scientific reports, text-books and other forms of writing, the purpose of which is simply to furnish instruction or information, clearness is the prime essential, and force is not so much needed. But in writing or speaking, the purpose of which is to impress and influence the minds of others, force and strength are required. The words must be chosen not only with the idea and purpose of clearness but also with the direct intent to attract and hold the attention of the person addressed, and to make him feel the meaning behind the words. Force is needed to attract attention, to arouse interest, to awaken desire, and to cause action. This quality of force or strength is known by different names among the authorities. Campbell calls it vivacity ; Whately, energy ; Bain, strength ; but as Hill says: “a style may be vivacious without being energetic, or energetic without being strong. Force covers the ground more satisfactorily, perhaps, than any other single term.”

In choosing words for their quality of force, it will be found that in the majority of cases the clearest word will prove the most forcible. But when the choice is between two words equally clear, it will be found that one or the other seems to possess an illustrative force superior to the other. This arises from a peculiar psychological association, and is recognized more or less instinctively, once the attention is directed toward the subject. The speaker feels the force of the word, as does the hearer. As an illustration of the comparative force of words, let us direct your attention to the following familiar quotation— the Parable of the Lilies—and then to the paraphrase of a modern writer designed to bring out this particular point. The Parable follows:

“Consider the lilies how they grow; they toll not, they spin not; and; yet I say unto you, that Solomon in all his glory was not arrayed like one of these. If then God so clothe the grass which is to-day in the field, and to-morrow is cast into the oven, how much more will he clothe you, O ye of little faith!”—LUKE xii: 27, 28.

Campbell, referring to the Parable just quoted, says:

“Let us here adopt a little of the tasteless manner of modern paraphrase by the substitution of more general terms, one of their many expedients of infrigidating, and let us observe the effect produced by this change: ‘Consider the flowers, how they continually increase in their size; they do no manner of work, and yet I declare to you that no king whatever, in his most splendid habit, is dressed up like them. If, then, God in His providence both so adorn the vegetable productions, which continue but a little time on the land, and are afterwards put into the fire, how much more will He provide clothing for you!’” Hill, commenting on this well-known paraphrase, says: “In this paraphrase, the thought is expressed as clearly as in the original, and more exactly; but the comparison, in the original, between a common flower and the most magnificent of kings is much more impressive than any general statement can be; and the mind, without conscious exertion, understands that what is true of the lily as compared with Solomon is true of all flowers as compared with all men.”

In considering the element of force in the choice of words, we are compelled to take into account the forcible effect of the figures of speech of rhetoric, but we shall not mention them at this place as they will form the subject of a subsequent chapter.

The quality of suggestion in words adds materially to their force. Words whose sounds suggest their meaning are forceful for this reason. Hill says: “Force may be gained by the use of words of which the sound suggests the meaning. Such are words denoting sounds: whiz, roar, splash, thud, buzz, hubbub, murmur, hiss, rattle, boom; names taken from sounds: cuckoo, whip-poor-will, bumble-bee, humming bird, crag ; words so arranged that the sound expresses the meaning:

“* * * On a sudden open fly

With impetuous recoil and jarring sound

Th’ infernal doors, and on their hinges grate harsh thunder.”

“And the long carpets rose along the gusty floor.”

“On the ear

Drops the light drip of the suspended oar,

And chirps the grasshopper one good-night carol more.”

“Such are many interjections: heigh-ho! whew! hist! bang! ding-dong! pooh! hush! Such, too, are words derived from objects of the senses, but applied to mental phenomena because of a supposed resemblance or association of ideas: ‘a harsh temper,’ ‘ soft manner,’ ‘a sweet disposition,’ ‘ stormy passions,’ ‘a quick mind,’ ‘a sharp tongue.’ Such words, or combinations of words, have certain obvious advantages. They are not only specific, clear and forcible, but also so familiar that they may be accounted natural symbols rather than arbitrary signs; but they may be misused, as when chosen with an obvious effort, or because they sound well, rather than because they are peculiarly expressive. The safe course is, on the one hand, not to reject a word or phrase because its sound helps to communicate the meaning; on the other hand, not to strain after such expressions, lest, in the effort to grasp the shadow, the substance is lost.”