pond to the natural division of the sense. When they are inserted in wrong places, they deserve, and will meet with, no regard.

I proceed to a third rule, for preserving the Unity of Sentences; which is, to keep clear of all parenthesis in the middle of them. On some occasions, these may have a spirited appearance; as prompted by a certain vivacity of thought, which can glance happily aside, as it is going along. But, for the most part, their effect is extremely bad; being a sort of wheels within wheels; Sentences in the midst of Sentences; the perplexed method of disposing of some thought, which a writer wants art to introduce in its proper place. It were needless to give many instances, as they occur so often among incorrect writers. I shall produce one from Lord Bolingbroke; the rapidity of whose genius, and manner of writing, betrays him frequently into inaccuracies of this sort. It is in the Introduction to his Idea of a Patriot King, where he writes thus: "It seems to me, that, in order to maintain the system of the "world, at a certain point, far below that of ideal perfection, (for we are made capable of conceiving what we are incapa"ble of attaining) but, however, sufficient, upon the whole, to “constitute a state easy and happy, or at the worst, tolerable; σε I say, it seems to me, that the Author of Nature has thought "fit to mingle, from time to time, among the societies of men, "a few, and but a few, of those on whom he is graciously "pleased to bestow a larger portion of the Etherial Spirit, than ❝is given, in the ordinary course of his government, to the sons of men." A very bad Sentence this; into which, by the help of a Parenthesis, and other interjected circumstances, his Lordship had contrived to thrust so many things, that he is forced to begin the construction again with the phrase, I say: which, whenever it occurs, may be always assumed as a sure mark of a clumsy ill-constructed Sentence; excusable in speaking, where the greatest accuracy is not expected, but in polished writing, unpardonable.

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I shall add only one rule more for the Unity of a Sentence, which is, to bring it always to a full and perfect close. Every thing that is one, should have a beginning, a middle, and an end. I need not take notice, that an unfinished Sentence is

no Sentence at all, according to any grammatical rule. But very often we meet with Sentences that are, so to speak, more than finished. When we have arrived at what we expected was to be the conclusion, when we have come to the word on which the mind is naturally led, by what went before, to rest; unexpectedly, some circumstance pops out, which ought to have been omitted, or to have been disposed of elsewhere; but which is left lagging behind, like a tail adjected to the Sentence; somewhat that, as Mr. Pope describes the Alexandrine line,

"Like a wounded snake, drags its slow length along."

All these adjections to the proper close, disfigure a Sentence extremely. They give it a lame, ungraceful air, and, in particular, they break its Unity. Dean Swift, for instance, in his Letter to a young Clergyman, speaking of Cicero's writings, expresses himself thus: "With these writings, young divines 66 are more conversant, than with those of Demosthenes, who, 46 by many degrees, excelled the other; at least, as an orator." Here the natural close of the Sentence is at these words, "excelled the other." These words conclude the proposition; we look for no more; and the circumstance added, " at least, as an orator," comes in with a very halting pace. How much more compact would the Sentence have been, if turned thus: "With these writings, young divines are more conversant, "than with those of Demosthenes, who, by many degrees, as "an orator at least, excelled the other." In the following Sentence, from Sir William Temple, the adjection to the Sentence is altogether foreign to it. Speaking of Burnet's Theory of the Earth, and Fontenelle's Plurality of Worlds, "The first," says he, "could not end his learned treatise, "without a panegyric of modern learning, in comparison of the "ancient ; and the other, falls so grossly into the censure of "the old poetry, and preference of the new, that I could not "read either of these strains without some indignation; which no quality among men is so apt to raise in me as self-sufficiency." The word "indignation,” concluded the Sentence; the last member, "which no quality among men is so apt to. * raise in me as self-sufficiency," is a proposition altogether new, added after the proper close.

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LECTURE XII.

STRUCTURE OF SENTENCES.

HAVING treated of Perspicuity and Unity, as necessary to be studied in the Structure of Sentences, I proceed to the third quality of a correct Sentence, which I termed Strength. By this, I mean, such a disposition of the several words and members, as shall bring out the sense to the best advantage; as shall render the impression, which the period is designed to make, most full and complete ; and give every word, and every member, their due weight and force. The two former qualities of Perspicuity and Unity, are no doubt, absolutely necessary to the production of this effect; but more is still requisite. For a Sentence may be clear enough; it may also be compact enough, in all its parts, or have the requisite unity; and yet, by some unfavourable circumstance in the Structure, it may fail in that strength or liveliness of impression, which a more happy arrangement would have produced.

The first rule which I shall give, for promoting the Strength of a Sentence is, to prune it of all redundant words. These may, sometimes, be consistent with a considerable degree both of Clearness and Unity; but they are always enfeebling. They make the Sentence move along tardy and encumbered;

Est brevitate opus, ut currat sententia, neu se
Impediat verbis, lassas cnerantibus aures.

It is a general maxim, that any words which do not add some
importance to the meaning of a sentence, always spoil it. They
cannot be superfluous, without being hurtful.
"Obstad," says
Quintilian, "quicquid non adjuvat." All that can be easily
supplied in the mind, is better left out in the expression. Thus :
"Content with deserving a triumph, he refused the honour of

"Concise your diction let your sense be clear.
"Nor with a weight of words, fatigue the car."

FRANCIS.

it," is better Language than to say, "Being content with de"serving a triumph, he refused the honour of it." I consider it, therefore, as one of the most useful exercises of correction, upon reviewing what we have written or composed, to contract that round-about method of expression, and to lop off those useless excrescences which are commonly found in a first draught. Here a severe eye should be employed; and we shall always find our Sentences acquire more vigour and energy when thus retrenched: provided always that we run not into the extreme of pruning so very close, as to give a hardness and dryness to style. For here, as in all other things, there is a due medium. some regard, though not the principal, must be had to fulness and swelling of sound. Some leaves must be left to surround and shelter the fruit.

As Sentences should be cleared of redundant words, so also of redundant members. As every word ought to present a new idea, so every member ought to contain a new thought. Opposed to this, stands the fault we sometimes meet with, of the last member of a period, being no other than the echo of the former, or the repetition of it in somewhat a different form. For example; speaking of Beauty, "The very first discovery "of it," says Mr. Addison, "strikes the mind with inward joy, "and spreads delight through all its faculties." (No. 412) And elsewhere, "It is impossible for us to behold the divine "works with coldness or indifference, or to survey so many "beauties, without a secret satisfaction and complacency.' (No. 413.) In both these instances, little or nothing is added by the second member of the Sentence to what was already expressed in the first: and though the free and flowing manner of such an author as Mr. Addison, and the graceful harmony of his periods, may palliate such negligences; yet, in general, it holds, that style, freed from this prolixity, appears both more strong, and more beautiful. The attention becomes remiss, the mind falls into inaction, when words are multiplied without a corresponding multiplication of ideas.

After removing superfluities, the second direction I give, for promoting the Strength of a Sentence, is, to attend particularly to the use of copulatives, relatives, and all the particles employed for transition and connexion. These little words, but,

X

and, which, whose, where, &c. are frequently the most important words of any; they are the joints or hinges upon which all Sentences turn, and of course, much, both of their gracefulness and Strength, must depend upon such particles. The varieties in using them are, indeed, so infinite, that no particular system of rules, respecting them can be given. Attention to the practice of the most accurate writers, joined with frequent trials of the different effects produced by a different usage of those particles, must here direct us. Some observations, I shall mention, which have occurred to me as useful, without pretending to exhaust the subject.

What is called splitting of particles, or separating a preposition from the noun which it governs, is always to be avoided. As if I should say, "Though virtue borrows no assistance "from, yet it may often be accompanied by, the advantages "of fortune." In such instances, we feel a sort of pain, from the revulsion, or violent separation of two things, which, by their nature, should be closely united. We are put to a stand in thought; being obliged to rest for a little on the preposition by itself, which, at the same time, carries no significancy, till it is joined to its proper substantive noun.

Some writers needlessly multiply demonstrative and relative particles, by the frequent use of such phraseology as this: "There is nothing which disgusts us sooner than the empty "pomp of Language." In introducing a subject, or laying down a proposition, to which we demand particular attention, this sort of style is very proper; but, in the ordinary current of discourse, it is better to express ourselves more simply and shortly: "Nothing disgusts us sooner than the empty pomp "of Language."

Other writers make a practice of omitting the relative, in a phrase of a different kind from the former, where they think the meaning can be understood without it. As, "The man I "love." "The dominions we possessed, and the conquests we "made." But though this elliptical style be intelligible, and is allowable in conversation and epistolary writing, yet in all writings of a serious or dignified kind, is ungraceful. There, the

* On this head, Dr. Lowth's Short Introduction to English Grammar deserves to be consulted; where several niceties of the Language are well pointed out.