This device is called in books on Rhetoric (or Style) ANTITHESIS.* Pope is full of it-too full of it, and so is Macaulay. He says of the Thames : "Though deep, yet clear; though gentle, yet not dull, "Worth makes the man, the want of it the fellow; "A mighty maze, but not without a plan." "A tun of man in thy large bulk is writ, And Macaulay has the following: "The subjects of Charles began to love his memory as heartily as they hated his person, and posterity has estimated his character from his death rather than from his life." "The Puritan hated bear-baiting, not because it gave pain to the bear, but because it gave pleasure to the spectators." "If Boswell had not been a great fool, he would never have been a great writer." "Tacitus tells a fine story finely; but he cannot tell a plain story plainly." And Fuller is peculiarly rich in antitheses: "To want a grave is the cruelty of the living, not the misery of the dead." "Laud is a man of low stature, but of high parts." (This is a little childish, and would not be tolerated now in any sensible writer.) Swift is also fond of using them: "Churches are dormitories of the living as well as of the dead." "Apollo was the god of physic and the sender of diseases. originally the same trade, and still continue." Both were exercise that is written for practice' sake, or a composition on some real occasion, that an outline should be first drawn out,-a skeleton as it is sometimes called,―of the substance of what is to be said. The more briefly this is done, so that it does but exhibit clearly the heads of the composition, the better; because it is important that the whole of it be placed before the eye and the mind in a small compass, and be taken in, as it were, at a glance; and it should be written therefore, not in sentences, but like a table of contents. Such an outline should not be allowed to fetter the writer, if, in the course of the actual composition, he find any reason for deviating from his original plan,-it should serve merely as a track to mark out a path for him, not as a groove to confine him. But the practice of drawing out such a skeleton will give a coherence to the composition, a due proportion of its several parts, and a clear and easy arrangement of them; such as can rarely be attained if one begins by completing one portion before thinking of the rest." II. Contrast your statements, if possible, with the opposite statements on the same subject, or with similar statements on an opposite subject. If, for example, you have to write about Travelling by Railway, you can make your statements clearer and more vivid to your reader by contrasting your rate of progress with that of a traveller on foot, or by the old mail-coach, or on horseback. Again, if you are writing on an abstract subject, it is useful to remember that "the only light of every truth is its contrasting error," and to seek for the most remarkable examples of these errors that can be found either in the actions of people or in the writings of authors. Though it may appear pedantic to say so, it is in fact a very great help to thinking to accustom one's mind to dwell constantly upon the contrasts of things, and so to get the one to throw new light upon the nature of the other. The habit of doing so in writing gives great vividness to the style; but we must be on our guard against overdoing this kind of device. A white surface gains in prominence by being put beside a black surface, a red surface beside a green, and so on. This device is called in books on Rhetoric (or Style) ANTITHESIS. Pope is full of it-too full of it, and so is Macaulay. He says of the Thames : 66 Though deep, yet clear; though gentle, yet not dull, Strong without rage, without o'erflowing, full." "Worth makes the man, the want of it the fellow; "A mighty maze, but not without a plan." "A tun of man in thy large bulk is writ, And Macaulay has the following:- "The subjects of Charles began to love his memory as heartily as they hated his person, and posterity has estimated his character from his death rather than from his life." "The Puritan hated bear-baiting, not because it gave pain to the bear, but because it gave pleasure to the spectators.' "If Boswell had not been a great fool, he would never have been a great writer." "Tacitus tells a fine story finely; but he cannot tell a plain story plainly." And Fuller is peculiarly rich in antitheses: "To want a grave is the cruelty of the living, not the misery of the dead." "Laud is a man of low stature, but of high parts." (This is a little childish, and would not be tolerated now in any sensible writer.) Swift is also fond of using them: "Churches are dormitories of the living as well as of the dead." 66 Apollo was the god of physic and the sender of diseases. Both were originally the same trade, and still continue." *= Opposite-placing. CHAPTER II. THE LAW OF FULNESS. HIS is a law that is very easy to understand. If we are going to build a house, we must see that we have not only the workmen, but also the materials—the bricks, the mortar, the wood, the slates and the glass. If we are going to write about a subject, we ought also to see that our minds are filled with a knowledge of that subject in all the bearings of it in which we intend to survey it. If there is any point we do not fully know and which we nevertheless wish to write about, we shall be strongly tempted to "scamp our work, and to make mero words and phrases do the duty of complete knowledge and clear conception. This is simply dishonest, and is pretty much like passing counterfeit money. The LAW OF FULNESS is therefore only the mental side of the LAW OF SINCERITY. But, while the LAW OF FULNESS bids us write only what wo know and know well, the Law OF SINCERITY goes a stop farther, and, in reference to mere style, bids us not think about that at all, but only and entirely of the subject-matter. Should ornament be necessary, the necessity for ornament will at once settle itself. That is to say, the love for our work will tell us how far we ought to go in ornamenting it. In this respect, we may borrow a rule from architecture, one of the chief canons of which is, "Ornament the construction—and nothing else." That is to say, we are not to look out here and there for places to stick ornamentation on, any more than we are to look out for sentences into which we are to insert metaphors or similes, or any other "figure" which the genuine feeling of the writer has not summoned up. The Law of Sincerity may also be stated in this way: Think of the subject, and of the subject onlyand never of your words and phrases. If you have to hunt for phrases, then you are not yet in a fit state of mind to write. The process of " composition is in almost exact analogy with that of casting metals. Nothing can make up for the want of heat; and this mental heat is gained by thinking over the different parts of the subject-matter. When we are speaking with any one, we never think of the mere words and phrases we are using; we think only of what we are talking about, and of the person we are speaking to. And, just as in speaking, we do not feign a feeling, or employ words and phrases which would make people believe we have a feeling that we are quite without; so in writing we put down only what we exactly know and really feel about the subject. This will make the style exactly fitted to the matter; for the mind, full of the subject, interested in it, and always at work on it, will express itself naturally, and will not allow itself to be diverted from the main point by a frivolous hunt after a pretty phrase. The law of sincerity, for the reasons given above, limits our use of quotation from other writers, and regards them as little better than "purple patches" upon a well-made coat of honest broadcloth; for it totally excludes all consciousness about words and phrases; our consciousness is at work |