pro-versa, an adjective, feminine in form because the noun to be supplied is the feminine oratio, "discourse"; the whole meaning, therefore, "straightforward discourse." The name was first given, no doubt, because, instead of turning back and beginning anew when it has reached a certain measured length (its antithesis, versus, means a "turning "), the line keeps straight on, as far as there is room for it. This seems a mere mechanical distinction; it reaches, however, deeper than chirography, to the fundamental reason why a writer should turn back or keep on. And for our modern distinctions this characteristic straightforward lends itself just as legitimately to another application. Prose discourse, we may say, is straightforward in two large senses: it does not change the natural order of words; it does not depart from the common usage of words.

This is indicated in a figurative way by a second Latin term for prose: sermo pedestris, discourse that goes on foot, as distinguished from discourse that soars. Prose moves on the earth, where common people and everyday practical affairs belong; it is the language of ordinary moods, ideas, sentiments, the form that unstudied speech and intercourse assume. Like M. Jourdain,1 to whom the discovery was such a delight, we have been talking prose all our life.

A third designation, oratio soluta, “loosened " or "unbound discourse," may seem at first thought to sanction a negligence or carelessness in the construction of prose, engendered perhaps by its common uses. The name, however, is simply another contrast to metrical composition, bound as the latter is by rigid rules. Nor, indeed, does the humbler office of prose absolve it from the strictest and finest artistry. It is a mistake to suppose that good prose is easier to write than good poetry; it is just as hard and just as great a triumph, its difficulties and problems being merely of another kind.

1 In MOLIÈRE'S Le Bourgeois Gentilhomme.

Prose diction covers too vast and complicated a field, and depends on too great a number of relative considerations, to reduce itself easily, as does poetic diction, to formulated rules.1 All that can be undertaken here is to summarize the main principles that condition prose diction, as traced in the choice, arrangement, and connection of words.

I.

The Prose Vocabulary. When it is said above that prose discourse is straightforward in the sense of not departing from the common usage of words, it is not meant that any part of the vocabulary is closed to it; though, of course, some words have a more poetic tinge than others, and some have withdrawn almost entirely to the poetic realm, leaving more homely equivalents to represent them in prose. It is doubtful, however, if some legitimate prose situation may not exist for even the rarest poetic coinages; the principle of inclusion and exclusion being not so much in the actual word chosen as in the mood or standard of choice. The mood that governs prose composition may on occasion turn almost every resource to its service, so that the mood itself be not invaded.

Words chosen for Utility. The ruling standard of choice, made imperative by the dominating prose mood, is utility. This, because it is the characteristic of prose, as distinguished from verse, to use expression not for expression's sake, not for the beauty or music or charm of the words in themselves, but always with some ulterior end in view, - to instruct, or convince, or impress, or persuade. As an objective point, exists

1 "To summarize the Art of Writing Prose in a code of rules would be something like trying to do the same for the Art of behaving in the intercourse of the world. This is a matter in which it is easier to indicate principles, than to lay down rules.” — EARLE, English Prose, p. 151.

always a practical truth or fact; it is the object of prose to get the reader effectively to that point, without distracting his mind with the scenery that he traverses on the way.

As long as this standard of utility dominates, any expression that promotes, the end is open to prose; it is free on occasion to employ plainness of language or elaborateness, simplicity or elegance, terseness or fulness, according as any of these qualities may commend themselves as most practically useful for its purpose. Under this standard, in fact, the rarest and most exotic words become simple working-tools,— means to an end; we do not think of the words themselves, but of the fine shading or accurate definition that they give to the thought.

The staple of a diction governed by such practical mood will, of course, be the words of ordinary life and the recognized usage of the day. Any departure from this into a more abstruse or dignified region carries with it its sober justification.1 The hardest words to reconcile with this utilitarian vocabulary are the archaic and abbreviated forms of poetry; if in any prose they are found, it is such prose as seeks confessedly to produce poetic effects. This exception aside, inasmuch as the pedestrian movement of prose has no occasion for quaintness, and the rhythm of prose does not require abbreviation, when such terms are employed they have merely the effect of affectation and finery.2

NOTE. The illustration of this point may best be quoted from Professor Earle: "As a general rule sober words should be chosen in preference to those which are elevated or romantic. The young writer should not write brethren for brothers, should not call a horse a charger, or a palfrey, or a steed; should not write welkin for sky, or whilome for once, or ere for before, or vale for valley, or thrall for slave, or thraldom for slavery." 3

1 As is seen, for instance, under paragraph 11, p. 68, above.

2 See Fine Writing, p. 71, above.

8 EARLE, English Prose, p. 153.

1

In the same way, if picturesque language, word-painting or epithet is employed in prose, it must have its justification in utility. Picturesqueness may be part of the information conveyed, or it may be needful in order to give an assertion due distinction. Epithet is, of all these poetic devices, most easily overdone in prose; it is apt, unless watched, to clog and cloy the expression; the only way to keep it within the bounds of good taste is to keep the practical claims of utility always in sight.

NOTE. To illustrate how picturesqueness may be an integral part of the information conveyed, one or two examples, taken from Abbott and Seeley's English Lessons for English People, may here be given.

It would hardly be fitting to use the expression "Emerald Isle" in ordinary prose, as for instance, "Parliament, during this session, was mainly occupied with the Emerald Isle"; but the expression serves a useful purpose, by reason of its descriptive character, in such a sentence as, “Accustomed to the arid and barren deserts of Arabia, the eye of the returning soldier rested with pleasure upon the rich, bright vegetation of the Emerald Isle." Again, the essential epithet in "He drew his bright sword" is evidently only a bit of useless finery; but in the sentence, "Laughing at the peasant's extemporized weapon, the soldier drew his own bright sword," the epithet is a help in sharpening the antithesis and making the information more vivid.

Figures for Clearness and Condensation..

Figures are as natu

ral to prose as to poetry; but when they are used the reader is aware merely of their illustrative or illuminative value; he is not thinking of the figure but of the thought which it supports and interprets. So it is utility still, as in the choice of words, which is the governing standard in prose diction.

The standard of utility has to be varied according to the kind of information or instruction conveyed. If the thought in hand is something that the reader must be made to understand, it gives occasion only for the plain and literal class of words; if it is something that he must be made to imagine, 1 The subject of Epithet will come up again under Poetic Diction; see below, p. 147. 2 See difference between prose and poetic imagery, p. 146, below.

occasion immediately arises for the picturing power of words, and for the elucidative value of analogy and simile.1 Hence descriptive language is always heightened; its work requires imagery and vividness. As soon as any idea becomes complex, it seeks to make itself realizable by the same means; its figures are a kind of description.

EXAMPLE OF FIGURE USED TO ILLUSTRATE. The following analogy is used not for ornament at all, but to illustrate the tendency respectively of conservatism, radicalism, and Christianity: "The bird is in prison in the egg; conservatism would leave the egg unbroken, leave everything as it is and has been: it will get an addled egg. Radicalism would impatiently break the shell to let the imprisoned captive free; it will get a dead bird. Christianity broods the egg and the bird breaks its own shell."2

The more incisive figures, and the figures that connote emotion, are for prose a kind of shorthand3; by their vivid and thought-awaking quality they enable the writer to convey his thought as it were by flashes, to say much more and more effectively in a given space. The picturing quality remains, it is true, but so as to give the reader just so much more than he bargained for; he set out to gain a thought and he gains with it an inspiration and delight.

4

As prose becomes impassioned or imaginative, thus rising in aim and tissue toward poetry, all these effects are correspondingly heightened, until, in fact, prose diction and poetic diction are subtly blended together; but still the logic of the two remains distinguishable, and mainly on this standard of utility. As long as all the subtle colorings and implications of the diction focus in this, prose has almost unlimited realm

1 "There are two kinds of things—those which you need only to understand, and those which you need also to imagine. That a man bought nine hundredweight of hops is an intelligible idea — you do not want the hops delineated or the man described; that he went into society suggests an inquiry—you want to know what the society was like, and how far he was fitted to be there." — BAGEHOT, Literary Studies, Vol. ii, p. 241. 2 ABBOTT, Christianity and Social Problems, p. 136.

8 See above, p. 76, footnote.

4 Coleridge's word, used by Matthew Arnold.