to the usages of the diction adopted. No amount of literary deftness can dispense with this, any more than a story or essay can dispense with correct grammar; it is fundamental. A word of remark may here be given about each kind of diction named above. 1. The antique comes from the study of some past usage or period of literary expression, like that of Malory's Morte Darthur, for instance, or the Bible. To be kept free from lapses of consistency requires not only the literary spirit which can move at home in past habits of thought and phrase but the sound philological knowledge which can separate the strata of usage peculiar to the different ages and follow the analogies of form, derivation, and the like, characteristic of each period. Working in the antique is cheapened and vulgarized by the throwing about of catchwords like whilom, quoth, in sooth, yclept; such relics of the "by my halidome" period of writing are nowadays beneath the dignity even of humor; and this because the real proficiency is felt to be more a matter of flavor and texture than of single hardused words. Imitation of biblical diction, inasmuch as the Bible is always with us a sacred possession, is hazardous, not to say a foregone failure, because if applied to thought less serious than that of Scripture it is necessarily a parody of what is most venerated, while if applied to solemn thought it runs the risk of being either artificial — which defeats its end -or goody-goody. NOTE. The peril of an assumed diction of a past period arises from the fact that a very small slip will betray the manufacture and destroy the illusion. It will be remembered how Lowell pointed out to Thackeray the modern provincialism "different to "in Henry Esmond; and how Ignatius Donnelly's Baconian cipher was discredited by the occurrence therein of the modern split infinitive. 2. The composition of foreigner's English - that is, of the lame articulation and uncouth idiom adopted by persons, especially uneducated persons, to whom a foreign language is native — may, in the language of fire insurance, be marked "extra-hazardous." The conversance required is that of one who is able to think at first hand in the foreign tongue, and who from this ability as a centre can look out through the peculiarities and limitations of articulation, the idioms, the general spirit of the language portrayed. There is not only a changed set of words in question, but a different approach to thought; an American joke translated into German or German English would not be at all like German humor. The hardest yet the most indispensable thing in the representation of foreigner's English is suffusing the whole tissue of the diction with the foreigner's natural mood. If this cannot be done, the foreign English is merely an empty shell of expression. 3. The same remarks apply to the writing of dialect, and a like conversance is required; for this reason it is that novelists laying their scenes in a certain district take the pains of a long sojourn and acquaintance to work up what is called "local color," and still better it is when, as in the case of George W. Cable and Ian Maclaren, a lifetime has been spent in contact with the people and the dialect portrayed. The mastery of a dialect comes from a systematic and sympathetic study of provincialisms, colloquial peculiarities, and traits of articulation; in this way a language is worked up which can be traced in its entirety to no one person, perhaps, but which in general represents the usage of a whole region. The Literary Shaping. To say that the writer, in composing the foregoing kinds of diction, must be faithful to the usage portrayed is to give only half his task. All these have to undergo a process of toning-down and modification; on the crude usage adopted there is superinduced a literary shaping, by which they are freed from what is unintelligible or estranging and adapted to present readers. This in two ways. In the first place the diction in question is carefully moulded to self-consistency; it obeys its analogies and congruities, its laws of formation and taste, like a vernacular. Secondly, it is not carried to extreme. If a manufactured usage were absolutely true to the actual, reproducing all the peculiarities accessible, it would be neither pleasing nor artistic nor intelligible: the writer would simply be wallowing in dialect, as if that were his end. The value of these usages is merely as a flavor,' a means of coloring thought and giving some characteristic human quality. Accordingly, the literary shaping or workmanship leaves the usage just enough accentuated to suggest the desired flavor, while it leaves the sentiment of the thought unimpeded. There is a delicacy about it, a refinement, which counteracts the native vulgarity or uncouthness: it is like displaying jewels in the rough, or like nature's noblemen expressing the sentiments of the court in the tongue of the multitude. Any such manufactured diction, after all, is merely a means, not an end; the moment it is employed for its own sake, or in greater degree than is necessary for its end, it becomes unreal and tawdry. III. MAINTENANCE OF THE TONE OF DISCOURSE. This is an important matter, a general summing-up of artistic prose diction, which calls for the alert and cultivated literary sense. 1. To merit the name of diction, to presume on the suffrage of a reader, the style must not content itself to be absolutely raw and pedestrian, however correct; it must possess a dignity and distinction which will evince at least the writer's desire to please. The literary endeavor in itself produces a certain elevation of tone, a table-land of expression below which the conscientious writer will be careful not to fall.2 1 See BATES, Talks on Writing English, pp. 245-250. 2" But, whatever becomes of details, the general requisite is that there must be something of elevation. There is a certain distinction of manner which cannot be This noblesse oblige operates to prune away negligences, to make each phrase full and rounded, to induce a play of imagination and apt choice and urbanity which will make the reader aware at every moment that the writer values his good will. Thus in every well-meant discourse the key of words, as compared with colloquialism or dead reportage, will be high, will be mindfully self-consistent, will be watchful not to flat the note.1 EXAMPLES OF UNTUNED PROSE. As an illustration of lack of tone and distinction, with a criticism upon it, the following is quoted by Professor Earle from the Saturday Review:· "Notwithstanding the praise heaped upon them by Mr. Laing, these Sagas cannot be called a model of historical writing. Although occasionally picturesque and incisive, the style is, on the whole, bald in the extreme. Here is a specimen, taken absolutely at random, which sets out the history of a certain Halfdan: Halfdan was the name of King Eystein's son who succeeded him. He was called Halfdan the Mild, but the Bad Entertainer that is to say, he was reported to be generous, and to give his men as much gold as other men gave of silver, but he starved them in their diet. He was a good warrior, who had been long in Viking cruises, and had collected great property. He was married to Hlif, a daughter of King Vestmara. Holtar, in Vestfold, was his chief house, and he died there on a bed of sickness, and was buried at Borro under a mound.' This kind of writing, although it has the merit of simplicity, when followed over an expanse of fourteen hundred pages, ends by confusing the mind." 2. In addition to this elevation incumbent upon all, every literary work strikes a certain keynote, elevated or colloquial or humorous or graceful; and while it is often an elegance defined, and yet is felt. It is a blending of modesty and dignity. It is the difference between presentable and unpresentable. Literary diction must not wear an appearance of slackness or negligence, it must not be in undress;;- it must not ignore the presence of the public before whom it appears. Without incorrectness or the breaking of any rule, a sentence may betray a want of something, we can hardly say what, which makes it unsatisfactory, we can hardly say why. This is the defect which is vaguely characterized as 'bald.'"- EARLE, English Prose, p. 173. 1 The key of words, as related to connotation and emotional congruity, has already been discussed; see above, p. 104. and advantage to rise on occasion into a higher strain, it is unfortunate to fall unadvisedly below the level adopted. This is most noticeable when prosaic words and turns of expression creep into poetry. While prose, especially on impassioned or exalted occasions, may easily rise into the poetic,1 as soon as poetry sinks, by as much as a single phrase, to the level of prose, the disenchanting effect is felt at once. EXAMPLE. — In the following stanza of poetry, none of which indeed is keyed very high, the prosaic tone and movement of the bracketed lines, as compared with the rest, are plainly felt : "So, from the sunshine and the green of love, We enter on our story's darker part; [And, though the horror of it well may move An impulse of repugnance in the heart, Yet let us think,] that, as there's naught above So also there is naught that falls below Her generous reach, though grimed with guilt and woe." 2 The fact that the vocabulary is in strata, lower and higher, and that the congruous level must be maintained, is apparent when a slang or colloquial expression creeps inadvertently into a severe discourse, or when a very commonplace thing is said in a solemn way or vice versa; it makes the literary sense at once aware of the claims of tone, of taste, of keeping. EXAMPLE. — In the following passage the objection to the italicized words is not that they are incorrect, but that they flat the note: "The task was indeed mighty, but Luther was a giant among men. Nor was his fatherland entirely out of sorts. The life-lessons of Wyckliffe and Huss had not been lost." 3 A few years ago a very amusing little biography, written in English by a native Hindostanee, was published in Calcutta; and the most ludicrous faults in its style were owing to the fact that the writer, having obtained all his words from a dictionary, had no sense of the difference of tone and spirit in different expressions. Words, idioms, proverbial expressions 1 See above, p. 113, footnote, and the chapter on Poetic Diction below. |