It ministers to a severe and permanent standard of taste, lifting the student free from the superficial and tawdry. Thus the effects of this discipline are all the more potent because in large proportion they are wrought unconsciously; they are in the atmosphere of the region in which the writer is at home.1

IV.

Temperament of Qualities. On a musical instrument, the scale of each key, instead of being tuned to an absolute standard of pitch, is modified to some extent so that its notes may be equally in tune as parts of other scales. For an analogous modification of the qualities of style, each yielding something of its absolute claim in order to secure the integrity of the others, we may here borrow the same name, temperament.

While each of the qualities is indispensable and seems in turn, as attention is centred upon it, to present the only worthy claim, none of them can do its best work alone. Cultivated exclusively, without regard for the others, each in its way leaves the style unbalanced, untempered; it is in fact only part of a style, the complete ideal requiring all the qualities to work together as one. For study we have had to consider them apart; but in the perfected literary organism, while one quality or another, predominating, may give a prevailing tone to the discourse, all the qualities are blended and tempered to produce unity of effect.

Without going into the matter minutely, we may here name under each quality of style, the two chief foes that beset it according as that quality is untempered by the others.

1. A clear style, untempered by the emotional element which produces vigor, is dull. Untempered by the imagina

1 The cultivation of taste, as a training for adjusting style to thought, has already been discussed; see above, p. 21.

tive element which introduces a sense of grace and beauty, it is dry.1

2. A forcible style, or rather its elements, untempered by that clear and sane thinking whose essence is good sense, that is, wherein emotion dominates at the expense of intellectual sobriety and sturdiness, - becomes rant or bombast.2 Untempered by that flexible imagination whose essence is tact and good taste, that is, where the will to impress dominates at the expense of urbanity and beauty, it becomes hard and metallic.3

3. A style that seeks only the beauty of sound and imagery, untempered by a passion for clear simplicity, — that is, where thought is at discount before elegant form, — becomes labored and trivial. Untempered by earnest conviction and will, that is, wherein emotion is indeed present but not robust or deep-reaching enough, it becomes maudlin and sentimental.

In each case above described, the corrective lies not in any manipulation of word or phrase but in throwing one's self into the spirit of the supplementing quality; in other words, setting the whole inner man in active work, the sturdy brain, the vitalizing earnestness and will, and the tactful meditative taste. It is doubtful if a subject that cannot call on all these for aid is worth writing up at all.

The Element of Repose. - The name temperament suggests the mood that ideally controls the processes of composition: namely, that reserve power, that large repose of mastery, which forbids forcing any quality or device to its extreme, and which broadens the intellectual and emotional horizon to recognize

1 The collision between the two aspects of clearness, precision and perspicuity, has been discussed on p. 32, above.

2 Its unbalanced extreme is described by Shakespeare, Macbeth, Act v, Scene 5:— "full of sound and fury,

Signifying nothing."

3 The clash between brevity and clearness, and the treatment of it, have been discussed above, p. 36.

the proper claims of all. The highest reach of good art is repose, that self-justifying quality wherein everything is obviously right, in place, coloring, and degree. If in any point the work is violent or unfit, there is lack of wise temperament somewhere, some element is forced at expense to others. the only adequate adjuster of the qualities is something deeper than skill; in the last analysis it is a sound, balanced, masterful character.1

And

1 Hamlet's advice to the players (Hamlet, Act. iii, Scene 2) is as full of good sense for writers as for speakers: "Nor do not saw the air too much with your hand, thus ; but use all gently: for in the very torrent, tempest, and, as I may say, whirlwind of your passion, you must acquire and beget a temperance that may give it smoothness."

BOOK II. DICTION.

Definition of Diction. adopted for that aspect or department of style which has to do with words, primarily with the choice of words, but also, in a general way, and independently of the specific details of composition, with the connection and arrangement of words. The kind of words habitually used, and peculiarities in the management of them, give a coloring or texture to the style by which we may identify it with some type of diction.1

The term diction is the name here

Every author has individualities of diction, and so has every kind of literature. But below these personal and class characteristics there is also a general standard or ideal of diction which every writer owes it to his mother-tongue to regard sacredly. For while from one point of view language is a working-tool, to be used according to our free sense of mastery, from another it is our heritage from an illustrious line of writers and speakers — to be approached, therefore, in the spirit of reverence, and loyally guarded from hurt and loss. Every one who has much to do with language feels the weight of this solemn obligation.

The universal standard of diction is best expressed, perhaps, by the word PURITY: the writer must see to it first of all that he keep his mother-tongue unsullied, inviolate; and this by observing, in all his choice of language, the laws of derivation, formation, good usage, and good taste. Whatever

1 "The culture of diction is the preparatory stage for the formation of style.”— EARLE, English Prose, p. 213.

liberties he takes, and there is all the room he needs for untrammeled expression, - he must first move in obedience to these fundamental laws; else his literary deportment, whatever genius may underlie it, will have blemishes exactly analogous to coarseness and bad manners in conversation.

The ensuing six chapters (iii-viii) traverse the field of diction, beginning with particular considerations relating to the use of words and figures, and going on to more general aspects and types.