Since, then, any one man's observation of the language as it exists is far from complete, and since his inferences from what he observes may be questioned, a writer on this subject cannot be too careful not to express himself as if his knowledge were complete or his judgment unerring, as if he were a lawgiver instead of a humble recorder of decisions made by his betters. In so far as he confines himself to his business, he is of service to others; in so far as he sets himself up as an authority, he misleads in one way those who accept him as such, in another way those who do not. Those who accept his judgments are in danger of writing, not good English, but his English; those who do not accept them may be so disgusted by his pretensions as to contemn all efforts to teach them what really is GOOD USE.

BOOK II.

RHETORICAL EXCELLENCE.

CHAPTER I.

CHOICE OF WORDS.

THE efficiency of all communication by language must depend on three things: (1) the choice of those words that are best adapted to convey to the persons addressed the meaning intended; (2) the use of as many words as are needed to convey the meaning, but of no more; (3) the arrangement of words, sentences, and paragraphs in the order most likely to communicate the meaning.

Value of an

ample vocab

A writer should have not only ideas to express, but words with which to express them. The larger his vocabulary, the more likely he is to find in it ulary. just the form of expression he needs for the purpose in hand. It is from poverty of language quite as much as from poverty of thought that school and college compositions often suffer. Material which counts for little in the hands of a tyro, because of his inability to present it in appropriate language, would tell for much in the hands of a writer who has so many words at his command that he can find a fresh expression for every fresh thought or fancy.

To have words at one's command, it is not enough to know what they mean. Many that we understand in

books, and perhaps recognize as old friends, do not come to mind when we sit down to write. Others that we know a little better will not come without more effort than we are disposed to make. The easy, and therefore the usual, course is to content ourselves with those that we are in the habit of using; and most of us use very few. Even in Shakspere the whole number of words is "not more than fifteen thousand; in the poems of Milton not above eight thousand. The whole number of Egyptian hieroglyphic symbols does not exceed eight hundred, and the entire Italian operatic vocabulary is said to be scarcely more extensive." 1 The vocabulary of business has not been estimated, but it is certainly small. So is that of ordinary conversation.

Poverty of language is the source of much slang, a favorite word or phrase-as nice, nasty, beastly, jolly, bully, ghastly, elegant, exciting, fascinating, overworked gorgeous, stunning, splendid, awfully, utterly, words. vastly, most decidedly, perfectly lovely, perfectly maddening, how very interesting! interesting ! — being employed for so many purposes as to serve no one purpose well.

The modern use of slang "is vulgar," writes T. A. Trollope, "because it arises from one of the most intrinsically vulgar of all the vulgar tendencies of a vulgar mind, imitation. There are slang phrases which, because they vividly or graphically express a conception, or clothe it with humour, are admirable. But they are admirable only in the mouths of their inventors.

"Of course it is an abuse of language to say that the beauty of a pretty girl strikes you with awe. But he who first said of some girl that she was 'awfully' pretty, was abundantly justified by the half humorous, half serious consideration of all the effects such loveliness may produce." 2

1 Marsh: Lectures on the English Language, lect. viii.
2 T. A. Trollope: What I Remember, vol. i. chap. ii.

"There are certain words," says "The Lounger," in "The Critic," "that are good enough words in themselves, but which used in unusual connections become conspicuous and finally odious. Some time ago the favorite slang word of literature was 'certain.' Every heroine had a certain nameless charm,' etc., and every hero a 'certain air of distinction' about him, until you longed for one whose qualities were more uncertain in their nature or degree. Cer

seems to have had its day; and now the favorite slang word of literature is 'distinctly.' Heroines are now 'distinctly regal' in their bearing, and there is about the heroes a manner that is 'distinctly fine,' or whatever the adjective may be. In a book that I read not many days ago, the word 'distinctly' used in this way appeared three times on one page, until I was distinctly bored and laid it down in disgust. Precious' used to be one of the tortured vocables, and there was a class of art-critics that went so far as to describe the paintings of their favorites as 'distinctly precious.' "1

"Nothing," says "The Saturday Review," "is gained, indeed much is lost, by calling the rocks weird.' Weird is played out long ago,' as Mr. Swinburne says; it is smeared over the coarse pallet of the descriptive reporter. There are some other terms in the same hackneyed state; Ouida has got at them, and so have all the lady novelists who find language an insufficient vehicle for their thoughts that burn. Among these ill-used

phrases are 'strange,' wild,' and 'glamour,' all which we regret to see that Mr. Symonds, in a certain passage, piles together: The Italy of the Renaissance fascinated our dramatists with a strange, wild glamour.' Mr. Symonds may remember the Ars Poetica of the author of Alice in Wonderland. The Master says:Now there are certain epithets

Which suit with any word,

As well as Harvey's Reading sauce
With fish, or flesh, or bird;

Of these wild,' 'lonely,' 'dreary,' 'strange,'

Are much to be preferred.

The neophyte answers:

Ah will it do, ah will it do,

To take them in a lump,

The [New York] Critic, March 11, 1893, p. 147.

As, 'the wild man went his dreary way

To a strange and lonely pump'?

No, no, you must not hastily to such conclusions jump!

"For our part, when a writer declares that anything is weird, wild, or strange, we consider that he does not quite know what he wants to say."

Other expressions that have been worked so hard of late that the life has gone out of them are: epoch-making, clear-cut, factor, feature, galore, handicap, trend; atmosphere, feeling, technique, values, from painters' dialect; environment, tendency, struggle for existence, survival of the fittest, from the dialect of modern science; objects of interest; the near future; to the fore; in touch with; replete with interest; it seems to me; to detect the recurrence of; the irony of fate; along the line of or along these lines; a note of, as in "There is a note of scholarship in the book;" consensus, as in "consensus of opinion;" content, as in "ethical content."2 For mercy's sake, for heaven's sake, thunder, Jupiter, confound it, the deuce take it, and expressions still more objectionable, prevail among persons whose fund of language is small; for, as Mr. Crawford says, "Swearing is the refuge of those whose vocabulary is too limited to furnish them with a means of expressing anger or disappointment."3

The first thing, then, to be done by a man who would learn to speak or to write well is to enrich his vocabulary. How can he do this?

One way is to gather words from a dictionary, as Chat

The Saturday Review, May 17, 1879, p. 624.

2 For other examples, see "Our English;" English in Newspapers and Novels, pp. 120-125.

& F. Marion Crawford: With the Immortals, chap. viii