TALKS ON THEME-WRITING 
 
TALKS ON THEME 
 WRITING 
 
 AND KINDRED TOPICS 
 
 B r' ' ' ’■ 
 
 ARTHUR HUNTTNGTON NASON 
 
 Instructor in English in New York University 
 Author of ^'‘Heralds and Heraldry 
 in Jonson's Plays" 
 
 Published by the Author 
 University Heights, New York City 
 1909 
 
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 To 
 
 Edwin Francis Nason^ M. A. 
 
PREFACE 
 
 CONTENT and arrangement of this vol- 
 / 'I ume has been determined chiefly by the needs 
 of certain courses in English composition given 
 by its author in New York University. In these 
 courses, it has been usual to begin the year with 
 practical work in the form of brief themes of obser- 
 vation and comment; to consider then the theory of 
 composition ; and, lastly, to apply this theory to the 
 structural problems involved in the writing of long 
 themes of exposition. For freshmen in the under- 
 graduate colleges, the course has included also a 
 review of certain preparatory-school matters — para- 
 graphing, sentence-structure, diction, and punctuation. 
 For adult classes at Washington Square the course 
 has included work that in kind, though not in length 
 or thoroughness, approaches that required in gradu- 
 ate-school reports. This book, therefore, consists first 
 of three chapters devoted respectively to the writing 
 of brief themes of observation and comment, to the 
 theory of composition, and to the writing of long 
 expositional themes; and then, secondly, of two sup- 
 plementary chapters devoted respectively to a review 
 of elementary matters and to a discussion of the 
 preparation of theses and graduate reports. 
 
Till 
 
 prKi^ace:. 
 
 The respects in which this text-book differs from 
 most college manuals of English composition are, first, 
 certain details regarding the theory of composition ; 
 second, certain suggestions with regard to the use of 
 plans in expositional themes ; and, third, the extent 
 to which student themes have been introduced as 
 illustrative material. 
 
 Its statement of the theory of composition differs 
 from that of other text-books in two particulars. 
 Eirst, it endeavors to distinguish between unity in 
 the broad sense of singleness of effect and unity in 
 the narrow sense of singleness of material; and to 
 show that unity in the former sense is a quality result- 
 ing from a combination of the three qualities, unity of 
 material, mass, or emphasis, and coherence. Second, 
 it endeavors to discuss each of these qualities not only 
 for intellectual composition but also for emotional 
 composition : to discuss not merely unity of thought 
 but unity of feeling; not merely intellectual emphasis 
 but emotional emphasis ; not merely intellectual coher- 
 ence but emotional coherence. That is, it endeavors 
 to distinguish between the denotative and the conno- 
 tative method of composition. 
 
 Its suggestions for plan-making in expositional 
 themes differ likewise from the current practice in 
 two respects. It recommends not only that each 
 
PREFACS. 
 
 IX 
 
 heading of the expositional plan be expressed as a 
 proposition rather than a term, but also that the plan 
 be made in advance to serve as a guide in compo- 
 sition, rather than afterward to serve merely as an 
 aid in the revision. 
 
 These innovations in theory and practice I need 
 not now discuss; but of a third innovation — the use 
 of student themes as illustrative material in this text- 
 book — I ought perhaps to speak. For models of 
 literary style, we ought, of course, to use the classics 
 of our language ; but ought we, in college courses, 
 to rely on these alone? In length and in subject- 
 matter, are the great classics of English literature 
 models appropriate for freshman themes? Should 
 not the student, rather, endeavor to express himself? 
 If so, should he not find, among his models, some 
 specimens of composition that deal with subjects such 
 as he himself might choose, and that treat these sub- 
 jects as briefly as mu.st the themes he has to write? 
 Believing this to be the case, I have included in this 
 text-book not only representative extracts from Burke, 
 De Quincey, and Edgar Allan Poe, but also student 
 themes submitted in my courses at New York Ehri- 
 versity. I have included even some specimens of 
 undergraduate verse, prepared, indeed, not for my 
 courses in English composition, but for meetings of 
 
X 
 
 PRElfACE. 
 
 the Andiron Club, the contributors’ club of our uni- 
 versity magazine. As training in the use of language,, 
 versification has several advantages over prose-com- 
 position. I hope that the presence of these bits of 
 verse within these pages will stimulate other under- 
 graduates to like attempts. 
 
 The material for analysis comprised in the Appen- 
 dix includes, first, two complete expositions that deal 
 with student interests ; second, three extracts that 
 illustrate respectively the introduction, the transitions, 
 and the conclusion ; third, a specimen of the literature 
 of feeling in expositional structure; and lastly, a 
 specimen of the literature of feeling in narrative 
 structure. 1 trust that the classic passages from 
 Burke, De Quincey, and Poe, thus included in the 
 Appendix, may counteract the ill efliects, if any, aris- 
 ing from the use of student themes as models in 
 Chapters I and III. 
 
 My thanks are due to President William DeWitt 
 Hyde of Bowdoin College, to the New York Inde- 
 pendent, to the Se-wanee Review, to the University 
 of Chicago Press, to the Courier-Journal Job Print- 
 ing Company, to Messrs. Driffield and Company, to 
 Messrs. McClure, Phillips and Company, to Messrs. 
 Charles Scribner's Sons, and to the Honorable William 
 R. Hearst, for permission to reproduce copyrighted 
 
PREFACE. 
 
 XI 
 
 material. My thanks are due also to my students 
 and former students in the University College, the 
 School of Applied Science, the Summer School, and 
 the Washington Square Collegiate Division of New 
 York University, for permission to use the themes 
 that they have submitted in my courses and the verse 
 that they have prepared for meetings of the Andiron 
 Club. Among text-books on English composition, my 
 debt to that of Professor Barrett Wendell of Harvard 
 is evident. Among teachers, I am particularly in- 
 debted to Professor Wilmot B. Mitchell of Bowdoin 
 College, to Mr. Charles Lowell Young of Harvard, 
 and to Professor George Rice Carpenter of Columbia. 
 For helpful suggestions in the preparation of this 
 book, I am especially grateful to Professor Francis 
 H. Stoddard, Professor Archibald L. Bouton, and 
 Mr. George B. Hotchkiss, of the Department of 
 English at New York University. 
 
 A. H. N. 
 
 University Heights, New York, 
 
 February 7, 1909. 
 
TABLE OF CONTENTS 
 
 Preface vii 
 
 Table of Contents xii 
 
 Directions for the Mechanical Prep-Ar.ation of 
 
 Themes ........ xiv 
 
 CHAPTER I. 
 
 Of the Practice of Composition .... i 
 
 I. 
 
 Of the Value of Concreteness 
 
 
 I 
 
 II. 
 
 Of Emotional Effect 
 
 
 9 
 
 III. 
 
 Of Intellectual Effect 
 
 
 24 
 
 
 •CHAPTER II. 
 
 
 
 Of the Theory of Composition 
 
 
 41 
 
 I. 
 
 Preliminary Definitions 
 
 
 41 
 
 II. 
 
 Of Unity of Material 
 
 
 57 
 
 III. 
 
 Of Mass, or Emphasis 
 
 
 70 
 
 IV. 
 
 Of Coherence .... 
 
 
 85 
 
 V. 
 
 Summary of the Theory of Composition 
 
 104 
 
 
 CHAPTER HI. 
 
 
 
 Of the Writing of Expositional Themes 
 
 
 io5 
 
 I. 
 
 Of the Formulation of the Topic 
 
 
 no 
 
 II. 
 
 Of the Organization 
 
 
 1 1.3 
 
 
 (i) The Plan: Its Form . 
 
 
 114 
 
 
 ( 2 ) The Plan : Its Substance 
 
 
 126 
 
 III. 
 
 Of the Amplification 
 
 
 136 
 
TABLE OE CONTENTS. Xlll 
 
 CHAPTER IV. 
 
 Oe Certain Preparatory-School Matters . . i 7 S 
 
 I. Of Paragraphing 176 
 
 II. Of Sentence- Structure .... 181 
 
 III. Of Words 195 
 
 IV. Of Punctuation 202- 
 
 CHAPTER V. 
 
 Oe Graduate Theses 217 
 
 I. Of Gathering the Material . . . 2ig 
 
 II. Of Expressing the Material . . . 226 
 
 III. Of the Appendices 235, 
 
 APPENDIX; MATERIAL FOR ANALYSIS. 
 
 Specimen Exposition. An Address to Freshmen. By 
 William DeWitt Hyde, D.D., LL.D., President 
 of Bo-wdoin College ...... 245 
 
 Specimen Exposition. The Cony High School As- 
 sembly: An Unconscious Experiment in Training 
 for Citizenship. From the School Review, Vol. 
 xiv, No. 7 ; September, 1906 .... 255 
 
 Specimen Introduction. Ho-w to Improve Your Way 
 of Talking. An editorial article from the New 
 York Evening Journal ..... 266 
 
 Specimen of Transitions and Summaries. An ex- ' 
 tract from Burke’s Speech on Conciliation with 
 America ........ 271 
 
 Specimen Conclusion. An extract from an address 
 on Abraham Lincoln. By Colonel Henry Wat- 
 terson ........ 283 
 
XIV 
 
 TABLE OE CONTENTS. 
 
 Specimen of the Literature of Peeling ; Expositional 
 Structure. Levana and Our Ladies of Sorrow. 
 
 By Thomas De Quincey ..... 289 
 
 Specimen of the Literature of Peeling : Narrative 
 Structure. The Masque of the Red Death. By 
 Edgar Allan Poe ...... 301 
 
 Index 313 
 
 DIRECTIONS POR THE MECHANICAL PREPARA- 
 TION OP THEMES. 
 
 I. Use regulation theme-paper, eight inches by ten and 
 a half, ruled, and having at the left a margin at least one inch 
 and a quarter wide. 
 
 II. Write with ink, and on but one side of the paper. 
 
 III. Number and arrange your pages in order. 
 
 IV. Pold the theme once, lengthwise; that is, so that the 
 crease shall run from top to bottom, midway between the sides 
 of the page. 
 
 V. Place the endorsement of the theme on the outside 
 on the right hand half at the top ; that is, in the position cor- 
 responding to the top of the front cover of a book. 
 
 VI. Let this endorsement consists of: (i) Your name 
 and class; (2) the name of the course and division; (3) the 
 number of the theme ; and (4) the date on which the theme is 
 
DIRECTIONS. 
 
 NV 
 
 due ; all in the order named, and with a blank line between 
 (2) and (3) thus: 
 
 William H. Jones, 1913. 
 
 English 3, Div. 5. 
 
 Theme No. 1. 
 
 October 4, 1909. 
 
 Write nothing else on the outside of the theme. 
 
 VII. When a theme is returned to you for revision, 
 rewrite the entire theme. 
 
 VIII. Hand back the original theme with the revised 
 theme, the latter folded outside the former. 
 
 IX. Endorse the revised theme precisely as the origi- 
 nal, save in two points: (i) to the number of the theme, add 
 the word “Revised;” and (2) for the date, give that on 
 which the revised theme is due. For example : 
 
 William H. Jones, 1913. 
 
 English 3, Div, 5. 
 
 Theme No. 1. Revised. 
 
 October 18, 1909. 
 
CHAPTER I. 
 
 OF THE PRACTICE OF COMPOSITION. 
 
 I: OF THE VALUE OF CONCRETENESS. 
 
 EVERAL years ago, when I was reading- 
 themes in a certain “ down-east ” college, a 
 sophomore handed me a theme to which, for 
 the sake of concreteness, I solicit your attention. It 
 read as follows : 
 
 As I sat down last night to puzzle my btain for one more 
 subject for a daily theme, an Italian, with his wife, team, and 
 musical instrument, took up his station in front of the dor- 
 mitory, directly under my window. Immediately a crowd of 
 children and students gathered ; and my mind was anywhere 
 but on theme-writing. I soon decided to join them; and I 
 enjoyed hearing the Italian’s tunes for about an hour; and 
 then, as the company moved, I returned to my work, and 
 finally decided that the only available subject was, “ Writing 
 under Difficulties.” 
 
 Whether this theme possesses style, I will not now 
 discuss; I desire to speak rather of its subject-matter. 
 Its author admits a dearth in this regard ; but does 
 he recognize the occasion of this dearth? What is 
 
2 
 
 THEME-WRITING. 
 
 the real trouble with this theme? Simply that its 
 author, though looking for material, neither saw nor 
 heard. What, for example, was the Italian’s “ musi- 
 cal instrument ” ? Was it a hand-organ, a street 
 piano, or a tin whistle? Our sophomore does not 
 know ; he saw merely a “ musical instrument.” What 
 did the Italian play? Was it II Trovatore or The 
 Irish Washer-woman f Our sophomore heard merely 
 “ tunes.” Notice, moreover, the excellent theme-sub- 
 j ects that our sophomore names but does not see : the 
 delighted children dancing to the music; the Italian 
 grinding mechanically at his “ instrument ; ” his wife 
 passing her tambourine or narrowly watching the 
 windows for the occasional penny ; the students — 
 presumably familiar with better music — lolling away 
 the summer evening around these wandering min- 
 strels. What possibilities for “ literature of feeling ” ! 
 What subj ects for merriment, for satire, for pathos ! 
 But our sophomore is of those who, having eyes, see 
 not; and, having ears, hear not. In short, he lacks 
 a sense for the concrete. 
 
 By “ the concrete ” I mean things actual and mate- 
 rial, as distinguished from abstract ideas ; things spe- 
 cific and individual, as distinguished from general 
 notions. I mean, for example, not “ tunes,” but a 
 particular tune ; not “ musical instruments,” but a 
 particular musical instrument. And by “ sense for 
 
PRACTICE OF COMPOSITION. 
 
 3 
 
 the concrete ” I mean the power of perceiving, through 
 any of the senses, things as they are. It is the power 
 to observe with accuracy those minute characteristics 
 of dress, of expression, of action, that make each child, 
 each organ-grinder, each loafing student, distinct from 
 every other child, organ-grinder, student; the power 
 to see in each a personality living and individual. 
 Abstractions, generalizations, a classification of inhab- 
 itants into children, organ-grinders, students, monkeys, 
 may have their place in a census report ; but a census 
 report is not art, nor literature, nor a college theme. 
 He who would write a theme must cultivate his sense 
 for the concrete. 
 
 For the development of this power. I suggest that, 
 as your first exercise, j-ou write a “ theme of obser- 
 vation.” Observe the world about you. Find, in 
 your own life for this present day or week, some bit 
 of material suitable for description or narration. Do 
 not imagine for a moment that the material is not 
 there. It is at hand; and you have but to seize it. 
 
 When the late Eugene Field became of age, he 
 came into possession of an estate of sixty thousand 
 dollars. He took his college chum, and his sixty thou- 
 sand, and went to Europe. Whether he brought his 
 chum back with him, the story does not state; but it 
 is certain that he did not bring back any of the sixty 
 thousand. 
 
4 
 
 THEilE-WRITING. 
 
 “ I had a lovely time,” he said once, in telling his 
 experience to a friend ; “ I just threw the mone}^ 
 around. Just think of it : a boy of twenty-one, with- 
 out father or mother, and with sixty thousand dollars. 
 It was a lovely experience. I saw more things, and 
 did more things, than are dreamed of in your phi- 
 losophy, Horatio. I had money. I paid it out for 
 experience — it was plenty. Experience was lying 
 around loose ! ” 
 
 Gentlemen, here at college you will find that experi- 
 ence — concrete material — is lying around loose. Let 
 me have some of it in your to-morrow’s themes. 
 
 To make my own discussion more concrete, I append 
 a few examples; 
 
 An Early Bird. 
 
 The rain was over, and the sun was shining. I paused a 
 moment on the top doorstep to drink in the pure air. At this 
 early hour in the morning, the street was almost deserted. 
 An Italian street-sweeper, one of the large army of “ white 
 wings,” was laboriously working at his task. 
 
 Suddenly, a third story window opposite was thrown open. 
 There was a slight flutter of the hanging curtains ; a few pre- 
 liminary bars on a piano; and then out upon the fresh morn- 
 ing air, still moist with the rain, floated the well modulated, 
 dreamy tones of a tenor voice : 
 
 La donna e mobile, Qual piuma al vento — 
 
practice; op composition. 5 
 
 I listened, gazing upward. The street-sweeper paused, and 
 leaned upon the handle of his broom. The song continued : 
 Muta d’accruto; E di pensiero. 
 
 A grocer’s wagon came rumbling along. The postman’s 
 whistle sounded. The city was wide awake. 
 
 “Another Caruso?’’ I inquired of the street-sweeper. 
 
 “ No, no, Signor,” he replied, shrugging his shoulders and 
 returning to his task; “but eet ees ze Italian, and I am far 
 from I-ta-ly!” W. M. 
 
 A Rehearsal. 
 
 The scene was one of utmost confusion. Some were carry- 
 ing mops, some brandishing daggers; others were exercising 
 on parallel bars, horse, and other apparatus ; and still others 
 were waltzing madly to the music of “ Cap’n Kidd and Com- 
 pany.” Pirates and damsels — the latter with legs crossed 
 and most of them smoking cigarettes — were awaiting the 
 coming of the coach. At last he came; and as he took off 
 his coat, the whole company assembled, an imaginary curtain 
 rose, and the opening chorus of “ Cap’n Kidd and Company ” 
 resounded in every part of the gymnasium. 
 
 I watched the ubiquitous coach with increasing interest. 
 His directions were even more interesting than the man him- 
 self. 
 
 “ Now, girls, when you come in, don't walk so slow, as if 
 you were playing hookey from the graveyard. Put some 
 snap into it! You know how a girl walks — goes like blazes 
 when she gets started. Now enter ensemble. That’s it; twirl 
 your parasols. Oh, for heaven’s sake, look feminine I and 
 don’t bunch ! Don’t bunch ! Don’t bunch ! Stop ! The more 
 
6 
 
 THEME-WRITING. 
 
 I tell you not to bunch the closer you crowd together. That’s 
 better. Now, Sinclair, get busy on your love-song business. 
 And see here, girls ; when Sinclair comes round to make love 
 to you, each do something different. Beginning here on the 
 left. No. I, hang your head ; No. 2, stick your finger in your 
 mouth and look bashful ; that’s fine, couldn’t be better ! And 
 No. 3, you walk away quickly — no! not that way! For 
 heaven’s sake, learn to manipulate those feet; remember 
 your’re a girl now. And now No. 4, you stick your nose way 
 up in the air, icy eyebrow fashion. That’s it ! Fine ! Great ! ” 
 And before I left, I bought a ticket for the Show. 
 
 H. S. S. 
 
 A Walk at Sunset. 
 
 A brisk walk brought us to the park. From the entrance, 
 the hard, black pathway, crowded with people in holiday attire, 
 stretched out to the wooded distance. Night was fast ap- 
 proaching; and the pedestrians, rosy from the cold wind, were 
 hurrying homeward. Black against the vivid crimson of the 
 sky, stood out the tall, bare trees. To the rushing wind, they 
 protested loudly against the intrusion they had borne through- 
 out the day; to the solitude of the approaching night, they 
 waved a welcome ; but to us, though we too loved solitude, 
 they shook their heads in menace, crying out against us. Tall, 
 dark, deep, they stood, against the sunset sky. Through their 
 almost empty branches leaped the mighty wind, hurling the 
 leaves at us ; and, with every gust, the long dry grass before 
 us rose and fell like a vast snake creeping toward us. 
 
 But soon we were among the trees. Beneath them, the dead 
 leaves rose about our ankles. No longer did the .great trees 
 menace us ; rather they seemed to shelter us, to guard. For 
 
PRACTiCi; OF COMPOSITION. 
 
 7 
 
 us, they broke the wind ; on us, they dropped softly, like a 
 triumphal shower of flowers, their few remaining leaves. 
 Through an opening in the woods, we caught a glimpse of 
 water tinged with colors reflected from the sky. All the 
 glorious shades that sunset brings were blended into one har- 
 monious tint that covered the surface of the lake. All the 
 colors were there, each distinct, yet all shading imperceptably 
 into one another. Then, as the sky darkened with the night, 
 they became fainter, until at last the silver moon arose, and 
 cast a silver band over the deep blue water. 
 
 Cold, tired, yet refreshed, we betook ourselves homeward to 
 dream of nature. Again we passed the wintry forest. Again 
 we saw it in the distance. But now it was more silent tharr 
 before — a spectre clothed in moonlight. J. A. F. 
 
 The New Boss. 
 
 He was just graduated from Yale. Of course, we didn’t 
 see much use for an Office Manager — we thought heads of 
 departments were enough. However, on the morning of his 
 arrival, we shook hands with the well-built, athletic young 
 man, telling him how glad we were to have him with us — 
 his father was the president of the company — and then wenr 
 on in the same old routine. Miss Evans, the stenograpner in 
 our department, while arranging the puffs on her head, said 
 she had met Yale men before, and she thought that they were 
 all just perfectly 1-o-v-e-l-y. 
 
 The office boys, three in number, were very much surprised 
 when he entered the mailing room, which they had always 
 regarded as their own particular property. He remained only 
 a few moments, telling them that hereafter accuracy, punctu- 
 
8 
 
 theme-writing. 
 
 ality, and regularity, must be given attention, as these quali- 
 ties were most desirable and most necessary for success. At 
 the first opportunity the boys asked Miss Evans what the 
 “ new boss ” meant by “ punctugarity ” and “ reguality.” 
 Miss Evans replied, as she re-arranged her Merry Widow 
 collar, that she supposed he meant that if they weren’t there 
 on time in the morning, they’d have to beat it. The boys 
 were duly impressed by this startling bit of news. 
 
 During the day, one of the boys was tying up some pack- 
 ages to be sent by express, and pasting the address label on 
 each package. The new boss, happening to pass, noticed the 
 process, stopped, and remarked that he thought a more lim- 
 ited supply of the mucilage would answer equally well, as it 
 was almost impossible to differentiate what the recipient was 
 to receive — a package of books or some adhesive substance. 
 The boy grinned. 
 
 Later in the day, while watching the amount of mail that 
 was sent out by the boys, he observed that cleanliness was 
 next to godliness. When appealed to. Miss Evans twisted the 
 diamond ring around on her finger, and volunteered the infor- 
 mation that they had better wash their h-a-n-d-s. All the 
 boys thought this was going some. What was the use of 
 washing hands? They only got dirty again. Going down on 
 the elevator that night, the head office boy said : “ Oh, I say, 
 fellows, I guess he’s all right, but his ‘ eddication ’ hurts 
 him ! ” W. M. 
 
§11: OF EMOTIONAL EFFECT. 
 
 HATEVER we write with a purpose is, in 
 intention, an appeal either to the intellect ot 
 our reader, or to his emotions, or to both. 
 
 The official scorer of a football game aims to pro- 
 duce a clear, accurate, matter-of-fact record of touch- 
 
 downs, goals, safeties, and such things. The sopho- 
 more, writing home, gives a somewhat confused but 
 
 unquestionably enthusiastic account of how “ our ” 
 team won the game. The reporter for the college 
 paper tries to produce a “ story ” that shall be at 
 once intelligible and alive. The scorer’s record is, in 
 intention, intellectual ; the sophomore’s letter, emo- 
 tional ; the reporter’s “ write-up,” a combination of 
 the two. The scorer does not care, officially, whether 
 he stirs our feelings or not, if only his record is intel- 
 ligible. The sophomore is careless whether his par- 
 ents really understand, provided they catch the spirit 
 of the occasion. The reporter, knowing that he must 
 make his readers both feel and comprehend, sets up 
 a standard that is, for most purposes, the best. 
 
 We, like the reporter, ought usually to appeal both 
 to the intellect and to the emotions of our readers. 
 
12 
 
 THEME-WRITING. 
 
 build up the picture for him ; but leave him to drav.' 
 his own conclusion. Then perhaps he will feel the 
 emotion that you felt. 
 
 To arouse emotion, therefore, don’t be abstract; 
 don’t generalize. Be concrete ; be specific. Choose 
 your material with this in view. Sensations of sound, 
 taste, odor, touch, you can express concretely. So 
 can you sensations of sight — if they involve move- 
 ment in time or space. But to express concretely those 
 sensations of sight that involve still-life only, as form, 
 size, position, — this you will find more difficult. Your 
 eye will grasp form, size, position, all at a stroke ; but 
 the words that express your ; ensation must march in 
 single file. Such a bit-by-bit description your reader 
 may grasp intellectually ; but he will rarely visualize 
 the whole as a concrete image. Form, size, position, 
 therefore, you would best leave for the artist and the 
 photographer. 
 
 Even such material, however, you may sometimes 
 treat concretely. All you need do is to make, your 
 sensations march, like your words, in single file. One 
 means to this end is to select from your material those 
 elements, if there be any, that are moving, and then 
 to present those elements in order of time. Another 
 means is to adopt a moving point of view. By either 
 method, you receive your impressions bit by bit, and 
 so can express each bit concretely. The following 
 
practice: op composition. 
 
 13 
 
 description of a student’s room, supposedly still-life, 
 utilizes the former method. The latter appears in the 
 second theme, a description of the Williamsburg 
 Bridge at night. In each, despite the subject, the 
 author has succeeded in building up a concrete image, 
 and, with it, has produced an emotional effect. 
 
 As I stood on the threshold and looked in, the sight that 
 greeted my eyes was, to say the least, surprising. The room, 
 which, in the morning, I had left in spick span condition, was 
 now the scene of lively wrestling bouts. I watched the 
 squirming masses for fully five minutes before my presence 
 became known. Then something white sailed through the 
 air. I had no time to dodge. I caught it full on the side of 
 the head — a bag of flour. That was the beginning of the 
 real trouble. As if by one accord, the wrestlers rose from 
 the floor and made for me. Escape was impossible. The 
 nearest man had his hands upon me. We clinched and fell. 
 Crack! What was that? The arm of the settee, which stands 
 at the left of the door, had snapped. Wo rolled over and 
 over. Bing, zing I Something else ? Only the chafing dish. 
 On with the fight. The others joined in. As I rolled and 
 twisted on the floor, I caught sight of the flour bag in its 
 frequent aerial passes. Bang I I I knew it would happen. 
 The lamp lay on the floor with the flour bag close beside it. 
 The fight went on. What was that, a knock? 
 
 “ Come out, you Fresh. Get over to the Gym and rub. 
 On the jump!” 
 
 “The tumult and the shouting died.” We got up feeling 
 pretty exhausted and foolish for having allowed our effer- 
 
14 
 
 THEME-WRITING. 
 
 vescent spirits to cause such a childish outbreak. As we went 
 out, the pictures on the wall seemed to mock us, saying, 
 “What kids; but still they are Freshmen!” 
 
 G. L. 
 
 WlLPIAMSBURG BRIDGE AT NiGHT. 
 
 The days were now short ; and when we started down the 
 East River at six o’clock, it was already dark. The river 
 was inky black. Except the humming of our engines, the 
 only noise was the lapping and splashing of the water against 
 our boat. The only signs of life were a few red and green 
 lights moving up and down the river, and the converging 
 lines of colored beacons stretching along each shore, the 
 upper line steady, the lower one dancing up and down like 
 torches borne by moving men. 
 
 But, a long distance ahead of us, a relaxed bow of twink- 
 ling lights spanned the black current. As we approached it, 
 the lights rose higher and higher, the bow bent more and 
 more. Presently the intricate crossings of a great steel bridge 
 grew out of the night in dim, lace-like forms. On each shore, 
 the two great towers loomed up ; but their tops remained hid- 
 den in the night, as if too proud to let men look upon them, 
 The nearer we went, the higher climbed the lights, the coarser 
 grew the lacework. Then, in the water, appeared another 
 arc of lights. They seemed to go deep down under the sur- 
 face. They danced about, and tried to break out of their 
 chain, but were always drawn back directly under the lights 
 above them. 
 
 And now as I looked more closely into the maze of girders, 
 I became aware of other blocks of light, moving along. The 
 hum of life came to my ears. On that great dark river, life 
 
PRACTICE OF COMPOSITION. 
 
 15 
 
 had practically ceased; but up there in the mid-air, the bridge 
 teemed with life. And, as I gazed in wonder, the different 
 sounds came to me distinctly. Yes ! from those moving blocks 
 of light came the whir of wheels and the occasional clang of 
 a bell ; but dulling all sounds was a low rumble, like thunder 
 ever so far away. 
 
 Although the lights appeared to rise steadily as we ap- 
 proached, they grew brighter and shed a soft white light 
 over our decks. Then they disappeared ; and, in place of 
 their brightness on the deck, squares of light and shadow 
 moved across it. Directly above us, the huge girders looked 
 like an arbor of elms overhanging a forest stream, only vastly 
 magnified. 
 
 As we sailed on down the river, the arcs of lights again 
 appeared : the one, steady and reaching into the sky, was 
 coming down ; the other, dancing, dangling down into the 
 river-bed, was rising. Soon the dancers disappeared ; but 
 the steady lights stretched their chain and remained. 
 
 J. C. B. 
 
 Before proceeding farther, I must ask you to note 
 one thing: that, although all squares are rectangles, 
 all rectangles are not squares. I speak of this because 
 you might otherwise infer that, because emotional 
 material is concrete, therefore all concrete material is 
 emotional. Not only is this not the case, but even that 
 concrete material which is emotional, differs greatly 
 in the degree of its emotionality. If we think not of 
 the material itself but of the words that represent it, 
 we shall find that they may be considered in two 
 
i6 
 
 the;me-writing. 
 
 aspects : what they denote and what they connote. 
 These two verbs and the corresponding nouns, denota- 
 tion and connotation, are used in rhetoric in a mean- 
 ing somewhat technical. Of a word, a sentence, a 
 paragraph, or an entire article, the denotation is its 
 literal meaning evident to all men ; the connotation is 
 what it suggests, a suggestiveness that varies, in 
 degree and in content, with the reader. Take, for 
 example, the two words “ strike-breaker ” and “ scab.” 
 Their denotation is identical ; but the latter, used by 
 a member of a labor union, connotes his hatred of the 
 man in question, while the former, used by an employer 
 of labor, connotes his approval. Now it is this con- 
 notation, this suggestiveness, either in the word or 
 in the thing itself, that gives to the word or to the 
 thing its power of emotional appeal. To stir the feel- 
 ings we must rely not on concreteness merely, but on 
 concreteness that is connotative. 
 
 To make clearer a matter so abstract, let me offer 
 a further illustration. What is the denotation, the 
 literal meaning, of the familiar line, 
 
 “ They also serve who only stand and wait ” ? 
 
 Its denotation is evident to all ; but what of its con- 
 notation ? What, for example, does it connote to you ? 
 If you know by whom, and under what circumstances 
 it was written, the line should connote much to you. 
 
PRACTICE OR COMPOSITION. 
 
 17 
 
 It brings to your mind the poet Milton. You recall 
 how, in his }T>uth, he devoted his life to study and to 
 poetry ; how, not yet thirty, he produced what are still 
 accounted four of the most exquisite poems in our 
 literature ; and how he hoped ultimately to write some 
 greater poem, some work “ that the world would not 
 willingly let die.” You remember his brilliant tour 
 abroad, his further studies and his growing fame ; and 
 then, just as he seemed prepared for his great work, 
 you remember how the war in England called him 
 home. You remember how he served his country with 
 his pen ; how, as a result, his sight began to fail ; how 
 the physicians warned him to desist, and he refused; 
 how his blindness became absolute. And you remem- 
 ber how he lived to see his great patron dead, his cause 
 disowned, all for which he had labored overthrown, 
 and himself in hiding for his life, friendless, penniless, 
 blind, with his great poem, that poem which he hoped 
 the world would not willingly let die, still unachieved. 
 And you remember then his Sonnet on his Blindness: 
 
 When I consider how my light is spent 
 
 Ere half my days in this dark world and wide, 
 
 And that one talent which is death to hide 
 Lodged with me useless, though my soul more bent 
 To serve therewith my maker, and present 
 My true account, lest He returning chide, 
 
 “Doth God exact day-labour, light denied?” 
 
i8 
 
 THEME-WRITING. 
 
 I fondly ask. But Patience, to prevent 
 That murmur, soon replies, God doth not need 
 Either man’s work or his own gifts. Who best 
 Bear his mild yoke, they serve him best. His state 
 Is kingly ; thousands at his bidding speed, 
 
 And post o’er land and ocean without rest; 
 
 They also serve who only stand and wait.” 
 
 That is the “ connotation ” of that line for you. But 
 I remember something more : a student at the Harvard 
 Summer School, who concluded with that line his 
 theme on the waiters in a Cambridge restaurant. And 
 I remember, too, the wrath of the instructor and the 
 class thereat. That is a part of the connotation of the 
 line for me. Henceforth, I share it with you. 
 
 In your next theme of observation, I suggest that 
 you aim at some emotional effect. To this end, you 
 should be, so far as possible, connotative ; that is, you 
 should utilize the suggestive power of words. To aid 
 you in this attempt, I append a few examples. 
 
 Chloe. 
 
 When to the dance sweet Chloe goes, 
 With most demure propriety 
 She bears herself; you’d ne’er suppose 
 That she her charm insidious knows. 
 Yet, ah! how fatal can she be! 
 
PRACTICE OF COMPOSITION. 
 
 19 
 
 Her bodice sinuous fascinates ; 
 
 The potency of symmetry 
 In her perfected, captivates. 
 
 The poetry of motion she 
 (Goddess divine!) impersonates. 
 
 Although all innocence is she, 
 
 Unconscious of her shoes petite, 
 
 Ofttimes a swirl of lingerie 
 Spurned by a pair of twinkling feet 
 Reveals an ankle fair to see. 
 
 Her bosom her sweet modesty 
 Keeps almost hidden. In her hair 
 Cupid has slyly tucked a snare. 
 
 From her clear eyes one liquid glance 
 Can men entrance like alchemy. 
 
 For me, unlucky I never she 
 Reserves her smiles especially. 
 
 Yet everything is as God wills. 
 
 Who wins her, prince at least shall be ; 
 He’ll need be prince — to pay her bills! 
 
 S. V. D. 
 
 A Discordant Note. 
 
 It was a warm summer evening. My newly made friend 
 had been showing me the sights of New York all the after- 
 noon. I followed him when he jumped off the Broadway 
 car, crossed the street, made a sudden turn, and passed 
 through a rather unpretentious doorway. What a contrast 
 to the noisy and crowded thoroughfares of the city ! Here 
 
20 
 
 theme-writing. 
 
 was a garden brilliantly lighted, flowers and clinging \ines 
 in profusion, a small orchestra playing a popular medley ; 
 little tables were being rapidly filled by the guests, and the 
 waiters were hurrying to and fro. Eureka Garden ! Rightly 
 named — excellent, my friend, excellent ! 
 
 After we were comfortably seated and our order had been 
 given, I realized that the “ garden ” was merely a transformed 
 back-yard ; the food would probably be indifferently served ; 
 the tables were most uncomfortably close together ; and our 
 neighbors were smoking very bad cigars. However, I was 
 at peace with the world. We touched elbows with American 
 citizens of all nationalities, each nationality drinking its own 
 favorite beverage. Yet everything was quiet and orderly, and 
 dominated by a spirit of peace and contentment. This was 
 perhaps their only opportunity to get a glimpse of bright 
 flowers, the moon, and the blue sky — a short interim between 
 days of toil which do not vary. 
 
 All the while the orchestra played : sometimes a popular 
 tune, a selection from a well-known Italian opera, a German 
 lied perhaps — the representatives of each nation applauding 
 their own particular music. The moon came from behind a 
 cloud ; and a faint breeze fanned our cheeks. A sudden hush 
 seemed to fall upon the merry-makers. We had finished eat- 
 ing, and were smoking our cigars and gazing idly through 
 a veil of smoke. Softly upon the breeze there floated the 
 sweetest music I ever heard — faint, then louder, then softly 
 dying away. The very words seemed to be spoken : 
 
 “ Way down upon the Suwannee River, 
 
 Far, far away.” 
 
 The music ceased. I applauded. From one dimly lighted 
 
practicb; of composition. 
 
 21 
 
 corner of the garden, I heard a faint hand-clap, as if it were 
 almost an echo of my own. That was all. The fine old 
 melody fell on foreign ears. The garden suddenly grew dis- 
 tasteful to me. The wine was sour. I tossed the cigar aside. 
 Quickly paying our bill, we passed out ; — foreigners in our 
 native land ! W. M. 
 
 The Palisades. 
 
 To morning’s fire, yon Palisades present 
 The cold impassiveness of centuries. 
 
 No tempest shakes their calm; no ecstacies 
 Of Spring can make their frowning rock relent. 
 And smile accord to Nature’s blandishment. 
 They chill the landscape with dread mysteries 
 Of buried ages, carved in running frieze 
 By the sharp stroke of ruthless element. — 
 Sometimes, when sunset’s crimson splendor pours 
 Along that glorious bas-relief, I see 
 Huge figures stand out from the living rock. 
 Like Titans grimly watching out the course 
 Of seons, while their patient majesty 
 Is safe from lightning, flood, and earthquake 
 shock. 
 
 H. M. L. 
 
 Joan oe Arc. 
 
 “ What is to be thought of her? ” Thomas De Quincey 
 asks the question ; and Bastien Lepage answers it in his paint- 
 ing, “ Joan of Arc listening to the Voices.” In the dooryard 
 of a rude cottage, the ordinary plaster and thatch cabin of 
 the French peasant, stands a girl. At her right, a three- 
 
22 
 
 THEME-WRITING. 
 
 legged wooden stool lies, overturned, on the ground beside 
 a wooden reel, on the which the yarn is half unwound. A 
 soft early summer haze covers the dull green background, 
 and grays the indistinct trees. In the midst of this homely 
 setting, the slender, undeveloped figure of Joan compels the 
 eye. Her short, homespun skirt, falling in straight, scant 
 folds about her, does not conceal her bare feet. The coarse 
 bodice, opening low on her young throat, is as barren of 
 grace in line as it is devoid of beauty in color. One strong, 
 large hand hangs by her side in a gesture of utter hopeless- 
 ness ; the other, reaching out in eager, imploring protest, 
 shows on the thumb her badge of toil, a leather pad to pro- 
 tect her tender skin from the harsh pricking of the yarn. 
 This is the picture, so far, of an ordinary peasant girl, weary, 
 perhaps of her daily task. 
 
 Look higher. Who is this girl whose eyes blaze with tri- 
 umphant joy, yet are heavy with unendurable anguish? Far, 
 far beyond, she gazes, with dilated, terror stricken eyes ; yet 
 longing unspeakable for the future that she dreads is written 
 in every line of her face. Dimly glorious above her head 
 floats Saint Michael with his great sword; beside him. Saint 
 Catharine smiles proudly from out the folds of her banner. 
 But Saint Margaret crouches, her averted face buried in her 
 hands, as though she already saw the Maid's soft hair and 
 virgin bloom blackened by the fires of Rouen. 
 
 At the end of the hall, turn for a final glance. The reel 
 and the stool fade away ; trees and cottage mingle in a faint, 
 indistinct blur. Only the figure remains, a peasant girl with 
 outstretched hand, whose eyes burn with the ecstasy of vic- 
 tory, yet are old with the foreknowledge of pain, and bur- 
 dened with a bitter woe. M. E. T. 
 
practice: of composition. 
 
 23 
 
 I’m dreaming tonight — my eyes are wet; 
 Trifling things. 
 
 I’m blowing to you, from my cigarette, 
 Fragrant rings. 
 
 And you, whose dear face fills my dreaming. 
 Know you this : 
 
 Each ring contains a simple jewel — 
 
 Just a kiss. 
 
 F. M. ? 
 
Ill: OF INTELLECTUAL EFFECT. 
 
 IT be desirable to cultivate one’s sense for 
 mI the concrete, so is it desirable to develop one’s 
 powers of generalization. Equally important 
 with the ability to see, is the ability — and the inclina- 
 tion — to think. Indeed, for our immediate purposes 
 of theme-writing, the thoughts, the opinions, of the 
 writer, should be as valuable a source of material as 
 are his observation and experience. And yet, how 
 few of us ever really think. To how many of us apply 
 the lines of the popular opera^ of thirty years ago: 
 
 I always voted at my party’s call, 
 
 And never thought of thinking for myself at all. 
 
 I thought so little they rewarded me 
 By making me the ruler of the Queen’s Navee. 
 
 To how many of us apply the lines of Kipling’s Tom- 
 linson : 
 
 ” This I have read in a book,” he said, “ and that was told to 
 me, 
 
 And this I have thought that another man thought of a Prince 
 in Muscovy.” 
 
 1 Gilbert and Sullivan ; H. M. S. Pinafore, 1878. 
 
practice; of composition. 
 
 25 
 
 At all events, Professor George Pierce Baker of Har- 
 vard, best known to us as the author of the text-book 
 on argumentation, once wrote an elaborate magazine 
 article upon the proposition that college students do 
 not think ; and here am I, a college instructor, illus- 
 trating, by my very frequency of quotation, the fact 
 that even teachers do not always trouble to do their 
 thinking for themselves. I would not, however, as 
 does Professor Baker, insist that among college men 
 thinking is unknown. If I did, I would not now 
 discuss the subject. I incline rather to the opinion 
 that the college man, at least during the opening week 
 of the freshman year, does occasionally think. If, 
 therefore, he were sufficiently encouraged, there might 
 be some hope for him. 
 
 To think for one’s self, however, at least after the 
 first few days of college life, is by no means easy. 
 Nowhere is public opinion so conservative ; nowhere 
 is the old tribal instinct, the insistence that the will of 
 the individual shall conform to the will of his fellows, 
 more absolute; nowhere are “customs” and “tra- 
 ditions ” more intolerant. Rare indeed is that phi- 
 losopher who, while yielding outwardly the assent that 
 he finds inevitable, is able to preserve within him an 
 independent mind. I am not surprised that Professor 
 Baker found few thinkers in his junior class. 
 
 But despite this difficulty, indeed the more because of 
 
26 
 
 theme-writing. 
 
 it, you and I are bound to maintain and to strengthen 
 our own individuality. Life may be too brief for us 
 to think out all of its problems for ourselves ; but we 
 may at least think out enough of them to avoid that 
 attitude of mind which accepts a statement merely 
 because the text-book or the instructor says so, or 
 because college tradition or student opinion sa} s so. 
 We may conform; indeed, it is only through the con- 
 formity of large bodies of men, that the work of life 
 is done. But we must distinguish between non-think- 
 ing conformity and conformity from conviction. What 
 has all this to do with literary material, with material 
 for themes? That writer will count for most in this 
 world, who embodies in his work his own self-wrought 
 convictions. 
 
 To the writing of such themes, I now desire you 
 to turn ; to themes that state what you think on some 
 subject, and why you think so; to themes that, to 
 distinguish them from “ themes of observation,” we 
 may call, for convenience, “ themes of comment ; ” 
 to themes in which the desired effect is intellectual. 
 
 To produce an intellectual effect, particulars must 
 be generalized ; facts must be interpreted. This is 
 the meaning of my statement in a previous section, 
 that for intellectual treatment we must rely largely 
 upon the abstract. In the exact sciences, for example, 
 the important principles are expressed in formula com- 
 
PRACTICE OP COMPOSITION. 
 
 27 
 
 posed of symbols : the most intellectual material in the 
 most abstract form. This is the significance of the 
 rule that I shall presently lay down, that, as a basis 
 and a test of unity, the central thought of an article 
 should be expressed as a proposition. To produce an 
 intellectual effect, the first requisite is — thought. 
 
 Abstract thought, however, is both dry and uncon- 
 vincing. We may understand it; but it often leaves 
 us sceptical. Take, for example, the theme I quote 
 below. It is well organized, and well expressed ; it 
 leaves no doubt as to its meaning. Yet are we con- 
 vinced that what it says is true? What is it that we 
 seek in it and do not find? 
 
 “ Love's Labour's Lost ” and “ A MiDSUMMee Night's 
 Dream. ” 
 
 The working days of the great dramatist, William Shak- 
 spere, may be divided into four parts, each part extending 
 over a period of several years. These four divisions, while 
 overlapping to some extent, are quite clearly separated from 
 each other by the kind and character of his work, and his 
 ever increasing ability as a dramatist. The first of these 
 divisions was a period of apprenticeship extending from 
 about the year 1586 to 1594. In this article I purpose to 
 show Shakspere’s growth as a dramatist during this period, 
 by drawing some corriparisons between two of his comedies : 
 one, Love’s Labour’s Lost, written at the beginning of the 
 period ; and the other, A Midsummer Night’s Dream, writ- 
 ten at the close of the period. Love’s Labour’s Lost is one 
 
28 
 
 theme-writing. 
 
 of Shakspere’s earliest plays, written at the opening of his 
 period of apprenticeship ; and during the following three or 
 four years he made such a marked growth in ability that it 
 is apparent even to the casual reader. A Midsummer Night’s 
 Dream is superior in every way, but principally in plot, in 
 characters, and in humor. 
 
 The plot of Love’s Labour’s Lost was original with Shak- 
 spere and was such a one as a youth would be most likely to 
 devise. It is simple in construction, and lacks that element 
 of struggle between contending forces that gives strength to 
 a plot. To be sure, there is some slight effort on the part 
 of the king and his courtiers to keep from breaking their 
 vow to avoid all intercourse with women for a period of three 
 years ; but it is not enough of a struggle to be dignified by 
 that name. A Midsummer Night’s Dream, on the other hand, 
 has a plot that is complicated in structure and that fully 
 exhibits the wonderful creative imagination of the author. 
 The different parts — the wedding of Theseus and Hippolyta, 
 Oberon and Titania’s quarrel, the flight of the two pairs of 
 lovers, and the rehearsal of the mechanics — are so beauti- 
 fully interwoven that they seem necessary to each other, and 
 together form a plot which goes far towards making this one 
 of Shakspere’s greatest dramas. 
 
 The characters of Love’s Labour’s Lost show more than 
 anything else the youth and inexperience of the author. They 
 consist of King and Queen, lords and ladies, and the time- 
 honored curate, schoolmaster, constable, and clown. But one 
 and all, regardless of station or title, they use the same 
 courtly language and show the same brilliancy in repartee. 
 Even Costard, the clown, and Moth, the page, show in their 
 conversation a shrewdness and learning rivaling that of the 
 
PRACTICE OE COMPOSITION. 
 
 29 
 
 king himself. In short these characters have little, except 
 name and sex, to distinguish one from another. In A Mid- 
 summer Night’s Dream, however, we have a variety of char- 
 acters, from the king to the humblest laborer, each truly 
 representing the station in life which is his. The king is 
 grand and stately ; the lovers are hasty and passionate ; the 
 mechanics are simple and unskillful and rude. And, in addi- 
 tion, we have those tiny creatures of the fairy world, depicted 
 for the first time in this play. They add greatly to the charm 
 and beauty of the play, and prove the broadening genius of 
 the author. 
 
 Both of these plays are rich in humor; but even in this 
 point A Midsummer Night’s Dream shows its superiority. 
 The humor of Love’s Labour’s Lost is almost too plentiful. 
 The play is a rapid fire of jokes from beginning to end. 
 There is, however, a sameness about the jokes which soon 
 becomes tiresome; and the reader wonders if there is ever to 
 be an end to this nonsensical play upon words, this blaze of 
 wit, this striving after logical precision in conversation. There 
 need be no fear of monotony, however, in the humor of A 
 Midsummer Night’s Dream. Here we have humor of almost 
 every variety. Puns, jokes, ludicrous tricks, and absurd situ- 
 ations, combine to furnish enjoyment of which the reader can 
 hardly grow weary within the limit of five short acts. 
 
 In plot, in characters, and in humor, A Midsummer Night’s 
 Dream excels Love’s Labour’s Lost. It is superior in other 
 ways ; but a comparison of these three characteristics is suffi- 
 cient to show that, in the few years which intervened between 
 the writing of the two plays, Shakspere made a wonderful 
 growth in ability as a dramatist. F. C. H. 
 
30 
 
 THIIME-WRITING. 
 
 Now this is an excellent piece of work; yet there is 
 one thing wanting. What is it that this essay lacks? 
 Concreteness. Not concreteness for its own sake, but 
 concreteness as a means to an end. Take this sen- 
 tence for example : 
 
 Puns, jokes, ludicrous tricks, and absurd situations combine 
 to furnish enjoyment of which the reader can hardly grow 
 weary within the limit of five short acts. 
 
 If you have read the play of late, your memory may 
 supply the illustrations ; but if not, how much does 
 this abstract statement mean to you? Does it convince 
 you? Indeed, are you quite sure you know just what 
 it means? For that matter, do you care? One con- 
 crete illustration would have been worth pages of 
 abstract assertion. Here for example, is another 
 treatment of this very play, mere random jottings, 
 but in one respect, both more clear and more con- 
 vincing; it supports its abstract statements with con- 
 crete illustrations : 
 
 Notes on “ A Midsummer Night's Dream.” 
 
 Delightful music, beautiful costumes, exquisite stage effects, 
 wholesome humor, and a throng of graceful chorus-girls and 
 children, characterize A Midsummer Night's Dream as pre- 
 sented by Mr. Goodwin at the new New Amsterdam Theatre. 
 Surely if Shakspere could. have seen his play thus supported 
 by the music of Mendelssohn and by the theatrical effects of 
 
practici; of composition-. 
 
 31 
 
 modern stage-craft, he would have said that for once an ade- 
 quate representation had been approximated. In one or two 
 respects, the play disappointed me. I had hoped that — as is 
 the case in Stephen Phillip’s Ulysses — the actor’s oral ren- 
 dering would lend an added beauty to the blank verse ; but 
 Theseus’ hounds are more melodious when I read the passage 
 in silence to myself ; the attempt to be dramatic spoiled its 
 poetry. Other passages, to my mind, were injured by being 
 sung rather than recited; the effect was pretty in itself, but 
 had they been recited to the accompaniment of soft music, 
 they would still have gained this daintiness without sacrificing 
 their poetic beauty. But in spite of these blemishes, the 
 presentation was, even as an embodiment of Shakspere’s 
 thought, a very acceptable interpretation. 
 
 The first thing that impressed me was the fact that the 
 setting is Hellenic, not Mediaeval. For the critical modern 
 audience, this is perhaps necessary. ^We know our Homer 
 and our Gayley’s Classic Myths, and we are somewhat familiar 
 with Greek art and architecture, customs and costumes. But 
 to Shakspere, as to Chaucer, Theseus “ Duke of Athens " was 
 a mediaeval lord; and the former made him hear an interlude 
 with as little compunction as the latter made him preside over 
 a tournament. Theseus the hero of Attica may, in Shak- 
 spere’s mind, have married the Queen of the Amazons; but 
 he was conceived of as closely related to the Frank Duke of 
 Athens that fought at Crecy. If however, we are content to 
 abandon the Shaksperean point of view, we must admit, I 
 think, that both costumes and scenery gain much from the 
 change, and that the Greek setting proves especially acceptable 
 as an excuse for festive processions and religious ceremonies. 
 
 The scenes in which Bottom and his comrades participate 
 
32 
 
 THEME-WRITING. 
 
 proved extremely laughable — and withal, wholesome. In the 
 presentation of the interlude the acting added much; the 
 Wall forgot to hold out his fingers at the proper time; 
 Pyramus bent his tin sword double, and had to straighten it 
 before he could stab himself; the Prologue then carried off 
 the sword, and when Thisbe needed it she had to go and get 
 it ; both proved very lively corpses ; and the finishing touch 
 was given by the Man-in-the-Moon’s little dog, who pulled 
 vigorously at the lion’s tail, and barked at the most tragic 
 moment. 
 
 But best of all were .the fairy scenes. In the darkened 
 woodland, each bush and flower and giant toadstool was aglow 
 with colored lights. Among these, swarmed the fairies : lithe, 
 gauzy-winged forms, queer little gnomes with piping, four- 
 year-old voices, strange fluttering creatures flying overhead. 
 When Puck started to 
 
 “ . . . . put a girdle round about the earth 
 In forty minutes,” 
 
 he sprung lightly into the air and, skimming high, disap- 
 peared among the branches. When Oberon and Titania had 
 made their peace, they departed in like manner, in a chariot 
 borne aloft by dragon-flies. And all this was to the witchery 
 of moonlight and of fairy music. 
 
 Then, when the Interlude before the Duke was over, when 
 the lovers had retired and the lights were out, then, through 
 the distant entrance among the Ionic pillars came a twinkling 
 as of fireflies. With it came a fairy song; and, as the tiny 
 people tripped and circled, the veined marble columns grew 
 rose and flame colored until, from base to capital, they were 
 all aglow; and, between them, the floor burned iridescent 
 beneath the fairy feet. 
 
PRACTICE OF COMPOSITION. 
 
 33 
 
 At length, still singing softly, they passed out. The rosy 
 color slowly died from floor and pillar. No light remained 
 except, beside the door, the twinkling fireflies in Oberon’s 
 crown. Then these, also, vanished, and the curtain fell. 
 
 The point that I wish you to observe is exemplified 
 especially in the second half of the second theme ; in 
 order to make clear and convincing the abstract topic- 
 sentences, they have been amplified by means of con- 
 crete material. The extent to which concrete mate- 
 rial is used is the principal difference between the 
 second theme and the first. 
 
 Concreteness, however, is not the only point of dif- 
 ference. The material is not only concrete but con- 
 notative ; and, as a result, the passage is not only more 
 clear but more interesting. It appeals not only to 
 the intellect but to the emotions. And this emotional 
 appeal, though not an end in itself in literature of 
 thought, is highly essential as a means, if our thought 
 is to be made effective. The occasions when liter- 
 ature of thought can dispense with all emotional 
 appeal, are rare. If we would be read, we should 
 combine emotional appeal with intellectual. In themes 
 of comment, therefore, just as in themes of observa- 
 tion, we should resort to connotation. 
 
 In the themes that follow, pick out the passages that 
 are, for you, connotative, suggestive : 
 
34 
 
 THEME- WRITING. 
 
 Befors the Library. 
 
 At silent midnight, when the faint far moon 
 Silvers thy sacred portals, thou dost seem 
 An apparition from the Past — a dream 
 Of Roman might and Attic beauty, soon 
 Like these to fade. But when the golden noon 
 Affirms thee real, steadfast, and supreme 
 Above my passing life, I then must deem 
 Myself a shadow, grateful for the boon 
 O Temple! of thy massive guardianship. 
 
 Yet thou art not immutable; slow Time 
 Shall sadden all thy beauty to decay 
 And shatter thy strong pillars : but the grip 
 Of wistful memory shall hold for aye 
 Deep in my soul thine image — still sublime ! 
 
 H. M. L. 
 
 An Exercise in Interpretative Criticism. 
 
 A recent study of the life and poetry of John Greenleaf 
 Whittier has made upon me a profound impression. This 
 feeling that has come over me is one of sudden personal 
 enrichment. I have discovered and now possess, as an object 
 of delightful contemplation, a man of such unselfish, benevo- 
 lent disposition, and one so near to the people, that he is to 
 me like some new found acquaintance, thoroughly satisfying 
 because of his inmost nature. In Whittier, I have before my 
 mind’s eye a man whom I am sure I should have liked to 
 meet, and who, I am convinced, would have received me as 
 an acquaintance and honored me with his confidence. He 
 comes to my mind as a great and good man, as a noble soul, 
 of whom the American people should be proud, and through 
 whom they have been enriched. 
 
practice; op composition. 
 
 35 
 
 I am charmed by his unselfish life lived for others : for the 
 negro, whom he believed to be terribly wronged by the insti- 
 tution of slavery ; for the woman-suffragists and other advo- 
 cates of women’s rights, whose cause Jre advocated ; for the 
 struggling writers he befriended ; for the common people 
 whose life he depicts ; for the Quakers in whose creed he 
 warmly believed. 
 
 I am charmed by his poems, which give me inspiration 
 and touch me as the writings of poets accounted greater do 
 not. The vision that I have of Maud Muller, the thrill that 
 I experience as I see in my mind’s eye the old gray head of 
 Barbara Freitchie, the picture of the little old schoolhousc and 
 of the girl who said “ I hate to go above you,” the feeling 
 that comes to me when I read “ Ichabod,” — all these I hope 
 never to lose. They make me love the Quaker poet. 
 
 I am charmed, too, by his real democracy and by the sim- 
 plicity that never left him when fame came. I love to see 
 him sit on a barrel and talk to the men in the village 
 store; and I rejoice in his reply to that society woman who 
 asked him to discuss with her the subjective and objective: 
 “■ Madam, I do not know anything about either.” 
 
 And finally, I am charmed by his religion — that quiet piety 
 that ever kept his eye turned toward the “ Inner Light ” and 
 caused him to write : 
 
 I know not where His islands lift 
 Their fronded palms in air : 
 
 I only know I cannot drift 
 Beyond His love and care. 
 
 W. S. H. 
 
36 
 
 THEME-WRITING. 
 
 “ Monsieur Beaucaire.” 
 
 The scene is laid in Bath in the eighteenth ceiitur}-. A 
 young Frenchman of birth and condition, masquerading as 
 Monsieur Beaucaire, a gambler by profession, quietly con- 
 fronts the Duke of Winterset with the indubitable evidence 
 of the latter’s rascally methods at cards ; and as the price of 
 his silence, he demands that Winterset stand sponsor for his 
 entree into the society of Bath, as the Due de Chateaurien. 
 
 This dramatic opening sets the pace of the entire story; 
 a story which fairly clutches us, so strong is its hold on our 
 interest. Not only is the setting romantic, but the action of 
 the whole narrative, carried on as it is in the conversation 
 of the main characters in the very words once used by the 
 wits and beaux of the period, takes us back to that stately 
 time. It was a time when men settled their differences with 
 the thrust of a rapier, as did Beaucaire ; a time when men 
 spent their endeavors in the winning of a rose, not in the 
 mad pursuit of fortune ; a time when women were content to 
 bestow the rose, and to be the stake in the game of love. 
 
 The characters are so human they seem to vibrate with life. 
 The craftiness and jealousy of the Duke of Winterset, con- 
 trasted with the gay yet tender bearing of Beaucaire ; the 
 dazzling beauty of Lady Mary Carlisle ; the amiability of 
 Mr. Molyneux; the devotion of the Frenchman’s servants — 
 all make a picture that does more than charm the intellect : 
 it delights the heart. 
 
 At the climax of the story, when the one-time Monsieur 
 Beaucaire is proclaimed to Lady Mary Carlisle, to the Duke 
 of Winterset, and to his “ six large men,” as His Highness, 
 Prince Louis Philippe de Valois, Duke of Orleans, Duke of 
 
PRACTICE OE COMPOSITION. 
 
 37 
 
 Chartres, etc., etc., and cousin to His Most Christian Majest5', 
 Louis the Fifteenth, King of France, our sympathy is almost 
 equally divided between the Beauty of Bath and Monsieur 
 Beaucaire. Almost, but not quite, however ; for while we 
 feel pity for the Lady Mary, too blind to discern the noble 
 heart that beat beneath the coat of the so-called barber, we 
 feel a deeper sympathy for the prince in his sad comprehen- 
 sion of the fact that to the beautiful lady he has worshipped, 
 “live men are jus’ — names.” C. L. H, 
 
 Phoebe. 
 
 At Phoebe’s eyes, I, raptured, gaze, 
 
 A humble bard. To sing her praise 
 These modest verses I indite. 
 
 Yet how can I do justice quite 
 With hackneyed rhyme or silly phrase? 
 
 Each sigh with my heart havoc plays, 
 
 And yet I’m smitten with delight 
 At Phoebe’s sighs. 
 
 But when her form my eye surveys, 
 
 I weep, — for lovely Phoebe weighs 
 
 Three hundred pounds ; no fairy sprite. 
 
 And I, alas, gaze in affright 
 At Phoebe’s size. 
 
 N. L. 
 
 The Two Races of Men. 
 
 Truly, as Charles Lamb has said, all men fall into two 
 classes: “the men who borrow, and the men who lend.” 
 College students may also be thus divided; and usually the 
 
38 
 
 THEME-WRITING. 
 
 things that the borrowers, the great race, take, are completed 
 note-books. The lenders are even as the dust under their 
 feet. To protest is useless. And from this reason — from 
 the fact that the borrowing of a note-book is so easy — arises 
 the supremacy of him who borrows. He is, from this cause, 
 a prominent man in his class. No worker may ever know the 
 fame of the leader of men. Only the borrower has time for 
 the numerous duties of the leader. He alone can attend every 
 dance and every jollification. While the poor worker spends 
 all his time in his room, studying, writing, completing the 
 fatal note-book that inevitably places him in the class of 
 lenders, the borrower is out seeing the latest show, attending 
 a ball or a dinner, or painting the town red. He can go out 
 every night and stay out all night if he wishes. He has no 
 cares. Why should he worry when in three hours he can 
 copy the note-book which the lender has taken a month to 
 complete? The latter may squirm and try to escape, but he 
 is helpless. The borrower never fails to obtain the note- 
 book that he needs. Then, a few hours’ work, and he is 
 all up to date and ready for another month of revelry. 
 
 What a joyous, carefree existence this is! Who would not 
 enter upon it rather than the miserable one of the leader ! 
 Ah, he who is about to choose should hesitate. The bor- 
 rower’s existence is glorious while it lasts, but he is exposed 
 to a scourge which passes the lender by unharmed. Twice 
 each year a human sacrifice is demanded by that new Mino- 
 taur, the Examination. He who is chosen is never seen again 
 by his fellows. His fate is shrouded in mystery. All that is 
 known is, that he has been, and now is not. This sacrifice 
 is always picked from the band of borrowers. The lender is 
 entirely free from fear. And the worst of it is, that there is 
 
PRACTICE OF COMPOSITION. 
 
 39 
 
 no hope of the arising of a second Theseus to free the path 
 of the borrower of its only obstacle. 
 
 D. C. N. 
 
 We are not worthy to be sons of thine, 
 
 Fair Alma Mater ; for we yield consent 
 To things ignoble, and our force is spent 
 On worthless triumphs. We bedeck thy shrine 
 In fading laurel, while the fire devine 
 Burns low upon an altar unbesprent 
 With wine of sacrifice ; and, self-content. 
 
 We suffer thy pure worship to decline. — 
 
 Lift our imworthiness toward greater love 
 Fervent yet without clamor. Help us keep 
 
 The sanctuary holy wherein dwells •, 
 
 Thy living spirit : and with hearts above 
 Things trivial, in thy beauty let us seek 
 
 That source of truth whence inspiration wells. 
 
 H. M. L. 
 
 For your next exercise, I suggest that you attempt 
 a theme of comment, “ what you think on some sub- 
 ject, and why you think so.” Think — for yourselves ; 
 and use your thought as material for your theme. 
 This material, however, is, in its last analysis, abstract. 
 Undiluted, it would make too strong a dose. To your 
 abstract material, then, add an abundance of concrete 
 illustration. This, if well chosen, should make your 
 theme clear and convincing. But not all concrete 
 
40 
 
 THEME-WRITING. 
 
 material is interesting ; and to make your thought 
 effective it ought to stimulate the attention ; in other 
 words, your theme should appeal not only to the intel- 
 lect but, in some way, to the emotions. The means 
 to this end, as we have seen, is connotation; emotions 
 are most stirred not by what our words state but bv 
 what they suggest. Thought ; concreteness ; conno- 
 tation : this is the formula for your theme of comment. 
 Pax vobiscum. 
 
CHAPTER II. 
 
 THE THEORY OF COMPOSITION. 
 
 I: PRELIMINARY DEFINITIONS. 
 
 OMPOSITION is the act, process, or art, of 
 A I combining elements to form a whole ; it is also 
 the whole resulting from this act. Specifi- 
 cally, as in the phrase “ English Composition,” it is 
 the act, process, or art, of combining words, sen- 
 tences, paragraphs, into larger literary units ; also, 
 the literary unit thus resulting. A theory of English 
 Composition, therefore, is a statement of the prin- 
 ciples governing the purposeful combination of these 
 elements. 
 
 In order to present to you with clearness the theory 
 of composition that is the subject of this chapter, I 
 purpose, in this opening section, to present and illus- 
 trate a few preliminary definitions. I desire, first, 
 to remind you that, with respect to material and to 
 effect, all literature falls roughly into two classes : 
 intellectual literature, or literature of thought; and 
 emotional literature, or literature of feeling. I desire. 
 
42 
 
 THEMfi-WRITING. 
 
 secondly, to recall to yon the distinction between deno- 
 tation and connotation, and the fact that the former 
 is the basis of intellectual effect, the latter, of emo- 
 ional effect. And lastly, I desire to define the prin- 
 cipal terms that I shall use in discussing the theory 
 of composition — Unity of Effect, Unity of Material, 
 Mass, or Emphasis, and Coherence — and to formu- 
 late the principle of Unity of Effect. 
 
 First, then, let us consider the two-fold classifi- 
 cation of literature with respect to material and to 
 effect, the classification of literature as either (i) 
 intellectual literature, literature of thought, or (2) 
 emotional literature, literature of feeling. The first 
 of these, intellectual literature, is literature that 
 appeals primarily to the understanding; the second, 
 emotional literature, is literature that appeals pri- 
 marily to the feelings. The one is addressed to the 
 head, the other to the heart. If a geometrical demon- 
 stration were accounted literature, it would be, in its 
 material and its intended effect, an excellent illus- 
 tration of the literature of thought. If a college yell 
 could be accounted literature, it would be, in material 
 and in effect, an equally good illustration of the liter- 
 ature of feeling. In literature, however, such pure 
 examples as these are far from frequent. True liter- 
 ature results, rather, from a union of the two ele- 
 ments. We are able, however, to distinguish liter- 
 
THEORY OE COMPOSITION. 
 
 43 
 
 atiire of thought, in which the material and the effect 
 are chiefly, though not wholly, intellectual, from liter- 
 ature of feeling, in which the material and the effect 
 are primarily emotional. Thus, in almost any of the 
 tales of Poe — for example, The Masqtie of the Red 
 Death — emotional element is supreme ; in most text 
 books, however, — books on English composition, for 
 example, if they be literature — the material and the 
 intended effect are primarily intellectual. Poetry, 
 however, affords, in both classes of literature, simpler 
 illustrations. We enjoy the opening lines of Cole- 
 ridge’s Kubla Khan chiefly for their appeal to our 
 emotions ; the thought they convey is unimportant : 
 
 In Xanadu did Kubla Khan 
 A stately pleasure-dome decree, 
 
 Where Alph the sacred river ran 
 Through caverns measureless to man 
 Down to a sunless sea. 
 
 Emotional also is the function of the lines from 
 Tennyson’s Princess: 
 
 Myriads of rivulets hurrying thro’ the lawn, 
 
 The moan of doves in immemorial elms. 
 
 And murmuring of innumerable bees. 
 
 And surely, even more absolutely emotional are the 
 verses of that delightful professor of mathematics, 
 “ Lewis Carroll ; ” 
 
44 
 
 THEME-WRITING. 
 
 ’Twas brillig, and the slithy toves 
 Did gyre and gimble in the wabe ; 
 
 All mimsy were the borogoves, 
 
 And the mome raths outgrabe. 
 
 On the other hand, the appeal of Pope’s Essay on 
 Criticism is primarily intellectual : 
 
 In words, as fashions, the same rule will hold ; 
 
 Alike fantastic, if too new, or old : 
 
 Be not the first by whom the new are tried, 
 
 Nor yet the last to lay the old aside. 
 
 Even in these examples, however, we notice that 
 neither the intellectual nor the emotional element 
 exists wholly apart from the other ; there is an 
 appeal to the feelings even in the highly intellectual 
 verse of Pope ; and there is an appeal to the thought 
 in the emotional passages quoted from Coleridge and 
 from Tennyson ; yes, and even, also, in the seeming 
 nonsense of Lewis Carroll’s Jabberwocky. Our dis- 
 tinction, therefore, is merely between literature that is 
 primarily intellectual and literature that is primarily 
 emotional. 
 
 This distinction between intellectual literature and 
 emotional literature, brings us directly to the second 
 distinction that we planned to make, that between 
 denotation and connotation; for it is through deno- 
 
THEORY OF COMPOSITION. 
 
 45 
 
 tation and connotation that we produce our intel- 
 lectual and our emotional effects. 
 
 These two terms, denotation and connotation, I 
 have defined already in my opening chapter ; but 
 as the distinction is somewhat technical, it will bear 
 repeating. Of a word, a sentence, a paragraph, or 
 an entire article, the denotation is its literal meaning 
 evident to all men ; its connotation is what it sug- 
 gests, a suggestiveness that varies in degree and 
 content with the reader. For example, the number 
 twenty-three denotes the sum of two tens plus three 
 units; a denotation understood by all. Of late, how- 
 ever, for reasons not evident to philologists, the 
 word twenty-three has acquired, in the minds of 
 some, a connotation — a connotation such that, when 
 I arranged last year a course in English for deficient 
 freshmen, the appropriate designation for the course 
 was “ English 23.” 
 
 Since these terms, denotation and connotation, are 
 so important, let us give them still fuller illustration. 
 I shall have to tell you a little story by the way; but 
 I am sure you will willingly pardon the digression. 
 At a certain “ down-east ” college there is a profes- 
 sor of mathematics known to the undergraduates as 
 “ Buck.” He has the reputation of conditioning more 
 freshmen than any other man in college. He has the 
 reputation, also, of having been a mighty athlete, in 
 
46 
 
 THEME-WRITING. 
 
 his time, a “ varsity ” oarsman, in fact, in the days 
 when that little “ down-east ” college used to win 
 against Cornell. He still has the reputation of being 
 passionately fond of outdoor sports — canoeing, hunt- 
 ing, fishing — and of maintaining a lively interest in 
 undergraduate athletics. Between fear and admira- 
 tion, the freshmen are prepared to believe almost any- 
 thing concerning “ Buck.” To them the nick-name 
 denotes a certain professor in mathematics ; and at 
 the same time it connotes all sorts of awesome things. 
 
 Soon after the opening of the college term, the 
 freshmen begin to hear the upper-class men inquiring 
 casually whether “ Buck’s ” celebrated trotter “ Tri- 
 angle ” has been entered for the races at the county 
 fair. Soon the posters are out; and, sure enough, 
 on some of them, among the other entries, appears 
 in inconspicuous type the name of “ Triangle,” to be 
 driven by the professor of mathematics. A rumor 
 gets about the campus that, on the afternoon of “ Tri- 
 angle’s ” appearance, the students are to be granted 
 a half-holiday; and that, through the kindness of the 
 professor, students who apply at the library will 
 receive admission tickets free of charge. Presently 
 the professors all announce suspension of lectures on 
 the eventful afternoon. The rumor seems confirmed. 
 The half-holiday proves sufficiently genuine; but as 
 for the free tickets, they, like “ Triangle ” himself, 
 
THEORY OR COMPOSITION. 
 
 47 
 
 are never seen. When the proverbially unwary fresh- 
 man applies at the library for his tickets, the assistant 
 at the loan-desk refers him to the treasurer’s office ; 
 the treasurer refers him to the director of the gym- 
 nasium; and so on, until at last the freshman begins 
 to understand that Buck’s ticket office is a myth. 
 For him the name “ Buck ” has acquired a further 
 connotation. 
 
 One afternoon in the winter of 1895-6, a college 
 class descended upon the metropolis for its Junior 
 Banquet; and as the students marched up to their 
 hotel, what should greet their sight, above the window 
 of a rail-road ticket broker, but the sign: “ BUCK’S 
 ticket office.” Can you imagine what those 
 words connoted to that college class ? Can you imagine 
 the emotional effect produced ? Can you imagine what 
 happened to that sign-board when that class v/ent home 
 that night? If so, you will begin to understand what 
 rhetoricians mean by the connotative power of words. 
 
 In the spring of 1896, the Honorable Thomas B. 
 Reed, speaker of the House of Representatives, was 
 candidate for the Republican nomination for president. 
 Naturally, the Boston papers “ featured ” him in their 
 Sunday editions; and to this end, one of them dis- 
 patched to the little “ down-east ” college, a photo- 
 grapher to obtain pictures of Reed’s college room. 
 Next Sunday, from the front page of the pictorial 
 
48 
 
 THEME-WRITING. 
 
 section, stared out the sign: “BUCK’S TICKET 
 OFFICE.” On the first train Monday morning, 
 came its owner and a deputy sheriff. But “ Buck’s 
 Ticket Office ” again proved to be a myth. Since 
 that spring day, however, the words “ Buck’s Ticket 
 Office ” have had for some of us, still further con- 
 notation. They suggest to us not merely the outworn 
 joke upon the freshmen, but also the discomfiture of 
 the railway ticket broker. They possess, therefore, 
 a double connotation. 
 
 Now it is this connotative power of words, this 
 suggestiveness that clusters around a phrase, that 
 makes possible what we have termed the literature 
 of feeling. State, if you can, in matter-of-fact prose, 
 the substance of the lines of Coleridge’s Kubla Khan. 
 Does such a paraphrase possess the emotional power 
 of the original? Does it not differ from the original 
 in more than rhyme and meter? Or again, what is 
 it that makes so appealing the lines from Tennyson : 
 
 Myriads of rivulets hurrying through the lawn, 
 
 The moan of doves in immemorial elms, 
 
 And murmuring of innumerable bees. 
 
 In what does that subtle suggestiveness consist? 
 Partly in the adaptation of sound to sense : the liquid 
 I’s ; the moaning of the vowels ; the murmuring of the 
 m’s and n’s. Partly also in the sense itself : the mem- 
 
THEORY OE COMPOSITION. 
 
 49 
 
 ories and the imaginings that the lines arouse. Both 
 form and substance suggest more than they directly 
 name ; they connote more than they denote ; they make 
 us feel more than we understand. Again, the Jabber- 
 n'ocky illustrates merely the same thing carried to 
 extreme. The words “ brillig,” “ slithy,” “ boro- 
 goves,” “ outgrabe,” and all the rest, have so little 
 denotation that they convey no thought at all; their 
 intellectual appeal is almost nil; but if, reading aloud 
 these nonsense verses, you can remain unconscious of 
 an emotional appeal, it must be because your powers 
 of emotional response are, in this line, undeveloped. 
 For most readers, young or old, the connotative, the 
 suggestive, power of these lines is great. Pope on 
 the other hand, aiming at intellectual effect, relies 
 chiefly upon denotation, specific statement : 
 
 In words, as fashions, the same rule will hold ; 
 
 Alike fantastic, if too new, or old : 
 
 Be not the first by whom the new are tried, 
 
 Nor yet the last to lay the old aside. 
 
 This passage is nothing if not clear; but it appeals 
 so little to our feelings that some people wonder 
 whether it be poetry at all. Would not a paraphrase 
 express its entire content ? Assuredly : for its method 
 is denotative, not connotative; it concerns itself only 
 with the literal meaning. In short, then, if your 
 
50 
 
 THEME-WRITING. 
 
 desired effect be intellectual, look sharply to the 
 denotation of your words, your sentences, your para- 
 graphs, your wholes; if your desired effect be emo- 
 tional, look sharply also to their connotation. 
 
 I trust that, by this time, I have made clear two 
 points; (i) That literature may be divided broadly 
 into two classes, the intellectual and the emotional ; 
 (2) That intellectual effect in literature is produced 
 through denotation, and emotional effect through con- 
 notation. I pass then to the third topic of this intro- 
 ductory section : a definition of the terms Unity of 
 Effect, Unity of Material, Mass, or Emphasis, and 
 Coherence, and a formulation of the principle of 
 Unity of Effect. 
 
 The purpose of any act of composition, whether 
 that composition be musical, pictorial, or literary, is 
 to reproduce in a receiving mind, a something already 
 existing in a conceiving mind. In the latter, this 
 “ something ” is the composer’s material ; in the for- 
 mer, it is an effect produced. A musician, a painter, 
 or an author, having in his mind certain thoughts and 
 feelings that constitute his mental image of, (let us 
 say), a beautiful spring morning, endeavors so to 
 compose this material that the effect produced upon 
 those who hear his music or see his picture or read 
 his description, shall be, so far as possible, the same 
 as the image that was in his own mind; in other 
 
THEORY OE COMrOSITION. 51 
 
 words, he strives to make his material and his effect 
 identical. 
 
 If this be the purpose of the act of composition, 
 we shall not be far astray in defining the theory of 
 English Composition as a statement of the method 
 by which we may produce from given literary material 
 its appropriate intellectual and emotional effect. We, 
 as writers, have certain thoughts and feelings that 
 we desire to convey to our readers. By what method 
 can we bring about this thought-transference? How 
 shall we so compose our material as to produce not 
 some other impression but the precise effect intended? 
 To answer, if possible, this question, to explain, in 
 an elementary way, the theory of English Composi- 
 tion, is the purpose of this chapter. 
 
 This theory of English Composition I must base 
 upon the statement of the purpose of composition 
 assumed above. If a writer has no purpose to pro- 
 duce some particular effect, it is of course immaterial 
 by what method he proceeds, or, indeed, whether ho 
 proceeds at all. If, however, he has this purpose, if 
 he has some definite material to express, some definite 
 effect in mind to be produced, then, in that very fact, 
 he has the basis of a working rule, of a fundamental 
 principle, indeed: the principle of Unity of Effect. 
 
 Unity of Effect, whether you think of it as a prin- 
 ciple of composition or as a quality of composition. 
 
52 
 
 THEME-WRITING. 
 
 includes three principles or qualities which you have 
 doubtless known under the names Unity, Mass (or 
 Emphasis), and Coherence. Unity, as you have used 
 the term before, has meant to you either the quality 
 of oneness or the principle by which that quality is 
 obtained. Mass, or Emphasis, has meant to you 
 either the principle that the important elements be 
 most conspicuous, or the quality or condition result- 
 ing from the observance of this principle. Coherence 
 has meant to you either the principle that the inter- 
 relation of parts be unmistakable, or the quality or 
 condition of their being thus related. You have been 
 accustomed, therefore, to say of a composition either 
 that it possessed unity, or that it conformed to the 
 principle of unity ; either that it possessed mass, or 
 emphasis, or that it conformed to the principle of 
 mass, or emphasis ; either that it possessed coherence 
 or that it conformed to the principle of the same 
 name. In short, each of these terms has had for you 
 a twofold meaning. 
 
 The term “ Unity,” however, contains a far more 
 serious ambiguity. Take, for instance, the definition 
 of Professor Barrett Wendell : “ The principle of 
 unity concerns the substance of a composition; every 
 composition should group itself about one central 
 idea.” The second half of this definition is in scope 
 by no means identical with the first. For a com- 
 
THEORY OR COMPOSITION. 
 
 53 
 
 position to group itself about one central idea, the 
 composition must not only possess unity of substance, 
 but it must also be well massed and coherent. Mass 
 and coherence, however, are matters not of substance 
 but of form, and therefore fall outside the first part 
 of the definition, that the principle of unity concerns 
 the substance. In short the term “ unity ” has been 
 used by Professor Wendell and by all of us in a double 
 sense : in a broad sense, it has meant singleness of 
 effect; in a narrow sense, it has meant oneness of 
 material. Unity in the sense of singleness of effect, 
 has included unity, mass, and coherence, three terms 
 co-ordinate only when “ unity ” is used in its restricted 
 sense. 
 
 To avoid this ambiguous use of the one term 
 “ Unity ” I purpose to introduce two terms : “ Unity 
 of Effect ” and “ Unity of Material.” “ Unity of 
 Effect ” I shall use as a term inclusive of the three 
 principles or qualities previously named : “ Unity of 
 Material,” “ Mass,” or “ Emphasis,” and “ Coher- 
 ence.” In other words I hold that unity in the broad 
 sense of singleness of effect is a quality depending as 
 much on form as on substance; and that, therefore, 
 it includes the qualities of Mass and Coherence as 
 well as the quality of Unity of Material. The material 
 as it exists in the writer’s mind, may have perfect 
 unity both of thought and feeling; and yet, unless the 
 
54 
 
 theme-writing. 
 
 writer expresses this material with the greatest care, 
 his reader may receive anything but that singleness 
 of impression, the precise effect intended. For exam- 
 ple, he may so misarrange the elements essential to 
 the desired effect that they will seem totally unrelated ; 
 or, though they be in logical order, he may so neglect 
 to call attention to their relation, that a casual reader 
 will fail to notice it. In other words, the writer may 
 fail to produce singleness of effect, not through any 
 lack of unity of material but through lack of what 
 might be called one of the two elements of Unity of 
 Expression, namely. Coherence. Or again, he may 
 devote so much space to some minor point in his 
 material, that the reader may overlook the point really 
 essential; or he may, by placing this minor point in a 
 conspicuous position, as first or last, create an impres- 
 sion equally misleading : and here again the writer will 
 fail to produce Unity, singleness of effect, not through 
 lack of Unity of Material but through . lack of the 
 other of the two elements of Unity of Expression, 
 namely, Emphasis. 
 
 Let me re-express this three-fold nature of Unity 
 of Effect — Unity of Material, Emphasis, -Coherence 
 — by means of an analogy. Let us suppose that a 
 jeweler has been taking a watch to pieces; that he 
 has, spread out before him, all the elements of its 
 complicated mechanism, all of them but no more. 
 
THEORY OE COMPOSITION'. 55 
 
 Thus taken apart, the watch still possesses unity of 
 material; but in the mind of a bystander this litter 
 of springs and wheels produces no singleness of effect. 
 What is lacking? Coherence, for one thing. The 
 parts must be properly arranged and screwed together. 
 Emphasis for another. The hands and dial must be 
 so placed that they will readily catch the eye. When 
 these changes have been made, when the v^jatch pos- 
 sesses not only unity of material but unity of expres- 
 sion, i.e., mass and coherence, then only will the 
 bystander realize its unity; then only will he receive 
 a “ singleness of impression, the precise effect intend- 
 ed.” So it is in literary composition : Unity, in the 
 broad sense of singleness of effect, includes (i) Unity 
 of Material; (2) Mass, or Emphasis; and (3) Coher- 
 ence. 
 
 The content of this section I may now summarize 
 as follows : ( i) All literature may be classified accord- 
 ing to its material and its intended effect, as intellectual 
 or emotional. (2) If the intended effect be intellectual, 
 its method should be denotative; if the intended effect 
 be emotional, its method should be connotative. (3) 
 Unity of Effect includes Unity of Material, Mass, or 
 Emphasis, and Coherence. Now if we compare the 
 last of these propositions with the first and the second, 
 we see: (i) That Unity of Material appears to be 
 
 divisible into Intellectual Unity and Emotional Unity; 
 
56 
 
 THEME-WRITING. 
 
 Mass or Emphasis, into Intellectual Mass or Emphasis, 
 and Emotional Mass or Emphasis ; and Coherence into 
 Intellectual Coherence and Emotional Coherence. (2) 
 That if we regard these principles or qualities from 
 the point of view not of the effect but of the method 
 of obtaining the effect, we may substitute, for the 
 foregoing terms, the names : Denotative Unity, Mass, 
 and Coherence, and Connotative Unity, Mass, and 
 Coherence. Finally, since Unity of Material is a 
 matter of limitation and Mass and Coherence are mat- 
 ters of expression, we may sum up the Principle of 
 Unity of Effect as follows : 
 
 The material must he so limited in the conceiving 
 mind and so expressed to the receiving mmd, as to 
 produce in the latter a singleness of impression, the 
 precise effect intended. 
 
§ II: UNITY OF MATERIAL. 
 
 NITY in the sense of singleness of effect, 
 depends, first of all, upon Unity of Material. 
 Since material is of two kinds, intellectual and 
 emotional, it will be convenient, as noted a little while 
 ago, to consider Unity of Material under two cor- 
 responding heads: (i) Intellectual Unity, or Unity 
 of Thought; and (2) Emotional Unity, or Unity of 
 Feeling. Since both the intellectual and the emotional 
 element are present in every piece of literature, that 
 piece of literature ought, of course, to possess both 
 intellectual unity and emotional unity. For the pur- 
 pose of this discussion, however, it will be clearer to 
 consider each separately: to examine intellectual unity 
 as the guiding principle in literature of thought, and 
 emotional unity as the guiding principle in literature 
 of feeling. 
 
 First, then, let us examine Intellectual Unity as 
 the guiding principle in literature of thought; let us 
 rephrase the general principle of unity so that it .shall 
 state merely the principle of intellectual unity. The 
 general principle we have previously stated thus : The 
 material must be so limited in the conceiving mind, 
 
THEME-WRITING. 
 
 S8 
 
 and so expressed in the receiving mind, as to produce 
 in the latter a singleness of impression, the precise 
 eflfect intended. For our present purpose, however, 
 we are concerned only with the first division of this 
 principle, the limitation of the material; and, more- 
 over, with only so much of the material as is intel- 
 lectual. Provisionally, therefore, we may restate the 
 principle as follows : The material must be so limited 
 in the conceiving mind as to produce in the receiving 
 mind a singleness of logical impression, the precise 
 intellectual effect intended. If we accept this pro- 
 visionally as a statement of the principle of intellectual 
 unity, our next concern is to discover what we mean 
 by “ singleness of logical impression, the precise intel- 
 lectual effect intended.” If we stop to consider this 
 matter we discover that this “ logical impression,” this 
 “ intellectual effect,” this something which is to be 
 transferred from author to reader, is, when reduced 
 to lowest terms, what we might call the author’s 
 “ central thought ; ” that if the reader gets this cen- 
 tral thought — the thought, the whole thought, and 
 nothing but the thought — then, as regards the intel- 
 lectual as distinguished from the emotional effect, the 
 author has achieved his purpose. Our provisional 
 statement of the principle of intellectual unity, we 
 may now restate as follows : 
 
 The Principle of Intellectual Unity concerns the 
 
THEORY OR COMPOSITION. 
 
 59 
 
 intellectual limitation of the material. The material 
 must be so limited intellectually as to present, ivithoiit 
 extraneous matter, yet complete, the author’s central 
 thought. 
 
 But what is the nature of this “ central thought ” ? 
 How are we to make use of it in limiting our material ? 
 The answer to these questions, the actual working test 
 for unity, is perhaps the most important single point 
 in the entire theory of composition. The point is 
 this : the central thought of the material as it exists 
 in the conceiving mind, consists inevitably of two 
 parts; (i) that of which the author intends to assert 
 something — his logical subject; and (2) that which 
 he intends to assert concerning it — his logical predi- 
 cate. Thus, in Burke’s Speech on Conciliation, his 
 subject — that of which he is thinking — is “the best 
 method of dealing with America ; ” his predicate — 
 what he thinks about it — is that it “is conciliation.” 
 All his speech is to deal with this central thought; 
 not “ the best method ” alone, nor “ conciliation ” alone, 
 but the sum of these two terms, a subject plus a 
 predicate. Moreover, the moment that he expresses 
 this central thought in words, our analogy of “ sub- 
 ject” and “predicate” becomes a reality. A thought 
 requires for its expression a complete sentence, sub- 
 ject plus predicate; the author’s logical subject is 
 expressed as a grammatical subject, his logical predi- 
 
6o 
 
 THEME-WRITING. 
 
 cate is expressed as a grammatical predicate. The 
 result is an expression of the central thought in the 
 form of a complete declarative sentence, which we 
 call the Proposition. If the central thought be thus 
 once expressed, the remainder of the task is easy : 
 the writer has but to include or to reject material 
 according to whether or not it contributes to the 
 amplification of this basal sentence. In short, the test 
 for unity of thought is the Proposition. 
 
 If the writer really has a definite thought to express, 
 he will have no difficulty, after a little practice, in 
 applying this test. The length of the article is imma- 
 terial : editorial paragraph or two volume novel — if 
 it conveys to the reader a definite unified thought- 
 impression it will be found reducible to a single 
 sentence. The kind of composition, also, is imma- 
 terial : argument, exposition, narration, description, — • 
 to whatever extent the intellectual element, as distin- 
 guished from the emotional, be present, this intel- 
 lectual material, so far as it goes, has its central 
 thought and may be summed up in a proposition. 
 
 To illustrate this statement that, in any piece of 
 literature, regardless of length or kind, if the piece 
 produces a definite, unified, intellectual effect, the 
 intellectual element in its material is reducible to a 
 proposition, let us examine a few familiar books taken 
 at random from the reading required for entrance to 
 
THEORY OE COMPOSITION. 6l 
 
 college. In argumentative writing, the main thought 
 stands out clearly : Burke says in so many words : 
 
 The best method of dealing with America is conciliation. 
 
 In exposition, too, the proposition, although perhaps 
 not so formally expressed, is entirely apparent : Mac- 
 aulay’s Bssay on Milton shows that 
 
 Milton was great as a poet and as a man. 
 
 In narrative, the proposition is usually not expressed; 
 but nevertheless it is there ; Scott relates that 
 
 Ivanhoe, having undergone many dangers — the tourna- 
 ment, the captivity, and the trial by combat — obtained his 
 father’s forgiveness and the hand of Lady Rowena. 
 
 And George Eliot tells how 
 
 Silas Marner, having lost faith in God and man, regained 
 it through his love for a little child. 
 
 The same rule applies to narrative in dramatic form. 
 The plot of Macbeth reduces to 
 
 Lord and Lady Macbeth, having attained the crown by 
 crime, suffered just punishment. 
 
 Even the complex plot of the Merchant of Venice 
 may be readily unraveled, and each of its three inter- 
 woven .stories summed up in a proposition : 
 
62 
 
 THEME-WRITING. 
 
 Bond Story: Antonio, who, because of his bond to Shy- 
 
 lock and the reported loss of his ships, believed himself about 
 to die by the hand of the Jew, was, by the wit of Portia, 
 saved from death and restored to fortune. 
 
 Casket Story: Bassanio, by choosing the right casket, won 
 
 the hand of Portia. 
 
 Ring Story: Bassanio, accused by Portia of giving her 
 
 ring to some woman, found that the judge to whom he had 
 given it was Portia in disguise. 
 
 Finally, even description — for even the most emo- 
 tional type of literature has its intellectual element — 
 reveals, though deeper beneath the surface, an under- 
 lying proposition, a test without which the writer 
 must often have included material fatal to unity of 
 effect. Long pieces of pure description are rare in 
 literature, but, in the list we are studying, there are 
 two descriptions excellent for our purpose, U Allegro 
 and II Penseroso. For both of these poems the mate- 
 rials were selected by Milton from the sam.e field, yet 
 neither contains so much as a suggestion that violates 
 its unity: 
 
 The cheerful man finds joy in a day of happy emotion; yet, 
 in study and thought, the pensive man finds equal joy. 
 
 These illustrations show that, if the author’s material 
 really possesses unity of thought, its central thought 
 may be expressed as a proposition. Conversely, if all 
 
THEORY OR COMPOSITION. 
 
 63 
 
 the material can be summed up in a proposition that 
 expresses the central thought, we may rest assured 
 that the material possesses logical unity — unity of 
 thought. 
 
 If, however, the writer starts out without a propo- 
 sition, if he tests his material only by a subject, not 
 by a subject plus a predicate, he is not likely to pro- 
 duce any one clear impression upon his reader ; that 
 is, his composition will lack unity of thought, single- 
 ness of intellectual effect. A subject, a mere term, 
 is but a point in space : through it, innumerable 
 straight lines may be drawn; but how many of them 
 will have the same direction? Why, then, because 
 two thoughts start from the same subject, should we 
 assume that their courses are identical, their destina- 
 tions cornmon ? Take for example the topic, “ Com- 
 pulsory Attendance at Chapel.” This typical theme- 
 subject suggests numerous lines of thought: that com- 
 pulsory attendance (i) promotes college spirit, (2) 
 fosters irreverence, (3) gives the public a favorable 
 impression of the college, (4) has long been abolished 
 at certain institutions, (5) should not be required of 
 Hebrews and Roman Catholics, (6) provides an oppor- 
 tunity for daily worship and religious meditation, (7) 
 increases a student’s acquaintance with his class-mates, 
 (8) developes the esthetic nature through the influence 
 of music and beautiful surroundings, (9) gives oppor- 
 
64 
 
 theme-writing. 
 
 tunity daily for the student mass-meeting on the steps, 
 and weekly for singing the College Hymn, (lo) con- 
 duces to regularity, (ii) is frequently a great hard- 
 ship to commuters, and (12) is a bore. All these 
 thoughts bear directly upon the subject “ Compulsory 
 Attendance at Chapel ; ” yet, if all were included in 
 an article, what singleness of effect could be pro- 
 duced? No matter what the purpose of the writer, 
 one or another of these various thoughts would lead 
 astray his reader. Yet which of them violated the 
 unity of effect could never be learned merely by refer- 
 ence to the subject. To resume our figure, the lines 
 of thought must pass not only through one point, the 
 subject, but also through a second point, the predicate ; 
 the test of unity of thought is a proposition, not a 
 term. 
 
 The moral of all this discussion of Unity of Thought 
 is this : when you are gathering your thought.s together 
 to write a theme, be sure not only that you have some- 
 thing to write about — a subject — but also that you 
 have something to write about it — a predicate. Ex- 
 press this “ subject plus predicate ” as a declarative 
 sentence. Use this proposition as a test for your mate- 
 rial : select whatever amplifies this proposition; reject 
 everything unnecessary to its amplification. Above all 
 things, remember that your central thought is this 
 proposition, not a mere term. Such a topic in sen- 
 
THEORY OR COMPOSITION. 
 
 65 
 
 tence form need not be used as a title ; indeed, except 
 in argumentative writing and occasionally in exposi- 
 tion, it need not be embodied in the theme' at all. 
 But in the writer’s mind at least, the topic must be 
 a sentence not a subject; otherwise the parts of the 
 article will be like the spokes of a wheel, joined at the 
 hub indeed, but no two extending in the same direc- 
 tion. An article written upon a subject is a handful 
 of powder burning ineffectively upon the pavement; 
 an article written upon a subject plus a predicate is 
 that same handful of powder forced, by the cartridge 
 and the rifle-barrel, to expend its energy in a single 
 direction. Be sure that your theme has definite aim. 
 To attain this end, express your central thought as a 
 proposition. 
 
 From this discussion of Intellectual Unity and of 
 attaining it through limiting the material intellectually 
 by means of a proposition, let us turn now to the 
 second division of Unity of Material, namely Emo- 
 tional Unity. To this end, let us first recall our gen- 
 eral statement of the principle of unity of effect, and 
 then rephrase it to apply merely to that part of the 
 principle near at hand. The general principle of unity 
 of effect is this : The material must be so limited in 
 the conceiving mind and so expressed to the receiving 
 mind as to produce in the latter a singleness of impres- 
 sion, the precise effect intended. Again we are con- 
 
66 
 
 ThEMI:- WRITING. 
 
 cerned only with the limitation of the material, but 
 this time with its emotional limitation. We may there- 
 fore phrase it thus: The Principle of Emotional Unity 
 concerns the emotional limitation of the material. 
 The material must be so limited in the conceiving 
 mind as to produce in the receiving mind a singleness 
 of emotional impression, the precise emotional effect 
 intended. The material must be so limited emotion- 
 ally as to present, without extraneous matter, yet com- 
 plete, the author’s central feeling. 
 
 This central feeling or dominant mood in emotional 
 material consists, like the central thought in intellectual 
 material, of two parts ( i ) that concerning which some- 
 thing is felt — a subject; and (2) that which is felt 
 concerning it — a predicate. Theoretically, therefore, 
 the central feeling is reducible to a propo.sition ; and 
 in handling material in which the emotional element 
 dominates, such a statement of the mood will aid not 
 a little in obtaining the emotional unity desired. In 
 composing a short-story, for example, our intellectual 
 proposition may so summarize the plot that from it 
 any one of our acquaintances could amplify that cen- 
 tral thought into an entertaining story ; but unless they 
 all agreed to use not only the same intellectual propo- 
 sition but also the same emotional proposition, then 
 the moods, the central feelings, of their several ver- 
 sions of the story might be utterly unlike. Whenever, 
 
THEORY OR COMPOSITION. 
 
 67 
 
 therefore, the emotional element in our material is 
 large, especially in those narratives and descriptions 
 in which emotional effect is even more important than 
 intellectual effect, it is profitable to test the unity of 
 feeling by expressing the dominant mood as a propo- 
 sition. 
 
 We should recognize, however, that this expression 
 can be only approximate. We may express the cen- 
 tral feeling of some grewsome tale of Poe’s by such 
 a proposition as, “ These circumstances (naming them) 
 were uniquely horrible.” But we realize instantly that 
 such a proposition does not express the central feeling 
 of a story with the same completeness that an intel- 
 lectual proposition expresses a central thought. Such 
 an intellectual proposition as “ The best method of 
 dealing with America is conciliation,” will of itself 
 produce in the mind of the reader the effect intended. 
 The reader thinks, so far as he goes, the precise 
 thought of the author. But such an emotional propo- 
 sition as “ These circumstances were uniquely horri- 
 ble,” does not of itself produce the effect of horror ; 
 nor would a proposition that summed up the plot 
 itself, produce this emotional effect. No matter how 
 definite we make the emotional proposition, we cannot 
 hope to produce in the reader the feelings that it 
 names. The emotional effect of any piece of liter- 
 ature depends on details rather than on generaliza- 
 
68 
 
 theme;- WRITING. 
 
 tions, and on what is suggested, connoted, rather than 
 on what is specifically said. To express these sugges- 
 tions in words, and these details in formal summaries, 
 is to throw aside, therefore, their real source of emo- 
 tional power. It is an attempt to express feelings in 
 terms of thought, an attempt that cannot be wholly 
 a success. 
 
 Somehow, however, by means of an emotional propo- 
 sition or without one, we must give our themes unity 
 of feeling, of mood, of spirit. We must recognize 
 the emotional effect at which we aim, define it for 
 ourselves as best we can, and then add material or 
 reject it as may be necessary to the realization of 
 our purpose. This does not mean that, to produce 
 our emotional effect, we may not use a combination 
 of diverse methods ; it does not, for example, forbid 
 Shakspere to heighten the tragic effect of his play of 
 Hamlet by introducing the comic scene of the Grave- 
 Diggers. It means merely that we should recognize 
 definitely the effect to be produced, and so select our 
 material as to gain this particular emotional effect. 
 
 Before passing from this first section. Unity of 
 Material, to my second section. Mass, or Emphasis, let 
 me sum up the discussion to this point. The Prin- 
 ciple of Intellectual Unity, I have said, concerns the 
 intellectual limitation of the material. The material 
 must be so limited intellectually as to present, with- 
 
THEORY OF COMPOSITION. 
 
 69 
 
 out extraneous matter, yet complete, the author’s cen- 
 tral thought. Similarly, the Principle of Emotional 
 Unity concerns the emotional limitation of the mate- 
 rial. The material must be so limited emotionally as 
 to present, without extraneous matter, yet complete, 
 the author’s central feeling. These two principles, 
 however, are but different aspects of a single prin- 
 ciple, the Principle of Unity of Material. Let us 
 combine them, therefore, in a single statement. Per- 
 haps the following will serve our purpose. If so, it 
 will provide us with both summary and conclusion. 
 
 The Principle of Unity of Material concerns the 
 intellectual and the emotional limitation of the mate- 
 rial. The material must be so limited as to present, 
 •mthout extraneous matter, yet complete, the author’s 
 central thought and central feeling. This is the first 
 essential to singleness of effect. 
 
§ III: MASS, OR EMPHASIS. 
 
 Unity ill the sense of singleness of effect, 
 JIJ the first essential, as I have pointed out in 
 I Section II, is EMity of Material. The second 
 essential, as I now purpose to explain, is Mass, or 
 Emphasis. As a quality. Mass may be defined as 
 “ prominence of the important parts.” This promi- 
 nence is produced, broadly speaking, in two ways : 
 (i) By placing the important parts in conspicuous 
 positions; (2) By expanding the important parts to 
 greater length. The first is a matter of arrangement ; 
 the second of proportion. The principle of Mass, or 
 Emphasis, may therefore be expressed as follows: 
 
 The Principle of Mass, or Emphasis, concerns the 
 expression of the material with respect to the rela- 
 tive prominence of its parts: the material must be so 
 arranged and so proportioned as to present the sev- 
 eral elements of the thought and feeling in their true 
 relative importance. 
 
 This principle we will now apply, first to the pro- 
 duction of intellectual effect, then to the production 
 of emotional effect. 
 
 Intellectual Mass, Intellectual Emphasis, is divisible 
 
THEORY OR COMPOSITION. 71 
 
 into two heads; (i) The arrangement of the parts; 
 (2) The proportioning of the parts. Each of these 
 heads, moreover, is further divisible into two: (i) 
 The arrangement or proportioning of the central 
 thought; (2) The arrangement or proportioning of 
 the parts that amplify the central thought. On this 
 basis let us proceed to our discussion. 
 
 The first requisite of Intellectual Emphasis is, that 
 the central thought be placed conspicuously. In gen- 
 eral, whether it be in an entire article, in a group of 
 paragraphs, in a single paragraph, or in a single 
 sentence, the conspicuous positions are the beginning 
 and the end. Evidently, then, the central thought 
 expressed as a proposition or topic-sentence, should 
 be placed first, or be placed last, or be divided 
 between the two. The first of these three arrange- 
 ments, namely, to state the proposition in the intro- 
 duction of the article, or to place the topic-sentence 
 at the beginning of the paragraph, is, in exposition 
 and argument, not at all unusual. Nor is it unusual 
 to save the central thought until the end : that is, 
 to place a topic-sentence last in its paragraph, or 
 to express the proposition of an article- in its con- 
 clusion. Really, however, although it sounds most 
 artificial, it is the third arrangement — namely, to 
 divide the proposition between the two positions — 
 that we use most often. The important parts of the 
 
72 
 
 THEME-WRITING. 
 
 proposition are its subject and its predicate. The for- 
 mer we usually embody in some sentence near the 
 opening of the article ; the latter in some sentence 
 near the close. Do we not all of us demand that the 
 opening sentences of a book or of a magazine article 
 shall tell us definitely of what the author is to write, 
 his subject; and that the closing chapter or paragraph 
 shall summarize that which the author had to say 
 about it, his predicate? One and all, we instinctively 
 demand that for intellectual effect, the main thoughts 
 shall be massed at the beginning and the end : that 
 the introduction shall really introduce, not spar for 
 time ; and that the conclusion shall actually conclude. 
 And if we will but investigate the usage on this point, 
 we shall find that the authors whom we most enjoy 
 and respect do, in fact, conform to this demand ; they 
 begin and end with thoughts that deserve distinction. 
 
 The advantage of placing the main thought first or 
 last, or of dividing it between the two positions, is 
 well exemplified in the following passage from the 
 third chapter of Macaulay’s History of England. In 
 this group of paragraphs, the first is devoted to a 
 statement of the subject, the population of England 
 in 1683; the last, to a statement of the predicate, 
 zvas betzveen five millions and five million five hun- 
 dred thousand. Each individual paragraph, moreover, 
 opens with a sentence that contains the paragraph- 
 
THEORY OF COMPOSITION. 
 
 73 
 
 subject, and ends with a sentence that contains either 
 the paragraph-predicate or the entire topic-sentence. 
 By thus placing the important thought in the con- 
 spicuous position, Macaulay contributes materially to 
 singleness of intellectual effect. 
 
 One of the first objects of an inquirer who wishes to form 
 a correct notion of the state of a community at a given time 
 must be to ascertain of how many persons that community 
 then consisted. Unfortunately the population of England in 
 1685 cannot be ascertained with perfect accuracy. For no 
 great state had then adopted the wise course of periodically 
 numbering the people. All men were left to conjecture for 
 themselves ; and, as they generally conj ectured without exam- 
 ining facts, and under the influence of strong passions and 
 prejudices, their guesses were often ludicrously absurd. Even 
 intelligent Londoners ordinarily talked of London as contain- 
 ing several millions of souls. It was confidently asserted by 
 many that, during the thirty-five years which had elapsed 
 between the accession of Charles the First and the Res- 
 toration, the population of the city had increased by two 
 millions. Even while the ravages of the plague and fire were 
 recent, it was the fashion to say that the capital still had a 
 million and a half of inhabitants. Some persons, disgusted by 
 these exaggerations, ran violently into the opposite extreme. 
 Thus Isaac Vossius, a man of undoubted parts and learning, 
 strenuously maintained that there were only two millions of 
 human beings in England, Scotland, and Ireland taken to- 
 gether. 
 
 We are not, however, left without the means of correcting 
 the wild blunders into which some minds were hurried by 
 
74 
 
 THEME-WRITING. 
 
 national vanity, and others by a morbid love of paradox. 
 There are extant three computations which seem to be entitled 
 to peculiar attention. They are entirely independent of each 
 other : they proceed on different principles, and yet there is 
 little difference in the results. 
 
 One of these computations was made in the year 1696 by 
 Gregory King, Lancaster herald, a political arithmetician of 
 great acuteness and judgment. The basis of his calculations 
 was the number of houses returned in 1690 by the officers who 
 made the last collection of the hearth money. The conclusion 
 at which he arrived was, that the population of England was 
 nearly five millions and a half. 
 
 About the same time. King William the Third was desirous 
 to ascertain the comparative strength of the religious sects 
 into which the community was divided. An inquiry was insti- 
 tuted ; and reports laid before him from all the dioceses of 
 the realm. According to these reports the number of his 
 English subjects must have been about five million two hun- 
 dred thousand. 
 
 Lastly, in our days, Mr. Finlaison, an actuary of eminent 
 skill, subjected the ancient parochial registers to all the tests 
 which the modern improvements in statistical science enabled 
 him to apply. His opinion was that, at the close of the seven- 
 teenth century, the population of England was a little under 
 five million two hundred thousand souls. 
 
 Of these three estimates, framed without concert by differ- 
 ent persons from different sets of materials, the highest, which 
 is that of King, does not exceed the lowest, which is that of 
 Finlaison, by one twelfth. We may, therefore, with con- 
 fidence pronounce that when James the Second reigned, 
 England contained between five million and five million five 
 
THEORY OE COMPOSITION. 
 
 75 
 
 hundred thousand inhabitants. On the very highest suppo- 
 sition she then had less than one third of her present popu- 
 lation, and less than three times the population which is now 
 collected in her gigantic capital. 
 
 The second requisite of Intellectual Emphasis is, 
 that the arrang-ement of the intellectual divisions be 
 such as to make the most important most conspicuous. 
 Of the several logical divisions of an article, of a 
 paragraph-group, of a paragraph, or of a sentence, 
 the most important should if possible come first or 
 last. Especially is it important that the end be strong. 
 Put not your weakest point last; avoid anti-climax. 
 
 This principle is well exemplified in the passage just 
 quoted from Macaulay. In the body of the extract, 
 he names, in successive paragraphs, three computa- 
 tions of the population of England in the late seven- 
 teenth century. Of these three, the most important 
 for his purpose are those of King and Finlaison, the 
 former because it is the highest estimate, the latter 
 because it is the lowest. Of the two, that of Fin- 
 laison is the more important for his purpose, because 
 it was made by a statistician of repute in accordance 
 with the most modern methods. Evidently, then, of 
 these three computations, that of Mr. Finlaison, as 
 most important, should be mentioned last; and that 
 of Gregory King, as next in importance, should be 
 mentioned first. And this, we see, is indeed the 
 
76 
 
 theme-writing. 
 
 arrangement chosen by Macaulay. He begins and 
 ends with thoughts that deserve distinction. 
 
 The third requisite of Intellectual Emphasis is, that 
 the central thought receive most space. Not only 
 must the central thought be placed conspicuously, first 
 or last, but it must be made still more conspicuous by 
 iteration. Emphasis through iteration results from 
 the repetition of the important thought at intervals, 
 with little or no change of wording. Thus may be 
 emphasized the proposition of the entire article, the 
 group-proposition of a group of paragraphs, or the 
 topic-sentence of a single paragraph. An historic 
 example of this is the oft-reiterated phrase of Cato 
 the Elder: Delenda esf Carthago! But we need not 
 go back so far for our examples. In a recent inter- 
 collegiate debate on the expediency of delegating to 
 a national commission the power to fix a maximum 
 freight rate, perhaps the most effective speech of the 
 evening, certainly the speech most easily remembered, 
 was one in which the speaker — in showing how such 
 a commission would remedy the “ three specific abuses 
 of the rate-making power as exercised by the rai’- 
 roads today : excessive terminal charges, discrimina- 
 tion by agreement, and discrimination in favor of the 
 railroad company’s own subsidiary company ” — con- 
 cluded his discussion of the remedy of each of these 
 abuses and of each phase of each abuse, with the 
 
THEIORY OS' COMPOSITION. 
 
 77 
 
 same unvarying phrase: “Again the rights of the 
 individual shipper have been protected ! ” 
 
 Such iteration of the important thought may be 
 introduced in various ways : best, perhaps, in trans- 
 itions between the divisions of the discourse or, 
 occasionally, in the form of a summary. I am using 
 both devices frequently throughout this chapter. To 
 a reader, the device is of material aid ; it is even 
 more useful to a hearer. “ If, therefore, you have a 
 point to make with an audience, tell them you are 
 going to make it; tell them you are making it; tell 
 them you have made it : and perhaps they will see that 
 the point is there.” 
 
 The fourth and last requisite of Intellectual Empha- 
 sis is, that the intellectual divisions be proportioned 
 according to their logical importance. This emphasis 
 through amplification results from the addition of 
 any pertinent material. Particulars in description and 
 narration, examples and analogies in exposition, addi- 
 tional proofs in argument — all these, and other mate- 
 rials enable us to extend the important divisions of 
 the thought over a greater space, and thus to make 
 them more conspicuous. We must not, however, con- 
 fuse this amplification with verbosity. The former 
 implies more thought, more material ; the latter implies 
 
 1C. A. Tonsor, Jr., N. Y. U., ’07 ; April 10, 1906. 
 
78 
 
 THEME-WRITING. 
 
 nothing save more words. Clothe your logical skele- 
 ton with flesh. But let it be real flesh. An inflated 
 wind-bag contributes nothing to emphasis. 
 
 By placing the proposition first or last; by placing 
 the important facts conspicuously; by reiterating the 
 proposition ; by amplifying the important parts ; in 
 short, by arrangement and proportion: thus may we 
 produce Intellectual Mass, Intellectual Emphasis. By 
 these same four methods, may we obtain Emotional 
 Mass, Emotional Emphasis. The material must be so 
 placed and so proportioned as to present its several 
 parts in their relative emotional importance. 
 
 The first requisite of Emotional Emphasis is, that 
 the words expressive of the central feeling be placed 
 conspicuously, first or last. This is well exemplified 
 in one of the selections that I quote in the Appendix: 
 Poe’s The Masque of the Red Death. Notice espe- 
 cially its opening and its closing paragraph. Does 
 not the former express, both denotatively and conno- 
 tatively, the emotional subject — that of which some- 
 thing is to be felt? And does not the latter express, 
 at least connotatively, the emotional predicate — that 
 which is to be felt about the subject? Indeed, may 
 we not take the last sentence of the closing paragraph 
 almost as a connotative emotional proposition ? 
 
 The “ Red Death ” had long devastated the country. No 
 
THEORY OE COMPOSITION. 
 
 79 
 
 pestilence had ever been so fatal, or so hideous. Blood was 
 its avatar and its seal — the redness and the horror of blood. 
 There were sharp pains, and sudden dizziness, and then pro- 
 fuse bleeding at the pores, with dissolution. The scarlet stains 
 upon the body, and especially upon the face, of the victim, 
 were the pest ban which shut him out from the aid and from 
 the sympathy of his fellow men. And the whole seizure, 
 progress, and termination of the disease were the incidents of 
 half an hour. 
 
 * tit ^ ^ 
 
 And now was acknowledged the presence of the Red Death. 
 He had come like a thief in the night. And one by one 
 dropped the revellers in the blood-bedewed halls of their 
 revel, and died each in the despairing posture of his fall. 
 And the life of the ebony clock went out with that of the last 
 of the gay. And the flames of the tripods expired. And 
 Darkness and Decay and the Red Death held illimitable 
 dominion over all. 
 
 I would not go so far as to insist that the opening 
 and the close in literature of feeling should always 
 be devoted to a connotation of the emotional subject 
 and of the emotional predicate. But surely this is 
 true : for emotional effect we should begin and end 
 with material that emotionally deserves distinction. 
 Our opening should be something that will catch and 
 hold the attention of the reader. Dumas, for exam- 
 ple, opens his Les Trois Mousqnetaires with a descrip- 
 tion of the good citizens of Meung all hurrying to 
 
8o 
 
 themd-writing. 
 
 a fight, the occasion of which he does not explain till 
 later. Our conclusion, likewise, should, if possible, 
 stir our reader’s feeling to its depths. A familiar 
 example is the emotional climax expressed in the final 
 chapter — yes, and in the final paragraph and final 
 sentence — of Thackeray’s Henry Esmond. And in 
 both of these examples — the opening of The Three 
 Musketeers and the conclusion of Henry Esmond — 
 you are to notice, first, that the conspicuous position 
 is assigned to material that is concrete and connota- 
 tive; and, second, that this concrete, connotative mate- 
 rial is selected not merely to be interesting, not merely 
 to stir the feelings, but to rouse interest of a particu- 
 lar kind, to produce, in short, the precise emotional 
 effect intended; that the most important material has 
 received the most conspicuous position. 
 
 This rule is so often violated m college themes, 
 that, having stated it affirmatively, I shall now state 
 it negatively ; Do not begin or end an emotional 
 theme with an abstract or general statement. If such 
 material is necessary, hide it away inside; don’t give 
 it a conspicuous position. The preparatory-school 
 notion that every composition should begin with an 
 “ introduction ” and end with a “ conclusion,” and 
 that each should state the substance of the theme in 
 general terms, is false. The principle applies only 
 to exposition and to argument, not to all four kinds 
 
THEORY OE COMPOSITION. 
 
 8l 
 
 of composition ; and it does not always apply to the 
 two kinds here named. The conspicuous position at 
 the beginning and at the end should be reserved for 
 the material that deserves distinction. In exposition 
 and argument, this material may be a generalization, 
 an appeal to the intellect of the reader ; but in descrip- 
 tion or narration the important material must be con- 
 crete and connotative, for it must appeal to his emo- 
 tions. In writing therefore, for emotional effect, pre- 
 sent immediately your concrete, connotative material ; 
 and when you have finished, stop. If, like Poe, you 
 can connote your emotional subject in your opening 
 and your emotional predicate in your conclusion, then, 
 unquestionably, you begin and end with what emotion- 
 ally deserves distinction. 
 
 The second requisite of Emotional Emphasis is that 
 the arrangement of the emotional divisions be such 
 as to make the most important most conspicuous. 
 Among several co-ordinate divisions of an article, of 
 a group of paragraphs, of a paragraph, or of a sen- 
 tence, the most important, emotionally, should if pos- 
 sible come first or last. In emotional composition even 
 more than in intellectual composition, we should above 
 all things avoid anti-climax. The successive elements 
 should be increasingly connotative. For illustration 
 of this, I must refer you to The Masque of the Red 
 Death in the Appendix. 
 
82 
 
 THEME-WRITING. 
 
 The third requisite of Emotional Emphasis is, that 
 the central feeling receive most space, through itera- 
 tion. Notice, in Poe’s Masque of the Red Death, how 
 the symbols that connote the feeling are repeated 
 again and again. The hangings of the seven cham- 
 bers, their stained glass windows, the light streaming 
 from the tripods, the sable chamber, the clock of ebony 
 with its awesome stroke, the blood-stains, the Red 
 Death itself, all reiterate the same emotional theme : 
 “ And now was acknowledged the presence of the 
 Red Death. He had come like a thief in the night. 
 And one by one dropped the revellers in the blood- 
 bedewed halls of their revel, and died each in the 
 despairing posture of his fall. And the life of the 
 ebony clock went out with that of the last of the gay. 
 And the flames of the tripods expired. And Dark- 
 ness and Decay and the Red Death held illimitable 
 dominion over all.” 
 
 The fourth, -and last, requisite of Emotional Empha- 
 sis is, that the emotional divisions be proportioned 
 according to their emotional importance. Amplify the 
 important parts by the addition of concrete, conno- 
 tative material. But be sure that the material thus 
 added really strengthens the emotional effect. We all 
 remember how often Scott, in Ivanhoe, fails to hold 
 our attention because he amplifies the wrong part; 
 because, in other words, he gives us the stone of 
 
THEORY OE COMPOSITION. 
 
 83 
 
 exposition when we ask the bread of narrative. If 
 he did not offset these long passages of explanation 
 by means of those magnificent masses of action, the 
 chapters devoted to the tournament and to the siege 
 of Torquilstone, we should throw down the book in 
 weariness. When we can write as delightfully as 
 Sir Walter, our readers will pardon in our style worse 
 faults than his. Meanwhile, we shall do well to avoid 
 at least one of his errors, by observing this principle 
 of emphasis through proportion. Apportion your 
 space according to the emotional value of your mate- 
 rial. Condense uninteresting matter, however neces- 
 sary. Amplify most that which emotionally deserves 
 distinction. 
 
 A summary of our discussion of Mass, or Empha- 
 sis, is now in order. Intellectual Emphasis may be 
 obtained by placing the central thought in the con- 
 spicuous positions, first or last; by placing the most 
 important thought divisions in the conspicuous posi- 
 tions, first or last ; by giving to the central thought 
 most space, through iteration; and by giving to the 
 most important thought-divisions most space, through 
 amplification. In like manner. Emotional Emphasis 
 may be obtained by placing the central thought first 
 or last ; by placing the most important emotional-divi- 
 sions first or last; by iteration of the central feeling; 
 and by amplification of the most important emotional 
 
84 
 
 THEME-WRITING. 
 
 divisions. In short, the principle of Mass, or Empha- 
 sis, concerns the expression of the material with respect 
 to the relative prominence of its parts; the material 
 must be so arranged as to present the several elements 
 of the thought and feeling in their true relative impor- 
 tance. 
 
§ IV: COHERENCE. 
 
 OHERENCE, the third essential to singleness 
 ■ I of effect, may be defined as “ interconnection 
 of parts.” If the material is to give the 
 reader that singleness of impression, the precise effect 
 intended, then not only must the chief parts be “ so 
 placed as readily to catch the eye,” but, to borrow 
 another phrase from Professor Wendell, “ the relation 
 of each part of a composition to its neighbors should 
 be unmistakable.” To this end, three means are at 
 
 our service: (i) Arrangement; (2) Phrasing; (3) 
 
 Expressed connection. By arrangement, I mean the 
 presentation of the thought or feeling in its appro- 
 priate order; by phrasing, I mean the use of parallel 
 construction, — as in this sentence — the expression 
 of similar thoughts or feelings in similar forms; by 
 expressed connection, I mean on a large scale the 
 use of introductions, transitions, summaries, and on a 
 smaller scale the use of connecting words and phrases. 
 The Principle of Coherence, therefore, I formulate as 
 follows : 
 
 1 Barrett Wendell : EagJhh OompofiHion , p. 103. 
 
86 
 
 THEME-WRITING. 
 
 The Principle of Coherence concerns the expression 
 of the material zvith respect to the interconnection of 
 its parts: the material must be so arranged, so phrased, 
 and so connected, as to present the several elements of 
 the thought and feeling in their true interrelation. 
 
 Let us consider first the application of this principle 
 for intellectual effect, and second, its application for 
 emotional effect. 
 
 To obtain Intellectual Coherence through arrange- 
 ment is, in theory, very simple. For example, to bring 
 related thoughts into juxtaposition, we may, in narra- 
 tive, arrange our material in order of time ; in descrip- 
 tion, in some order based on the relative position of the 
 things described ; in argument, in some order based 
 on the logical relations of the thought — from cause 
 to effect, from proof to proposition, or from propo- 
 sition back to proof. In exposition, indeed, we may 
 chance to use almost any of these arrangements. This 
 is true not only of the arrangement of paragraphs and 
 paragraph-groups in the composition as a whole, but 
 also of the arrangement of sentences within a para- 
 graph, and of words and phrases within a sentence. 
 A shifting of the paragraph arrangement or an 
 inversion of the sentence order will frequently bring 
 together thoughts that are related. In this effort to 
 determine and then to keep the best arrangement, a 
 written plan, or outline, is often of great service, 
 
THEORY OE COMPOSITION. 
 
 87 
 
 but this subject I reserve for a future chapter. The 
 point to be remembered is, that intellectual coherence 
 depends largely upon finding and maintaining a natural 
 arrangement. 
 
 For this arrangement, the psychological basis, I 
 suppose, is nothing else than that familiar pedagogic 
 principle, the Herbartian theory of apperception. A 
 new fact has no meaning for us, unless we can assim- 
 ilate it into a system of previously familiar facts. A 
 statement of the changes in the foot-ball rules means 
 nothing to a person unfamiliar with the game as pre- 
 viously played. He can interpret the new knowledge 
 only by means of the old. In presenting new mate- 
 rial, therefore, we should start with something already 
 familiar, and, bit by bit, add the unfamiliar, in such 
 an order that the receiving mind may possess after 
 each addition the precise “ apperceiving mass ” that 
 is necessary for the assimilation of the next bit of 
 material. 
 
 To obtain Intellectual Coherence through phrasing, 
 that is, through the use of parallel construction, is a 
 trick not difficult to acquire, yet strangely neglected 
 by many modern writers. All that is necessary is to 
 recognize the similarity of thought-elements that are 
 co-ordinate, and to phrase them in similar grammatical 
 constructions ; and, on the other hand, to recognize the 
 dissimilarity of thought-elements that are not co-ordi- 
 
88 
 
 themb-writing. 
 
 nate, and to avoid phrasing them in similar con- 
 structions. Note, for example, how easily we grasp 
 the interrelation of the parts in the following passage 
 from Professor Wendell: 
 
 These principles of composition, you will remember, are 
 three : The first, the Principle of Unity, concerns the sub- 
 stance of a composition : every composition should group itself 
 about one central idea. The second, the Principle of Mass, 
 concerns the external form of a composition: the chief parts 
 of every composition should be so placed as readily to catch 
 the eye. The third, the Principle of Coherence, concerns the 
 internal arrangement of a composition : the relation of each 
 part of a composition to its neighbors should be unmis- 
 takable.i 
 
 For further illustrations of this method, you may turn 
 to almost any passage in this chapter. In my effort 
 to be absolutely clear, I have used the device of par- 
 allel construction to an extent unpardonable for any 
 purpose less didactic. Often, indeed, I have been 
 deliberately grotesque. I hope, however, that this 
 palpable artifice has served its purpose. It has shown 
 you, I hope, what parallel construction is. I do not 
 fear that you will ever overuse it. 
 
 To obtain Intellectual Coherence through expressed 
 connection, is again a matter of technique — a matter 
 
 1 Barrett Wendell: English Composition, p. 96. Copyrlglit, 1891, by 
 Charles Scribner's Sons. Quoted by permission. 
 
THEORY OE COMPOSITION. 89 
 
 of technique well worth our study. Its use in sentence 
 structure, I need not here discuss ; but its use in com- 
 positions larger than the sentence, namely in para- 
 graphs, paragraph-groups, and entire articles, I shall 
 consider under three heads: (i) Devices appropriate 
 
 to the beginning of a composition; (2) Devices appro- 
 priate to its progress; (3) Devices appropriate to its 
 close. 
 
 At the beginning of a composition in which the 
 desired effect is intellectual, whether the composition 
 be an entire article, a paragraph-group, or a single 
 paragraph, we may strengthen the intellectual coher- 
 ence by the use of any or all of three devices : ( i ) 
 
 We may state the subject of the composition; or (2) 
 We may state its central thought as a proposition or 
 topic-sentence; or (3) We may state the plan of our 
 discussion, that is, we may summarize it in advance. 
 The device of stating the subject at the opening, is 
 illustrated in the paragraph just above. That para- 
 graph is the first of a group dealing with the subject 
 of intellectual coherence through expressed connec- 
 tion ; and therefore, as the introduction, it may appro- 
 priately state the subject of this group. The same 
 device is illustrated on a smaller scale in the present 
 paragraph. This paragraph is to discuss the subject 
 of devices appropriate at the beginning of a com- 
 position; and this subject is appropriately stated in 
 
90 
 
 THi;me:- WRITING. 
 
 the opening sentence. The second device, that of 
 stating the proposition at the opening, is not illus- 
 trated in the paragraph above. Of course, the group 
 of paragraphs has its proposition ; but to state it at 
 the opening happens, in this instance, to be of no 
 advantage. This device is, however, illustrated in the 
 present paragraph. The first sentence as far as the 
 colon is the paragraph-proposition, or topic-sentence; 
 and its presence at the beginning of the paragraph 
 contributes materially to paragraph coherence. The 
 third device, that of stating the main heads, or divi- 
 sions, of the discussion, is illustrated in both the para- 
 graphs we are considering. The first of the two, 
 states in its closing sentence the plan for the para- 
 graph-group it introduces ; the second states its own 
 plan in the latter clauses of its opening sentence. This 
 second paragraph, therefore, illustrates all three of the 
 devices that it purports to discuss : statement of sub- 
 ject; statement of proposition; statement of plan: all 
 devices for obtaining intellectual coherence at the 
 beginning of a composition. 
 
 In the progress of the composition, that is, in 
 connecting paragraphs or groups of paragraphs, the 
 devices for Intellectual Coherence are (i) Transitional 
 paragraphs; (2) Transitional sentences. Between par- 
 agraph-groups, it is not unusual to devote an entire 
 paragraph to making the transition from one division 
 
THEORY OE COMPOSITION. 9I 
 
 to the next. Such a paragraph will refer back to the 
 subject of the preceding group, announce the sub- 
 ject of the group to follow, and state definitely the 
 relation between the two. This device is well exem- 
 plified in the following paragraph from Burke’s speech 
 on Conciliation : 
 
 These, Sir, are my reasons for not entertaining that high 
 opinion of untried force by which many gentlemen, for whose 
 sentiments in other particulars I have great respect, seem to 
 be so greatly captivated. But there is still behind a third 
 consideration concerning this subject, which serves to deter- 
 mine my opinion on the sort of policy which ought to be 
 pursued in the management of America, even more than its 
 population and its commerce — I mean its temper and char- 
 acter. 
 
 In this transition paragraph, Burke refers first to the 
 group of paragraphs immediately preceding, a group 
 that states his four objections to the use of force; 
 he then refers to the still earlier group of paragraphs 
 in which he has described the population and com- 
 merce of America ; and then, having recalled these 
 two divisions to our minds, he states the subject of 
 the group of paragraphs that is to follow, the group 
 in which he is to describe the temper and character 
 of the Americans. 
 
 Such is the device for making an expressed con- 
 nection between one group of paragraphs and another ; 
 
92 
 
 themb-writing. 
 
 but between paragraph and paragraph, a clause or sen- 
 tence should be sufficient for transition. Such a tran- 
 sition sentence is occasionally placed at the close of 
 the first of the two paragraphs to be connected ; occa- 
 sionally it is made a paragraph by itself ; but the most 
 frequent position for this clause or sentence of tran-. 
 sition, is at the beginning of the second paragraph, 
 where it takes precedence over the topic-sentence of 
 the paragraph. In the paragraph I am now writing, 
 for example, my first sentenee expresses the trans- 
 ition from the preceding paragraph to this. Its first 
 clause restates the subject of the preceding para- 
 graph, namely, transition paragraphs ; its second clause 
 announces the subject of the new paragraph, namely, 
 transition sentences. My second sentence is the topic- 
 sentence of the new paragraph, reducible to the propo- 
 sition that the most frequent position for a transition 
 sentence between two paragraphs, is at the opening of 
 the second. 
 
 At the end of a composition — whether that com- 
 position be an entire article, a group of paragraphs 
 or a single paragraph — we may strengthen the Intel- 
 lectual Coherence either: (i) By summarizing the 
 
 composition; or (2) By stating the proposition as a 
 conclusion; or (3) By combining both summary and 
 conclusion. These devices, I think, require no dis- 
 cussion; for clearness, a single example shall suffice. 
 
THEORY OR COMPOSITION. 93 
 
 Here is the paragraph with which Burke at once 
 summarizes and concludes the group of paragraphs 
 devoted to the temper and character of the Ameri- 
 cans : 
 
 Then, Sir, from these six capital sources : — of descent ; of 
 form of government; of religion in the Northern Provinces; 
 of manners in the Southern ; of education ; of remoteness of 
 situation from the first mover of government — from all these 
 causes, a fierce spirit of liberty has grown up. It has grown 
 with the growth of the people in your colonies,. and increased 
 with the increase of their wealth; a spirit that, unhappily 
 meeting with an exercise of power in England, which, how- 
 ever lawful, is not reconcilable to any ideas of liberty, much 
 less with theirs, has kindled this flame that is ready to con- 
 sume us. 
 
 As a further illustration of combining summary and 
 conclusion to obtain intellectual coherence, I will now 
 sum up and conclude this group of paragraphs deal- 
 ing with coherence through expressed connection. At 
 the beginning of a composition, you remember, we 
 may strengthen the coherence by stating the subject, 
 by stating the proposition, by stating the plan. Dur- 
 ing the progress of a composition, we strengthen 
 coherence by transition paragraphs and transition sen- 
 tsnces, devices that consist in restating so much of 
 the plan as is involved in the two parts to be con- 
 nected. At the close of a composition, we may fur- 
 ther strengthen the coherence by stating or restating 
 
94 
 
 THEME-WRITING. 
 
 the proposition, and stating or restating the plan by 
 way of summary. To this summary of devices, I now 
 add, as a conclusion, the proposition of this group of 
 paragraphs : Intellectual Coherence through expressed 
 connection is obtained by stating, at the beginning, at 
 the close, and between the parts of a composition, its 
 subject, its proposition, and its plan. 
 
 From my discussion of Coherence for intellectual 
 effect, I pass now to a discussion of Coherence for 
 emotional effect. And for the sake of making con- 
 spicuous this transition, I here end this paragraph 
 and begin another. 
 
 Of this subject. Emotional Coherence, the inter- 
 relation of the emotional elements, I can hope to say 
 but little. It is not a subject usually discussed in 
 text-books. So far as I know, Emotional Coherence 
 has not been named before. I am convinced, how- 
 ever, that Emotional Coherence does exist ; that the 
 emotional elements in any composition may be inter- 
 related by means of connotation, of suggestion, just 
 as certainly as the intellectual elements may be inter- 
 related by denotative devices ; and, finally, that the 
 connotative devices for securing this emotional coher- 
 ence may be classified under the same three heads that 
 served us in our discussion of Intellectual Coherence : 
 (i) Arrangement; (2) Phrasing, or Parallel Con- 
 struction; and (3) Expressed Connection. 
 
THEORY OF COMPOSITION. 
 
 95 
 
 That Emotional Coherence depends, first, on the 
 arrangement of the emotional elements, I may illus- 
 trate by a story of a celebrated English preacher 
 who was to speak at a great religious meeting in 
 Boston. The presiding clergyman, conscious only of 
 the strength of his ally, introduced him to the con- 
 gregation in an elaborate speech. He told them of 
 the marvelous spiritual power of the revivalist, and 
 how many souls his preaching brought to Christ. 
 This presentation so roused the curiosity and expecta- 
 tion of the audience that they were intent only on the 
 personality of the man thus introduced, and were in 
 no mood whatever to receive the spiritual appeal he 
 came to utter. What was the revivalist to do ? - He 
 stretched his hand over the congregation. “ Let us 
 pray,” he said. His prayer restored them to a proper 
 mood. After it they were emotionally ready for God’s 
 message ; after the fulsome speech of introduction, 
 they had been ready for nothing but intellectual enter- 
 tainment. The moral of this tale is evident. Just as 
 in intellectual composition we must so arrange the 
 parts that each thought shall prepare the way for that 
 which follows, so in emotional composition we must 
 so arrange the parts that each emotion roused shall 
 lead naturally, inevitably, to the emotion next intended. 
 The denotation, the literal meaning of that speech of 
 introduction was not inappropriate to the sermon that 
 
96 
 
 theme-writing. 
 
 was to follow ; but somehow its connotation, its power 
 of suggestion, did not fit. It was as incongruous as 
 the conclusion of that Harvard theme about the waiters 
 in the Cambridge restaurant : “ They also serve who 
 only stand and wait.” 
 
 That Emotional Coherence may be obtained, sec- 
 ondly, through phrasing, through parallel construction, 
 I feel, though perhaps I cannot prove. In the follow- 
 ing passage from De Quincey’s Suspiria de Profundis, 
 does not much of the emotional coherence of the lines 
 depend upon the subtle suggestiveness of phrasing? 
 Do they not have a connotative relation in addition to 
 their denotative power? 
 
 They spoke not as they talked with Levena ; they whispered 
 not ; they sang not ; though oftentimes methought they might 
 have sung : for I upon earth had heard their mysteries 
 oftentimes deciphered by harp and timbrel, by dulcimer and 
 organ. Like God, whose servants they are, they utter their 
 pleasure not by sounds that perish, or by words that go astray, 
 but by signs in heaven, by changes on earth, by pulses in 
 secret rivers, heraldries painted on darkness, and hieroglyphics 
 written on the tablets of the brain. They wheeled in mazes; 
 I spelled their steps. They telegraphed from afar; I read the 
 signals. They conspired together; and on the mirrors of 
 darkness my eye traced the plots. Theirs were the symbols; 
 mine are the words. 
 
 At all events, this, at least is true. When we are 
 speaking or writing with greatest earnestness, when 
 
THEORY OF COMPOSITION. 97 
 
 our flow of emotions and of words is at its best, we find 
 ourselves almost invariably phrasing these feelings in 
 parallel constructions. Phrase after phrase, clause 
 after clause, sentence after sentence, fall from our 
 lips or pen as if cast in the same mold. Similar 
 emotions, as if because of their similarity, express 
 that interrelation in unconscious parallel construction. 
 If we would produce a similar effect, all that we have 
 to do is deliberately to connote it, by this same subtle 
 snggestiveness of form. 
 
 Lastly, Emotional Coherence may be obtained by 
 a method that corresponds closely to expressed con- 
 nection, the use of words, phrases, sentences, that shall 
 express the emotional interrelation of the parts not by 
 explicit statement, but by suggestion; not by denota- 
 tion, but by connotation. What I mean by this con- 
 notative coherence through expressed connection, I 
 can best explain by an example. Many of you will 
 remember a play of Israel Zangwill’s, popular not so 
 many seasons since, entitled Merely Mary Ann. You 
 remember in the opening scene in the hall of that 
 South London boarding house, how the lodgers came 
 in at night, one after another singing or whistling a 
 snatch of a certain popular song. You recall how, 
 next morning, that tune, sung or whistled or played 
 by every passer beneath his window, annoyed the 
 young musical composer, the hero of the play; and 
 
98 
 
 THEME-WRITING. 
 
 how his landlady drove him doubly distracted by 
 insisting that he settle his long-due rent by giving 
 piano lessons to her impossible daughter, Rosie, and 
 that he begin his instruction by teaching her that tune. 
 You remember how that tune became all tangled up 
 in his love for the poor little house-maid, Mary Ann 
 — “ merely ” Mary Ann — who at first seemed so 
 hopelessly beneath him, and who, later, inheriting a 
 fortune, appeared to him as hopelessly beyond his 
 reach. You remember how, after six years of strug- 
 gle, he at last won fame and fortune as a composer ; 
 how he met her again — in the drawing room of a 
 countess; how he pleaded his love and was refused. 
 And you remember how he, left alone at the piano, 
 fell unconsciously into the strains of that old tune — ■ 
 now impregnated with the smiles and tears of both 
 their lives — and how she, hearing it, came back to 
 him dressed in the old gown she had worn when she 
 was merely Mary Ann. And you remember how you 
 caught yourself humming or whistling that tune as 
 you left the theatre ; and how it ran in your head for 
 days after — that insistent, that atrocious tune. Kiss 
 Me Good-Night, Dear Love! Somehow, that tune 
 had come to stand in your mind for the entire play. 
 In itself it was meaningless; but it suggested — con- 
 noted — all the cumulative emotional effect of scene 
 after scene. It was the introduction, the transitions. 
 
THEORY OF COMPOSITION. 99 
 
 the summary, that bound that play of Zangwill’s into 
 a coherent emotional whole. 
 
 But perhaps you did not see Merely Mary Ann. 
 Well, then, have you read Booth Tarkington’s Mon- 
 sieur Beaucaire? Do you recall the use that the 
 writer makes of ■ — “ only roses ” ? First he makes 
 a rose symbolize the hero’s aspirations for the favor 
 of Lady Mary Carlisle, the Beauty of Bath. Pres- 
 ently, dropped from her hand at parting, the rose so 
 long denied him gives Beaucaire the first hint of her 
 surrender. Instantly, Tarkington makes it voice at 
 once the jealousy of the Duke of Winterset and the 
 elation of Beaucaire : 
 
 “ The rose is of an unlucky color, I think ,” observed the 
 Duke. 
 
 “ The color of a blush, my brother.” 
 
 ” Unlucky, I still maintain,” said the other calmly. 
 
 “ The color of the veins of a Frenchman. Ha, ha ! ” cried 
 the young man. “What price would be too high? A rose 
 is a rose ! A good-night, my brother, a good-night. I wish 
 you dreams of roses, red roses, only beautiful red, red 
 roses ! ” ^ 
 
 To force a duel on Beaucaire, the Duke of Winterset 
 employed a certain Captain Rohrer. The Frenchman 
 promptly ran the captain through the left shoulder 
 
 1 Copyright, 1899, 1900, by S. S. McClure Co. Copyright, 1900, by McClure, 
 Phillips & Co. Quoted by permission. 
 
lOO 
 
 thb;mi;-writing. 
 
 after which he sent a basket of red roses to the 
 Duke of Winterset.” Soon, however, the Duke was 
 more successful. One “ clear September night, when 
 the moon was radiant over town and country,” Beau- 
 caire, riding beside the coach of Lady Mary from a 
 country fete, took the opportunity to plead his love. 
 At that moment, Winterset’s mounted ruffians attacked 
 him. They wounded him; and, as Beaucaire grew 
 faint from loss of blood, Winterset overwhelmed him 
 in Lady Mary’s presence, by charging that Beaucaire, 
 who had introduced himself at Bath as the Due de 
 Chateaurien, was, in reality, the French Ambassador’s 
 barber. 
 
 As the noise of the wheels and the hoof-beats of the accom- 
 panying cavalcade grew fainter in the distance, the handker- 
 chief he had held against his side dropped into the white dust, 
 a heavy red splotch. 
 
 *■ Only — roses,” he gasped, and fell back into the arms of 
 his servants.^ 
 
 One week from that night came the final scene at 
 the assembly. Beaucaire, entering secretly, had again 
 sought the love of Lady Mary. She had scorned 
 him utterly. Winterset discovering his presence had 
 attempted his arrest. At that moment Beaucaire 
 
 1 Copyright, 1899, 1900, hy S. S. McClure Co. Copyright. 1900, by McClure, 
 Phillips & Co. Quoted by permission. 
 
THEORY OF composition. 
 
 lOI 
 
 learned that in the adjoining room were a young 
 French prince and the French ambassador. He com- 
 manded their attendance. Lady Mary, who had first 
 encouraged Beaucaire as the supposed Due de Chateau- 
 rien, and had then repulsed him as a barber and an 
 impostor, learned from the mouth of the Ambassador 
 that the man whose hand she had refused was 
 Prince Louis-Philippe de Valois, Duke of Orleans, 
 First Prince of Blood Royal, cousin to the King of 
 France. In a daze she heard his explanations: that 
 the king had commanded him to marry their cousin 
 the Princess de Bourbon-Conti ; that he, in his obsti- 
 nacy, had slipped away to avoid the marriage; that 
 the king, yielding, had withdrawn the command ; but 
 that he, the prince, realizing at last that his cousin 
 was the only woman in the world that would not have 
 treated him as Lady Mary has, was resolved to espouse 
 the princess ; he asked their felicitations. Then as the 
 sometime “ Beaucaire ” escorted Lady Mary from the 
 room, “ from somewhere about the garments of one 
 of them, a little cloud of faded rose-leaves fell, and 
 lay strewn on the floor behind them.” 
 
 That this repeated mention of roses in Mr. Tarking- 
 ton’s Monsieur Beaucaire serves as a sort of expressed 
 connection — as introduction, transitions, summary — • 
 is, I hope, evident. If you desire a further example, 
 look up Mr. Tarkington’s use of the phrase “ six 
 
102 
 
 THEME-WRITING. 
 
 large men ” in the same book.^ But the point I wish 
 to emphasize is, that this method of producing coher- 
 ence is not denotative but connotative ; that its effect 
 is not intellectual but emotional. This repetition of a 
 phrase binds one part of the story to another, because, 
 with each repetition, the phrase revives within us the 
 memory of all the emotions we have felt at each pre- 
 vious repetition. Like a rolling snow-ball, the phrase 
 gathers more to itself at every turn. It becomes, by 
 cumulation, an embodiment of our feelings at each 
 successive point, and, ultimately, a sort of emotional 
 summary of the entire story. 
 
 Our discussion of the principle of Coherence we 
 may now summarize as follows. Intellectual Coher- 
 ence may be denoted by a natural arrangement of the 
 parts ; by phrasing similar parts in parallel construc- 
 tions ; and by expressed connection, i.e., by stating at 
 the beginning, at the close, and between the parts of 
 a composition, its subject, its proposition, and its plan. 
 Emotional Coherence may be connoted by a natural 
 arrangement of the parts ; by phrasing similar parts 
 in parallel constructions; and by reiterating, through- 
 out the composition, the connotative word or phrase 
 that by its symbolism binds the parts together. In 
 brief, the Principle of Coherence concerns the expres- 
 
 2 Pp. 4, 65, 107. 
 
THEORY OE COMPOSITION. IO3 
 
 sion of the material with respect to the interconnection 
 of its parts : the material must be so arranged, so 
 phrased, and so connected, as to present the several 
 elements of the thought and feeling in their true inter- 
 relation. 
 
V: SUMMARY OF THE THEORY OF 
 COMPOSITION. 
 
 UR statement of the theory of composition is 
 ■ I Pj at last complete ; all that we need do is fix this 
 \/ statement in our minds — arid then apply it. 
 Singleness of Effect, as we have seen, results from a 
 combination of three qualities: (i) Unity of Material, 
 intellectual and emotional; (2) Mass, or Emphasis, 
 intellectual and emotional; and (3) Coherence, intel- 
 lectual and emotional. These three elements, and the 
 broad principle of Unity that includes them all, we 
 may now state as follows. 
 
 (i) The Principle of Unity of Material concerns 
 the intellectual and the emotional limitation of the 
 material. The material must be so limited as to pre- 
 
 sent without extraneous matter, yet complete, the 
 author’s central thought and central feeling. This is 
 the first essential to singleness of effect. 
 
 (2) The Principle of Mass, or Emphasis, concerns 
 the expression of the thought and feeling with respect 
 to the relative prominence of parts. The material 
 must be so arranged and so proportioned as to present 
 the several divisions of the. thought and feeling in their 
 
THEORY OF COMPOSITION, IO5 
 
 true relative importance. This is the second essential 
 to singleness of effect. 
 
 (3) The Principle of Coherence concerns the 
 expression of the thought and feeling with respect 
 to the interconnection of parts. The material must 
 be so arranged, so phrased, and so connected, as to 
 present the several divisions of the thought and feel- 
 ing in their true interrelation. This is the third 
 essential to singleness of effect. 
 
 The Principle of Unity, therefore, is a three-fold 
 principle of composition which determines both the 
 limitation and the expression of the thought and 
 feeling. The material must be so limited in the con- 
 ceiving mind and so expressed to the receiving mind 
 as to produce in the latter a singleness of impression, 
 the precise effect intended, the quality we call Unity. 
 
CHAPTER III. 
 
 OF THE WRITING OF EXPOSITIONAE 
 THEMES. 
 
 (0 
 
 F the five kinds of composition — exposition, 
 argument, criticism, narration, and descrip- 
 tion — the most important for most of us is 
 exposition. The reason for this importance is two- 
 fold. In the first place, exposition belongs to the 
 literature of thought, as distinguished from the liter- 
 ature of feeling; therefore, for you and me, who 
 have no purpose to be novelists but who may some- 
 time wish to explain some new theory of English 
 composition or of bridge-construction, the study of 
 expositional method is intensely practical. In the 
 second place, of the three kinds of composition usually 
 included under literature of thought, exposition is 
 most nearly fundamental, the basis of the other two. 
 We may have exposition without argument or criti- 
 
 cism; but we cannot well have argument or criticism 
 without exposition. The study of exposition, there- 
 fore, is the natural starting point for all study of 
 literature of thought. It may be so taught as to 
 
BXPOSITIONAL THEMES. 10/ 
 
 include something of argument and of criticism; cer- 
 tainly it should be so taught that the student of argu- 
 ment and of criticism shall have nothing to unlearn. 
 But whether these kinds of composition be included 
 with exposition or reserved for courses more advanced, 
 the study of pure exposition should come first. In 
 short, the study of exposition is valuable both as a 
 means and as an end. 
 
 Whoever writes with a purpose, aims, more or less 
 consciously, to produce in the mind of his reader 
 some particular effect. This effect he may produce in 
 part through the structure of his composition, in part 
 through his amplification of that structure. Phrased 
 in the terms of our theory of composition, his instruc- 
 tions might be stated thus: To produce the particular 
 effect intended, he must look first to the unity of his 
 material: he must be sure that every part contributes 
 to his purposed intellectual effect; he must be sure 
 also that every part contributes to his purposed emo- 
 tional effect. In the second place, he must consider 
 the mass, the emphasis, of his material : he must see 
 to it that, through arrangement and proportion, the 
 important elements in his thought and feeling are 
 most conspicuous. Lastly, he must consider the 
 coherence of his material : he must make certain that, 
 through arrangement, through parallel construction, 
 and through expressed connection, the relation of each 
 
io8 
 
 theme-writing. 
 
 element of -the thought and feeling to its neighbors is 
 unmistakable. In other words, to produce the precise 
 effect intended, the writer must observe the three-fold 
 principle of Unity of Effect : Unity of Material ; Mass, 
 or Emphasis; Coherence. 
 
 In the present chapter, I purpose to apply this theory 
 of composition to the writing of exposition. In apply- 
 ing it, however, I purpose to approach the subject from 
 a new point of view. To discuss the matter from the 
 theoretical side, would be to recapitulate almost in the 
 original order the principles stated in my second chap- 
 ter. I desire, therefore, to consider the subject not 
 from the theoretical, but from the practical, standpoint. 
 From this point of view, the subject may be phrased 
 as follows. 
 
 The practical working rules for exposition are these 
 three : 
 
 (1) As to the formulation of the topic, the writer 
 should define in words the effect that he desires to 
 produce. In practice, this means that, as a test and 
 basis for unity of effect and for unity of material, he 
 should express his central thought as a proposition. 
 
 (2) As to organization, the writer should prepare, 
 either upon cards or upon a single sheet or both, a 
 plan phrased in propositions the interrelations of which 
 are appropriately expressed ; and by means of this 
 plan, he should so marshal his thought-divisions as 
 
EXPOSITIONAI, THEMES. IO9 
 
 to secure unity of material, emphasis, and coherence, 
 that is, to assure, in the structure, unity of effect. 
 
 (3) As to amplification, the writer, in expanding 
 his plan into a completed exposition, should build up 
 each heading with material that is concrete ; and, if 
 he aims at an effect not only intellectual but also emo- 
 tional, he should use material not only concrete but 
 connotative. In the amplification, moreover, he should 
 emphasize his structural coherence by means of the 
 several devices of expressed connection. 
 
 This statement of the working rules for exposition 
 constitutes my own plan for this present chapter. I 
 shall discuss the headings in the order named. 
 
I: THE FORMULATION OF THE TOPIC. 
 
 HE first requisite for exposition is, that the 
 writer state in words his purposed intellectual 
 effect; that is, that he formulate his central 
 
 thought. Let us take a simple example, and see just 
 
 what this process is. Suppose the writer wishes to 
 
 discuss the honor system in examinations. What, in 
 
 this case, would be his “ central thought ” ? Per- 
 haps, that the honor system should be adopted in 
 
 the college he attends ; or that, in his opinion, the 
 system would not be acceptable; or that the system 
 has been a failure at some other institution; or that 
 
 the causes for its failure elsewhere would not operate 
 
 at his own college ; or perhaps he wishes merely to 
 explain what the system is, as, that the honor system 
 is an arrangement by which the responsibility for the 
 proctoring of examinations rests with the student body 
 rather than with the faculty ; or, that the honor system 
 is an arrangement by which each student gives his 
 word of honor not to cheat, and so is left without any 
 
 proctoring whatever. Some one of these statements, 
 or some statement similar in form, will express the 
 central thought of the intended essay. Originally a 
 vague subject in the form “ The honor system in 
 
Expositionai, themes. 
 
 Ill 
 
 examinations,” the topic has become narrowed to a 
 statement of opinion such as these just mentioned. 
 The “ central thought ” has been discovered and 
 “ formulated.” 
 
 The point to be noticed in these examples is that 
 the topic thus formulated is not a “term” (as they 
 say in Logic) but a “ proposition.” By this word 
 “ proposition ” is meant, of course, a sentence : not 
 a subject, but a subject plus a predicate; and not a 
 sentence merely, but a sentence that is declarative. 
 The' theme-subject “The Rhodes , Scholarships ” is 
 not a proposition but a term. To make it a propo- 
 sition, we must, in this case, add a predicate; for 
 example ; “ The Rhodes scholarships were established 
 under the following conditions ; ” or, “ The Rhodes 
 scholarships have (or have not) been of benefit to 
 America.” Similarly, the indirect question “ Why 
 women should have the suffrage,” becomes the declar- 
 ative sentence, “ Women should have the suffrage on 
 the following grounds.” The direct question, “ Should 
 our college have a daily newspaper ? ” becomes, “ Our 
 college should (or should not) have a daily news- 
 paper.” And the mere phrase “ Governor Hughes 
 as a politician,” becomes, “ As a politician, Governor 
 Hughes is — ” completed by the precise word or 
 phrase that expresses the opinion of the writer. 
 
 The advantage of thus expressing the central 
 
II2 
 
 theme-writing. 
 
 thought as a proposition is two-fold. In the first 
 place, thus to discover and to formulate the central 
 thought forces the writer to clarify his ideas, to make 
 up his mind what it is that he thinks about the sub- 
 ject, to determine upon his basis of unity. In the 
 second place, when the proposition has been thus 
 formulated, it will serve also as a test for unity. 
 Knowing definitely the precise effect to be obtained, 
 the student or the instructor may examine each ele- 
 ment in the material, and determine, almost at a 
 glance, whether it will contribute to the effect intended. 
 Thus, to express the central thought as a proposition, 
 presents advantages both positive and negative : it 
 shows the writer what he must omit; it shows him 
 also what he must include. 
 
 From this discussion of the first requisite of expo- 
 sition, the points to be kept in mind are these : The 
 
 central thought of the intended exposition should be 
 definitely expressed. The form for this expression 
 is not a term but a proposition. Thus formulated, 
 it becomes at once a basis and a test for unity — • 
 of effect and of material ; less completely expressed, 
 it is not only valueless for this purpose hut mislead- 
 ing. For exposition, then, the first working rule is 
 this : As a test and a basis for unity of effect and 
 of material, express your central thought as a propo- 
 sition. 
 
II : THE ORGANIZATION. 
 
 second problem in the writing of an expo- 
 I I sition is the organization of the material. Since 
 the aim of exposition is to produce in the mind 
 of the reader some particular intellectual effect, the 
 organization should be such as to contribute most 
 efficiently to this result. To ramble from point to 
 point might be entertaining — to the writer; but it 
 would scarcely give his reader any definite, unified 
 impression. Instead of this lack of structure, the 
 writer should give his exposition an organization that 
 will combine unity of material, emphasis, and coher- 
 ence — the three essentials to unity of effect. This 
 is the ultimate aim of organization. As a means to 
 this end, he will do well to adopt some appropriate 
 form of plan, or outline. That this plan should be 
 written, I need not stop to argue. That it should be 
 reduced to writing before, rather than after, the writ- 
 ing of the exposition, ought perhaps to be as obvious. 
 A plan made subsequent to the writing of the expo- 
 sition will help, doubtless, to correct its faults; but 
 such a plan is, at best, merely a post-mortem exam- 
 ination. It points out to the writer an error that it 
 
theme-writing. 
 
 1 14 
 
 might have helped him to avoid. Determine your 
 structure, then, before you begin to write. If, while 
 writing, you discover a better structure, revise your 
 plan forthwith, and begin anew; but be sure that, 
 while writing, you are always following a predeter- 
 mined plan. To sum up, the problem before us is 
 two-fold : To what end should we organize our 
 
 material ? By what means should we organize our 
 material ? These two topics, I purpose to consider 
 in reverse order : ( i ) Plan-construction with respect 
 
 to form; (2) Plan-construction with respect to sub- 
 stance. 
 
 (i) THE plan: its eorm. 
 
 With respect to form, the problem of plan-construc- 
 tion is three- fold: (i) Shall we express our head- 
 
 ings on separate cards or on a single sheet? (2) 
 How fully shall we express them? (3) How shall 
 we indicate their interrelation ? The first of these 
 problems is so purely mechanical that to consider it 
 at all seems almost an absurdity; yet I assure you 
 that it is not without significance. If the exposition 
 is to be brief, the headings may be jotted on a single 
 sheet, rearranged by interlineation or a stroke of the 
 blue pencil, copied once in the form finally deter- 
 mined, and there the matter ends. But if the length 
 of the intended exposition is more than a few pages, 
 
EXPOSITIONAI, THEMES. II 5 
 
 and especially if the material is to be gathered from 
 various sources in the course of note-taking extend- 
 ing over several days, then a more flexible system is 
 essential. Such a system is afforded by the use of 
 cards or of a loose-leaved note-book. Each fact or 
 point as discovered may be entered upon a card or 
 sheet of uniform size; eacli, may be assigned at once 
 to the position seemingly appropriate; and all may 
 be arranged and re-arranged without the labor of 
 recopying. Such, at least, is the device advocated 
 by Professor Barrett Wendell ^ ; and whoever has 
 attempted even so brief an essay as this chapter, must 
 have learned by experience the convenience, even the 
 necessity, of the device. For myself, however, I find 
 even this inadequate. In the preliminary stages of 
 plan-making, the cards are excellent; but when I have 
 determined the general arrangement of my material, I 
 find it clearer to transfer the main headings to a single 
 sheet. This very morning, for example, after playing 
 my little game of solitaire, I have transferred from 
 cards to paper the plan for this, the second section of 
 my chapter ; and I am now composing my discussion 
 with one eye, so to speak, upon my typewritten plan 
 and the other upon the little pile of cards referring to 
 the present paragraph. I hope thus to avoid the bewil- 
 
 1 Barrett Wendell : Knglish Composition, Page 165. 
 
ii6 
 
 THEME-WRITING. 
 
 derment of the hero who “ swore he could not see 
 the town, there were so many houses.” At all events, 
 if your plan is to be submitted in a course in English 
 composition, you have no choice but to express it, 
 ultimately, in this more perfect form. Whether you 
 have used the card-device or not, be sure that in class 
 you present your plan on regulation theme-paper. 
 
 Our second question, as you may recall, is this : 
 How fully shall we express the headings of a plan? 
 In other words. Shall we express the headings as 
 “ terms ” or as “ propositions ” ? Personally, I have 
 found the latter form more useful — more useful 
 because more definite. In practice, of course, an out- 
 line consisting of mere hints and catch-phrases often 
 proves sufficient. We may, for example, summarize 
 the familiar argument of Burke in some such words 
 as these ; 
 
 Force : 
 
 Temporary. 
 
 Uncertain. 
 
 Injurious. 
 
 Untried. 
 
 Therefore, inexpedient. 
 
 I suppose no one will maintain that, in this instance, 
 there is any gain in expanding these terms into full 
 propositions, as ; 
 
EXPOSITIONAL THEMES. 
 
 II7 
 
 Proposition: The use of force is inexpedient. 
 
 I. For force is temporary. 
 
 II. For force is uncertain. 
 
 III. For force will injure what we are trying to preserve. 
 
 IV. For we have no experience in favor of force. 
 
 In most instances, however, the shorter form is inade- 
 quate because indefinite. Rare are the cases in which 
 a plan expressed in terms is dear to any man beside 
 its author. Indeed, I suspect that sometimes even he 
 may be a bit in doubt as to its meaning. He has )^et 
 to make up his mind what he will say upon a certain 
 heading. At all events, if the instructor is to help the 
 student with his plan, the plan must be expressed in 
 complete propositions. Notice, for a moment, this 
 plan, the headings of which are expressed not as 
 propositions but as mere terms. What do you sup- 
 pose the headings mean ? 
 
 Subject: The influence of Marlowe upon some early plays 
 
 of Shakspere. 
 
 I. Marlowe’s plays ; 
 
 A. Their subject-matter. 
 
 B. Their verse-form. 
 
 C. Their structural unity. 
 
 (1) Through central figure. 
 
 (2) Through cause and effect. 
 
 II. Some early plays of Shakspere. 
 
 A. Their suhject-matter. 
 
ii8 
 
 themu-writing. 
 
 B. Their verse-form. 
 
 C. Their structural unity. 
 
 (1) Through central figure. 
 
 (2) Through cause and effect. 
 
 Conclusion. 
 
 Unless the instructor were a mind-reader, would he 
 not be far from certain as to the intention of the stu- 
 dent that submitted such a plan? Indeed, might not 
 the student himself be still uncertain? In this form, 
 the plan is merely tentative : it indicates a possible 
 arrangement of material; but just what the material 
 is, it leaves in doubt. Until this doubt is settled, 
 neither student nor instructor can be certain that the 
 arrangement indicated is the most effective. If, how- 
 ever, these headings be rephrased as propositions, then 
 either student or instructor may be-judge whether the 
 material possesses unity, whether it is well massed, 
 and whether it is coherent. Even a reader ignorant 
 of the Elizabethan drama, may catch the meaning of 
 the plan if thus expanded : 
 
 Proposition: In three of his early chronicle history plays, 
 
 Shakspere shows strongly the influence of Marlowe. 
 
 I. For Marlowe’s plays were distinguished from those of 
 his contemporaries by three characteristics : 
 
 A. Their subject-matter was more dignified than 
 that of the tragedies and chronicle his- 
 tory plays of his contemporaries. 
 
EXPOSiTIONAIv THEMES. 
 
 II9 
 
 B. Their verse-form was a melodious blank verse 
 
 previously unknown to English dram- 
 atists. 
 
 C. Their structural unity was more perfect than that 
 
 of the tragedies and chronicle histories 
 of his contemporaries. 
 
 (1) In Tamburlaine, Marlowe obtained unity 
 
 by emphasizing the central figure. 
 
 ( 2 ) In Edward 11, he obtained unity by em- 
 
 phasizing the relation of cause and 
 effect. 
 
 II. For these three characteristics appear in Shakspere’s 
 early chronicle histories : Henry VI, Richard 
 111, and Richard 11. 
 
 A. Their subject-matter is similar to that of Mar- 
 
 lowe’s plays; especially the subject- 
 matter 
 
 (1) Of Richard 111, and 
 
 ( 2 ) Of Richard 11. 
 
 B. Their verse-form is Marlowe’s “ high resounding 
 
 line.” 
 
 C. Their structural unity, except in the case of 
 
 Henry VI, is obtained by Marlowe’s 
 methods : 
 
 ( 1 ) In Richard 111, unity is obtained through 
 
 a central figure. 
 
 ( 2 ) In Richard 11, unity is obtained through 
 
 cause and effect. 
 
 Conclusion (the Proposition restated) : Thus, in three of his 
 
 early chronicle history plays, Shakspere shows strongly 
 the influence of Marlowe. 
 
120 
 
 THBME-WRITING. 
 
 From these examples, the advantage of expressing the 
 headings of a plan not in terms but in propositions 
 should be, I think, apparent. 
 
 As to the form of the plan, only our third question 
 remains to be considered : Ho-w shall we indicate the 
 interrelation of the headings? For this purpose, the 
 most valuable devices are four in number: (i) Nota- 
 tion. (2) Indention. (3) Parallel construction. (4) 
 Expressed connection. All of these are exemplified 
 in the plan just given. In respect to notation, it is 
 usual to designate the main divisions of the discussion 
 by Roman numerals, the divisions of these by capital 
 letters, divisions of the next degree by Arabic numer- 
 als, of the next by small letters, and so on. For the 
 individual, the precise system used is unimportant, pro- 
 vided he keeps to it consistently throughout his plan ; 
 but for class-work, it is better that all use the same 
 system, because then a reference to a heading by 
 number shows to all instantly the relation of that 
 heading to the remainder of the plan. As the propo- 
 sition that states the central thought of the compo- 
 sition is logically superior to the rest, it receives no 
 number ; for if that were “ I,” what would be “ II ” 
 and “ III ” ? The word “ Proposition ” prefixed to 
 this heading serves the purpose better. If there be 
 an introduction or a conclusion, these also should be 
 named, not numbered ; and if they contain subdivisions, 
 
EXPOSITIONAL themes. 
 
 I2I 
 
 these subdivisions should have a notation separate from 
 that of the body of the plan. Thus, we may have 
 headings under “ Introduction ” numbered “ I,” “ II,” 
 and so on; then headings in the “Body,” or “Dis- 
 cussion,” numbered “ I,” “ II,” “ III,” etc. ; and, 
 finally, a “ Conclusion ” with similar notation for its 
 parts. The reason for this requirement is purely log- 
 ical. Suppose that in the plan on page 117, we we.'e 
 to add the conclusion : “ Therefore the use of force 
 is inexpedient ; ” and that to this heading we were to 
 give the number “V.” What would it signify? It 
 would mean that the conclusion proved by “ I ” plus 
 “ II ” plus “ III ” plus “ IV,” is logically co-ordinate 
 with any one of these four; that the whole is not 
 “ equal to the sum of its parts.” Could anything be 
 more idiotic? Have a care, then, when you number 
 the headings of your plan, that your notation indicates 
 their true logical relation. 
 
 The second method for indicating the logical rela- 
 tions of the parts, is called indention ; headings of 
 like rank should be similarly indented ; and the depth 
 of the indention should indicate, inversely, the impor- 
 tance of the heading. For example, the main head- 
 ings, indicated by Roman numerals, should be indented 
 perhaps an inch more than the “ Proposition ; ” the 
 headings next in importance (marked with capital let- 
 ters) an inch farther; headings of the next degree 
 
122 
 
 THEME-WRITING. 
 
 (marked with Arabic numbers) another inch; and 
 so on. Combined with careful notation, indention 
 will do much to make evident the interrelation of the 
 headings. 
 
 A third device for indicating this relation is that 
 known as “ parallel construction : ” headings similar 
 in thought should be similar in form. In the plan on 
 pages 118-19, for example, headings “A,”. “ B,” and 
 “ C,” under “I,” are expressed in similar form; so 
 too are “ i ” and “ 2 ” under “C ; ” and the “ A,” 
 “ B,” and “ C,” of “ II,” are closely parallel in form, 
 as in thought, to the “ A,” “ B,” and “ C,” of “ I.” 
 Other instances occur in the same plan. 
 
 Equally valuable with these three devices is the 
 fourth : expressed connection. By this we mean the 
 use of conjunctions, co-ordinate and subordinate, of 
 relative pronouns, and of other words of reference 
 that state explicitly the relation between the parts. 
 In argumentative plans, the conjunctions “ for ” and 
 “because” are of chief service; but in exposition, 
 description, and narration, other connectives are of 
 equal value. If, as in argument, a paragraph expresses 
 cause or reason, its heading in the plan is expressed 
 as an adverbial clause. If the function of the para- 
 graph be substantive, its topic-sentence becomes a 
 noun clause in the plan ; if its function be adjective, 
 an adjective clause. Here, for example, is the plan 
 
EXPOSITIONAL THEMES. 
 
 123 
 
 of a passage from Burke’s Speech on Conciliation with 
 America, in which the noun clause is the appropriate 
 form : 
 
 Proposition : The strength of the American love of liberty 
 results from the following causes ; namely : 
 
 I. That they inherit the English love of liberty. 
 
 II. That their popular governments accustom them to 
 liberty. 
 
 III. That, in the northern provinces, their religion is a 
 refinement on the principle of resistance : a protest against 
 Protestantism. 
 
 IV. That, in the southern provinces, slavery makes liberty 
 more haughty. 
 
 V. That their familiarity with the law makes them judge 
 their grievances by the principles involved. 
 
 VI. That their distance from England renders government 
 from England ineffective. 
 
 And here is the plan of a brief portion of the seventh 
 chapter of Scott’s Ivanhoe, in which the use of adjec- 
 tive clauses is equally appropriate : 
 
 Proposition : The lists were a rectangular enclosure, 
 
 I. At one end of which were the pavilions of the chal- 
 lengers ; 
 
 II. At the other end of which was an enclosed space for 
 their opponents ; 
 
 III. Along either side of which were accommodations for 
 the spectators ; 
 
 IV. And midway on either side of which were the gal- 
 leries of Prince John and the “ Queen of Love and Beauty.” 
 
124 
 
 THEME-WRITING. 
 
 We may even carry the use of expressed connection 
 so far as to separate the subject and predicate of a 
 group-proposition, in order to place the adjective mod- 
 ifiers with the subject and the adverbial modifiers with 
 the predicate, as in “ II,” “ V,” and “ VI,” of the fol- 
 lowing plan. I suspect, however, that such “ stunts ” 
 savor of the pedantic. 
 
 The Second Day of the Tournament. 
 
 An extract from Ivanhoc, Chapter XII. 
 
 Proposition: The second day of the tournament result- 
 ed in a victory for the Disinherited Knight. 
 
 I. The combat opened. 
 
 A. When all were in position, “the two foremost 
 ranks of either party rushed upon each other at full 
 gallop.” 
 
 B. The survivors continued the combat mounted or 
 on foot. 
 
 C. “ The tumult was presently increased by the 
 advance of the second rank on either side.” 
 
 II. This spectacle, — 
 
 A. Which would seem calculated to awaken only 
 terror or compassion, — 
 
 inspired intense interest. 
 
 B. For “ even ladies of distinction . . . saw the 
 conflict . . . without a wish to withdraw their eyes.” 
 
 C. For, indeed, the interest of all the spectators 
 was intense. 
 
 III. The efforts of the leaders, Bois-Guilbert and the 
 Disinherited Knight, to meet, — 
 
EXPOSITIONAL THEMES. 
 
 125 
 
 A. Which during the earlier part of the conflict 
 . . . were unavailing,” — 
 
 were at length successful. 
 
 B. For “ when the field became thin . . . [they] 
 . . . encountered hand to hand.” 
 
 IV. The approach of Athelstane and Front-de-Boeuf 
 
 placed the Disinherited Knight in great peril; 
 
 A. For they charged upon him from either side, 
 while he was fighting Bois-Guilbert. 
 
 B. For, avoiding their charge, he was pursued by 
 all three. 
 
 C. For “ nothing could save him except the remark- 
 able strength and activity of his noble horse.” 
 
 D. Although ” for a few minutes ” he was able “ to 
 keep at sword’s point his three antagonists.” 
 
 V. The request that the combat be stopped, — 
 
 A. [A request] which was urged by the nobles 
 unanimously, — 
 
 was refused by Prince John. 
 
 B. On the ground that the Disinherited Knight had 
 “ already gained one prize, and [might] now afford to 
 let others have their turn.” 
 
 VI. But an unknown champion, — 
 
 A. Whose conduct had gained for him the name of 
 “the Black Sluggard,” — 
 
 saved the day for the Disinherited Knight. 
 
 B. For, at the critical moment, he struck down 
 Front-de-Boeuf and Athelstane, a feat which made it 
 possible for the Disinherited Knight to overthrow Bois- 
 Guilbert, and thus win the tournament. 
 
 I have no desire to believe that the good Sir Walter 
 
126 
 
 THEME-WRITING. 
 
 ever committed such a piece of nonsense as is the plan 
 just given; I include it among my examples merely 
 because it illustrates, within small space, all the devices 
 expressive of relation. Notation, indention, parallel 
 construction, expressed connection, all are here. I 
 believe that this last plan will repay your careful study. 
 
 My discussion of plan-construction with respect to 
 form, I may now summarize in these three state- 
 ments : ( I ) The headings should be written upon 
 
 separate cards, or all on a single sheet, or upon both, 
 as circumstances may require. (2) They should be 
 expressed as propositions, not as terms. (3) Their 
 interrelation should be indicated by notation, by inden- 
 tion, by parallel construction, and by expressed con- 
 nection. From this discussion of plan construction 
 with respect to form, I pass now to a discussion of 
 plan-construction with respect to substance. 
 
 (2) THE plan: its substance. 
 
 Plan-construction of the form described must be 
 thought of not as an end but as a means. Please do 
 not forget for a moment that the purpose of this 
 seemingly elaborate mechanism is merely to aid the 
 writer in organizing his material. It is but the 
 mechanical expression of what should be a severely 
 logical process of thought-arrangement. Just as, in 
 
EXPOSITIONAL THEMES. 
 
 127 
 
 a general way, the Proposition serves as a test and 
 basis for unity, especially for unity of material, so, 
 in a much more searching manner, this plan is to aid 
 the writer as, at once, a test and a basis for his unity 
 of effect. This unity, or singleness of effect, depends, 
 as I have said before, upon three things ; unity of 
 material ; mass, or emphasis ; and coherence. To dis- 
 cuss plan-construction with respect to substance, is to 
 point out how a plan of the form I have described 
 may aid a writer to obtain this three-fold unity of 
 effect. 
 
 First, then, the plan should help to assure Unity 
 of Material. If the plan have unity of material and 
 the finished composition conform strictly to the plan, 
 there is little likelihood that the completed exposition 
 will lack unity of material. To decide whether a plan 
 has unity of material, as a whole and in its several 
 parts, we must compare the main headings with each 
 other and with the proposition. Are these headings 
 co-ordinate and mutually exclusive? If so, we may 
 assume that each will be, for the thought-division that 
 it represents, a proper basis of unity. Does the sum 
 of the co-ordinate headings equal, in logical content, 
 the proposition under which they fall? If so, unity 
 of material is assured so far as the exposition as a 
 whole and its main divisions are concerned. Look 
 then to the subheads of each main division. Are these 
 
128 
 
 THEMD-WRITING. 
 
 likewise co-ordinate and mutually exclusive? And 
 does their sum equal, in logical content, the main 
 heading under which they fall? If this test, con- 
 tinued throughout each division and subdivision of 
 the plan, produces no answer in the negative, then 
 we may be reasonably certain of unity of thought. 
 
 A matter so important must not be dismissed with- 
 out concrete illustration. Let us take the plan of one 
 portion of this chapter : 
 
 Group Proposition: The relation of the headings to one 
 
 another should be indicated by the following 
 devices : 
 
 (1) By notation. 
 
 (2) By indention. 
 
 (3) By parallel construction. 
 
 (4) By expressed connection. 
 
 Are these four subheads co-ordinate? To me, they 
 seem so. Are they mutually exclusive? Again I 
 answer yes : they do not overlap ; each device may 
 be used without the others. Does their sum equal, in 
 logical content, the heading under which they fall? 
 Yes, again: nothing is wanting, yet nothing overflows. 
 These four headings together fill the measure. But 
 suppose I were to add this heading: 
 
 (5) The headings of the Introduction and the 
 
 Conclusion should be numbered separately. 
 
EXPOSITIONAL THEMES. I29 
 
 What is the matter? The headings are no longer 
 co-ordinate and mutually exclusive : No. 5 overlaps 
 No. I ; indeed, it is merely a part of No. i So we 
 place it among the subheads of (i); and if these 
 appear in the plan, we letter it (b) or (d) or (k) 
 as its position may require. Our tests have kept us 
 from giving it a false position. But suppose this 
 heading should occur : 
 
 (5) By expressing the headings as propositions, 
 not as terms. 
 
 Does this belong in the group that we are now con- 
 sidering? Clearly, no; it has nothing whatever to 
 do with the relation of the headings. If it were 
 admitted, then the sum of the five subheadings would 
 exceed, in logical content, the heading under which 
 they fall. This fifth subheading violates unity. Put 
 it out ! Suppose, then, that one of the four subheads 
 were lacking. Would the sum of the remaining three 
 equal the group-proposition? No, for an essential 
 part would then be wanting. All must be present to 
 produce unity of thought in this division of the plan. 
 
 That the plan may aid materially in assuring unity 
 of thought, is, I trust, apparent; but that it may aid 
 also in assuring unity of feeling, is neither so evident 
 nor so true. A plan, indeed, deals of necessity with 
 thought and not with feeling. Even in description 
 
130 
 
 THEME-WRITING. 
 
 and narration — the so-called literature of emotion — 
 the plan must express the intellectual, not the emo- 
 tional, structure. The emotional effects result usually 
 from touches of detail. Matters of structure rarely 
 stir our smiles and tears; for emotion, it’s the little 
 things that tell. With these, of course, the plan has 
 naught to do ; yet indirectly it may help to assure unity 
 of feeling. . Roughly, at least, we know the emotions 
 involved in certain thoughts. Indirectly, therefore, a 
 plan that is merely intellectual may be a test and a 
 basis for unity of feeling. 
 
 Besides assuring Unity of Material, however, the 
 plan should be so constructed as, secondly, to assure, 
 in the completed composition, Mass, or Emphasis. 
 This requisite we may resolve into two more : ( i ) 
 
 The plan should be so constructed as to place the 
 important parts in the conspicuous positions; (2) The 
 plan should be so constructed as to give to the impor- 
 tant parts most space. 
 
 Since the beginning and the end are the most con- 
 spicuous positions, the first of these two requisites 
 concerns chiefly the introduction and conclusion of the 
 composition as a whole, and the opening and closing 
 paragraphs of each paragraph-group. In planning the 
 arrangement of the composition for mass, or empha- 
 sis, we should consider first the introduction. Here, 
 usually, should be placed the subject of the compo- 
 
EXPOSiTIONAIv THEMES. 
 
 I3I 
 
 sition, and a statement of its main divisions. Here, 
 if the subject needs defining, should be placed its 
 definition. Here, if the subject is to appeal to the 
 feelings as well as to the. understanding of the reader, 
 should be placed some concrete, connotative material. 
 And here, unless it is desirable to surprise the reader 
 or to hide from him the real drift of the argument 
 lest he take affright, should be placed, not merely the 
 statement of the subject, but also a frank, clear state- 
 ment of the entire proposition. All these elements in 
 the introduction of the intended composition should 
 be represented by correctly marshalled headings in 
 the plan. 
 
 Even more conspicuous than the opening of a com- 
 position is its close. Such, therefore, should be the 
 arrangement of the plan that headings worthy of 
 most distinction shall fall in the conclusion. Here, 
 for intellectual effect, should be placed a summary 
 of the entire discussion. Here, again for intellectual 
 effect, should be placed a statement of the proposition. 
 Here, for emotional effect, as where some element of 
 persuasion enters in, should be placed some concrete, 
 connotative material that shall convince not the head 
 only, but the heart. And again, all these elements in 
 the conclusion of the intended composition should be 
 represented by correctly marshalled headings in the 
 plan. 
 
132 
 
 THEME-WRITING. 
 
 To assure mass, or emphasis, however, in the 
 intended composition, the plan should provide not 
 only for the arrangement but also for the propor- 
 tioning of the parts. Just as the position of a head- 
 ing in the plan indicates the position of a thought- 
 division in the purposed composition, so the number 
 of subheads in any group indicates to what extent 
 that thought-division is to be amplified. If the plan 
 shows man)f subheadings under a head of slight impor- 
 tance, it warns us that we are in danger of expanding 
 it too far. If the plan shows few subheadings under 
 a head of great importance, it warns us to build up 
 that division by adding more material. If the plan 
 shows many main headings ill supported, instead of 
 a few main headings well supported, it warns us that 
 our plan is ill digested, and needs, for emphasis, to 
 be reorganized throughout. Multiplicity of points is 
 effort wasted. Concentrate on two or three ; and find 
 a way to mass your minor points on these few. For 
 bombardment, three fair-sized projectiles are worth 
 barrels of buckshot. 
 
 Thus, through arrangement and proportion, the 
 plan may aid us in obtaining Mass, or Emphasis. 
 It may aid us, also, thirdly, to obtain Coherence. Of 
 the three methods of obtaining coherence — arrange- 
 ment, parallel construction, and expressed connection 
 — the third and second concern not the plan but the 
 
EXPOSITIONAL THEMES. 
 
 133 
 
 completed composition. Their relation to exposition, 
 therefore, I shall discuss in Section III. Here, how- 
 ever, I may speak of coherence through arrangement; 
 for this, certainly, is a prime purpose of a plan. 
 
 To assure coherence in the intended composition, 
 there must be coherence in the plan. The relation of 
 each heading to its neighbors should be unmistakable. 
 Each subheading should be placed beneath that larger 
 heading of which it is logically a subdivision ; each 
 subheading should be so placed within its group as 
 to play its part in the development of the thought. 
 So inevitable should be the arrangement of the head- 
 ings that, if the plan were printed as a solid para- 
 graph, without the aid of notation, indention, parallel 
 construction, or expressed connection, it would pre- 
 sent a thought-sequence clear and logical from start 
 to finish. When the plan will meet this test, we may 
 be reasonably sure that the arrangement of the result- 
 ing composition will be coherent. 
 
 Let me now summarize my discussion of plan-con- 
 struction with respect to substance, and then conclude 
 the section on organization with one final illustration. 
 The end of organization in the writing of an expo- 
 sition is Unity of Effect. To this end, the plan 
 should, in the first place, be such as to assure Unity 
 of Material: under any heading, the subheads should 
 be co-ordinate and mutually exclusive; the sum of any 
 
134 
 
 THUME-WRITING. 
 
 group of subheads should equal, in logical content, 
 the heading under which they fall. In the second 
 place, the plan should be such as to assure Mass, or 
 Emphasis: the important headings should stand first 
 or last ; the important headings should be most ampli- 
 fied. And lastly, the plan should be such as to assure 
 Coherence : each heading should stand in its inevitable 
 position. 
 
 As a final illustration, I conclude my discussion 
 with a plan of this entire section : 
 
 INTRODUCTION. 
 
 I. Since the end of organization is to produce unity of 
 effect ; 
 
 II. And since the means to this end is a predetermined writ- 
 ten plan, in form appropriate : 
 
 (Proposition) Therefore : The best method of organization 
 is as follows : 
 
 DISCUSSION. 
 
 I. The means to effective organization is a plan in the fol- 
 lowing form : 
 
 A. The headings should be written either 
 
 (1) Upon separate cards, or 
 
 (2) All upon a single sheet, or 
 
 (3) Upon both, as circumstances may require. 
 
 B. The headings should be expressed as propositions 
 
 not as terms. 
 
EXPOSITIONAL THEMES. T35 
 
 (1) For, although a plan expressed in terms 
 
 may sometimes prove sufficient, 
 
 (2) Yet usually a plan expressed in terms is 
 
 inadequate because indefinite. 
 
 C. The interrelations of the headings should be indi- 
 cated : 
 
 ( 1 ) By notation ; 
 
 (2) By indention; 
 
 (3) By parallel construction; 
 
 (4) By expressed connection. 
 
 II. The end of organization is Unity of Effect. 
 
 A. The plan should be such as to assure Unity of 
 
 Material. 
 
 (1) Under any heading, the subheads should 
 
 be co-ordinate and mutually exclusive. 
 
 (2) The sum of any group of subheads should 
 
 equal in logical content the heading un- 
 der which they fall. 
 
 B. The plan should be such as to assure Mass, or 
 
 Emphasis. 
 
 (1) The important headings should stand first 
 
 or last. 
 
 (2) The important headings should be most 
 
 amplified. 
 
 C. The plan should be such as to assure Coherence. 
 
 (i) Each heading should stand in its inevitable 
 position. 
 
 CONCLUSION. 
 
 (Proposition) The best method of organization is that 
 defined above : a method that assures Unity of Effect 
 by means of an appropriate plan. 
 
§ III: THE AMPLIFICATION. 
 
 our discussion of the first two steps in 
 J U exposition — the formulation of the topic as 
 I a proposition, and the organization of the 
 material by means of a predetermined plan — we pass 
 now to a consideration of the third and final step : the 
 actual writing of the article, the amplification of the 
 plan into the completed exposition. In this act of 
 verbal composition, we should observe three working 
 rules. In the first place, we should build up each 
 heading by means of material that is concrete. In 
 the second place, if we desire to appeal not only to 
 the understanding but also to the feelings of our 
 reader, we should use material that is not only con- 
 crete but also connotative. And in the last place, we 
 should make evident the predetermined structure by 
 means of introductions, transitions, and summaries. 
 
 First, then, we should build up each heading by 
 means of concrete material. Since, in an earlier chap- 
 ter, I have preached at length upon this point, I shall 
 here illustrate rather than expound. First, however, 
 let me recall the subject to your minds by quoting a 
 plan and exposition submitted as part of an exami- 
 nation on this subj ect in a Summer School course : 
 
EXPOSITIONAt THEMES. 137 
 
 Subject: The Use of Concrete Material in Literary 
 Composition. 
 
 THE PLAN. 
 
 INTRODUCTION. 
 
 (Proposition) : Concrete material is necessary in literary com- 
 position. 
 
 BODY, OR DISCUSSION. 
 
 I. Concrete material should be used in literature of thought. 
 
 A. For in exposition, facts must be presented to estab- 
 
 lish theories. 
 
 B. For in argument, conclusions must be supported by 
 
 evidence and authorities. 
 
 C. For in criticism, opinions must be illustrated by 
 
 examples. 
 
 II. Concrete material should be used in literature of feeling. 
 
 A. For in narrative, detail is essential to reality. 
 
 B. For in description, we must build up the picture as 
 
 the eye does, bit by bit. 
 
 CONCLUSION. 
 
 (Proposition and Summary): Therefore, in the literature of 
 thought and in the literature of feeling, the use of con- 
 crete material is essential. 
 
 THE EXPOSITION. 
 
 For success in literary composition, one of the necessary 
 elements is the free use of concrete material. By concrete 
 material, we mean actual, material things, particular instances. 
 
138 THEME-WRITING. 
 
 facts or details that exemplify the writer’s abstract or general 
 notions. For instance, in a comparison of the literary style 
 of Macaulay and Carlyle, the concrete material might include 
 extracts from the works of each ; in a description of the Pali- 
 sades, the concrete material might include details as to appear- 
 ance, height, extent, rock-formation, vegetation, as they actu- 
 ally appear to an observer. 
 
 In the literature of thought — exposition, argumentation, 
 criticism — the use of concrete material is essential. The pur- 
 pose of an exposition is to present a clear explanation of some 
 theory. For this, the writer must present concrete illustra- 
 tion: dates, statistics, extracts from sources, if his subject be 
 historical; tables and experiments, if his subject be scientific. 
 In argumentation, the debater wishes to convince his audience 
 of the truth of his conclusions. For this, again, he must offer 
 concrete proof ; facts, evidence, authorities. In criticism, if 
 the writer’s judgment is to gain assent, he must support and 
 illustrate it with concrete instances : facts from the life of the 
 author he is discussing, and selections from his works. 
 
 In the literature of feeling, the use of concrete material is 
 no less necessary. Emotions are caused by physical stimuli. 
 If the writer wishes to reproduce an emotion in his reader’s 
 mind, he must first, so far as possible, reproduce the stimuli. 
 In other words, he must present the concrete material that 
 occasioned the emotion. In narration, the writer must repro- 
 duce the essential details of the action; he must make the 
 reader live through it, step by step. In description, he must 
 present the picture as he saw it, bit by bit, detail after detail. 
 
 Thus we see that, both in literature of feeling and in liter- 
 ature of thought, the use of concrete material is essential. 
 By no other means can the author produce the result to which 
 
EXPOSITIONAL THEMES. I39 
 
 all literature is directed : to convey to the receiving mind the 
 exact impression that was in the conceiving mind. 
 
 M. E. T. 
 
 To show you how essential is concreteness for clear, 
 effective exposition, let me here offer an example of 
 exposition that is entirely without concrete material. 
 This is a summary of a lecture on Argumentation, 
 delivered by my sometime colleague Mr. Charles 
 Wilbert Snow. The students listening to his lecture 
 were required to take notes, and to prepare from 
 their notes a summary about five hundred words in 
 length. As the length of the original lecture was 
 two hours, the students could reduce their summary 
 to the required limit only by omitting all concrete 
 illustration. In the summary herewith submitted, 
 notice the effect of this omission : 
 
 Summary of a Lecture on Argumentation. 
 
 The modern point of view regarding argumentation is best 
 illustrated by scientific debate. Scientific debate is practical 
 and is based on facts. Concrete ideas appeal to the individual. 
 This subject we may best consider under four heads: defi- 
 nition ; analysis ; use of evidence ; and presentation. 
 
 Definition involves the power to arrange the proposition so 
 that there can be no mistake as to the point to be discussed. 
 This may be accomplished in the following ways : avoid obvi- 
 ous propositions ; avoid propositions containing more than 
 one main issue; avoid propositions incapable of proof; avoid 
 
140 
 
 theme-writing. 
 
 propositions that hinge on some ambiguous word; avoid 
 propositions devoid of interest to the audience ; avoid propo- 
 sitions that are negative statements. The propositions should 
 consist of one main issue stated concisely and affirmatively. 
 In order to define accurately, examine carefully into the his- 
 tory of the question. 
 
 Analysis involves the power to separate the proposition into 
 its component parts. This is done for the purpose of fair- 
 ness, to exclude extraneous, admitted, and waived matter. 
 By means of this we reach the point where argument begins. 
 This is known as the clash of opinions. The one who can 
 analyze best, wins his case. 
 
 We use evidence to affirm or deny statements made con- 
 cerning the proposition. Evidence is divided into two classes : 
 (i) Testimonial, or direct, which is found in statistics, opin- 
 ions, and arguments of others; (2) Circumstantial, or indi- 
 rect. Testimonial evidence should be the most used, as it is 
 concrete, and as it is the most effective. Fallacies should be 
 avoided. They hold no place in scientific debate. Some of 
 the most common fallacies are : the fallacy of trying to get a 
 case where there is no case ; begging the question ; ignoring 
 the question. 
 
 Effective presentation is a great aid toward winning the 
 point discussed. There are four methods of presentation : 
 (i) Write out your argument and read it. This is not satis- 
 factory because argument prepared for reading differs widely 
 from argument prepared for speaking. (2) Write it out and 
 memorize it. This also is not satisfactory. It gives hardness 
 and inflexibility to the argument. To be effective one should 
 interpret people to themselves. (3) Write out the opening 
 and the closing and the main points. This method is objec- 
 
EXPOSITIONAL THEMES. 
 
 I4I 
 
 tionable because it makes difficult a natural delivery. The 
 main points will be definite and the details indefinite. The 
 best method is, (4) to speak extemporaneously. It is best to 
 learn ideas, not words. By this method one can enter into 
 the spirit of his audience, and deliver his argument in a 
 natural manner. Since the success of the argument depends 
 to a great extent upon the man delivering it, he should be 
 physically perfect, have a good command of English, be sin- 
 cere, keep in touch with his audience, and, above all, be 
 natural. E. G. B. 
 
 The summary just quoted- — most excellent as a 
 summary — shows how essential, even for the sake 
 of clearness, is concrete illustration. Without con- 
 crete illustration, many of the statements in this sum- 
 mary are almost meaningless. Concrete material is 
 needed to make abstractions clear. 
 
 Concrete material, however, may make an exposi- 
 tion clear without making it interesting. Concrete 
 material will assist in obtaining intellectual effect ; 
 but it may or may not assist in obtaining emotional 
 effect. Here, for example, is an exposition consist- 
 ing almost wholly of concrete illustration. As a result 
 of this concreteness, it is excellently clear. But has 
 it any emotional appeal? Does it grip our attention? 
 
 Subject : Congressionai, Procedure. 
 
 THE PLAN. 
 
 (Proposition) : The method of passing a bill in the United 
 States Congress is as follows : 
 
142 
 
 theme-writing. 
 
 I. The regular procedure is exemplified in the passage of 
 House Bill No. 12,244, Sist Congress, Second 
 Session. 
 
 A. Which was introduced, referred to a House com- 
 
 mittee, reported, and passed by the House. 
 
 B. Which was referred to a Senate committee, re- 
 
 ported, and passed by the Senate. 
 
 C. Which was enrolled, and sent to the President 
 
 for approval. 
 
 II. A more complicated procedure is exemplified in the 
 passage of House Bill No. 402, 52d Congress, 
 First Session. 
 
 A. Which was introduced, referred to a House com- 
 
 mittee, reported, and passed by the 
 House. 
 
 B. Which was referred to a Senate committee, re- 
 
 ported with amendments, and so passed 
 by the Senate. 
 
 (1) Which amendments the House refused to 
 
 accept, and demanded a conference. 
 
 (2) Which amendments the Senate insisted 
 
 on ; but agreed to a conference, as a 
 result of which the House yielded. 
 
 C. Which was enrolled and sent to the President for 
 
 approval. 
 
 III. Senate bills go through a course of procedure of a sim- 
 ilar nature. 
 
 THE EXPOSITION. 
 
 The method of passing bills in the United States Congress 
 is, from the character of the body, somewhat different from 
 
EXPOSITIONAL THEMES. 
 
 143 
 
 general parliamentary practice. The fact that there are two 
 bodies to pass on measures necessitates a rather more com- 
 plicated system than that in use in non-legislative bodies. 
 Perhaps the best way to get an understanding of the pro- 
 cedure is to follow a bill from its introduction to its approval 
 by the President. In order to make the system perfectly clear, 
 it will be necessary to get the general scheme by following a 
 bill which went through without opposition, and then to show 
 how contingencies are met, by following a bill on which there 
 was a disagreement. 
 
 House Bill No. 12,244 of the 51st Congress, Second Session, 
 granted a pension to Annie B. Pettigrew. It was introduced 
 on December i, 1890, by Mr. Cogswell of Massachusetts, who 
 handed it to the Speaker for reference. It was read twice, 
 and referred to the Committee on Invalid Pensions. ^ On Jan- 
 uary 13, 1891, Mr. Flick of the Committee reported the bill 
 without amendment, and it was then referred to the Com- 
 mittee of the Whole House.- Three days later, on Jan. 16, 
 Mr. Morrill requested unanimous consent for the discharge of 
 this Committee from further discussion of this bill, and this 
 request was granted. The bill was then engrossed, read the 
 third time, and passed. The Clerk was ordered to request the 
 concurrence of the Senate in the bill.^ 
 
 On the same day, the Senate received a message from the 
 House of Representatives in which, among other things, it was 
 announced that the House had passed House Bill No. 12,244 
 and requested the concurrence of the Senate in it. The bill 
 was read twice by unanimous consent, and referred to the 
 
 1 House Journal: 51st Congress, Second Session, p. 12. 
 
 2 Ibid. p. 127. 
 
 3 Ibid. p. 140. 
 
144 
 
 themk-writing. 
 
 Committee on Pensions. On Jan. 26, Mr. Blodgetts of that 
 committee reported the bill without amendment. Five days 
 later, Jan. 31, the Senate proceeded to consider it as in Com- 
 mittee of the Whole, and it was reported to the Senate without 
 amendment.'’ It was then read the third time, and passed. 
 The Secretary was ordered to notify the House of Representa- 
 tives of the fact.® 
 
 On February 2, the Secretary of the Senate reported the 
 passage of the bill to the House and on February 4, Mr. 
 Kennedy of the House Committee on Enrolled Bills reported 
 that the committee had examined the bill and found it truly 
 enrolled. The Speaker then signed it.® On February 5, Mr. 
 Sanders of the Senate Committee on Enrolled Bills made a 
 similar report to that body, whereupon the Vice-President 
 signed the bill and it was delivered to the committee to be 
 presented to the President of the United States.® Nine days 
 later, on February 16, i8gi, the House received a message 
 from the President stating that, on February 14, he had 
 approved and signed House Bill No. 12,244.1® Three days 
 later the Clerk of the House reported this fact to the Senate.^ 
 The process was not quite so simple in the case of House 
 Bill No. 402 of the 52nd Congress, First Session. This bill 
 was for the purpose of establishing a division line between 
 the land of the United States and of the Pittsburg, Fort 
 
 4 Senate Journal: 51st Cong. 2d Sess., p. 82, 83. 
 
 5 IMd. p. 94. 
 
 6 Ibid. p. 100. 
 
 7 House Journal, p. 204. 
 
 8 Ibid. p. 214. 
 
 9 Senate Journal, p. 114. 
 
 10 House Journal, p. 251. 
 
 11 Senate Journal, p. 158. 
 
EXPOSITIONAL THEMES. 
 
 145 
 
 Wayne, and Chicago Railroad Company. It was introduced 
 in the House of Representatives on January 7, 1892, and 
 referred to the Committee on Public Lands. On March 24, 
 Mr. Amerman of that committee reported the bill without 
 amendment ; and the report was ordered printed, and the bill 
 referred to the Committee of the Whole House. On June 
 13, this committee, on motion of Mr. McRae, was discharged 
 from further consideration of the matter; and the bill was 
 read twice, ordered engrossed, read the third time, and passed. 
 The Clerk was ordered to request the concurrence of the 
 Senate in the measure.^'^ 
 
 On June 15, the Clerk of the House delivered a message to 
 the Senate in which was announced the passage of the act by 
 the House. The bill was read twice by unanimous consent, 
 and referred to the Committee on Commerce.^^ Mr. Quay of 
 this committee reported it on July g, with an amendment. The 
 Senate, by unanimous consent proceeded to consider the bill 
 as in Committee of the Whole, and agreed to the amendment. 
 The bill was then reported to the Senate, and the amendment 
 concurred in. It was ordered engrossed as amended, read 
 the third time, and passed. The preamble was also amended. 
 The Secretary was ordered to request the concurrence of the 
 House in the amendments.^® 
 
 On July II, the Secretary of the Senate reported the action 
 of that body to the House. The next day the Speaker 
 laid the report before the House; and, on motion of Mr. 
 
 12 House Journal: 52<J Cong. 1st Sess. Part 2, p. 9. 
 
 13 Ibid. p. 113. 
 
 14 Ibid. p. 226. 
 
 15 Senate Journal: 52d Cong. 1st Sess. p. 304. 
 
 16 Ibid. p. 348. 
 
 17 House Journal, p. 282. 
 
THEME-WRITING. 
 
 146 
 
 McRae, that body disagreed to the amendment of the Senate, 
 *and asked for a conference on the disagreeing votes of the 
 two houses. Mr. Amerman, Mr. McRae, and Mr. Townsend 
 were appointed managers on the part of the House.'^^ On the 
 same day this action was reported to the Senate. That body, 
 on motion of Mr. Cameron, decided to insist on its amend- 
 ment, and agreed to a conference. Mr. Quay, Mr. Perkins, 
 and Mr. Faulkner were appointed managers on the part of the 
 Senate.i“ This action was duly reported to the House.-" 
 
 On July IS, Mr. Quay submitted to the Senate the report 
 of the Conference Committee, which recommended that the 
 House recede from its objection to the amendments of the 
 Senate. The Senate agreed to the report, and this was 
 reported to the House on the same day.^^ On July 16, Mr. 
 Amerman presented the conference report to the House. 
 After some discussion, in which it was brought out that the 
 bill had been amended because in its original state it was not 
 satisfactory to the War Department, the report was agreed to. 
 A motion by Mr. McRae to reconsider the vote was, on his 
 own motion, laid on the table.-^ The Clerk of the House 
 reported the action of that body to the Senate on the same 
 day.-‘‘ 
 
 On July 18, 1892, Mr. Warwick of the House Committee 
 on Enrolled Bills reported to the House that the committee 
 had examined House Bill No. 402, and found it truly enrolled. 
 The Speaker then signed it.^" On the same day, Mr. Sanders 
 
 18 Tt)ia. p. 285. 
 
 19 Senate Journal, p. 354. 20 House Journal, p. 289. 
 
 21 Senate Journal, 364. 
 
 22 House Journal, p. 293. 
 
 23 Ibid. p. 300. 
 
 24 Senate Journal, p. 338. 
 
 25 House Journal, p. 304. 
 
EXPOSITIONAI, THEMES. 147 
 
 of the Senate Committee on Enrolled Bills made a similar 
 report to that body ; and the President pro tempore signed the 
 bill, and delivered it to the Committee to be presented to the 
 President of the United States. Seven days later, July 25, 
 the President, in a message to the House, announced that two 
 days before he had approved and signed the bill ; and, on 
 the next day, a message from the House informed the Senate 
 of this fact.-'^ 
 
 Senate Bills go through the same process as those intro- 
 duced in the House with the exception that they are considered 
 by the Senate first, and if passed by it, are taken up by the 
 House. Being passed by the House, they are enrolled and 
 sent to the President for his signature. 
 
 D, C. N. 
 
 This exposition on “ Congressional Procedure ” I 
 have included here to illustrate the difference between 
 concrete material that is denotative and concrete mate- 
 rial that is both denotative and connotative. The pur- 
 pose of the writer of this exposition was merely to 
 be clear; he had no desire, no reason, to be forceful. 
 Since his intended effect was purely intellectual, he 
 attended strictly to the denotation, the literal meaning 
 of his words and of the material they expressed. 
 But had he wished to stir the feelings of his reader, 
 even in so mild a form as to arouse and hold the 
 
 26 Senate Journal, p. 374. 
 
 27 House Journal, p. 328. 
 
 28 Senate Journal, p. 401. 
 
148 
 
 THEME-WRITING. 
 
 reader’s interest, he should have selected his concrete 
 material with view not only to its denotation but also 
 to its connotation. “House Bill No. 12,244, 5ist 
 Congress, Second Session,*” is certainly concrete, and 
 sufficiently denotative ; but I suspect that for most 
 of us it has little connotation. I submit, therefore, 
 as our second working rule of amplification, the fol- 
 lowing suggestion : 
 
 If we desire to appeal not only to the understand- 
 ing but also to the emotions of our reader, we should 
 use material that is not only concrete but also conno- 
 tative. 
 
 To exemplify this second working rule of ampli- 
 fication, I have selected a freshman exposition in 
 most respects ordinary enough, but worthy in its use 
 of illustrative material. Such points as the writer 
 makes, he exemplifies concretely by means of apt 
 quotation ; but, besides this, he has chosen these quo- 
 tations with the intent to make his reader enjoy as 
 well as understand. These illustrations are, for most 
 of us, connotative; therefore they have emotional 
 appeal. By this means, the writer — provided that 
 we care for poetry at all ■ — masters our attention. 
 
 The: Language of Love’s Labour’s Lost. 
 
 Shakspere’s comedy of Love’s Labour’s Lost has been gen- 
 erally recognized as youthful work, a play belonging unques- 
 
EXPOSITIONAL THEMES. 
 
 149 
 
 tionably to his period of apprenticeship. Its characterization 
 is weak ; its plot, invertebrate. And yet, despite these marks 
 of youthfulness, it is in one respect well worth our study. 
 This point of interest is the language used : notable in part 
 for the very multiplicity of the verse-forms and prose-forms 
 that its author tries ; even more notable for the genuine 
 effectiveness of the forms attempted. To illustrate this mul- 
 tiplicity and effectiveness is the purpose of this paper. 
 
 Conspicuous among the passages in prose are those embody- 
 ing the merry quips of Moth and the ponderous pedantry of 
 Holofernes. Of the former, take this passage as a sample: 
 
 Moth. Master, will you win your love with a French brawl? 
 Armado. How meanest thou? brawling in French? 
 
 Moth. No, my complete master: but to jig off a tune at the 
 tongue’s end, canary to it with your feet, humour it 
 with turning up your eyelids, sigh a note and sing a 
 note, sometime through the throat, as if you swallowed 
 love with singing love, sometimes through the nose as 
 if you snuffed up love by smelling love ; with your hat 
 pent-house-like o’er the shop of your eyes ; with your 
 arms crossed on your thin-belly doublet, like a rabbit 
 on a spit; or your hands in your pocket, like a man 
 after the old painting; and keep not too long in one 
 tune, but a snip and away. These are complements, 
 these are humours; these betray nice wenches, that 
 would be betrayed without these; and make them men 
 of note — do you note me ? — that most are affected to 
 these.^ 
 
 1 Love’s Labour's Lost: 1 II. 1. 8-26. 
 
THEME-WRITING. 
 
 150 
 
 And here is Shakspere’s caricature of the language of the 
 Elizabethan school-master : 
 
 Holof ernes. The deer was, as you know, sanguis, in blood; 
 ripe as the pomewater, who now hangeth like a jewel 
 in the ear of caelo, the sky, the welkin, the heaven; and 
 anon falleth like a crab on the face of terra, the soil, 
 the land, the earth, 
 
 Nathaniel. Truly, Master Holofernes, the epithets are sweet- 
 ly varied, like a scholar at the least : but, sir, I assure 
 ye, it was a buck of the first head. 
 
 Hoi. Sir Nathaniel, baud credo. 
 
 Dull. ’Twas not a haud credo; ’twas a pricket. 
 
 Hoi. Most barbarous intimation ! yet a kind of insinuation, 
 as it were, in via, in way, of explication ; facere, as 
 it were, replication, or, rather, ostentare, to show, as 
 it were, his inclination, after his undressed, unpolished, 
 uneducated, unpruned, untrained, or, rather, unlettered, 
 or, ratherest, unconfirmed fashion, to insert again my 
 haud credo for a deer. 
 
 Dull. I said the deer was not a haud credo ; ’twas a pricket. 
 Hoi. Twice-sod simplicity, bis coctus ! 
 
 O thou monster Ignorance, how deformed dost thou 
 look ! 2 
 
 Surely when the youthful Shakspere penned these lines he 
 was in admirable fooling. Yet from the merriment of Shak- 
 spere’s prose, we turn willingly to the melody of Shakspere’s 
 verse. Here we find blank verse, heroic couplet, doggerel, 
 and various lyric forms ; and all are excellent. Let us note 
 the blank verse first. As is usual in Shakspere’s early plays. 
 
 2 Ibid. IV. ii. 3-24. 
 
EXPOSITIONAL THEMES. 
 
 I5I 
 
 the blank verse is normally end-stopped ; but now and then 
 the run-on line occurs. Take first this passage of the end- 
 stopped kind : 
 
 A lover’s eyes will gaze an eagle blind ; 
 
 A lover's ear will hear the lowest sound, 
 
 When the suspicious head of theft is stopp’d : 
 
 Love’s feeling is more soft and sensible 
 Than are the tender horns of cockled snails ; 
 
 Love’s tongue proves dainty Bacchus gross in taste : 
 
 For valour, is not Love a Hercules, 
 
 Still climbing trees in the Hesperides ? 
 
 Subtle as Sphinx ; as sweet and musical 
 As bright Apollo’s lute, strung with his hair ; 
 
 And when Love speaks, the voice of all the gods 
 Make heaven drowsy with the harmony. 
 
 Never durst poet touch a pen to write 
 Until his ink were tempered with Loves sighs. ^ 
 
 The examples of run-on lines, though fewer in number, 
 contain the elements which tend toward Shakspere’s further 
 success in blank verse : 
 
 It shall suffice me : at which interview 
 All liberal reason will I yield unto. 
 
 Meantime receive such welcome at my hand 
 As honour, without breach of honour, may 
 Make tender of to thy true worthiness.^ 
 
 Or again ; 
 
 8 Ibid. IV. iii. 384-47. 
 4 Ibid. II. 1. 167-71. 
 
152 
 
 THEME-WRITING. 
 
 I know him, madam : at a marriage-feast 
 Between Lord Perigort and the beauteous heir 
 Of Jaques Palconbridge, solemnized 
 In Normandy, saw I this Longaville.^ 
 
 Shakspere’s doggerel, which he introduces to liven the 
 conversation, is characterized by its humor. It gives him 
 opportunity for rapid and witty repartee ; 
 
 Biron. What time o’ day? 
 
 Rosaline. The hour that fools should ask. 
 
 Biron, Now fair befall your mask ! 
 
 Ros. Fair fall the face it covers ! 
 
 Biron. And send you many lovers ! 
 
 Ros. Amen, so you be none. 
 
 Biron. Nay, then I will be gone.® 
 
 Armado. The fox, the ape, the humble-bee. 
 
 Were still at odds, being but three. 
 
 Moth. Until the goose came out of door. 
 
 And stay’d the odds by adding four.i 
 
 In this play, Shakspere uses also a large amount of heroic 
 couplets. We find more, and probably better, examples of this 
 form than in his later works in which the rhyme gives way 
 almost entirely to blank verse : 
 
 Biron (Advancing). Ah, good my liege, I pray thee, par- 
 don me ! 
 
 Good heart, what grace hast thou thus to reprove 
 
 5 Ibid, II, 1 , 40-43. 
 
 6 Ibid. II. i. 123-23. 
 
 7 Ibid. HI. i. 90-93. 
 
EXPOSITIONAL THEMES. 
 
 153 
 
 These worms for loving, that art most in love?. 
 
 Your eyes do make no coaches ; in your tears 
 There is no certain princess that appears ; 
 
 You’ll not be perjured, 'tis a hateful thing; 
 
 Tush, none but minstrels like of sonneting ! 
 
 But are you not ashamed? nay, are you not, 
 
 All three of you, to be thus much o’ershot? 
 
 You found his mote; the king your mote did see; 
 
 But I a beam do find in each of three. 
 
 O, what a scene of foolery have I seen, 
 
 Of sighs, of groans, of sorrows and of teen ! 
 
 O me, with what strict patience have I sat. 
 
 To see a king transformed into a gnat I 
 To see great Hercules whipping a gig, 
 
 And profound Solomon to tune a jig, 
 
 And Nestor play at push-pin with the boys. 
 
 And critic Timon laugh at idle toys! 
 
 Where lies thy grief, O, tell me good Dumain ? 
 
 And, gentle Longaville, where lies thy pain? 
 
 And where my liege’s? all about the breast: 
 
 A caudle, ho I ® 
 
 Last among Shakspere’s verse-forms, we come now to what, 
 to me, is the most beautiful element of the play, namely, the 
 Lyrics. Here we see the influence of Jolm Lyly;® and at 
 the same time we come to estimate more highly the early 
 poetic ability of Shakspere. The song of Spring and Winter, 
 rivals and perhaps even excels anything done in this line by 
 his contemporaries. With this song, with which the play con- 
 
 8 Ibid. IV. ill. 152-174. 
 
 9 Compare Tryco’s song. In Lyly’.s Campa.spe; V. T. 38-48. 
 
154 
 
 THi;Mi:-wRmNG. 
 
 eludes, we end our discussion of the multiplicity and effective 
 ness of Shakspere’s forms in Love’s Labour’s Lost: 
 
 SPRING. 
 
 When daisies pied and violets blue 
 And lady-smocks all silver white 
 And cuckoo-buds of yellow hue 
 
 Do paint the meadows with delight, 
 
 The cuckoo then, on every tree. 
 
 Mocks married men ; for thus sings he, 
 
 Cuckoo ; 
 
 Cuckoo, cuckoo : O word of fear, 
 
 Unpleasing to a married ear ! 
 
 When shepherds pipe on oaten straws. 
 
 And merry larks are ploughmen’s clocks. 
 
 When turtles tread, and rooks, and daws. 
 
 And maidens bleach their summer smocks, 
 
 The cuckoo then, on every tree. 
 
 Mocks married men ; for thus sings he, 
 
 Cuckoo ; 
 
 Cuckoo, cuckoo : O word of fear. 
 
 Unpleasing to the married ear. 
 
 WINTER. 
 
 When icicles hang by the wall, 
 
 And Dick the shepherd blows his nail, 
 
 And Tom bears logs into the hall. 
 
 And milk comes frozen home in pail. 
 
EXPOSITIONAI, THEMES. 
 
 155 
 
 When blood is nipp’d and ways be foul, 
 
 Then nightly sings the staring owl, 
 
 Tu-whit ; 
 
 Tu-who, a merry note. 
 
 While greasy Joan doth keel the pot. 
 
 When all aloud the wind doth blow, 
 
 And coughing drowns the parson’s saw. 
 
 And birds sit brooding in the snow. 
 
 And Marian’s nose looks red and raw, 
 
 When roasted crabs hiss in the bowl, 
 
 Then nightly sings the staring owl, 
 
 Tu-whit ; 
 
 Tu-who, a merry note, 
 
 While greasy Joan doth keel the pot.i*> 
 
 E. M. W., Jr. 
 
 I have printed this freshman theme in full chiefly 
 to illustrate the use of connotative material in expo- 
 sition. But this theme illustrates one further thing : 
 the especial value of connotative material as the con- 
 clusion. Summaries are valuable in exposition ; but 
 still more valuable, as a final stroke, a clinching of 
 the nail, is one last emotional appeal. Summarize 
 your discussion near the end ; but close with a passage 
 that is connotative. 
 
 As a more worthy illustration of the emotional 
 close in exposition, I print in the Appendix the con- 
 
 10 Ibid. V. ii. 904-938. 
 
156 THEMU-WRITING. 
 
 eluding paragraphs of an address on Abraham Lin- 
 coln, by Colonel Henry Watterson. Here however, 
 I shall content myself with one more example from 
 a freshman theme. This example is the ■'conclusion 
 of a paper entitled “ The Drama of Blood,” based 
 on a study of Kyd’s Spanish Tragedy and Shakspere’s 
 Titus Androniens. The writer concludes his descrip- 
 tion of the type as follows : 
 
 The spirit of the Drama of Blood is well summed up in 
 the soliloquy of the Ghost in the Spanish Tragedy, Act. IV, 
 Chorus : — 
 
 I ; now my hopes haue end in their effects. 
 
 When blood and sorrow finnish my desires : 
 
 Horatio murdered in his Fathers bower, 
 
 Vilde Serberine by Pedrigano slaine. 
 
 False Penringano bang’d by quaint deuice, 
 
 Faire Isabella by herselfe misdone. 
 
 Prince Balthazar by Bel-Imperia stabd, 
 
 The Duke of Castile and his wicked sonne 
 Both done to death by olde Hieronimo, 
 
 My Bel-Imperia falne as Dido fell. 
 
 And good Hieronimo slaine by himselfe ! 
 
 I, these were spectacles to please my soule. 
 
 The same thought is expressed even more compactly in the 
 speech of Aaron in Titus Andronicus, Act V, Scene I, lines 
 63-66 : 
 
EXPOSITIONAL themes. 
 
 157 
 
 For I must talk of murthers, rapes, and massacres, 
 
 Acts of black night, abominable deeds, 
 
 Complots of mischief, treasons, villanies. 
 
 Ruthful to hear. 
 
 We can but feel that plays upon such subjects are indeed 
 “ Dramas of Blood.” J. M. K. 
 
 Our third and final working rule for the amplify- 
 ing of the exposition, brings us back to the subject 
 of coherence. We should make evident our predeter- 
 mined structure by means of introductions, transitions, 
 and summaries. I have discussed this matter so fully 
 in the fourth section of my second chapter, that, at this 
 point, I shall merely recall the subject to your minds. 
 What I said there of literature in general, is especially 
 applicable to exposition. At the beginning of a com- 
 position, we may strengthen the coherence by stating 
 the subject, by stating the proposition, by stating the 
 plan. During the progress of a composition, we may 
 strengthen the coherence by transition paragraphs and 
 transition sentences, devices that consist in restating 
 so much of the plan as is involved in the two parts 
 to be connected. At the close of a composition, we 
 may further strengthen the coherence by stating or 
 restating the proposition, and by stating or restating 
 the plan by way of summary. In short, we should 
 strengthen the intellectual coherence of our exposi- 
 
158 
 
 THEME-WRITING. 
 
 tions by stating at the beginning, at the close, and 
 between the parts of a composition, its subject, its 
 proposition, and its plan. 
 
 Of these devices for intellectual coherence, I need 
 give here no special illustrations. Instead, I append 
 two expositions with the accompanying plans. They 
 will serve to illustrate not one section of this chapter, 
 but the whole. 
 
 The Construction of a Modern Battleship. 
 
 INTRODUCTION. 
 
 The construction of a modern battleship is about the most 
 interesting, costly, and complicated process yet 
 devised by man. 
 
 I. For, although merchant ships are in many v/ays quite 
 as interesting, they do not approach the bat- 
 tleship in cost and complexity ; and 
 II. For no engineering work on land, even though it sur- 
 pass the warship in complexity and expense, 
 can possess the interest that naturally at- 
 taches to ships and ship-building. 
 
 DISCUSSION. 
 
 (Proposition) ; The construction of a warship includes the 
 plan or paper stage, the shipyard stage, the trial 
 stage, and the completion stage, which ends when 
 the vessel enters commission. 
 
 I. Of these, the plan or paper stage involves the follow- 
 ing steps : 
 
EXPOSITIONAL THEMES. 
 
 159 
 
 A. It begins with the passage of a bill by Con- 
 
 gress, authorizing certain construction and 
 outlining the plans. 
 
 B. The various bureaus of the Navy Department 
 
 then decide among them the proportion of 
 the ship’s displacement each shall take. 
 
 C. Models are then prepared, and tested in a spe- 
 
 cial tank to determine the best shape for the 
 hull under the given conditions. 
 
 D. The departmental architects then ilraft the 
 
 plans on which the bids are to be taken. 
 
 E. Upon these plans, each ship-builder submits a 
 
 bid ; or he bids on alternate plans of his own. 
 
 F. The government supplies complete working 
 
 drawings if its plans are used; the contractor 
 if his plans are accepted. 
 
 II. The shipyard stage involves the following steps : 
 
 ■ A. First, the keel is laid. 
 
 B. Then the framing is erected, and covered with 
 
 the plating and the internal armor. 
 
 C. The rudder and propeller shafts are next put 
 
 in place. 
 
 D. Then the launching cradle is built, and the ways 
 
 prepared. 
 
 E. The ship is launched. 
 
 F. Its guns, side armor, turrets, and machinery are 
 
 put in place. 
 
 III. The trial stage involves usually the following tests : 
 
 A. The dock trial, which is intended to run the 
 engines into good working order. 
 
i6o 
 
 THEME-WRITING. 
 
 B. The engineer’s trial at sea, which tests the 
 
 speed and steering gear. 
 
 C. The builders’ trial, which is a preparation for 
 
 the government trials. 
 
 D. The government speed trial, which is a test 
 
 under battle conditions ; and 
 
 E. The government endurande trial, which is a 
 
 test under service conditions. 
 
 IV. The completion stage involves those steps that make 
 the ship inhabitable, namely 
 
 A. First, all decks and other wood-work about the 
 
 ship are finished. 
 
 B. Then the wardroom and cabins are finished, 
 
 and the crew’s quarters, the galleys, the sick 
 bay, and so on, are fitted up. 
 
 C. Next, the electric lights, the boats, the anchors, 
 
 and the fixed stores are put in place. 
 
 D. Last, the ammunition, coal, provisions, and gen- 
 
 eral stores are put on board. 
 
 CONCLUSION. 
 
 Finally, a crew is put on board ; and, with elaborate ceremony, 
 the ship is put in commission. 
 
 P. S. L. 
 
 The Construction of a Modern Battleship. 
 
 The construction of a modern warship is about the most 
 interesting, costly, and complicated process yet devised by 
 man. Merchant ships may be as large or interesting as battle- 
 ships. Some, indeed, are larger: The North German Lloyd 
 fliers, for example, exceed six hundred feet in length and 
 
EXPOSITIONAL THEMES. 
 
 i6i 
 
 twenty-three thousand tons displacement, while England’s 
 largest battleship, the Dreadnaught, is only four hundred feet 
 long with a displacement of eighteen thousand tons. But no 
 merchant ship approaches the battleship in cost and com- 
 plexity. And again, no engineering work on land, even though 
 it surpasses the warship in complexity and expense, can pos- 
 sess the interest which naturally attaches to ships and ship- 
 building. 
 
 The construction of a battleship falls naturally into the plan 
 or paper stage ; the shipyard stage ; the trial stage ; and the 
 completion stage, which ends when the vessel enters com- 
 mission. The paper stage begins with the passage of a naval 
 appropriation bill by Congress, authorizing certain construc- 
 tion and outlining the plans. This method of handling naval 
 matters is a source of mingled grief and anger to the naval 
 authorities ; for although a limited amount of Congressional 
 direction may be necessary, yet it is utter folly for even that 
 dignified body of laymen and landsmen to attempt to fix 
 details concerning which they are ignorant. However the 
 bill is sent to the Navy Department and iis architects, who 
 decide among them the proportion of the ship’s displacement 
 each bureau shall be allotted. Here the evil of Congressional 
 dictation becomes visible. In the effort to reconcile the vari- 
 ous qualities demanded by the bill, the architects are obliged 
 to compromise or to sacrifice some point — generally the 
 motive power. Then, after their claims have been reconciled 
 to the detriment of the engineer, models are prepared and 
 tested in a special tank to determine the best shape for the 
 hull under the given conditions. By this means it is possible 
 to avoid mistakes in shape which would cost thousands of 
 dollars to correct. When the shape of the hull is once deter- 
 
THEME-WRITING. 
 
 162 
 
 mined, the departmental architects begin work upon the gen- 
 eral plans to be used in soliciting bids for construction. Of 
 late, the preparation of these plans has been disgracefully 
 delayed through quarrels among the achitects — Annapolis 
 graduates, by the way.^ When completed, however, these 
 plans are sent to all important ship-builders in the country. 
 Upon them each contractor submits a bid ; or he bids upon 
 alternate plans of his own to meet the required conditions of 
 speed and displacement. In England it is customary to sub- 
 let the contracts for armor, guns, engines, and so forth, to 
 such firms as The Vickers Maxim Company and The Fair- 
 field Engine Company ; but with us, the armor and guns are 
 supplied by the government, the s.hafting by the Bethlehem 
 Steel Company, and all else is furnished directly by the con- 
 tractor as part of his contract specifications. The government 
 furnishes complete working drawings if its plans are used : 
 while, if the contractor’s plans are accepted, he furnishes all 
 drawings. 
 
 After more than six months of paper work, the shipyard 
 stage begins with the laying of the keel ; and from this event 
 all time is reckoned. The record time from construction to 
 acceptance by our government is at present held by the Con- 
 necticut which was finished in three years. England does the 
 same work in eighteen months, but does not alter the plans 
 of her ships during construction, while we meddle with our 
 plans at every opportunity. 
 
 After the laying of the keel comes the erection of the 
 framing, a large task in itself, and the covering of the frames 
 with the plating and internal armor. This armor consists of 
 a protective deck at the water level, with numerous armored 
 
 1 See editorial articles in The Marine Review, March and April, 1906. 
 
EXPOSITIONAL THEMES. 
 
 163 
 
 bulkheads dividing the superstructure and limiting the effect 
 of shell-fire. The rudder and propeller shafts are now put 
 in place with great care, for on their safety depends the safety 
 of the ship. The rudder is made in two or more sections 
 from cast steel, and weighs more than a steel locomotive, 
 ’^hile each steel blade of a propeller would just about balance 
 a big French touring car full of people. The launching cradle 
 is now built, and the ways prepared; for the anxious time of 
 the launching has arrived. To insure an easy ride in the 
 water, the ways are coated with one ton of tallow, another 
 of soft soap, and several barrels of oil. But so great is the 
 friction that the ways frequently catch fire, and stop the 
 launching. The ship that we follow, however, enters the 
 water successfully ; and its guns, turrets, side-armor, and 
 machinery are now put in position. This work is done while 
 the ship lies alongside a dock, with a floating derrick on one 
 side and a giant crane on the other, each able to pick up forty 
 ton guns like matches, and put them exactly in place. 
 
 The ship is now in its trial stage ; and the engineer is in 
 his glory, for on him everything now depends. But it is also 
 his time of despair; for all the handicaps that nature and 
 government inspectors can raise, confront him. He must test 
 his engines in an uncompleted ship with insufficient forces, 
 and hampered at every turn with red-tape ; but he somehow 
 produces amazing results. The usual trials are five in num- 
 ber, and as follows : the dock trial, lasting for a week, which 
 is held soon after launching, to run the engines into good 
 working order; the engineer’s trial at sea, with the ship 
 weighed to its cruising draught, to test the speed and maneu- 
 vering qualities of the hull ; the builder’s trial, to prepare for 
 the government trials — and such preparation is e.ssential if 
 
164 
 
 THEME-WRITING. 
 
 a failure is not to ensue; the government speed trial, which 
 is now run under battle conditions, such as forced draught, 
 closed engine room, ordinary coal, and regular crew ; and the 
 government endurance trial, run at low speed but under ser- 
 vice conditions ; all five being over predetermined courses. If 
 the trials are successful, the ship is turned over to the govern- 
 ment, and enters the next stage ; if not, it is taken back to 
 the yards, and alterations are made in its machinery. This 
 actually happened to the Texas, which, twice unsuccessful, 
 was finally turned over to the government at a loss to her 
 builders of over half a million dollars. 
 
 Arrived at the completion stage, the ship, which before was 
 only a grim steel box, is painted and made habitable. First 
 all decks and other woodwork about the ship, as panelling of 
 the wardroom and officers’ cabin, is finished. Then the ward- 
 room and cabins are furnished with carpets, hardware, and 
 such things ; and the galleys, baths, sick-bay, armory, and the 
 various offices are fitted up. Next, all the electric lights, the 
 boats, anchors, and other fixed stores are put in their places 
 on board ; and only when all else is ready are the ammunition, 
 coal, provisions, and general stores taken on and stored in 
 the magazines and bunkers. 
 
 Finally, the crew is drafted, and with its ditty bags goes 
 aboard its floating home. There, with much pomp and cere- 
 mony, to the tune of the Star Spangled Banner, the roar of 
 cannon, the shrieks of whistles, and the cheers of spectators, 
 the American flag is hoisted: another ship has joined the 
 American Navy. P. S. L.^ 
 
 2 For all teclmleal Information in this article, the writer is indebted to 
 his father, a naval architect and mechanical engineer, who has been at 
 considerable trouble in revising this article to Insure its accuracy. 
 
 P. S. L. 
 
liXPOSITIONAL THEMES. 
 
 165 
 
 Shylock and Barabas. 
 
 (Proposition) ; Shylock in Shakspere’s Merchant of Venice 
 and Barabas in Marlowe’s Jew of Malta resemble 
 each other only in external characteristics ; in the 
 essential qualities of character, they are two entirely 
 different beings. 
 
 I. They possess the following superficial similarities : 
 
 A. Both Shylock and Barabas have an unnatural 
 
 greed for money; and both are rich. 
 
 B. Both love their daughters ; and each is forsaken 
 
 by his child. 
 
 C. Both are animated by devotion to their ancient 
 
 race, religion, and law, and by hatred 
 toward the Christians. 
 
 D. On various occasions, they make similar utter- 
 
 ances : 
 
 (1) When their money is about to be taken 
 
 from them. 
 
 (a) Merchant of Venice: IV. i. 367- 
 
 370. 
 
 (b) Jew of Malta: I. ii. 149-50. 
 
 (2) When referring to the action of their 
 
 daughters. 
 
 (a) Merchant of Venice: III. i. 
 
 (b) Jew of Malta: III. iv. 25-28. 
 
 (3) When referring to their treatment by the 
 
 Christians. 
 
 (a) Merchant of Venice: I. iii. 105-6. 
 
 (b) Jew of Malta: II. iii. 23-25. 
 
 E. Both, in the end, fall by the failure of their own 
 
 strategems. 
 
THEME-WRITING. 
 
 1 66 
 
 II. They possess the following dissimilarities : 
 
 A. In its broadest aspects, the character of Shylock 
 
 is entirely unlike that of Barabas. 
 
 (1) Shylock, with all his avarice, is a man. 
 
 (2) Barabas is a monster. 
 
 B. Shylock has dignity ; Barabas has none. 
 
 (1) Shylock shows his dignity in his attitude 
 
 toward his servants. 
 
 (2) Barabas shows his lack of dignity in 
 
 making a friend of his slave. 
 
 C. Shylock is a law-abiding man ; Barabas is a 
 
 criminal. 
 
 D. Shylock is of moderate intellectual development ; 
 
 Barabas is highly educated. 
 
 E. Each stands for a different interpretation of the 
 
 Jewish race: 
 
 (1) Shakspere saw the Jewish race as they 
 
 truly were, a wronged and persecuted 
 people. 
 
 (2) Marlowe saw them only as they appeared 
 
 to the Christians of his time. 
 
 (Conclusion) ; We conclude, therefore, that Barabas is 
 merely a caricature, a stage villain, an inhuman 
 wretch; while Shylock, in spite of his avarice, is 
 hurrian with all the love and hatred that is common 
 to our humanity. 
 
 N. P. B. 
 
 Shylock and Barabas. 
 
 Shylock in The Merchant of Venice and Barabas in The 
 Jew of Malta resemble each other only in external character- 
 
EXPOSITIONAL THEMES. 
 
 167 
 
 istics; in the essential qualities of character they are two 
 entirely different beings. They are alike in the outward 
 aspects of their lives ; but in the effect that environment pro- 
 duces on the character of each, they are as little alike as light 
 is to darkness. The one, with all the short-comings of his 
 race and age, is yet intensely human; the other, subject prac- 
 tically to the same influences, is a human monster. We shall 
 first look into the aspects of similarity between these two 
 characters. 
 
 Both Shylock and Barabas possess an unnatural greed for 
 money, with this difference, however, that in Barabas this 
 greed becomes a consuming passion to which everything else 
 is subordinated. There is nothing he would not attempt, no 
 crime he would not commit for the sake of money. He loves 
 gold for its own sake and exults over his money-bags as a 
 lark sings over her going. Money is his God. For it, he 
 sacrifices his daughter’s happiness and, finally, his own soul ; 
 for at last he dies unrepentant with a curse upon his lips.^ 
 Shylock never makes his religion subordinate to his greed for 
 money. It is true that his money is precious to him ; but that 
 is because it is the reward of thrift and frugality. To him, 
 it is merely a token of successful endeavors. He does not 
 even conceal it; Jessica frequently has access to it, and he 
 even leaves his house in Lancelot’s keeping.^ The fact that 
 he was accustomed to lend money on interest in no wise 
 argues that he was miserly. Being prohibited from engaging 
 in other lines of trade, he made money-lending his business 
 in life. His thrift brought him wealth, which he cherished 
 
 1 Jew of Malta: II. i. 60-62. 
 
 2 IbW. V. V. 79-89. 
 
 3 Merchant of Venice: I. ill. 170-71. 
 
i68 
 
 THBME-WRITING. 
 
 more for the effort it took to obtain it than for the money 
 itself. 
 
 Both Shylock and Barabas love their daughters ; although, 
 as indicated in the preceding paragraph, in this respect also 
 Barabas is greatly inferior to Shylock. The affection of the 
 former is not sincere. If it were, he would not cause the 
 death of Abigail’s lover in order to avenge himself upon his 
 enemies. With Shylock, it is different. He loves his daugh- 
 ter devotedly; trusts her implicitly; and pities her after she 
 has deceived him.^ That Barabas should be deserted by his 
 daughter is not strange to understand ; but it is difficult to 
 account for Jessica’s desertion of Shylock, who always treated 
 her with tenderness and affection. 
 
 A third characteristic which Shylock and Barabas show' in 
 common is a devotion to their ancient race and religion. The 
 patriotism of Barabas, however, is greatly inferior to that of 
 Shylock. He is never wholly sincere. He has no deep rever- 
 ence for his faith. Shylock, on the other hand, is deeply 
 religious. His piety is genuine and not pretended. His 
 hatred of Christians is animated by the unjust treatment they 
 have shown him. Shylock, although punished at last as he 
 deserved to be, nevertheless shows his Christian adversaries 
 that they have taught him the lesson of revenge." The hatred 
 of Barabas is unnatural in that it embraces all mankind, 
 regardless of race. Shylock is loyal to his own people; Bara- 
 bas pretends loyalty. 
 
 Another striking similarity between these two characters is 
 the likeness of their utterances on various occasions. When 
 his money is about to be taken from him, Shylock says, 
 
 4 Tbld. IV. i. 291-98. 
 
 5 Ibid. III. 1. 60-60. 
 
EXPOSITIONAI, THEMES. 
 
 169 
 
 You take my house, when you do take the prop 
 That doth sustain my house; you take my life, 
 
 When you do take the means whereby I live.*' 
 
 On a similar occasion Barabas gives expression to the fol- 
 lowing : 
 
 You have my wealth, the labor of my life; 
 
 The comfort of my age, my children’s hope.'' 
 
 When deserted by his daughter, Shylock cries out. 
 
 My ducats, my daughter.® 
 
 Barabas on a like occasion says. 
 
 False, credulous, inconstant Abigail ! — 
 
 Ne’er shall she live to inherit aught of mine.® 
 
 In speaking of his treatment by Antonio, Shylock remarks, 
 
 Still have I borne it with a patient shrug. 
 
 For sufferance is the badge of all our tribe.’^® 
 
 When Barabas refers to the treatment that Christians have 
 shown him, he says, 
 
 I learned in Florence . . . when they call me a dog, 
 
 To duck as low as any barefoot friar.®®- 
 
 6 Ibid. IV. i. 367-70. 
 
 7 J. of M. I. li. 149-50. 
 
 8 M. ofV. III. i. 
 
 9 J. of M. HI. iv. 25-28. 
 
 10 M. of V. I. ill. 105-6 
 
 n J. ofM. II. ili. 23-25. 
 
170 THEME-WRITING. 
 
 The last similarity that we shall mention is the fact that 
 both Shylock and Barabas fall in the end because of the fail- 
 ure of their stratagems. The spirit in which they accept 
 defeat, however, is very different. Shylock’s end is pathetic 
 and pitiful ; Barabas meets death in a defiant attitude, with 
 curses upon his lips. 
 
 Having made an examination of certain external similarities 
 between these two characters, we shall now make an analysis 
 of even greater dissimilarities in their real character. Shy- 
 lock is entirely unlike Barahas. Shylock, with all his avarice, 
 is a man ; Barabas is a human monster who boasts of his mur- 
 derous cruelty. He says that he “ walks abroad o’ nights and 
 kills rich persons, groaning under walls and that he 
 poisons wells and studies physic that he may keep the sextons 
 busy with “ digging graves and ringing dead men’s knells.” 
 By his extortions, he fills jails with bankrupts and the hos- 
 pitals with orphans ; and he chuckles when his victims hang 
 themselves. This, in brief, indicates the character of this 
 human monster. Nothing that Shylock says or does gives 
 evidence of such depravity. It is true that he was impelled 
 by hatred of Antonio to seek revenge ; but, as we have stated 
 previously, it was revenge in which the Christians themselves 
 had been his instructors. His bitterest enemies can find no 
 crime, no injustice, of which to accuse him. It is clearly 
 stated by Portia at the trial that “ the Venetian law can not 
 impugn him.”' 
 
 A second dissimilarity is the total lack of dignity in the 
 character of Barabas ; the character of Shylock is never devoid 
 of dignity. This contrast is brought out in the attitude of 
 
 12 Ibid. II. Hi. 177-200. 
 
 M M. of V. IV. i. 171-2. 
 
EXPOSITIONAL THAMES. 171 
 
 each toward his servants and inferiors. Barabas makes an 
 intimate friend of his slave Ithamore; he eats with him, and 
 calls him by endearing names ; but yet he is always distrust- 
 ful of him, and watches him closely. His trust does not 
 inspire confidence. Shylock, on the other hand, possesses too 
 much self-respect to allow his servants to take any liberties 
 with him. He nevertheless treats his inferiors with kindness 
 and respect.^® This treatment inspires confidence in them. 
 This fact is shown when he leaves Lancelot in charge of his 
 house during his own absence ; and, when the latter leaves 
 his service, he wishes him well. The attitude which people 
 assume toward their inferiors is a good criterion of their 
 character. Measured by this standard Shylock is greatly supe- 
 rior to Barabas. 
 
 In addition to these contrasts, a third is the relation of 
 these two characters to society. In Shylock, we have a law- 
 abiding man; Barabas is a depraved criminal. Shylock feels 
 that he has done no wrong, and therefore dreads no judg- 
 ment. His taking interest for money which he has loaned is 
 no crime ; it is as lawful as the means by which his fore- 
 fathers secured their livelihood. At the trial, the severest 
 criticism that can be brought against him is, that he is 
 revengeful and unmerciful. He is innocent of any violation 
 of the law. Barabas, on the other hand, commits one crime 
 after the other, in order to conceal his guilt of the preceding 
 one. His villainy stops at no crime however foul. He has 
 no compunctions ; but murders his own flesh and blood. 
 
 These two characters present a marked contrast also in 
 
 14 j. of M. TIT. iv. 18-18. 
 
 15 M. ofV. II. V. 7. 
 
 16 Ibid. 1. lii. 84-86. 
 
172 
 
 theme-writing. 
 
 their intellectual attainments. Shylock is a man of modest 
 intellectual development; Barabas is a man highly educated. 
 The former has but little learning. He is narrow in his sym- 
 pathies ; and what little learning he has is derived from the 
 literature of his own race.i^ His conversation contains many 
 references to Scripture ; but he is ignorant of science and the 
 classics. He is skillful in argument. Indeed, he is a typical 
 
 Jew, with a scornful disregard for everything that is not 
 
 Jewish. With Barabas, however, the case is different. He 
 is a well educated Hebrew, being both a physician and an 
 engineer.^® His conversation gives evidence that he is versed 
 in the classics,^® ancient mythology, and the Bible ; and 
 
 yet his speech is marked with oaths and vulgar jokes. He 
 
 has not the refinement of thought and expression that Shy- 
 lock has. 
 
 These dissimilarities in the characters of Shylock and Bara- 
 bas indicate two views of the Jew which were prevalent dur- 
 ing the time of Marlowe and Shakspere. Shakspere saw the 
 Jewish race as it truly was, a wronged and persecuted people, 
 ft would be entirely unjust to the great dramatist to suppose 
 that he could not see through the prejudices and dislikes of 
 his time, and discover the excellent qualities as well as the 
 faults of the Jewish race. He saw the injustice done to it, 
 and embodied that truth in the character of Shylock. That is 
 the reason our sympathies go out to him. In picturing Shy- 
 lock, he has made no concessions to the prejudices of his 
 age. If he had attempted to moralize on the wrong of perse- 
 
 u Ibid. 1. iii. 77-90. 
 
 18 J. of M. II. Hi. 18, S-6; 191-2. 
 
 19 Ibid. 1. i. 1S8 ; 189. 
 
 20 Ibid. II. I. 12-16. 
 
EXPOSITIONAL THilMES. 
 
 173 
 
 cution, doubtless his play would have been hooted off the 
 Elizabethan stage. He did a far more effective thing when 
 he made Shylock symbolize the persecution of the Hebrew 
 people. 
 
 Marlowe, on the other hand, saw the Jews only as they 
 appeared to the Christians of his time. His picture of the 
 Jew in Barabas is the prejudiced view of a narrow and intol- 
 erant age. He takes no account of any virtues in his charac- 
 ter. No human being is so depraved but there is some good 
 in him. The depravity of Barabas is so great, his lust for 
 money is conceived on such an enormous scale, as to give one 
 the impression that no such being could have lived. He is 
 unreal. One feels that he is only a caricature, a stage-villain, 
 an inhuman wretch ; while Shylock in spite of his avarice, is 
 human, with all the love and hatred that is common to our 
 humanity. N. P. B. 
 
 As a conclusion for this chapter, I herewith reca- 
 pitulate the working rules for exposition : 
 
 (1) As to formulation of the topic, the writer 
 should define in words the effect that he desires to 
 produce. In practice, this means that, as a test and 
 basis for unity of effect and of material, he should 
 express his central thought as a proposition. 
 
 (2) As to organization, the writer should prepare, 
 either upon cards or upon a single sheet or both, a 
 plan phrased in propositions the interrelations of 
 which are appropriately expressed ; and by means of 
 this plan, he should so marshal his thought-divisions 
 
174 
 
 THEME-WRITING. 
 
 as to assure unity of material, emphasis, and coher- 
 ence, that is, to assure, in the structure, unity of effect. 
 
 (3) As to amplification the writer, in expanding 
 his plan into a completed exposition, should build up 
 each heading with material that is concrete ; and, if 
 he aims at an effect not only intellectual but also 
 emotional, he should use material not only concrete 
 but connotative. In the amplification, moreover, he 
 should emphasize his structural coherence by means 
 of the several devices of expressed connection. 
 
CHAPTER IV. 
 
 OF certain PREPARATORY-SCHOOL 
 MATTERS. 
 
 And things unknown proposed as things forgot. 
 
 Pope: Essay on Criticism: III: 15-16. 
 
 ONSPICUOUS at the head of our entrance 
 requirements in English, stands the statement: 
 “ No candidate will be accepted in English 
 
 whose work is notably defective in point of spelling, 
 
 punctuation, idiom, or division into paragraphs.” 
 This requirement, I am sure, is strictly enforced by 
 
 every college — and yet — well, is it not astonishing 
 how much a freshman can forget between the day of 
 his examination and the day he enters college? Ask 
 a freshman section to spell athlete, and see how many 
 will spell it ath-e-lete. Look over the first themes 
 
 that they pass in, and see how many really know what 
 constitutes a sentence, or a paragraph. To spend 
 time in college on things so elementary seems a pity ; 
 yet such expenditure is not to be avoided. I append 
 this chapter, therefore, to remind some of you of 
 what you have forgotten. 
 
I: OF PARAGRAPHING. 
 
 P aragraphing is the grouping of sen- 
 tences in print or manuscript to show their 
 thought-relation. In conversation, we begin a 
 new paragraph each time the speaker changes. 
 In continuous discourse, we begin a new paragraph 
 with each new division of thought. The principles 
 that govern paragraphing concern partly matters of 
 correctness, partly matters of effectiveness. I shall 
 recall them to you under these two heads. 
 
 Correctness in paragraphing is a topic further divis- 
 ible into two more: correctness of form; and correct- 
 ness of content. As to form, a paragraph should be 
 indicated by indenting the first line an inch beyond 
 the margin ; by indenting no line within the para- 
 graph ; and by leaving no space unoccupied between 
 the sentences. To remind you of such matters seems 
 absurd ; and yet paragraphs in which the first line is 
 not indented, or in which each new sentence is given 
 a new line though part of the line above remains 
 unoccupied, are not unknown in freshman themes. 
 
 As to content, correct paragraphing depends partly 
 upon the effect intended by the writer, partly upon 
 
CERTAIK PREPARATORY SCHOOL MATTERS. 177 
 
 the intellectual capacity of his reader. If a certain 
 thought-unit in his discourse be divisible into four 
 smaller units, he may space each as a paragraph or 
 combine them all in one, according to whether he 
 wish to emphasize the whole or its individual parts. 
 Burke, for example, in his Speech on Conciliation^ 
 devotes to the four reasons why force is inexpedient, 
 a passage of three hundred and fifty words. Had 
 Burke desired to emphasize the common unity of the 
 whole, he might have grouped these three hundred 
 and fifty words as a single paragraph. Instead he 
 divided them into four: That force is temporary — 
 43 words; uncertain — 67 words; injurious — 134 
 words ; untried ■ — 76 words. This division he made 
 to emphasize the individual parts. 
 
 In addition, however, to the effect intended, a writer 
 must consider the mood and the mental calibre of his 
 readers. Little folk and the readers of popular mag- 
 azines must have their intellectual stimulants admin- 
 istered in homeopathic doses. Maturer minds, how- 
 ever, prefer to grasp an author’s thought in its larger 
 relations. For such readers as you and I address, 
 paragraphs of from one hundred to three hundred 
 words are probably the safest. We should, at all 
 events, scan very suspiciously a paragraph that occu- 
 pies less than one or more than three pages of theme- 
 paper. A weak paragraph we may strengthen either 
 
178 THEME-WRITING. 
 
 by an infusion of additional material or by combining 
 it with neighboring paragraphs around their common 
 group-proposition ; or, if neither of these remedies is 
 available, we may omit the weak paragraphs alto- 
 gether. If, on the other hand, a paragraph be too 
 long, we may remedy that fault by resolving the para- 
 graph into its logical subdivisions. Thus by a little 
 care, we may adjust the length of our paragraph to 
 the preference of ourselves and our intended reader 
 without sacrificing in the least its logical unity. 
 
 Exercise. 
 
 In the article entitled “ How to Improve Your Way of 
 Talking,” reprinted (in the Appendix) from the New York 
 Evening Journal, Justify its present paragraphing, and then 
 show how it would have been paragraphed if published in 
 the Nation or in the Atlantic Monthly. 
 
 Correctness, however, is not the only requisite of 
 paragraphing. A paragraph must also be eflfective; 
 that is, it must conform to the three- fold principle 
 of unity of effect. To this end, a paragraph should, 
 in the first place, possess unity of material; that is, 
 it should be logically reducible to a topic- sentence. 
 In the second place, it should possess mass, or empha- 
 sis ; that is, it should be so arranged and so propor- 
 tioned as to make conspicuous the most important 
 parts. And lastly, it should possess coherence; that 
 
certain preparatory school matters. 179 
 
 is, it should be so arranged, so phrased, and so con- 
 nected, as to make the relation of part to part and 
 sentence to sentence unmistakable. 
 
 To be effective, therefore, a paragraph should nor- 
 mally be built as follows : If the paragraph be the 
 first of several that discuss a topic common to all, its 
 first sentence may well be devoted to a statement of 
 that topic. If the paragraph be any but the first of 
 such a group, then a part or the whole of its opening 
 sentence should mark the transition from the para- 
 graph preceding. Next after this transitional clause 
 or sentence, should come a sentence that states the 
 central thought or, at least, the subject, of the entire 
 paragraph. Then, in natural order, should come the 
 amplifying sentences, each containing some word to 
 show its relation to the sentence next before, and each 
 so phrased as to throw similar thoughts into similar 
 constructions. At the end of the paragraph should 
 come a sentence or a group of sentences that binds 
 the thought of the paragraph together and leaves 
 before the reader in completed form, the precise effect 
 intended. To make all paragraphs alike would be 
 monotonous; but to make a paragraph effective is, in 
 a majority of cases, to follow the working rules pre- 
 scribed above. 
 
 In the following theme, written by the freshman 
 
i8o 
 
 THEME-WRITING. 
 
 president of the class of 1909, point out wherein these 
 rules have been observed: 
 
 Discipline. 
 
 “ Spare the rod and spoil the child ” is an old saying which 
 to us seems barbarous. We are realizing, more and more, 
 that to rule by love and good example is the better way. 
 Even in our prisons, corporal punishment has been prohibited. 
 Instead of locking our convicts into cells, we are teaching 
 them useful trades. We are trying to show them that we 
 do not punish for punishment but for reformation. 
 
 But when all kindness and persuasion within reason has 
 been tried and found insufficient, we resort to other means : 
 the prisoner is put on bread and water or possibly is given 
 some especially disagreeable work to do ; the child is put to 
 bed early to think over the error of his ways, is sent into a 
 corner until he promises to be good. In extreme cases, we 
 resort to whipping. 
 
 We have, here at the University, many of these extreme 
 cases of incorrigibility which are most discouraging. We 
 freshmen have talked kindly, gently, even tearfully, with the 
 sophomore boys ; we have even administered mild punish- 
 ment : but we can see little improvement. We are afraid 
 they will compel us to be more severe. We may even have 
 to do some whipping, which would greatly grieve the kind- 
 hearted freshman class of Naughty-Nine. 
 
 “ Naughty-Nine ! this way! ” 
 
 W. S. MacD. 
 
§11: OF SENTENCE STRUCTURE. 
 
 A SENTENCE is the expression of an inde- 
 pendent thought, simple, complex, or com- 
 pound. Occasionally this thought is identical 
 with the thought-unit if a paragraph; that is, the 
 paragraph consists of but a single sentence. More 
 often, however, the thought expressed in a sentence 
 is but a subdivision of the thought unit of the para- 
 graph. 
 
 Sentence-structure, like paragraph-structure, I shall 
 consider under two heads : Correctness, and Effective- 
 ness. Correctness in sentence-structure may be defined 
 as conformity to Good Use. Good Use, in turn, may 
 be defined as common consent, the usage that is 
 reputable, national, and present. Reputable use is 
 the usage of the best writers, — not one, but all. 
 For example, the construction “ He don’t ” in place 
 of “ He doesn’t ” is certainly present, and perhaps 
 national, but not reputable ; therefore, “ He don’t ” is 
 not in good use. National use is the usage of the 
 entire English speaking race, as distinguished, on the 
 one hand, from usage that is foreign and, on the 
 other, from usage that is local or technical. The 
 
THEME-WRITING. 
 
 182 
 
 school-boy translation of caput nectentur (^n. V. 
 309) as “ they shall be bound with respect to the 
 head,” violates good use because the accusative of 
 specification is not an English, but rather a Latin, or 
 more strictly a Greek, construction. Present use is 
 the usage of the present day, as distinguished from 
 usage that is obsolete and from usage that is just 
 creeping in. The English language is a living, chang- 
 ing language ; and what is not good use today may 
 have been good use a hundred years ago, or may 
 become good use a hundred years hence. At pres- 
 ent, for example, two negatives make an affirmative; 
 yet Chaucer, in describing his “ verray parfit gentil 
 knight,” wrote thus : 
 
 He never yet no vileinye ne sayde 
 
 In al his lyf, unto no maner wight ; 
 
 and according to the usage of his day, Chaucer’s four 
 negatives merely strengthened the negation. Correct- 
 ness in sentence-structure, then, conformity to good 
 use, is conformity to usage that is at once reputable, 
 national, and present. 
 
 A second definition of correctness in sentence-struc- 
 ture is to say that it is construction that is either 
 grammatical or idiomatic. An idiom is a construction 
 peculiar to the language ; a construction that cannot 
 be translated literally because literally it makes no 
 
CERTAIN PREPARATORY SCHOOL MATTERS. 183 
 
 sense. For example, the construction “ I had rather 
 go,” for “ I would rather go ” is an idiom. “ I had 
 go” makes nonsense; yet “I had rather go” is just 
 as good English as “ I would rather go.” The latter 
 is grammatical; but the former accords with long 
 established idiom. 
 
 Violations of correctness in sentence structure are 
 called solecisms. I have no purpose to discuss sole- 
 cisms at length; but two occur with such frequency 
 in college themes — and even in college text-books — 
 as to warrant individual mention. One is the use of 
 sentences that are not sentences ; the other is the use 
 of misrelated participles. 
 
 The first of these solecisms, the use of sentences 
 that are not sentences, consists in beginning with a 
 capital and concluding with a period a group of words 
 that has no subject, or no predicate, or neither, or 
 that, because of the presence of a subordinate conjunc- 
 tion, is merely a dependent clause. Here are a few 
 instances from freshman themes : 
 
 That is what you call college graft. A square green button 
 for twenty-five cents. That is nothing but highway robbery. 
 
 That look of appeal on his face I shall never forget. So 
 pathetic, so beseeching, such a look of want in his bright but 
 deeply sunken eyes. 
 
 Aerial navigation has occasioned many deaths. The latest 
 
184 
 
 THEME-WRITING, 
 
 being that of a daring Frenchman, of whom w^e have all 
 heard, Paul Nocquet. 
 
 “ Good work, old fellow ! Down the fresh ! ” a soph calls 
 out. While from a freshman on the opposite side comes the 
 cry, “ Now you have him ! Give it to him ! ” 
 
 To be sure there is a kind of feeling of “ scrap ” between 
 the sophomores and the newly entering “ Fresh.” Which 
 feeling is more productive of fun than of trouble. 
 
 I have a group of far more interesting examples culled 
 from the works of a well known authority on English 
 composition ; but I am unwilling to cast the first stone. 
 
 The second solecism that I wish to note is the mis- 
 related participle. A participle ought to modify the 
 word that would become its subject if the participle 
 became the predicate of a clause. Violation of this 
 rule produces, not infrequently, astonishing results. 
 Here is an example: 
 
 Crossing the river in a ferry-boat, the towering sky-scrapers 
 filled me with amazement. 
 
 We sympathize with the amazement of the writer ; 
 yet he had no intention of implying that the sky- 
 scrapers were crossing the river in a ferry-boat. 
 What he should have said was this : 
 
 Crossing the river in a ferry-boat, I was filled with amaze- 
 ment at the towering sky-scrapers ; 
 
 or, if he preferred, he might have said: 
 
CURTAIN PRUPARATORY SCHOOL MATTERS. 185 
 
 As I crossed the river in a ferry-boat, the towering sky- 
 scrapers filled me with amazement. 
 
 Yet the original sentence is not impossible; although 
 “ sky-scrapers ” is the nearest substantive, the parti- 
 ciple might be taken to refer to “ me.” In the fol- 
 lowing sentence, not even that possibility exists: 
 
 Thus transformed into a state of Union, it will take some 
 time before another insurrection takes place there. 
 
 I shall not illustrate these solecisms further. I 
 hope that I have said enough to make clear to you 
 the meaning of the abbreviations “ Not S.,” and “ Mis. 
 Part.,” if they should occur in the margins of your 
 themes. 
 
 From Correctness, my first heading under Sentence 
 Structure, I pass now to my second heading. Effective- 
 ness. 
 
 Effectiveness, in sentence structure as in paragraph- 
 ing, results from the application of the three-fold 
 principle of Unity: unity of material; mass, or empha- 
 sis; and coherence. In sentences, unity of material 
 is not so much a question of brevity or length as of 
 singleness of idea. Take, for example, this sentence 
 from Doctor Johnson’s Life of Gay: 
 
 John Gay, descended from an old family that had been long 
 in possession of the manor of Goldworthy, Devonshire, was 
 
THEME-WRITING. 
 
 1 86 
 
 born in 1688, at or near Barnstaple, where he was educated 
 by Mr. Luck, who taught the school of that town with good 
 repute, and, a little before he retired from it, published a 
 volume of Latin and English verses. 
 
 The violation of unity in this sentence does not con- 
 sist in the fact that the sentence is sixty words in 
 length ; De Quincey, in the selection printed in the 
 Appendix, uses in one instance a sentence eighty-nine 
 words long followed by another that is one hundred 
 and forty-eight words long, yet in each keeps perfect 
 unity. The violation of unity in Doctor Johnson’s 
 sentence consists rather in the fact that it endeavors 
 to combine three matters that ought to be kept reason- 
 ably distinct: Gay’s birth and education; the previous 
 history of his family ; the achievements of his teacher, 
 Mr. Luck, as pedagogue and poet. 
 
 Nevertheless, the longer the sentence the more 
 chances are there for the thought to go astray. Espe- 
 cially to be avoided are sentences that, by means of 
 successive and’s and hut’s, go on forever, and sen- 
 tences similarly constructed in which commas take the 
 place of the conjunctions. Both faults are illustrated 
 in the following passage : 
 
 Thursday after chapel was my first lecture, after that I 
 had no lesson until the afternoon, a meeting was called for 
 the Freshman class and was held in Association Hall where 
 we elected our temporary president and different committees, 
 
CERTAIN PREPARATORY SCHOOL MATTERS. 187 
 
 there being no Geology lesson, English was next where we 
 assembled, but on account of an important engagement with 
 our former principal, my brother and I left early so as to 
 meet him at school to have my registration papers signed, but 
 through different delays we missed him and made an appoint- 
 ment for the following evening. 
 
 The error in these sentences, consists in making 
 compound structure too compound. Below are sen- 
 tences in which unity has been violated by making 
 the complex structure too complex : 
 
 Carefully viewing the Cuban situation for the last eight 
 years and the present culmination of the attempted self- 
 government, as a former member of the Ninth United States 
 Infantry I begin to recollect (having had close intercourse 
 both with the Spanish soldiers and the Cubans after the sur- 
 render of Santiago de Cuba, where the above regiment was 
 ordered to raise the American flag over the governor’s palace 
 and to form a guard all over the city) the peculiarity of the 
 Cuban people and the striking difference between them and the 
 Spanish in the manner of cleanliness and other habits. . . . 
 
 The impression created by the Cuban inhabitants on us 
 while in the city of Santiago de Cuba was far from favorable, 
 and their general conduct proved such as to preclude their 
 erstwhile earned sympathy from being considered as well 
 deserved, for the majority of the American soldiers who made 
 the Cuban liberty possible were constantly complaining, among 
 other things, that nearly all the clothes from the “ Bloody 
 Bend ” near San Juan Hill (where we dropped our light 
 marching clothes that we carried over our shoulders, pre- 
 
THEMJJ-WRITING. 
 
 1 88 
 
 paratory to entering into battle on the morning of July i, 
 1898) mysteriously disappeared, and most of us had to suffer 
 douhly as a consequence of that from July ist till the 17th, 
 when the regiment marched into Santiago de Cuba. , . . 
 
 Mass, or Itmphasis, in sentence structure differs 
 from mass in paragraphing in two respects. In the 
 first place a sentence is so much smaller than a para- 
 graph that it offers little scope for the expansion of 
 important parts. Emphasis through proportion, there- 
 fore, is, in sentence-structure, a device of little use. 
 In the second place, English sentence-structure is so 
 restricted by the rules of grammar that emphasis 
 through arrangement can be used much less freely 
 than in paragraphs. In Latin and in other inflected 
 languages, the important word may receive the con- 
 spicuous position. In English, to move a word out 
 of its natural position is sometimes to make both sense 
 and syntax unintelligible. Horace, free to adapt his 
 word-order to his artistic purpose, inquired calmly: 
 
 Quis multa gracilis te puer in rosa 
 Perfusus liquidis urget odoribus 
 Grato, Pyrrha, sub antro? 
 
 — Odes: I. v: 1-3. 
 
 But a mad poet must he be to write in English : 
 
 What many slender you boy ’neath roses 
 Bedewed liquid courts perfumes 
 Pleasant, Pyrrha, within grotto? 
 
CERTAIN PREPARATORY SCHOOL MATTERS. 1 89 
 
 In the English sentence, Emphasis has indeed its lim- 
 itations ! 
 
 Even thus limited, however. Emphasis may do 
 much. In each of my last three sentences, for exam- 
 ple, I have emphasized some phrase or clause by 
 changing the natural order. Usually we may place 
 the important word or phrase at the beginning or the 
 end. At least, we may avoid beginnings and endings 
 that are weak. At the opening, we may avoid a mean- 
 ingless it or there; at the close, we may avoid a 
 dangling participle. Let us remember, also, the oft- 
 quoted dictum of the professor : “ A preposition is a 
 weak word to end a sentence with.” 
 
 For Coherence in sentence-structure we may utilize 
 all the devices applicable to paragraphs ; arrangement ; 
 parallel construction; expressed connection. We may 
 so arrange a sentence that the modifiers shall come 
 next the word they modify, the correlative connec- 
 tives next the expressions they connect. We may 
 so phrase a sentence as to express similar ideas in 
 similar constructions ; especially, so as to keep the 
 same subject in successive clauses. We may so express 
 the connection of the parts as to avoid false co-ordi- 
 nation ; false subordination ; relative pronouns that 
 agree not with their antecedents or that have no ante- 
 cedents, or that confuse the restrictive with the non- 
 restrictive sense; participles that know not what they 
 
theme-writing. 
 
 190 
 
 modify; positive conjunctions — but and and — for 
 post-positive conjunctions — hozvever and moreover; 
 elipses that leave the meaning far to seek. For illus- 
 trations of these faults, I refer you to the exercises 
 that conclude this section; for illustrations of coher- 
 ence well devised, to the selection from Thomas De 
 Quincey in the Appendix. 
 
 Exercise. 
 
 Revise for correctness and effectiveness the following sen- 
 tences : 
 
 1. There came a white-clad figure down the hall, as it 
 moved without a sound the sight had great effect on Rube. 
 
 2. After matriculating, and arranging my course of study, 
 the first cry that greeted my ears was : “ Hey, Freshman, have 
 you got your cap and button ? ” 
 
 3. The mouth has a rather short upper lip and has a set 
 look about it that speaks much for the owner’s nerve and 
 grit. The cheeks a little hollow making the cheekbones prom- 
 inent. 
 
 4. This custom of making the freshman wear a small cap 
 is a good one. Some of the reasons are that it distinguishes 
 him from the other classes, makes him respect them, it is a 
 good idea, for when a freshman is needed they are easily 
 seen ; and it makes him have more college spirit. 
 
 5. We went a few hundred yards when we stopped. 
 
 6. There is perhaps nothing so easy to read as the human 
 
 7. I was strolling through Central Park very early one 
 countenance. 
 
CERTAIN PREPARATORY SCHOOE MATTERS. 19I 
 
 Sunday morning last summer when my attention was attracted 
 by “the strong smell of a cigar. 
 
 8. It is almost incredible to see how women are treated in 
 the street cars, 
 
 g. The cat remained sitting quietly in the drizzling rain 
 for nearly an hour when suddenly it moved to another hum- 
 mock and crouched for a spring. 
 
 10. I was riding uptown in the Madison Avenue car, sev- 
 eral months ago, and at Sixtieth Street a gentleman entered 
 taking the seat at my right. 
 
 11. It matters not to me, when I am out walking, if the 
 sun shines or if it rains, unless I am out with my chum’s 
 sister on a Sunday afternoon. 
 
 12. In speeches or from the pulpit I hardly think slang 
 is justifiable. 
 
 13 - His appearance is more of a minister than a seeker of 
 bargains. 
 
 14. In a doorway stood two women conversing in low 
 tones and sad faces. 
 
 IS- A third class of students consists of men who come to 
 college for an education but still they enjoy athletic sports. 
 
 16. To the left rose the Palisades. The right bank was 
 covered with trees. 
 
 17 - Summing up slang though it has force and suggestive- 
 ness is unjustifiable because of its lack of denotation, its con- 
 notation and violation of grammar rules. 
 
 18. Directly before me was the library with its stone steps, 
 massive pillars, and surmounted by a dark round dome. 
 
 19. After washing and gulping down a hasty breakfast, 
 our journey was continued. 
 
192 
 
 theme;- WRITING. 
 
 20. When fifteen years old, all his domestics were taken 
 away from him. 
 
 21. As one leaves the train, he sees nothing but a very 
 poor lot of tenements on one side of the station while the 
 other side is adorned with a shipyard and coal pockets. 
 
 22. The roar of the rain on the canvas was prodigious, 
 it was necessary to shout to be heard. 
 
 23. Reputable use is when a word is used by the best 
 authors. 
 
 24. Our mast was too tall to pass the railroad bridge by 
 four inches. 
 
 25. I thought it unusual for anybody to be thus enjoying 
 themselves at that early hour. 
 
 26. With the changes of color begin the real beauty of the 
 tropical sunset. 
 
 27. On either side of the road lay a large farm freshly- 
 plowed, each furrow could be followed to its very end. 
 
 28. To me it not only seemed surprising but also novel. 
 
 29. I stepped forward to see whom it might be. 
 
 30. One lonely student was making his way across Ohio 
 Field toward the library, being bound that way myself I fol- 
 lowed close behind. 
 
 31. Anybody desiring to serve as an election watcher 
 should send their name and address to the above address. 
 
 32. Freshmen are treated much different in England than 
 in .A,merica. 
 
 33. Suddenly, far down the line, a faint shout was heard 
 of “ Car coming ! ” 
 
 34. Its muscles quivered for an instant and then it shot 
 out like from a spring. 
 
CERTAIN PREPARATORY SCHOOL MATTERS. I93 
 
 35. It seems as if every passenger had a friend who came 
 to see them off. 
 
 36. Not only does college spirit benefit the athletic stand- 
 ards but also the scholarship of an institution. 
 
 37. People leaned their heads out of windows ; but those 
 who had any ear for music were compelled to draw it in 
 again. 
 
 38. At first I could only see the back of her head. 
 
 39. We are justified in using slang at any time where it 
 makes our meaning clearer to the class of people we speak to. 
 
 40. Every ship was decorated from bow to stern, making 
 the one touch of bright color on the British ships. 
 
 41. In his right hand, each held a small can of yellow 
 paint, while a large paint brush ornamented his left. 
 
 42. I was standing on the steps of the Library speaking 
 to an upper classman, when two students wdro were evidentlj^ 
 P'reshmen were' questioned by a 5'Oung man who was visiting 
 the University as to the whereabouts of the “ Hall of Fame.” 
 
 43. I had no sooner gotten out of the crowd that had 
 left the car with me, than I was surrounded by a throng 
 of peddlers. Some with their arms laden with ticklers, yell- 
 ing at the top of their voices, “ Here’s where you get your 
 Ticklers, five cents a piece.” Others carrying large bags, 
 crying out, “ Get your pockets full of confetti for a nickel.” 
 
 44. There is nothing about secondary schools and colleges 
 that creates such a democratic spirit as athletics. 
 
 45 - He was the sort of fellow that I admired. A great, 
 broadshouldered fellow, standing erect and firmly. His head 
 was set gracefully on his shoulders while his hands hung 
 gracefully by his side. His neck and chest and head were 
 
194 
 
 THEMB-WRITING. 
 
 those of an athlete. His neck broad at the base, tapering to 
 the head. The chest broad and full, while the head seemed 
 to match or fit the whole. His face was clear cut. A broad, 
 high forehead, dark gray eyes, a slightly Roman nose, and 
 an even mouth that was barely open, showing his white teeth. 
 
Ill: OF WORDS. 
 
 C hoice of words, like sentence-structure and 
 paragraphing, may be best considered under 
 the two heads correctness and effectiveness. 
 Correctness in the choice of words is but another name 
 for conformity to Good Use, to common consent, to 
 usage that is reputable, national, and present. First, 
 then, let us consider reputable use. 
 
 In words as in sentences, reputable use is the 
 usage of the best writers. The word “ elevated ” is 
 
 reputable when used as a participial adjective, as in 
 the phrase “ the elevated railway.” It is not reputable 
 when used as a substantive, as in the sentence, “ We 
 took the elevated to the Polo Grounds.” Much less 
 
 is it reputable when abbreviated to the monosyllabic 
 “ El.” Similarly, the word “ trolley ” is reputable as 
 the name of the grooved wheel that connects an elec- 
 tric car with the wire above it; it is reputable also in 
 the compound nouns trolley-wheel, trolley-wire, trol- 
 ley-pole, trolley-car, and so on. But “ trolley ” in 
 the sense of trolley system, as in the sentence, “ We 
 took the trolley,” is, at best, colloquial ; and the verb 
 “ to trolley,” as in the sentence, “ We trolleyed to 
 Fort George,” is certainly not reputable. 
 
theme-writing. 
 
 National use, in words as in sentence-structure, is 
 the usage of the entire English-speaking race; in con- 
 trast with usage that is local or foreign. We should 
 avoid words from other languages for which there is 
 an English equivalent ; to do otherwise would be an 
 affectation. To use, however, such terms as enjambe- 
 ment and vers-de-societe, for which there is no English 
 equivalent, would violate national usage, if at all, not 
 because the terms are French but because they are 
 technical. Of national use, however, our most fre- 
 quent violations will be of the class called localisms 
 or provincialisms. I know a college, for example, 
 where the process of persuading men to join a fra- 
 ternity is known as “ fishing ; ” where, therefore, it 
 is usual to speak of the “ fishing-season,” and of 
 “fishers of men ” — the latter phrase with a con- 
 scious Biblical connotation; and where, if a professor 
 announces that he will not meet his class next day, 
 he is said to grant an “ad'journ” — with the accent 
 on the first syllable. Now all these terms are highly 
 useful as localisms; but for general purposes, they 
 are both incorrect and valueless, for they are not in 
 national use. 
 
 Present use, in words as in sentences, is the usage 
 of today, as distinguished from usage that is obsolete 
 and usage still too new. 
 
CERTAIN PREPARATORY SCHOOL MATTERS. IQ7 
 
 In words as fashions, the same rule will hold, 
 
 Alike fantastic if too new or old : 
 
 Be not the first by whom the new are tried. 
 
 Nor yet the last to lay the old aside. 
 
 Reputable and national writers of a century ago often 
 spoke very respectfully of “females;” but modern 
 authors prefer to speak of “ women.” In the days 
 of good Queen Anne, the word tea was pronounced 
 to rhyme with obey; and Pope wrote : 
 
 Here, thou, great Anna, whom three realms obey. 
 
 Dost sometimes counsel take, and sometimes — tea, 
 
 — a pronunciation that is .now good Irish. But in 
 English, tea has come to rhyme with he and she, not 
 with obey; and obedience is unknown to present use. 
 
 In a previous section, I have said that violations of 
 good use in sentence-structure are called solecisms. 
 In like manner, the violations of good use in words 
 are called either barbarisms or improprieties. A bar- 
 barism is a word not in the language — as “ skiddoo.” 
 An impropriety is a good little word gone wrong — ■ 
 as “ twenty-three.” Each fails in one or more of 
 the three respects : either it is not reputable, or not 
 national, or not present. 
 
 To be correct, however, — to use only such words 
 as are in good use, reputable, national, and present, 
 
198 
 
 theme-writing. 
 
 — is not the sole essential in the choice of words. 
 The word selected must be not only permissible but 
 effective. 
 
 Effectiveness is, in the last analysis, a matter of 
 denotation and connotation — of what a word names 
 and what a word suggests. We might have said the 
 same thing of sentences and paragraphs ; for the 
 principles of unity of material, emphasis, and coher- 
 ence, are but working rules for gaining on a larger 
 scale the desired denotative and connotative effects. 
 In an individual word, however, the denotation and 
 connotation are more easy to discover. Knowing the 
 precise effect that we intend, we have merely to select 
 from among several words more or less synonymous 
 that word which names and which suggests the pre- 
 cise effect intended. Is it a sailing vessel of which 
 we wish to speak? What sort of sailing vessel? 
 Is it a cat-boat, a sloop, a bark, a barkentine, a brig, 
 a brigantine, a schooner, or a full-rigged ship? Each 
 of these words has its distinct denotation ; do we wish 
 to name a vessel of some specific type or will the 
 generic term “ sailing-vessel ” fit our meaning more 
 exactly? But perhaps, for our immediate purpose, 
 the literal meaning is not our chief concern. Perhaps 
 we wish to voice merely the romantic suggestiveness 
 of the Spanish Main. If so, perhaps we shall find 
 the desired connotation in the word “ galleon.” 
 
certain preparatory school matters. 199 
 
 Denotation and connotation are matters of such 
 practical importance, that, at the risk of growing 
 tiresome, I must once again illustrate. Suppose, for 
 example, that we were writing an advertisement of 
 Blank’s Sugar Wafers. On the one hand we should 
 wish to convey all essential information ; on the other 
 we should wish to rouse the desires of the reader. 
 For the intellectual effect through denotation, and for 
 the emotional through connotation, could we well do 
 better than does the following advertisement of a 
 well-known firm? 
 
 Perhaps you have never 
 eaten Blank’s Sugar Wafers? 
 
 They remind you of honey, 
 of sun-kissed fruit, of candied 
 rose petals, of a thousand 
 enjoyments -whose pleasant 
 recollections are gathered 
 into one sweet confection. 
 
 In ten and t-wenty-five cent tins 
 The Blank Biscuit Company. 
 
 “ Why is it,” inquires a newspaper writer, who has 
 evidently been reading Shakspere’s Antony and Cleo- 
 patra Why is it that most book advertisements 
 are so infinitely below the break fast- food advertise- 
 ments? The man who writes the food ads displays 
 a richly modulated mood that changes with every 
 
200 
 
 theme-writing. 
 
 theme. Age cannot wither nor custom stale his fifty- 
 seven varieties.” 
 
 These quotations, I think, are fair examples of 
 successful choice of words. The principle exempli- 
 fied is this : for effectiveness, choose your words with 
 reference (i) to their literal meaning, their denota- 
 tion; and (2) to that which they suggest, their con- 
 notation. 
 
 Exercise. 
 
 Revise, for correctness and effectiveness, the wording of the 
 following sentences : 
 
 1. On the couch laid a mandolin. 
 
 2. Most anyone can play tennis or golf. 
 
 3. He had been expecting it for quite some time. 
 
 4. Do not leave him go. 
 
 5. What sort of a man is he? 
 
 6. The chief parts of a composition should be so placed 
 as to readily catch the eye. 
 
 7. The rules of the present game are different than of 
 the old game. 
 
 8. I found myself in a struggling mass of humanity, fight- 
 ing, pushing, and yelling. 
 
 g. Due to this competition, twenty-five hundred miles of 
 railway have been built. 
 
 10. The cost of this innutritious mixture was ten cents. 
 The little inhabitant of a tenement house paid for the soup 
 in pennies, and hurried away toward her humble home. 
 
 11. Below us lay the valley in all its spring-time glory. 
 
 . . . This was only broken by the sluggish river as it wended 
 
certain preparatory school matters. 201 
 
 its way southward. . . . On our right, the mountains stood 
 out in all their ruggedness. 
 
 12. They came with a rush and a roar. At first it 
 seemed as if Butler Hall would fall ; but the solid mass of 
 freshmen stood the charge like the rock of Gibraltar stands 
 the fierce charge of the waves. 
 
 13. Let us give our Alma Mater an original yell, one of 
 which she may be proud. 
 
 14. He led his company like an America#! officer should do. 
 
 15. I am in hearty agreement with the sentiment con- 
 tained in the protest against the extravagant increase of 
 battleships, and will be glad to have my name signed thereto. 
 
IV: OF PUNCTUATION. 
 
 P UNCTUATION is the system of indicating 
 by certain arbitrary marks the grammatical 
 and rhetorical relation between words, phrases, 
 clauses, sentences, in print or writing. Its 
 function is to do for a reader what vocal inflection, 
 stress, and pause, do for the hearer. Were we today 
 well trained in vocal reading, punctuation would be 
 a simple matter, summed up in the precept : “ Punctu- 
 ate as you pronounce.” For most of us, however, 
 vocal reading is an unknown art ; it cannot, therefore, 
 guide our punctuation. Our only recourse is to dis- 
 cover what grammatical and rhetorical relations are 
 to be expressed, and then so to punctuate as to make 
 these evident. 
 
 Of the many rules that might be offered, the impor- 
 tant may be classified under one or another of these 
 three heads : order, restriction, co-ordination. In 
 other words, the chief uses of punctuation are these 
 three, which we will consider in the order named: 
 
 ( I ) To indicate that a subordinate element is out 
 of its natural order. 
 
 (2) To indicate that a subordinate element is non- 
 restrictive. 
 
certain preparatory school matters. 203 
 
 (3) To indicate the relation of co-ordinate elements. 
 
 (i) Subordinate Elements Out oe Their 
 Natural Order. 
 
 If a subordinate element is out of its natural order, 
 it should usually be set off by commas. This rule 
 applies chiefly to prepositional phrases, participles, 
 relative clauses, and adverbial clauses ; it may even 
 be applied, for clearness’ sake, to single words. 
 
 Order : Adjectives. 
 
 There was Burke, ignorant, indeed, or negligent, of the art 
 of adapting his reasoning and his style to the capacity and 
 taste of his hearers ; but, in amplitude of comprehension and 
 richness of imagination, superior to every orator, ancient or 
 modern. 
 
 Order : Adverbs. 
 
 They far excel their predecessors in the art of deducing 
 principles from facts ; but, unhappily, they have fallen into the 
 error of distorting facts to suit general principles. 
 
 Order: Prepositional Phrases. 
 
 The family of fools is ancient. 
 
 Of learned fools, I have seen ten times ten; of unlearned 
 wise men, I have seen a hundred. 
 
 Order : Participles. 
 
 Piety stretched beyond a certain point is the parent of 
 impiety. 
 
204 
 
 THEME-WRITING. 
 
 Stretched beyond a certain point, piety is the parent of 
 impiety. 
 
 Order : Adjective Clauses. 
 
 Many that have never practiced religion have quarrelled 
 about it. 
 
 Many have quarreled about religion, that have never prac- 
 ticed it. 
 
 Order : Adverbial Clauses. 
 
 Soft is the strain when zephyr gently blows, 
 
 And the smooth stream in smoother numbers flows ; 
 
 But, when loud surges lash the sounding shore. 
 
 The hoarse rough verse should like the torrent roar. 
 
 (2) Subordinate Eeements Non-Restrictive. 
 
 If a subordinate element in its natural order is 
 non-restrictive — that is, if it is additional, explana- 
 tory, parenthetical, logically unessential — it should 
 be set off by commas. This rule applies to apposi- 
 tives, to prepositional phrases, to participles, to relative 
 clauses, and to adverbial clauses. 
 
 Restriction : Appositives. 
 
 Please do not confuse Heywood the author of "The Pour 
 P’s" with Heywood the author of "A Woman Killed with 
 Kindness." The former, John Heywood, lived in the early 
 sixteenth century; the latter, Thomas Heyviood, flourished in 
 the seventeenth century. 
 
CERTAIN preparatory SCHOOE MATTERS. 205 
 
 Restriction : Prepositional Phrases. 
 
 A cat ill gloves catches no mice. 
 
 The judges, in their vestments of state, attended to give 
 advice on points of law. 
 
 Restriction ; Participles. 
 
 Goldsmith crying because The Good Matured Man ” had 
 failed, inspired Johnson with no pity. 
 
 Long I stood there, wondering, fearing, doubting, dreaming 
 dreams no mortal ever dared to dream before. 
 
 Johnson grown old, Johnson in the fulness of his fame and 
 in the enjoyment of a competent fortune, is better known to 
 us than any other man in history. 
 
 The peers, robed in gold and ermine, were marshalled by 
 the heralds under Garter-King-at-Arms. 
 
 Restriction : Relative Clauses. 
 
 Approve not him who commends all you say. 
 
 Here comes Glib-Tongue, who can out-flatter a dedication, 
 and lie like ten epitaphs. 
 
 Four sittings of the court were occupied by his opening 
 speech, which was intended as a general introduction to all 
 the charges. 
 
 He that cannot obey, cannot command. 
 
 Restriction : Adverbial Clauses. 
 
 Three may keep a secret if two of them are dead. 
 
 Be silent always when you doubt your sense; 
 
 And speak, though sure, with seeming diffidence. 
 
 The most characteristic and interesting circumstances are 
 
2o6 
 
 theme-writing. 
 
 omitted or softened down, because, as we are told, they are 
 too trivial for the majesty of history. 
 
 (3) Co-ordinate EeEments. 
 
 Co-ordinate elements, if words or phrases, are 
 usually separated by commas ; if clauses, by semi- 
 colons ; if clause-groups, by colons. 
 
 Co-ordinate Words and Phrases. 
 
 Co-ordinate words and phrases are usually sepa- 
 rated by commas unless all the conjunctions are 
 expressed. Before a conjunction that connects the 
 last two members of a series, modern usage prefers 
 the same punctuation as between the unconnected 
 members. If the members of a series are themselves 
 subdivided by commas, semicolons are preferable 
 between the members ; and the series as a whole 
 may be set off by a comma or by a colon. The latter 
 usage obtains especially in formal enumeration. 
 
 Snuff or the fan supply each pause of chat, 
 
 With singing, laughing, ogling, and all that. 
 
 To lodge in a garret up four pair of stairs ; to dine in a 
 cellar amongst footmen out of place; to translate ten hours 
 a day for the wages of a ditcher; to be hunted by bailiffs, 
 from one haunt of beggary and pestilence to another, from 
 Grub Street to St. George's Fields, and from St. George’s 
 
CERTAIN PREPARATORY SCHOOL MATTERS. 207 
 
 Fields to the alleys behind St. Martin’s church ; to sleep on 
 a bulk in June, and amidst the ashes of a glass-house in 
 December ; to die in a hospital ; and to be buried in a parish 
 vault, was the fate of more than one writer, who, if he had 
 lived thirty years earlier, would have sat in the Parliament, 
 and would have been intrusted with embassies to the High 
 Allies ; who, if he had lived in our time, would have received 
 from the book-sellers several hundred pounds a year. 
 
 Co-ordinate Clauses. 
 
 In compound sentences, the co-ordinate independent 
 clauses should usually be separated by semicolons. 
 If the clauses be very short, and in parallel construc- 
 tion — as in the oft-quoted “I came, I saw, I con- 
 quered,” — then it is permissible to use not semi- 
 colons but commas. If, however, any of the inde- 
 pendent clauses be themselves subdivided by commas, 
 tl^ semicolons must be used between the clauses. 
 
 Crafty men contemn studies ; simple men admire them ; wise 
 men use them. 
 
 Some are weatherwise, some are otherwise. 
 
 When befriended, remember it; when you befriend, forget it. 
 
 To err is human; to forgive, divine. 
 
 Co-ordinate Clause-Groups. 
 
 When the co-ordinate members of a compound sen- 
 tence are themselves subdivided by semicolons, a 
 colon may be used between the members. When one 
 
208 
 
 THEME-WRITING. 
 
 member of a compound sentence is a general propo- 
 sition of which the others are particulars, it should 
 be separated from them with a colon. When the rela- 
 tion between the independent members of a compound 
 sentence is such as might be expressed by /or, namely, 
 for example, or as follozus, this relation is often best 
 expressed with a colon. All these rules apply occa- 
 sionally to members consisting of a single clause as 
 well as to clause-groups. 
 
 jMankind are very odd creatures : one half censure what 
 they practice ; the other half practice what they censure ; the 
 rest always say and do as they ought. 
 
 Learn of the skillful ; he that teaches himself hath a fool 
 for his master. 
 
 Some twenty or more years before I matriculated at Ox- 
 ford, Mr. Palmer, at that time M. P. for Bath, had accom- 
 plished two things very hard to do on our little planet, the 
 Earth, however cheap they may be held by eccentric people 
 in comets: he had invented mail-coaches, and he had married 
 the daughter of a duke. 
 
 Some books are to be tasted ; others, to be swallowed ; and 
 some few, to be chewed and digested : that is, some books are 
 to be read only in parts ; others to be read, hut not curiously ; 
 and some few are to be read wholly, and with diligence and 
 attention. 
 
 CONCEUSION. 
 
 In the foregoing discussion, I have by no means 
 exhausted the subject of punctuation. I might have 
 
certain preparatory schooe matters. 209 
 
 added another dozen rules, and then have had still 
 to add one more: the rule, namely, that we should 
 use marks of punctuation wherever they will make 
 our meaning clearer. For college students, however, 
 the present discussion should prove sufficiently detailed. 
 I have attempted, therefore, merely to systematize a 
 major portion of the rules, by grouping them under 
 these three heads : punctuation to indicate that a sub- 
 ordinate element is out of its natural order ; punctu- 
 ation to indicate that a subordinate element is non- 
 restrictive ; and punctuation to indicate the relation 
 of co-ordinate elements. 
 
 I trust, however, that you will take this subject of 
 punctuation very seriously. As an indication of intel- 
 lectual grasp, of fine sensibility to thought-relations, 
 there is no surer test than a writer’s use of punctu- 
 ation marks. If intellectual culture be an essential 
 to gentility, then surely there is more than a little 
 truth in the remark : “ A gentleman is he who knows 
 the significance of a semicolon.” 
 
 Exercises. 
 
 In the following passages, supply the needed marks of 
 punctuation, and be prepared to give definite reasons for your 
 insertion or omission of the marks. Note that in several 
 instances, a single passage comprises several sentences. 
 
 I. What’s proper is becoming see the blacksmith with his 
 white silk apron. 
 
210 
 
 THEME-WRITING. 
 
 2. The horror which the Puritans felt for cards Christmas 
 ale plum-porridge mince-pies and dancing bears excited his 
 contempt. 
 
 3. The fly sate upon the axle-tree of the chariot wheel and 
 said what a dust do I raise. 
 
 4. True wit is nature to advantage dressed 
 
 What oft was thought but ne’er so well expressed. 
 
 5. The creditors are a superstitious sect great observers 
 of set days and times. 
 
 6. The proof of gold is fire the proof of woman gold the 
 proof of man woman. 
 
 7. Whoever thinks a faultless piece to see 
 Thinks what ne’er was nor is nor e'er shall be. 
 
 8. In some countries the course of the courts is so tedious 
 and the expense so high that the remedy justice is worse than 
 injustice the disease. 
 
 9. The noblest question in the world is what good may I 
 do in it. 
 
 10. The sounds ahead strengthened and were now too 
 clearly the sound of wheels. 
 
 11. Whoever the travellers were something must be done 
 to warn them. 
 
 -12. Not louder shrieks to pitying Heaven are cast 
 
 When husbands or when lapdogs breathe their last. 
 
 13. Socrates Aristotle Galen were men full of ostentation. 
 
 14. Tim was so learned that he could name a horse in 
 nine languages so ignorant that he bought a cow to ride on. 
 
CERTAIN PREPARATORY SCHOOL MATTERS. 211 
 
 15. Our lamps still lighted would give an impression of 
 vigilance on our part. 
 
 16. Oh heavens what is it that I shall do speaking or act- 
 ing what help can I offer. 
 
 17. Here then all had been done that by me could be done 
 more on my part was not possible. 
 
 18. But Appius reddens at each word you speak 
 And stares tremendous with a threatening eye 
 Like some fierce tyrant in old tapestry. 
 
 19. In his high place he had so borne himself that all had 
 feared him that most had loved him and that hatred itself 
 could deny him no title to glory except virtue. 
 
 20. He had ruled an extensive and populous country had 
 made laws and treaties had sent forth armies had set up and 
 pulled down princes. 
 
 21. There Siddons in the prime of her majestic beauty 
 looked with emotion on a scene surpassing all the imitations 
 of the stage. 
 
 22. The wish of the accuser was that the court would 
 bring to a close the investigation of the first charge before 
 the second was opened. 
 
 23. He that hath wife and children hath given hostages to 
 fortune for they are impediments to great enterprises either 
 of virtue or mischief. 
 
 24. In a discreet man’s mouth a public thing is private. 
 
 25. To bear other people’s afflictions everyone has courage 
 enough and to spare. 
 
 26. Even on the best subjects you may talk too much. 
 
 27. Of a reproach the sting is the truth of it. 
 
212 
 
 THEME-WRiTlNG. 
 
 28, In rivers and bad government the lightest things swim 
 at top. 
 
 2Q. Where’er you find “ the cooling western breeze ’’ 
 
 In the next line it whispers through the trees ” 
 
 If crystal streams '‘with pleasing murmurs creep” 
 
 The reader’s threatened (not in vain) with “sleep.” 
 
 30. When Ajax strives some rock’s vast weight to throw 
 The line too labors and the words move slow 
 
 Not so when swift Camilla scours the plain 
 
 Flies o'er th’ unbending corn and skims along the main. 
 
 31. If any gentleman were in distress he would wfillingly 
 lend a helping hand but he thinks it no part of neighborhood 
 to talk to a person because he happens to be near him. 
 
 32. What you would seem to be be really. 
 
 33. To publish verses is a sort of evidence that a man 
 wants sense which is repelled not by writing good verses but 
 by writing excellent verses. 
 
 34. What no gentleman should say no gentleman need 
 answer. 
 
 35. To spend too much time in studies is sloth to use 
 them too much for ornament is affectation to make judgment 
 wholly by their rules is the humor of a scholar. 
 
 36. True ease in writing comes from Art not C'nance 
 As those move easiest who have learned to dance. 
 
 37. What signifies knowing the names if you know not 
 the natures of things. 
 
 38. Employ thy time well if thou meanest to gain leisure. 
 
 39. He that is rich need not live sparingly and he that can 
 live sparingly need not be rich. 
 
certain preparatory schooe matters. 213 
 
 40. He’s the best physician that knows the worthlessness 
 of most medicines. 
 
 41. Studies serve for delight for ornament and for ability 
 their chief use for delight is in privateness and retiring for 
 ornament is in discourse and for ability is in the judgment 
 and disposition of business. 
 
 42. Read not to contradict and confute nor to believe and 
 take for granted nor to find talk and discourse but to weigh 
 and consider. 
 
 43. Reading maketh a full man conference a ready man 
 and writing an exact man. 
 
 44. If a man write little he had need have a great memory 
 if he confer little he had need have a present wit and if he 
 read little he had need have much cunning to seem to know 
 that he doth not. 
 
 45- Seek to make thy course regular that men may know 
 beforehand what they may expect but be not too positive and 
 peremptory and express thyself well when thou digresses! 
 from thy rule. 
 
 46. Words are like leaves and where they most abound 
 Much fruit of sense beneath is rarely found. 
 
 47 - One mend-fault is worth two find-faults but one find- 
 fault is better than two make-faults. 
 
 48. Don’t overload gratitude if you do she’ll kick. 
 
 49. If you’d have it done go if not send. 
 
 50. We think our fathers fools so wise we grow 
 Our wiser sons no doubt will think us so. 
 
 51. To err is human to repent divine to persist devilish. 
 
214 
 
 THEME-WRITING. 
 
 52. For want of a nail the shoe is lost for want of a shoe 
 the horse is lost for want of a horse the rider is lost. 
 
 53. He that builds before he counts the cost acts foolishly 
 and he that counts before he builds finds that he did not 
 count wisely. 
 
 54. Brevity is in writing what charity is to all othei 
 virtues righteousness is worth nothing without the one nor 
 authorship without the other. 
 
 55- Let thy discontents be thy secrets if the world knows 
 them ’twill despise thee and increase them. 
 
 56. Strive to be the greatest man in your country and you 
 may be disappointed strive to be the best and you may suc- 
 ceed he may well win the race that runs by himself. 
 
 57. Bis dot gui cito dai he gives twice that gives soon i e 
 he will soon be called upon to give again. 
 
 58. By heaven that thou art fair is most infallible true 
 that thou art beauteous truth itself that thou art lovely more 
 fairer than fair beautiful than beauteous truer than truth itself 
 have commiseration on thy heroica! vassal. 
 
 59. Before us lay an avenue straight as an arrow six hun- 
 dred yards perhaps in length and the umbrageous trees which 
 rose in a line from either side meeting high overhead gave 
 to it the character of a cathedral aisle. 
 
 60. But craven he was not sudden had been the call upon 
 him and sudden was his answer to the call he saw he heard 
 he comprehended the ruin that was coming down already its 
 gloomy shadow darkened above him and already he was meas- 
 uring his strength to deal with it. 
 
 61. For seven seconds it might be of his seventy the 
 stranger settled his countenance steadfastly upon us as if to 
 search and value every element in the conflict before him for 
 
CERTAIN PREPARATORY SCHOOL MATTERS. 215 
 
 five seconds more of his seventy he sat immovably like one 
 that mused on some great purpose. 
 
 62 . Then suddenly he rose stood upright and by a power- 
 ful strain upon the reins raising his horse’s forefeet from the 
 ground he slewed him round on the pivot of his hind legs so 
 as to plant the little equipage in a position nearly at right 
 angles to ours. 
 
 63. If no more were done nothing was done for the little 
 carriage still occupied the very centre of our path though in 
 an altered direction. 
 
 64. Yet even now it may not be too late fifteen of the sev- 
 enty seconds may still be unexhausted and one almighty 
 bound may avail to clear the ground. 
 
 65. One blow one impulse given with voice and hand by 
 the stranger one rush from the horse one bound as if in the 
 act of rising to a fence landed the docile creature’s forefeet 
 upon the crown or arching centre of the road. 
 
 66. But it mattered not that one wreck should float off in 
 safety if upon the wreck that perished were embarked the 
 human freightage. 
 
 67. But the lady oh heavens will that spectacle ever depart 
 from my dreams as she rose and sank upon her seat sank and 
 rose threw up her arms wildly to heaven clutched at some 
 visionary object in the air fainting raving praying despairing. 
 
 68. The moments were numbered the strife was finished 
 the vision was closed in the twinkling of an eye our flying 
 horses had carried us to the termination of the umbrageous 
 aisle at the right angles we wheeled into our former direction 
 the turn of the road carried the scene out of my eyes in an 
 instant and swept it into my dreams forever. 
 
 69. If once a man indulges himself in murder very soon 
 
2i6 
 
 THEME-WRITING. 
 
 he comes to think little of robbing and from robbing he comes 
 next to drinking and Sabbath-breaking and from that to 
 incivility and procrastination. 
 
 70. Once begin upon this downward path you never know 
 where you are to stop many a man dated his ruin from some 
 murder or other that perhaps he thought little of at the time. 
 
CHAPTER 
 
 OF GRADUATE THESES. 
 
 I knew him in Padua, a fantasticall scholler, like such who 
 studdy to know how many knots was in Hercules club, of 
 what colour Achilles beard was, or whether Hector were 
 not troubled with the tooth-ach. He hath studdied himself 
 halfe bleare-ei’d, to know the true semitry of Caesars nose 
 by a shooing-horne; and this he did to gaine the name of a 
 speculative man. 
 
 Webster: The Dutchesse of Malfy; HI. iii. 40-48. 
 
 ESEARCH, as pursued in graduate courses in 
 English, may be classified broadly as of two 
 kinds : first, research of an elementary sort. 
 
 which contents itself with a more or less exhaustive 
 
 re-examination of the world’s knowledge of the sub- 
 ject; and, second, research of a more advanced type, 
 which, having first gathered and digested all the 
 known material, endeavors, either by discovering new 
 material or by reinterpreting the old, to extend the 
 bounds of human knowledge. The research required 
 for a doctorate dissertation is of this advanced type. 
 The research required for a master’s thesis or for 
 
 reports in first-year seminars belongs usually to the 
 
2i8 
 
 THEME-WRITING. 
 
 more elementary class. It is of the latter, chiefly, that 
 I purpose now to speak; and my discussion of research 
 of this elementary sort I shall group under three 
 heads: (i) Gathering the material; (2) Expressing 
 the material; and (3) Supplementary matters, such 
 as the bibliography, the index, and other appendices. 
 
I: OF GATHERING THE MATERIAL. 
 
 Some books are to be tasted; others, to be swallowed; 
 and some few, to be chewed and digested : that is, some 
 books are to be read only in parts ; others to be read, but 
 not curiously ; and some few to be read wholly, and with 
 diligence and attention. 
 
 Bacon: Essay L., Of Studies. 
 
 N GATHERING your material, you should 
 seek first a few' of the most recent and reliable 
 discussions of your subject. These will be val- 
 
 uable in two ways : first, they will give you a general 
 
 knowledge of the field to be examined; second, and 
 
 more important, they will suggest the principal sources 
 that must be the real basis for your investigation. 
 If your study concerns some British author, you may 
 well begin with the sketch of his life in the Dictionary 
 of National Biography — a work especially valuable 
 for its accuracy and for its careful statement of its 
 
 sources. If, however, your topic be more general, 
 some manual of literature may be your starting-point. 
 It should, however, be merely your starting-point, 
 nothing more. 
 
 Suppose, for example, that your topic is the English 
 
220 
 
 theme-writing. 
 
 ballad revival of the i8th century. You know that 
 this was one of the elements in the romantic move- 
 ment, and that two good works upon that topic are 
 Professor Beers’ History of English Romanticism in 
 the i8th Century and Professor Phelps’ Beginnings 
 of the English Romantic Movement. In each of these 
 works, you will find a chapter devoted to the topic 
 assigned you — the ballad revival. These chapters 
 are your starting point. In them you will find men- 
 tioned at least the more important of the sources that 
 you must consult : Addison’s criticisms in the Spec- 
 tator, and Johnson’s in the Rambler; the ballad- 
 imitations of Prior, of William Hamilton of Ban- 
 gour, and others; and the eighteenth century ballad 
 collections of Ramsay, Ambrose Philips, Percy, Rit- 
 son, Scott, and many more. Note all these titles care- 
 fully on separate cards, and proceed to look them up 
 in some good library. Add to your list of sources 
 by the aid of the library catalogues and of the bibli- 
 ographies appended to each book that you consult. 
 Do not rest satisfied until you have seen for yourself 
 every book that may have any bearing upon your 
 subject. Remember, moreover, that all the libraries of 
 the world are at your service. Very few will refuse 
 to send, through your local library, the desired volume ; 
 and if, as is the case with the Peabody Collection in 
 Baltimore and the Ticknor Collection in Boston, the 
 
graduate: the;se;3. 
 
 221 
 
 rules of the library permit no book to leave the build- 
 ing, then Mahomet, if he be a real Mahomet, will 
 go to the mountain. Thus, book by book, your mate- 
 rial will increase. Each source consulted will sug- 
 gest a dozen more. By the middle of your year’s 
 work, you should know what the world has said upon 
 your subject — and where. 
 
 Your gathering of material, however, should not 
 be a process of mere accumulation. It should be a 
 process also of selection. Of all the volumes listed 
 on your cards, not a tenth part will prove of real 
 significance. More than nine tenths merely copy from 
 the rest without original research. It is your busi- 
 ness to separate the sheep from the goats. For state- 
 ments of fact, the value of evidence depends upon the 
 witness. Indirect testimony will not do. Be not con- 
 tent to know that Professor Blank says that Johnson 
 says that Dennis says thus and so. Go look up Den- 
 nis for yourself and quote him directly. Perhaps the 
 original context will give his words an entirely differ- 
 ent meaning. As for encyclopedias and other “ works 
 of reference,” their assertions, unless supported by 
 an explicit statement of their sources, must be pre- 
 sumed inaccurate. Even the scholarly articles in the 
 Dictionary of National Biography are not without 
 misprints and graver errors. Admit no material that 
 you have not verified. 
 
222 
 
 theme-writing. 
 
 To bring home to you the necessity of verifying 
 every statement for yourselves, I desire to give one 
 concrete illustration. In the Dictionary of National 
 Biography, XXXVI, 438-41, you will find an article 
 on the eighteenth century poet William Mason, writ- 
 ten by that most careful scholar, the late Sir Leslie 
 Stephen. In this article you will find the following 
 passage : 
 
 His [Mason’s] Elfrida was brought out at Covent Garden 
 on 21 Nov. 1772 by Colman without his consent, and again, 
 with alterations by himself, at the same theatre on 22 Feb. 
 1779. The Caractacus, also corrected by himself, was per- 
 formed at Covent Garden on i Dec. 1776, and was again 
 produced on 22 Oct. 1778. The success of both plays was 
 very moderate. 
 
 At the end of the article the only reference cited 
 that seems likely to bear upon this passage is the 
 following ; 
 
 See also . . . Genest’s History of the Stage, v. 360-3, 563, 
 vi. 87, 95, 271, 340, vii. 99. 
 
 Now Genest’s History of the Stage, or, to be exact, 
 Some Account of the English Stage from the Resto- 
 ration in 1660 to 18^0, in ten volumes . . . 18^2, was 
 probably Sir Leslie’s best source of information with 
 regard to the dates of presentation of these plays; 
 for Genest worked from first hand sources, the play- 
 
GRADUATE THESES. 
 
 223 
 
 bills and the records of the theatres. In the words 
 of Mr. Joseph Knight {Dictionary of National Biog- 
 raphy, XXI, 1 19), Genest’s English Stage is “ a work 
 of great labour and research, which forms the basis 
 of most exact knowledge concerning the stage. Few 
 books of reference are equally trustworthy, the con- 
 stant investigation to which it has been subjected 
 having brought to light few errors and none of grave 
 importance.” Seemingly, therefore, a statement by 
 Sir Leslie Stephen on the apparent authority of 
 Genest’s English Stage, ought to be a statement that 
 we might accept without verification. 
 
 And yet, if we investigate Sir Leslie’s statement, we 
 find it utterly unreliable. Not only is its list of dates 
 of presentation incomplete, but, of the four dates men- 
 tioned, two are incorrect. If we consult the records 
 given by Genest, we find that Elfrida was acted at 
 Covent Garden twenty-seven times beginning Novem- 
 ber 21, 1772 (Genest: V. 360-2); five times begin- 
 ning February 23, 1779, at Covent Garden {Ibid. VI. 
 95 ) i again at Covent Garden, April 5, 1783, {Ibid. 
 VI. 271) ; then at Drury Lane, April 14, 1785, {Ibid. 
 VI. 340) ; and finally, again at Covent Garden, Novem- 
 ber 24, 1792, when it was “ not acted a second time ” 
 {Ibid. VII. 99). The first presentation of Caractacns 
 was at Covent Garden, December 6, 1776, {Ibid. V. 
 563). It was then “acted fourteen times,” and was 
 
224 
 
 THEilE-WRITING. 
 
 again presented on October 22, 1778, {Ibid. VI. 87). 
 Now all this was known to Sir Leslie Stephen, as is 
 proved by his list of references ; yet he gives the 
 impression that these two plays received but two 
 presentations each. More serious even, are his mis- 
 statements of the dates he gives. In the records of 
 the Covent Garden theatre for the season of 1776-7 
 (Genest, V. 557-69), the entry “ Never [before] acted: 
 Caractacus ...” (Ibid. V. 563) appears against the 
 date December 6, 1776, not December i, as stated by 
 Sir Leslie. For a moment we might fancy that the 
 error is Genest’s, and that Sir Leslie possessed more 
 accurate information ; but this is not the case. In the 
 }rear 1776, the first day of December fell on Sunday, 
 and the records for that season show no instance of 
 a play presented on the Lord’s day. Sir Leslie is 
 again inaccurate in stating that Elfrida was presented 
 on February 22, 1779. Not only do the records assign 
 Elfrida to February 23, but to February 22, the date 
 given by Sir Leslie, they assign another play, Jane 
 Shore, {Ibid. VI. 94-5). Now Genest, in transcribing 
 the records, may have made mistakes ; no human being 
 is above suspicion. But the point that I wish to make 
 is this : if you wish to know the contents of Genest, 
 you should go to Genest, not to Sir Leslie Stephen. 
 Take nothing at second hand. 
 
 As for quoted opinions, remember that they are no 
 
GRADUATE THESES. 
 
 225 
 
 authority. We are glad to have you present them — 
 as matters of information. But such quotations prove 
 nothing. Go to the facts, and form opinions for your- 
 self. Tomlinson’s statement to Saint Peter will no 
 more be accepted in exact scholarship than at Heaven’s 
 Gate ; 
 
 “ This I have read in a book,” he said, “ and that was told 
 to me, 
 
 And this I have thought that another man thought of a 
 Prince in Muscov^y.” 
 
 The good souls flocked like homing doves and bade him clear 
 the path, 
 
 And Peter twirled the jangling keys in weariness and wrath. 
 “Ye have read, ye have heard, ye have thought,” he said, 
 “ and the tale is yet to run : 
 
 By the worth of the body that once ye had, give answ'er — ■ 
 what ha’ ye done ? ” 
 
 Let us hope that you can make this three- fold 
 answer: that you have unearthed all extant material 
 upon your subject; that you have taken none of it at 
 second hand ; and that from it, you have formed your 
 own conclusions. 
 
II : OF EXPRESSING THE MATERIAL. 
 
 Only one man has ever understood me — and he did not 
 understand me either. Hegel. 
 
 m 
 
 HEN the gathering of your material is 
 under way, you should begin to consider 
 how and to what end you will present it. 
 The composing of a graduate thesis, like the com- 
 posing of a freshman exposition, involves three steps : 
 formulation, organization, amplification. These steps 
 we will consider in the order named. 
 
 The formulation of the central thought to secure 
 unity in the intended thesis, should usually be deferred 
 as long as possible. Adopt a working hypothesis if 
 you must ; but remember always that some last bit of 
 evidence may entirely overthrow your earlier conclu- 
 sions. For successful research, the judicial tempera- 
 ment, a habit of suspended judgment, is absolutely 
 essential. 
 
 Sooner or later, however, you must answer the 
 question: What is the significance of this material? 
 In other words, you must settle upon the subject or 
 the proposition that is to be the basis and the test of 
 unity. In the sort of work that we have now in hand, 
 
GRADUATE THESES. 
 
 227 
 
 unity is of two degrees or kinds: (i) That singleness 
 of effect produced by limiting the material to a sub- 
 ject; (2) That singleness of effect produced by limit- 
 ing the material to a proposition. Unity of the first, 
 or looser, kind is well exemplified in the average ency- 
 clopedia article. Such an article endeavors to present, 
 as adequately as space permits, the most significant 
 facts that fall within its title. These facts, arranged 
 systematically, are highly valuable for general refer- 
 ence ; but they do not lead to any one conclusion. 
 Their value consists not in their combined effect, 
 but solely in their individual significance. They are 
 selected material, but not a finished product. They 
 are valuable not as an end in themselves but as a 
 means. In like manner, he who in his dissertation 
 brings together and classifies for ready reference all 
 possible material upon a given subject, has done some- 
 thing thoroughly worth while ; for he has thereby 
 saved the time and labor of some greater scholar. 
 But such a dissertation — one which amplifies a sub- 
 ject but establishes no proposition — stamps its writer 
 merely as a man of industry. Genius may be an 
 infinite capacity for taking pains ; but an infinite 
 capacity for taking pains is not genius. 
 
 The unity that I would commend to you is not 
 the unity that I have described. It is rather that 
 which I have called unity of the second kind : that 
 
228 
 
 THEME-WRITING. 
 
 singleness of effect produced by limiting the material 
 not to a subject but to a proposition. If you would 
 write a seminar report or a master’s thesis or a doc- 
 torate dissertation that is really valuable — a work 
 that is not a mere means hut an end in itself ■ — then 
 you must discover in your material a meaning You 
 must see, for example, in a given body of facts not 
 the subject “ Dramatic Romances of the early Seven- 
 teenth Century,” nor the subject “ Shakspere’s Dra- 
 matic Romances ; ” but the proposition “ Shakspere’s 
 dramatic romances were occasioned by the similar 
 dramatic romances of Beaumont and Fletcher.” In 
 short, you must find your basis of unity not in a sub- 
 ject but in a subject plus a predicate; not in a term 
 but in a proposition. 
 
 To discover such a basis of unity, there are per- 
 haps as many methods as there are kinds of material. 
 As illustration, however, one method shall suffice. 
 This method is the chronological. If you would dis- 
 cover in your multitude of facts some general tendency, 
 some law, perhaps, of cause and effect, make a begin- 
 ning by tabulating these facts in order of time. Of 
 course you must carefully avoid the fallacy of post 
 hoc ergo propter hoc; but after making due allowance 
 for the limitation, you will be surprised to find how 
 often a chronological arrangement is significant. Such 
 
graduate; the;se;s. 229 
 
 for example, is the basis of our modern studies of 
 Shakspere’s development as a dramatist. Such is at 
 least one element in almost every study in tlie history 
 of literature; for no theory can hold good if refuted 
 by chronology. No number of parallel passages will 
 prove the influence of Heine upon Charles. Brockden 
 Brown. 
 
 When you have at length narrowed your field of 
 investigation to the subject, or preferably to the 
 proposition, that is to be the center of unity in your 
 intended thesis, your next problem is : Organization. 
 The material must be so marshalled as to assure unity 
 of material, mass, or emphasis, and coherence. I must 
 not here restate all the details of plan-making that fill 
 so large a portion of my chapter upon Exposition. 
 I am convinced, however, that some such method as 
 I there describe is highly essential to effective organ- 
 ization. Write upon cards or pages of a uniform size 
 the topic-sentences that represent the main divisions 
 of your thesis. Arrange these as is best adapted to 
 your purpose, and then arrange your material in order 
 under the several heads. If you have gathered your 
 material, as you ought, not in bound note-books but 
 upon cards or loose sheets of a predetermined size, 
 then this arrangement will become a mere matter of 
 sorting; and you can test your organization, revise it. 
 
230 
 
 THEME-WRITING. 
 
 and revise again, all without recopying a word. Aim 
 at unity ; aim at mass ; aim at coherence. Aim espe- 
 cially to make your main divisions as few as possible. 
 By massing your material not as a dozen points but 
 as three, you will make your thesis infinitely more 
 effective. Loose snow smashes no windows. If your 
 organization is such as to insure unity of material, 
 mass, and coherence, in the structure, you have gone 
 a long way to secure, in the completed thesis, unity 
 of effect. 
 
 From the formulation of the topic and the organ- 
 ization of the material, we come now to the third and 
 final step, the amplification. In the writing of grad- 
 uate theses, as in all other exposition, it is especially 
 essential to be thoroughly concrete and specific. Every 
 statement that you make, you should prove and illus- 
 trate by pertinent citation. If you speak of Marlowe’s 
 “ high resounding line,” illustrate by quotation : 
 
 Awake, ye men of Memphis ! Hear the clang 
 Of Scythian trumpets ! Hear the basilisks 
 That, roaring, shake Damascus’ turrets down ! 
 
 Tamburlaine: Part I, IV. i. 1-3. 
 
 If you assert Marlowe’s contempt for earlier dramatic 
 verse, prove it from his own mouth : 
 
GRADUATi; THESES. 
 
 231 
 
 From jigging veins of rhyming mother wits, 
 
 And such conceits as clownage keeps in pay, 
 
 Well lead you to the stately tent of war, 
 
 Where you shall hear the Scythian Tamburlaine 
 Threatening the world with high astounding terms 
 And scourging kingdoms with his conquering sword. 
 
 Prologue to Tamburlaine, Part I. 
 
 To tell graduate students how to indicate a quota- 
 tion, ought to be unnecessary; but the necessity none 
 the less exists. Some seem vaguely familiar with the 
 use of quotation marks and of the method of indi- 
 cating a quotation within a quotation; but beyond 
 this, their practice, at least, shows little knowledge. 
 I give, therefore, three necessary rules; 
 
 ( 1 ) Indicate all omissions in quoted passages by 
 
 triple periods or by asterisks, thus : ... or * * * 
 
 (2) Indicate all insertions in quoted passages by 
 
 square brackets : [ ] . 
 
 (3) Indicate all sources by numbered footnotes 
 specifying author, title, edition, volume, and page; 
 thus : 
 
 Schelling : Elizabethan Drama. 1908. II. 288. 
 
 The application of these rules is more adequately 
 illustrated in the following passage : ^ 
 
 1 From the Seivanee Review: January, 1906; pp. 28-9. Reproduced bv 
 permission. 
 
232 
 
 theme-writing. 
 
 Throughout the history of Shaksperean criticism, but espe- 
 cially in the early eighteenth century, the critics most loyal 
 to what Pope calls “ the model of the Ancients ” ^ have 
 lamented Shakspere’s lack of taste in inserting comedy in his 
 tragedies. They admire Shakspere's genius ; they acknowledge 
 that the comic passages “ wou’d be good anywhere else ; ” ^ 
 and they are forced to admit that, in the words of Nicholas 
 Rowe (1709), “the generality of our audiences seem to be 
 better pleas’d with it [tragi-comedy] than with exact Tragedy.” 
 But, says Rowe, “ the severer Critiques among us cannot bear 
 it.” 3 “Grief and Laughter,” wrote Charles Gildon (1710), 
 “ are so very incompatible that to join these two . . . wou’d 
 be monstrous. . . . And yet this Absurdity ... is what our 
 Shakspear himself has frequently been guilty of . . . for waflt 
 of a thorough Knowledge of the Art of the Stage.” ^ Lewis 
 Theobald (1733) “would willingly impute it to a Vice of 
 his [Shakspere’s] Times . . . the then reigning Barbarism.” ^ 
 Dryden, indeed, had been ardent in Shakspere’s defence, as 
 Thomas Rhymer had been abusive ; but few dared frankly 
 approve until Dr. Johnson wrote, in 1765, “ Mixing comick 
 and tragick scenes ... is a practice contrary to the rules of 
 criticism; . . . but there is always an appeal open from criti- 
 cism to nature. . . . When Shakespeare’s plan is understood, 
 most of the criticisms of Rhymer and Voltaire vanish away. 
 . . . The character of Polonius is seasonable and useful, and 
 the Grave-diggers themselves may be heard with applause.” ® 
 Yet even in the early nineteenth century, the smoke of battle 
 had not wholly passed. Coleridge ’’ and Hazlitt ® felt bound to 
 justify the Fool in King Lear; Schlegel, repeating the argu- 
 ment of Dr. ■ Johnson,® thought it necessary to insist that the 
 violations of the pseudo-classical rules, including “ the con- 
 
GRADUATE THESES. 
 
 233 
 
 trast of sport and earnest, . . . are not mere licenses but true 
 beauties of the romantic drama; ” and Ulrici in 1830 could 
 still say, “ Shakspere has always (and again quite recently) 
 been reproached . . . for having introduced scenes of low 
 comedy into his overpowering tragedies.” Nothing, indeed, 
 could show more clearly the advance of critical opinion since 
 Ulrici’s day than the fact that Professor A. C. Bradley, in his 
 recent book Shakespearean Tragedy^ can discuss Shakspere’s 
 use of comic scenes without the slightest hint of contro- 
 versy. 
 
 1 Pope’s Preface to Edition of Shakespeare (1725), reprinted in Smith : 
 Eighteenth Century Essays p. 50. 2 Gildon : Remarks in Works 
 
 of Shakespear (1710), vol. vii, p. 404. 3 Rowe: Some Account of the 
 Life, etc., of Mr. William Shakespear (1709), in Smith, p. 10. 4 Gildon : 
 Essay on the Art, Rise, and Progress of the Stage, in Works of Shakes- 
 pear (1710), vol. vii, pp. ix-x. 5 Theobald: Preface to Edition of 
 Shakespeare (1733), in Smith, 73. 6 Johnson: Preface to Edition of 
 Shakespeare (1765), in Smith, pp. 118, 119, 120, 121. 7 Coleridge: Table 
 Talk, edition of Harper, 1835, vol. ii, p. 106. 8 Hazlitt : Collected Works, 
 vol. i, p. 260. 9 Schlegel: Dramatic Art (Bohn) pp. 370-71. 10 Ibid: 
 p. 344. 11 Ulrici: Shakspere' s Dramatic Art (Bohn) , p. 366. 12 Brad- 
 ley : Shakespearean Tragedy (1905), p. 62. 
 
 In the amplification of your thesis, one more rule 
 must be observed. It is not sufficient that you have 
 a good plan, and follow it : you must tell your plan — • 
 reiterate it. State at the outset the division you intend. 
 When you conclude a division, say so ; and give public 
 notice that you are about to proceed upon your next. 
 Mark each transition with a flourish of trumpets and 
 heraldic proclamation. Never for a moment forget, 
 never let your reader forget, whence you started, 
 where you are, whither you are bound. Summarize 
 
234 
 
 THEMD-WRITING. 
 
 at every opportunity ; and let your conclusion be not 
 simply a climax, but a clear statement of what you 
 have proved, and how. In short, “ When you have 
 a point to make with a reader, tell him you are going 
 to make it, tell him you are making it, tell him you 
 have made it, and perhaps he will see that it is there.” 
 Lest you have any doubt of my meaning or my 
 sincerity, I shall proceed forthwith to practice what 
 I preach. Here, in this second section, I have laid 
 down the following working rules for the expression 
 of your material: (i) Formulate your topic as a 
 
 proposition; (2) Organize your material for unity, 
 mass, and coherence, by means of a plan of headings 
 written upon cards; (3) Amplify your thesis with 
 concrete material in the form of apt quotation from 
 your sources, and make your structure evident by 
 means of introductions, transitions, and summaries, 
 conspicuously expressed : all that you may produce 
 upon your reader the precise effect intended. 
 
§ III: OF THE APPENDICES. 
 
 In termes hadde he caas and domes alle, 
 
 That from the tyme of king William were falle. 
 
 Chaucer: Canterbury Tales: A. 323-4. 
 
 A good matter, surely; ... a very excellent piece of work; 
 . . . would’t were done ! 
 
 The Taming of the Shrew: I. i. 
 
 HE APPENDICES of a thesis are, like the 
 proverbial postscript of a woman’s letter, the 
 most important part. The conclusions you have 
 
 drawn may be absolutely worthless to the world of 
 
 scholarship; but if your chronology and bibliography 
 
 are well done, you have produced something perma- 
 nently useful. Even your index is of genuine value 
 
 to your fellow men : it will save them the labor of 
 
 reading through your dissertation. These appendices, 
 therefore, we will now consider. 
 
 A Bibliography is a list of the works of an author 
 
 or of the books pertaining to a particular subject. 
 As a division of a graduate thesis, a bibliography may 
 be either exhaustive or select; that is, it may include 
 the titles of all works pertaining to the subject, or it 
 
236 THEMB-WRITING. 
 
 may be confined to those books actually used by the 
 author of the thesis or believed by him to be essential. 
 For his own use, the student should make his bibli- 
 ography as nearly exhaustive as he can; for publi- 
 cation, he should sometimes reduce this list to the 
 books that prove significant. 
 
 For the sake of clearness, a bibliography should 
 usually be organized in two divisions : ( i ) The books 
 that constitute the subject-matter; (2) The books 
 about the subject. If the field of investigation were 
 Elizabethan heraldry, Gerard Eegh’s Accedens of 
 Armory, 1562, would fall within the first class; and 
 the Reverend Mark Noble’s History of the College 
 of Arms, 1804, would fall within the second. If the 
 subject is to be treated chronologically, it is some- 
 times wise to arrange the bibliography of the books 
 that constitute the subject-matter, in order of publi- 
 cation. This arrangement is doubly valuable when 
 the arrangement of the Chronology proper is based 
 not on the dates of publication but on the dates of 
 composition, or, in the case of plays, on the dates of 
 public presentation. If, however, there is no distinct 
 advantage in a chronological arrangement, then the 
 arrangement should be alphabetical by author, and, 
 under any given author, alphabetical by title. In the 
 second division of the bibliography, that, namely, 
 
GRADUATE THESES. 
 
 237 
 
 which lists the books about the subject, the arrange- 
 ment should be alphabetical by author. In any case, 
 the arrangement of the bibliography should be such 
 as to enable another investigator to find in it, instantly, 
 the work that he desires. 
 
 The simplest form of entry that will serve, consists 
 of the surname and initials of the author, the exact 
 title of the book, and the place and date of publica- 
 tion ; thus : “ Bolton, E. The Elements of Armories. 
 London, 1610.” If the book be rare, however, or if 
 the details have any special significance, then the entry 
 should consist of a complete transcript of the title- 
 page, or of a transcript in which omissions are indi- 
 cated by means of triple periods (...). It may 
 even be desirable to indicate the particular copy used, 
 by stating the library in which it is found and the 
 catalogue number. This complete form of entry is 
 illustrated below: 
 
 Feme, John. The Blazon of Gentrie: Deuided into two 
 
 parts. The first named The Gloria of Generositie. The sec- 
 ond, Lacyes Nobilitie. Comprehending discourses of Armes 
 and of Gentry. Wherein is treated of the beginning, parts, 
 and degrees of Gentlenesse, with her lawes : Of the Bearing, 
 
 and Blazon of Cote-Armors : Of the Lawes of Armes, and 
 of Combats. Compiled by lohn Feme, Gentleman, for the 
 instruction of all Gentlemen bearers of Armes, whome and 
 none other this Worke concerneth. At London, Printed by 
 
238 THEME-WRtTiNG. 
 
 John Windet, for Andrew Maunsell. 1586. (Peabody Li- 
 brary, 2796.) 
 
 Guillim, John. A Display of Heraldry: manifesting more 
 easie access to the knowledge thereof than hath been hitherto 
 published by any, through the benefit of method; Whereunto 
 it is now reduced by the Study and Industry of John Guillim, 
 late Pursuivant at Arms. The fifth edition much enlarged 
 with a great variety of bearings. To which is added a treatise 
 of Honour, Military and Civil, ... by Capt. John Logan. 
 . . . London, Printed by S. Roycroft for R. Blome; . . . 
 MDC LXXIX. (Columbia Library, 929.6 G 94 Q.) 
 
 Guillim, John. A Display of Heraldry. By John Guillim, 
 Pursuivant at Arms. The Sixth Edition. Improv’d with 
 large Additions of many hundred Coats of Arms. ... To 
 which is added, A Treatise of Honour Military and Civil 
 . . . by Capt. John Logan. . . . Likewise a Supplement of 
 Scarce Tracts relating to the Office of Arms. . . . London. 
 . . . MDCCXXIV. (N. Y. Public Library, *R. Earlier 
 editions appeared in 1610, 1632, 1638, 1660, 1664, and 1666.) 
 
 Besides the Bibliography, the appendix should 
 usually contain a Chronology of the works discussed. 
 Each entry should state the title of the work, its 
 date of publication, its date of composition if that be 
 essential to the discussion, and whether it appeared 
 as a book or in a periodical. The arrangement should 
 be by date of publication or by date of composition, 
 whichever is the more significant. The importance of 
 accuracy and completeness in the chronology, cannot 
 
GRADUATE THESES. 
 
 239 
 
 be overestimated. Frequently it is the real basis of 
 the thesis. As for printing the chronology, ho"wever, 
 that must depend upon the nature of the subject. 
 Often the first division of your bibliography may be 
 made to serve as a chronology as well. 
 
 Sometimes, besides the Bibliography and the Chron- 
 ology, an appendix may contain a detailed study of 
 some subject incidental to the thesis proper but not 
 essential to it. In any piece of research, the byprod- 
 ucts are frequently as interesting as the main inves- 
 tigation, and may well be added as a part of the report, 
 provided they be so placed as not to violate its unity. 
 Such is Professor Phelps’ discussion of the ballad of 
 William and Margaret, appended to his work on The 
 Beginnings of the English Romantic Movement ; or 
 Dr. H. C. Goddard’s study of German literature in 
 New England in the early part of the nineteenth 
 century, appended to his Studies in New England 
 Transcendentalism. These topics had to be investi- 
 gated as a means to some more important end, yet 
 the results are valuable also in themselves. They 
 should not go into the body of the thesis, for there 
 they would spoil its proportion; but they may well 
 be included in the appendix. 
 
 Lastly, no work worthy of the name of scholarship 
 should appear without an Index. No man has time 
 
240 
 
 theme-writing. 
 
 to hunt for his needle in your haystack. The chief 
 value of a scholarly monograph is as a storehouse of 
 special information ; but without an index it becomes 
 nothing but a junk-shop. See to it that your index 
 is such that every fact recorded between the covers 
 of your book can be discovered instantly. In pre- 
 paring an index, as in preparing a bibliography or a 
 chronology, you should make your entries upon sep- 
 arate cards. Thus you may insert innumerable entries, 
 up to the last moment, without recopying. If the 
 entries are book-titles, they should usually be printed 
 in italics; if names of persons or topics, in ordinary 
 type, as follows; 
 
 Chapman, George, 50, 
 
 Chase, The, 31, 147. 
 
 Chatterton, Scott’s review of 
 the Life and Works of, 43, 
 
 162. 
 
 Chaucer, 43, 44-5, 62, 162 
 
 Chesterton, G. K., ii, 174. 
 
 Childe Harold, 14, 88, 93, 94, 
 
 95, 129, 163. 
 
IBIvIOGRAPHY, chronology, byproducts, in- 
 dex; on these appendices, quite as much as 
 on the body of your thesis, depends its value. 
 “ And what is its value anyway ? ” perhaps you ask. 
 “ Why should ^ graduate student of English bother 
 his head with matters of research? Of what advan- 
 tage is it, either to the Grammarian or to the world 
 at large, that he has settled Hoti’s business, properly 
 based Oun, given us the doctrine of the enclitic Def” 
 These questions in their broader aspects, I shall not 
 attempt to answer. If there be need of An Apology 
 for Scholarship, a better man than I shall write it. 
 
 But if you ask me why you and I, as graduate stu- 
 dents, should undertake research, I answer thus ; 
 First, it teaches us methods and inculcates habits of 
 
 exactness valuable in any walk in life. Second, how- 
 ever detailed and seemingly ■ trivial our subject, we 
 cannot know it thoroughly without gaining also a 
 broad knowledge of a much larger field ; and we 
 know the broad field better in endeavoring to know 
 the less. And finally, however seemingly unimportant 
 our research, we know that sometime some greater 
 scholar, gathering a multitude of little facts together 
 
242 
 
 theme-writing. 
 
 — facts that have been discovered by as many little 
 scholars — will see in them a principle of lasting sig- 
 nificance; and, because you and I have given him his 
 raw material, he will give to the world of learning 
 a book that is permanently worth while. 
 
APPENDIX 
 
 MATERIAL FOR ANALYSIS 
 
SPECIMEN EXPOSITION. 
 
 AN ADDRESS TO FRESHMEN.^ 
 
 BY WIBBIAM DUWITT HYDE, D. D., EL. D., PRESIDENT OE 
 BOWDOIN COLLEGE. 
 
 A GRADUATE of Christ Church College, Ox- 
 ford, recently remarked to me : “ One can 
 have such a good time at Oxford, that it’s 
 a great waste of opportunity to work.” The humor 
 of this remark, however, was turned to pathos when 
 his wife told me sadly that : “ An Oxford training 
 does not fit a man for anything. There is absolutely 
 nothing my husband can do ; ” and then I learned 
 that the only thing this thirty-year-old husband and 
 father had ever done was to hold a sinecure political 
 office, which he lost when the Conservative party went 
 put of power ; and the only thing he ever expected to 
 do was to loaf about summer resorts in summer, and 
 winter resorts in winter, until his father should die 
 and leave him the estate. Fortunately, American soci- 
 
 1 Erom The Independent. October 1, 1908. Reprinted by permission. 
 
246 
 
 THEME-WRITING, 
 
 ety does not tolerate in its sons so worthless a career ; 
 yet the philosophy of college life which was behind 
 that worthlessness, translated into such phrases as 
 “ Don't let your studies interfere with your college 
 life,” and “ C is a gentleman’s grade,” is coming to 
 prevail in certain academic circles in America. 
 
 Put your studies first ; and that for three reasons. 
 First, you will have a better time in college. Hard 
 work is a necessary background for the enjoyment of 
 everything else. Second, after the first three months 
 you will stand better with your fellows. At first there 
 will appear to be cheaper roads to distinction ; but 
 their cheapness is soon found out. Scholarship alone 
 will not give you the highest standing with your fel- 
 lows ; but you will not get their highest respect without 
 showing that you can do well something that is intel- 
 lectually difficult. Third, your future career depends 
 upon it. On a little card, five by eight inches, every 
 grade you get is recorded. Four or eight years hence, 
 when you are looking for business or professional 
 openings, that record will, to some extent, determine 
 your start in life. But you are making a more per- 
 manent record than that upon the card : you are writ- 
 ing in the nerve cells and films of your brain habits 
 of accuracy, thoroughness, order, power, or their 
 opposites; and twenty, thirty, forty years hence that 
 
SPECIMENS EOR ANALYSIS. 247 
 
 record will make or mar your success in whatever 
 you undertake. 
 
 Make up your minds, then, to take a rank of A 
 in some subject, at least B in pretty nearly every- 
 thing, and nothing lower than C in anything. If you 
 ask why I place such stress upon these letters, let 
 me tell you what they mean. A means that you have 
 grasped a subject, thought about it, reacted upon it, 
 made it your own ; so that you can give it out again 
 with the stamp of your individual insight upon it. 
 B means that you have taken it in, and can give it 
 out again in the same form in which it came to you. 
 In details, what you say and write sounds like what 
 the A man says and writes ; but the words come from 
 the book or the teacher, not from you. No B man 
 can ever make a scholar; he will be a receiver rather 
 than a giver, a creature rather than a creator, to the 
 end of his days. C means the same as B, only that 
 your second-hand information is partial and frag- 
 mentary, rather than complete. D means that you 
 have been exposed to a subject often enough and long 
 enough to leave on the plate of your memory a few 
 faint traces, which the charity of the examiner is able 
 to identify. Poor and pitiful as such an exhibition 
 is, we allow a limited number of D’s to count toward 
 a degree. E means total failure. Two E’s bring a 
 
248 
 
 THEME- WRITING. 
 
 letter to your parents, stating that if the college were 
 to allow you to remain longer, under the impression 
 that you are getting an education, it would be receiv- 
 ing money under false pretenses. Please keep these 
 definitions in mind, and send a copy to your parents 
 for reference when the reports come home. 
 
 Whatever you do, do not try to cheat in examina- 
 tions or written work. If you succeed, you write 
 fraud, fraud, fraud, all over your diploma; and if 
 you get caught — there will be no diploma for you. 
 
 Your own interest and taste are so much more 
 important factors than any cut-and-dried scheme of 
 symmetrical development, that we leave you free to 
 choose your studies. At the same time, the subjects 
 open to choice are so limited by conflict of hours, 
 and the requirement of a major and minors, that you 
 can hardly miss the two essentials of wise choice : 
 the consecutive, prolonged, concentrated pursuit of 
 one or two main subjects; and some slight acquaint- 
 ance with each of the three great human interests • — ■ 
 language and literature, mathematics and science, and 
 history, economics, and philosophy. 
 
 Having put study first, college life is a close second. 
 College is a world artificially created for the express 
 purpose of your development and enjoyment. You 
 little dream how rich and varied it is. I was myself 
 
SPECIMENS FOR ANALYSIS. 249 
 
 surprised, in looking over the record of the last senior 
 class, to find that the members of that class won four 
 hundred and sixty-seven kinds of connection and dis- 
 tinction, of sufficient importance to be printed in the 
 official records of college achievement. On the other 
 hand, I was a little disappointed to find that one hun- 
 dred and forty-two of these distinctions were taken 
 by five men, showing that the law, “ to him that hath 
 shall be given,” applies in college as well as out of it. 
 Some colleges, like Wellesley, have attempted to limit 
 the number of these non-academic points an individual 
 student may win. 
 
 Aim to win some of these distinctions, but not too 
 many. Concentrate on a few for which you care 
 most. Do you ask what they are? There are eight 
 fraternities, each with its own chapter house and its 
 committees for the control of its own affairs; twelve 
 sectional clubs, covering most of the geographical 
 divisions from which students come ; a Christian Asso- 
 ciation, of which a majority of the students, and a 
 much larger majority of the best fellows among them, 
 are members, and which every one of you ought to 
 join, who wants help and support in living the life 
 you know you ought to live, and is willing to give 
 help and support to others in living the Christian 
 life in college. There is the Deutscher Verein, the 
 
250 
 
 THEME-WRITING. 
 
 Rumania, the History Club, the Good Government 
 Club, the Chemical Club, devoted to their special sub- 
 jects; the Ibis, which represents the combination of 
 high scholarship and good fellowship, and whose mem- 
 bers, together with the undergraduate members of Phi 
 Beta Kappa, are ex-officio members of the Faculty 
 Club, a literary club composed of members of the 
 faculty and their families. There is the Inter-frater- 
 nity Council, the Athletic Council, the Debating Coun- 
 cil ; there is the Glee Club, the Mandolin Club, the 
 Chapel Choir, the College Band, the Dramatic Club, 
 the Press Club, the Republican Club, the Democratic 
 Club. We have three papers — the Quill for liter- 
 ature, the Orient for college news, the Bugle for col- 
 lege records and college humor. Besides, there are 
 public functions with their management and their 
 subjects: rallies, banquets, assemblies. Ivy Day, Class 
 Day, college teas, fraternity house parties. Last, but 
 not least come athletics : baseball, football, track, ten- 
 nis, hockey, fencing, gymnastics, cross country run- 
 ning, with first and second teams, captains, managers, 
 and assistant managers. With all these positions open 
 to you in these four years, every one of you ought to 
 find opportunity for association with your fellows 
 in congenial pursuits, and training in leadership and 
 responsibility in the conduct of affairs. 
 
SPECIMENS FOR ANALYSIS. 25 1 
 
 As I said at the outset, taken apart from study these 
 things are trivial, and absorption in them amounts to 
 little more than mental dissipation ; but taken in their 
 proper relation to study, which is your main purpose 
 here, the social experience and capacity for leadership 
 they give are so valuable that if you take no respon- 
 sible and effective part in them, you miss the pleasant- 
 est, and in some respects the most profitable, part of 
 what the college offers you. 
 
 I suppose I ought to say a word about college temp- 
 tations, though the man who enters heartily into his 
 studies and these college activities will not be much 
 troubled by them. That is the case with nine-tenths 
 of the men who come here. But in every class there 
 is a weaker 5 or 10 per cent., and I suppose this class 
 is no exception. I suppose there are half a dozen 
 of you who are already addicted to vicious practices, 
 and half a dozen more weak fellows, who are only 
 waiting for some one to show them the ways before 
 they fall into them. I do not know yet who you are ; 
 but within three months everybody here will know. 
 Then we shall first do our best to change your plans ; 
 and if that fails, we shall promptly ask you to with- 
 draw. You all know what these temptations are : 
 they are the temptations of youth everywhere — 
 smoking, drinking, gambling, and licentiousness. 
 
252 THEME-WRITING. 
 
 To begin with the least serious, there is nothing 
 intrinsically evil in the inhalation and exhalation of 
 smoke. Among mature men, some are seriously in- 
 jured by it; some apparently suffer little harm. 
 Almost all youth of your age are seriously injured 
 by it. In the first place, it weakens your heart and 
 makes your nerves unsteady. In the second place, 
 it destroys your power of mental concentration and 
 makes you scatter-brained. These evils are generally 
 recognized. The most serious consequence is not so 
 well understood. The habitual smoker tends to be- 
 come content with himself as he is ; he ceases to 
 wrestle earnestly with moral and spiritual problems; 
 falls out of the struggle to be continually rising to 
 heights hitherto unattained. For the man who has 
 attained his moral growth (if such there are) it is 
 not so serious ; but for the youth of eighteen or 
 twenty it means arrested spiritual development, and 
 an easy-going compromise instead of the more stren- 
 uous ideals. As you go up in a college class, the 
 proportion of smokers falls; as you go down, it rises. 
 While the college does not make smoking directly a 
 subject of discipline, it is no mere coincidence that 
 nineteen out of every twenty students whom we send 
 away for either low scholarship or bad conduct are 
 inveterate smokers. If you train for an athletic team. 
 
specimens EOR ANxVPYSIS. 253 
 
 you have to stop smoking while training; if you are 
 in the most earnest training for life, you will leave it 
 off altogether. 
 
 Drinking, however excusable a consolation for hard- 
 worked men of meager mental and social resources, 
 is inexcusable in young men with such a wealth of 
 physical, intellectual, and social stimulus about them 
 as college life affords. All the fraternities, of their 
 own accord, exclude it from their chapter houses. 
 Any student who injures himself or others by this 
 abuse is liable to be requested to leave college in con- 
 sequence. Gambling is so utterly inconsistent with 
 the purpose for which you come here, and, when once 
 started, spreads so insidiously, that we always remove 
 a student from college as soon as we discover that he 
 is addicted to the practice. Licentiousness involves 
 such a hardening of the heart of the offender, such 
 an anti-social attitude toward its victims, and brings 
 such scandal on the institution, that “ notorious and 
 evil livers” in this respect are quietly, but firmly, 
 removed at the end of an early year or term. In 
 dealing with these offenses, we hold no legal trial; 
 we offer no formal proof of specific acts ; we do not 
 always succeed in convincing either students or parents 
 of the justice of our action. In a little community 
 like this, where everybody is intensely interested in 
 
254 
 
 THUMB-WRITING. 
 
 everybody else, we know with absolute certainty ; and, 
 while we cannot always make public the nature and 
 source of our knowledge, we act upon that knowledge. 
 If this seems arbitrary, if any one of you does not 
 wish to take his chance of summary dismissal, with- 
 out formal proof of specific charges, on any of these 
 grounds, he would do well to withdraw voluntarily 
 at the outset. This is our way of dealing with these 
 matters, and you have fair warning in advance. 
 
 Such is college work, college life, college tempta- 
 tion. A million dollars in buildings and equipment; 
 another million of endowment; the services of a score 
 of trained devoted teachers ; -the fellowship of hun- 
 dreds of alumni, fellow-students, and younger brothers 
 who will follow in the years to come; the name and 
 fame, the traditions and influence of this ancient seat 
 of learning; the rich and varied physical, intellectual, 
 and social life among yourselves: all are freely yours 
 on the single condition that you use them for your 
 own good, and to the harm of no one else. 
 
SPECIMEN EXPOSITION. 
 
 THE CONY HIGH SCHOOL ASSEMBLY: AN 
 UNCONSCIOUS EXPERIMENT IN TRAIN- 
 ING FOR CITIZENSHIP.! 
 
 PECIAL preparation for citizenship by meth- 
 ods other than, or auxiliary to, the course in 
 civil government is not a new experiment in 
 secondary schools. In some, the class in civics has 
 been organized as a mock legislature ; in others, the 
 school discipline has been intrusted to a student board. 
 Each of these methods, if successfully carried out, 
 gives, doubtless, some measure of preparation for 
 
 citizenship. Both, however, fall short in one respect. 
 The mock legislature is so frankly artificial that it 
 
 can give but slight sense of civic responsibility; and 
 to intrust to the students the maintenance of discipline 
 is, at best, to prepare them for a work in which but 
 
 few citizens need participate — the actual maintenance 
 
 of law and order. What is needed primarily to meet 
 the conditions of our day, is training in the efficient 
 and honest administration of the public purse. 
 
 1 From The School Review, Tol. xlv, No. 7, September, 1906. Ke- 
 printed by perm1,sslon of the University of Chicago Press, 
 
250 
 
 THEME-WRITING. 
 
 This training, to be most effective, must not deal 
 with money that is imaginary, or with money in which 
 the pupils are not vitally concerned. On the contrary, 
 it must involve an actual fund, raised by the student 
 community itself and expended to meet its actual 
 needs. Such conditions may seem, at first thought, 
 difficult to obtain ; yet it is under precisely these con- 
 ditions that the high-school pupils of Augusta, Maine, 
 in an organization entitled the “ Cony High School 
 Assembly,” are giving themselves, all unconsciously, 
 this financial training for citizenship. 
 
 The school in which this organization has grown 
 up is a public high school numbering about two 
 hundred pupils, situated in a town of about twelve 
 thousand inhabitants. Here, thirteen years ago, when 
 interscholastic athletics were first coming into favor, 
 the students were confronted with two problems. The 
 first was: How should they pay for the equipment of 
 a school gymnasium, and meet the expenses of their 
 athletic teams ? Gate receipts were utterly inadequate ; 
 and to solicit funds upon the business street was admit- 
 tedly a public nuisance. Their solution was a fair, 
 accompanied by amateur theatricals and other enter- 
 tainment. At first, they cleared annually from one 
 hundred to one hundred and fifty dollars. Later, un- 
 der improved management, they increased this amount 
 
SPECIMENS EOR ANALYSIS. 25/ 
 
 to five and even six hundred dollars. Thus, without 
 resorting to public subscription, the students solved 
 
 the problem of ways and means. 
 
 But their second problem was equally important: 
 By what method should their money be apportioned? 
 Their solution was certainly characteristic of this 
 school as it was in the early nineties. Its debating 
 society was then a hotbed of budding parliamenta- 
 rians ; its leading secret fraternity was devoting its 
 evenings to mock legislative sessions ; and, finally, one 
 of its most influential students was serving his first 
 term as page in the state senate. These circumstances 
 made it but natural that the power to appropriate 
 money from the common fund should be vested in a 
 highly organized parliamentary body. 
 
 The precise form of this body, however, was deter- 
 mined by gradual evolution. As organized Septem- 
 ber 20, 1892, the Cony High School Assembly was 
 like a New England town-meeting. It consisted of 
 all the students in the school ; was officered by a 
 moderator and clerk; and met, upon written call of 
 any five members, to act upon the business named in 
 the warrant. This simple organization, however, soon 
 proved inadequate. Appropriations could be rushed 
 through without due consideration, and, when once 
 granted, might be misapplied with impunity. The 
 
258 
 
 theme-writing. 
 
 assembly had no control over other school organiza- 
 tions; and some of them, notably the editorial board 
 of the school magazine, did not scruple to incur a 
 debt and then to expect the assembly to meet the 
 deficit. Possession of the common purse, however, 
 soon gave to the assembly its rightful ascendency. 
 Little by little it adopted legislation perfecting its own 
 procedure and bringing the other organizations under 
 its control; and at the close of the second year of its 
 existence, the assembly embodied these provisions in 
 a new constitution. 
 
 Under this constitution, which has changed but little 
 since its adoption eleven years ago, the assembly has 
 become an organization much more like a state senate 
 or house of representatives than like its original model, 
 the town-meeting. An appropriation, for example, 
 must now be proposed in the form of an act ; must be 
 accompanied by a detailed statement of facts ; must 
 receive two several readings before its passage to be 
 enacted ; and must be posted on the school bulletin- 
 board for at least twenty-three hours between the two 
 readings. This last rule may be suspended, but only 
 by unanimous consent. 
 
 As a further safeguard, the assembly forbids its 
 treasurer to make payment except on a warrant signed 
 by the moderator. This warrant specifies the date on 
 
SPECIMENS EOR analysis. 259 
 
 which the appropriation was passed, the amount appro- 
 priated, and the person to whom it is payable. For 
 the signature of the latter, moreover, the printed form 
 provides also a blank receipt. Thus, for each appro- 
 priation, the treasurer, at the end of her term of office 
 (for the treasurer is now invariably a girl), submits 
 to the auditing committee both a warrant and a 
 receipt. As the amount handled by the treasurer in 
 a single year has, in one instance, exceeded $1,300, 
 the real importance of these safeguards is evident to 
 every student. 
 
 But the assembly’s watchfulness does not end when 
 its appropriations leave the treasury. All officers that 
 handle assembly funds — not alone its own officers, 
 as the superintendent of the gymnasium and the chair- 
 man of the library committee, but also the officers of 
 other organizations, as the managers of the several 
 athletic teams — all are required to submit detailed 
 reports, which are audited with the same care that is 
 bestowed upon the treasurer’s accounts. 
 
 In view of the elaborate nature of the organization 
 just described, it is perhaps an occasion for surprise 
 that the assembly has survived and flourished through 
 these thirteen years. A part of its success, doubtless, 
 has resulted from the unobtrusive co-operation of the 
 teachers, especially of the present principal, Mr. C. 
 
26 o 
 
 THEME-WRITING. 
 
 F. Cook. But the chief credit belongs to the student? 
 themselves. For several years it was the custom of 
 the retiring officers to meet, during the summer vaca- 
 tion, to drill the aspirants of the coming year for the 
 duties that might devolve upon them. Later a secret 
 fraternity was formed, with procedure similar to that 
 of the assembly ; and this not only gave excellent 
 training in parliamentary practice, but, on several 
 occasions, rendered service as a “ good government 
 club ” in the cause of “ civic righteousness.” The 
 custom, moreover, by which the clerk of one year 
 usually becomes the moderator 'of the next has un- 
 doubtedly tended to preserve the continuity of method 
 while increasing the standard of efBciency. 
 
 To give a more definite idea of the usual method 
 of procedure and the nature of the business done, a 
 brief quotation from the Journal may be permitted. 
 The following extract shows the transactions of the 
 seventh, eighth, and ninth meetings of the assembly 
 of 1899-1900. It is interesting not only because it 
 illustrates, within a brief space, a considerable variety 
 of procedure — the passage of a bill in regular course, 
 of a bill under suspension of the rules, of an order, 
 and of a resolution, and the election of an officer by 
 ballot — but more especially because the particular 
 votes here recorded are themselves significant. 
 
SPECIMENS FOR ANALYSIS. 
 
 261 
 
 Tuesday, February 20, 1900. 
 
 Assembly called to order by clerk, and call read. 
 
 [Moderator took the chair.] 
 
 Journal of the last meeting approved without reading. 
 
 Mr. Sanborn, bill : 
 
 An act to appropriate five (5) dollars for expenses of dele- 
 gates to Brunswick. 
 
 Bill received first reading, and February 21, 19CO, i p. M., 
 was set for second reading. 
 
 Moderator then called for nominations for the delegate to 
 go to Brunswick with manager of baseball team. 
 
 Stone, 1900, and Russell, igoo, were nominated. Vote by 
 ballot : total number of votes cast, 129 ; necessary for a choice, 
 65; Russell, 106; Stone, 23. 
 
 Moderator then announced Mr. Russell elected delegate. 
 
 Mr. Gannett, bill : 
 
 An act appropriating one hundred and fifty ($150) dollars 
 for the benefit of the Cony High School Library. 
 
 Bill received first reading, and February 21, 1900, I p. M., 
 was set as the time for the second reading. 
 
 Mr. Gannett, order : 
 
 Ordered, That the moderator appoint a committee of five, 
 to be known as the Library Committee. 
 
 Moderator then appointed the following : Mr. Cook, Mr. 
 Gannett, Miss Reynolds, Miss Carver, Miss Downing. 
 
 On motion, adjourned. 
 
 . Wednesday, February 21, 1900. 
 
 Assembly called order by clerk, and call read. 
 
 [Moderator took the chair.] 
 
 Journal of the last meeting approved without reading. 
 
 An act to appropriate five (s) dollars for expense of dele- 
 
262 
 
 THEME-WRITING. 
 
 gates to Brunswick came up by assignment ; which was read 
 the second time and passed to be enacted. 
 
 An act to appropriate one hundred and fifty (150) dollars 
 for benefit of Cony High School Library came up by assign- 
 ment ; which was read the second time and passed to be 
 enacted. 
 
 Miss Little, resolution ; 
 
 Resolved, That a vote of thanks be extended to Mr. W. D. 
 Stinson for the fine picture of Maine’s late statesman, James 
 G. Blaine, which he has so kindly presented to the school. 
 
 Read and passed. 
 
 On motion, adjourned. 
 
 Friday, February 23 , 1900 . 
 
 Assembly called order by clerk, and call read. 
 
 [Moderator took the chair.] 
 
 Journal of the last meeting approved without reading. 
 
 Mr. Gannett, bill ; 
 
 An act to appropriate one hundred and fifty (150) dollars 
 for a piano fund. 
 
 The bill received its two separate readings [under suspen- 
 sion of the rules] and passed to be enacted. 
 
 On motion, adjourned.^ 
 
 In determining the value of the Cony High School 
 Assembly as unconscious training for citizenship, we 
 should consider, however, not only the method, but 
 also the object of its appropriations. In a school in 
 
 1 The foregoing extract is transcribed from the original record by 
 Mr. William M. Badger, 1901, clerk of the assembly of 1899-1900 ; Journals , 
 vol. iv, pp. 174-77. 
 
SPECIMENS EOR ANALYSIS. 
 
 263 
 
 which athletic interest runs high, in which each ath- 
 letic manager desires to make the best possible show- 
 ing, and in which the annual fair by which the money 
 is raised is avowedly given primarily for the support 
 of school athletics, it must be a constant temptation 
 to the students to appropriate practically their entire 
 fund for merely current expenses. Yet in no instance 
 has such a disposition of the funds been made. On 
 the contrary, the assembly has uniformly invested a 
 portion of its income for such purposes as books for 
 the school library, pictures and statuary for the rooms, 
 and apparatus for the gymnasium. Indeed, out of the 
 $4,263.28 appropriated by the assembly in the thirteen 
 years of its existence, $1,394.58, or nearly 33 per cent., 
 has gone for these permanent improvements. The dis- 
 tribution of these appropriations by years wdl appear 
 from the following table : 
 
 School Ye,4.e 
 
 Total 
 
 
 Appropriation | 
 
 Permanent Im- 
 provement 
 
 1892 - 1893 . 
 
 1893 - 1894 . 
 
 1894 - 1895 , 
 
 1895 - 1896 . 
 
 1896 - 1897 . 
 
 1897 - 1898 . 
 
 1898 - 1899 . 
 
 1899 - 1900 . 
 
 1900 - 1901 . 
 
 1901 - 1902 . 
 
 1902 - 1903 . 
 
 1903 - 1904 . 
 
 1904 - 1905 , 
 
 8187 66 
 
 831 95 
 
 72 47 
 
 34 50 
 
 107 00 
 
 15 75 
 
 93 00 
 
 30 00 
 
 209 10 
 
 50 00 
 
 149 79 
 
 25 00 
 
 164 17 i 
 
 50 00 
 
 490 90 I 
 
 342 50 
 
 519 48 i 
 
 190 83 
 
 519 49 
 
 193 75 
 
 583 19 
 
 ; 135 40 
 
 672 30 
 
 ! 141 80 
 
 494 83 
 
 ! 153 10 
 
 17 % 
 
 48 
 
 15 
 
 32 
 
 24 
 
 17 
 
 30 
 70 
 37 
 37 
 23 
 22 
 
 31 
 
 84,263 28 
 
 Total 
 
 81,394 58 
 
2&4 
 
 THEME-WRITING. 
 
 In this $1,394.58 appropriated for permanent im- 
 provements, the several items are as follows; library, 
 $805.00; gymnasium apparatus, $237.35;^ toward a 
 new piano, $150.00; toward new blackboards, $75.00; 
 pictures and statuary, $60.00; all other items, $67.23. 
 
 The interest which the assembly has manifested in 
 improving the equipment of the school has exerted an 
 influence even outside the student body. The practice 
 of presenting pictures and statuary to the school has 
 spread from the assembly and the classes to the gen- 
 eral public ; and the purchase of gymnasium apparatus 
 by the assembly has induced the city to provide more 
 spacious quarters for the gymnasium. But most inter- 
 esting are the two instances in which the assembly, 
 following doubtless the example of Mr. Carnegie, has 
 announced to the city government that, if the city 
 would appropriate a specified amount for some needed 
 improvement, the assembly would appropriate an equal 
 sum. In each case the city has accepted the assem- 
 bly’s proposition; and a new piano and new slate 
 blackboards are the results. 
 
 To overestimate the value of the Cony High School 
 Assembly as training for citizenship is, of course, easy. 
 We must remember that many boys take no part in 
 
 1 To this amount must be added an appropriation of *125 for the gym- 
 nasium, made from the proceeds of the first fair before tlie assembly was in 
 existence. 
 
SPECIMENS eor analysis. 265 
 
 its discussions ; that many girls attend its meetings 
 only because they are required to attend. But at least 
 this may be said : Each pupil that graduates from the 
 Cony High School has lived for four years in a com- 
 munity where his labor contributes to the common 
 fund, and where his voice helps to determine how it 
 shall be spent. He has gained at least some knowl- 
 edge of parliamentary procedure, some notion of finan- 
 cial accountability, some consciousness of the differ- 
 ence between wisdom and extravagance in public 
 appropriations. In the character thus formed is the 
 true preparation for citizenship. 
 
SPECIMEN INTRODUCTION. 
 
 HOW TO IMPROVE YOUR WAY OF 
 TALKING.! 
 
 AN EDITORIAL ARTICLE IN THE NEW YORK EVENING 
 JOURNAL. 
 
 “ M. F.,” of West Fiftieth Street, New York, says 
 in a letter: 
 
 I am a workingman, twenty-seven, American, and anxious 
 tc improve my English, or grammar, my pronunciation being 
 poor also. I am trying for a position where a man must not 
 only know how to do work, but also to explain it, sell it. 
 And a good, clear explanation in fair English will do won- 
 ders in disposing of my work. I lack the language or words 
 to express myself, and for this reason I ask your help and 
 advice. 
 
 What do you consider the best plan — read books or private 
 instruction ? Occasionally I have to work at night. My 
 Sundays are open and evenings after 7 :30. I cannot pay a 
 high rate of tuition, as my salary is very moderate. 
 
 Any information will be most thankfully received by one 
 who has educated himself, as it is, with the valuable help of 
 your editorials. 
 
 1 Reproduced from the New York Evening Journal by permission of 
 W. K. Hearst. 
 
SPECIMENS EOR ANALYSIS. 267 
 
 This reader is to be congratulated upon the fact 
 that he understands the importance of language. 
 
 With words we make our meaning clear to others, 
 we persuade, we interest people or bore them. 
 
 The ordinary business man, clerk, salesman, etc., 
 depends upon his knowledge of language, very often, 
 as the carpenter depends upon his understanding of 
 tools and their use. Language is the toolchest of 
 thought. 
 
 Many hundred books have been written, and many 
 hundred more might be written, to answer the appar- 
 ently simple question that this man asks. In this 
 short column any answer must be a brief, disjointed, 
 insufficient thing. 
 
 Language is ordinarily a matter of early impres- 
 sions. Any human being, without effort, can be 
 taught to speak correctly before the age of seven. 
 Unfortunately, a great majority of us spend the first 
 seven years learning to speak incorrectly. It often 
 takes twenty }^ears to get over the bad habits of the 
 first seven years. Sometimes a whole lifetime of 
 effort doesn t suffice to break the habits engraved on 
 the childish mind. 
 
 This writer has known more than one determined 
 man unable after years of struggle to overcome the 
 treacherous “I done it.” One who tried nobly — 
 
268 
 
 theme-writing. 
 
 he is still trying — produces sentences of this sort; 
 “ Neither have I did it.” 
 
 A man’s walk and speech are equally matters of 
 habit, and habit dominates us with such tremendous 
 force that for a great majority of men deficient in 
 early education the real problem is overcoming habit. 
 
 We should not advise a man of twenty-seven and 
 with small income to spend money trying to improve 
 his knowledge and use of the spoken language. 
 
 Books will help. Talk with men that speak cor- 
 rectly will help still more. Writing is important — 
 if you can get a friend able to criticize mistakes or 
 suggest improvements. 
 
 A very good writer, talker, and thinker was Bacon, 
 the great philosopher of Queen Elizabeth’s day. Some 
 men say that he was the greatest thinking human 
 being after Aristotle. 
 
 Concerning the effect of language and its study 
 upon the human mind. Bacon said — we quote from 
 memory : 
 
 “ Reading maketh a full man,” 
 
 “Writing maketh an exact man.” 
 
 “ Talking maketh a ready man.” 
 
 Bacon did not refer to any question of the correct 
 use of language. He referred to the effect of read- 
 ing, writing, and talking upon the human mind. 
 
SPECIMENS FOR ANALYSIS. 
 
 269 
 
 At the same time, Bacon's definition of the results 
 of reading, writing, and talking may be useful to our 
 reader and to others who want to improve their 
 English. 
 
 Reading gives you ideas, knowledge, and a big 
 vocabulary — that is to say, a big collection of words 
 that you can use. 
 
 Writing teaches you to be exact in the expression 
 of thought. The writing hand holds back the mind, 
 compels it to be deliberate, gives it time to formulate 
 the thoughts concisely. 
 
 Talking, as Bacon says, “ maketh a ready man." 
 It compels instant response ; it forces us to give expres- 
 sion to the thought as the thought is formed. 
 
 The man who writes us ought to practise all three 
 — reading, writing, and talking. Read good, well 
 written books. One of the very best books from 
 every point of view is the Bible. The Old Testament 
 is beautiful; the New Testament is inspiring, elevating. 
 
 The language of Old and New Testament may 
 undoubtedly be called the very best English that has 
 ever been written. No one knows how much English 
 speech and the written English language owe to the 
 men that translated King James’s edition of the Bible. 
 
 Bunyan is a good author for men that want to use 
 English vigorously and simply. 
 
2,’JO 
 
 THEME-WRITING. 
 
 Dickens is another. Those are old-fashioned names, 
 but don’t imagine that any one of the six best sellers 
 of to-day can take their places. 
 
 Read with a dictionary; when you don’t know the 
 exact meaning of a word, or its pronunciation, look 
 it up. Have a good dictionary, one that gives the 
 derivation of words. You use the language much 
 more intelligently if you know its origin. 
 
 Practise reading out loud. You may read good 
 English to yourself indefinitely and still speak incor- 
 rectly. 
 
 If you read aloud slowly, as much as an hour each 
 day, you will form the habit of expressing thought in 
 correct English; and bad habits of speech will grad- 
 ually disappear. 
 
 More of this another day. 
 
 Questions: What part of this article is devoted to gain- 
 
 ing the interest of the reader? To stating the subject? To 
 stating the proposition? To stating the main divisions of the 
 plan? Which of these divisions is discussed in this article? 
 Which are saved for future articles in the same series? What 
 passages exemplify the use of material that is concrete? Of 
 material that is both concrete and comiotative? To what end 
 is this material used? 
 
 Are these paragraphs of normal length? Is their present 
 length adapted to the purpose of the article? Why? For a 
 more intellectual class of readers, how should the article be 
 paragraphed ? 
 
SPECIMEN OF TRANSITIONS AND SUM- 
 MARIES. 
 
 AN EXTRACT FROM BURKE’S SPEECH ON 
 CONCILIATION WITH AMERICA. 
 
 /^gAM sensible, Sir, that all which I have asserted 
 in my detail is admitted in the gross; but that 
 quite a different conclusion is drawn from it. 
 America, gentlemen say, is a noble object. It is an 
 object well worth fighting for. Certainly it is, if 
 fighting a people be the best way of gaining them. 
 Gentlemen in this respect will be led to their choice 
 of means by their complexions and their habits. Those 
 who understand the military art will of course have 
 some predilection for it. Those who wield the thun- 
 der of the state, may have more confidence in the 
 efficacy of arms. But I confess, possibly for want 
 of this knowledge, my opinion is much more in 
 favor of prudent management than of force; con- 
 sidering force not as an odious but a feeble instru- 
 
 ment for preserving a people so numerous, so active, 
 so growing, so spirited as this, in a profitable and 
 subordinate connection with us. 
 
 First, Sir, permit me to observe that the use of 
 
272 
 
 THIvME:- WRITING. 
 
 force alone is but temporary. It may subdue for a 
 moment; but it does not remove the necessity of sub- 
 duing again : and a nation is not governed, which is 
 perpetually to be conquered. 
 
 My next objection is its uncertainty. Terror is not 
 always the effect of force ; and an armament is not 
 a victory. If you do not succeed, you are without 
 resource ; for, conciliation failing, force remains ; but, 
 force failing, no further hope of reconciliation is left. 
 Power and authority are sometimes bought by kind- 
 ness ; but they can never be begged as alms, by an 
 impoverished and defeated violence. 
 
 A further objection to force is, that you impair the 
 object by your very endeavors to preserve it. The 
 thing you fought for is not the thing which you 
 recover, but depreciated, sunk, wasted, and consumed 
 in the contest. Nothing less will content me than 
 whole America. I do not choose to consume its 
 strength along with our own ; because in all parts 
 it is the British strength that I consume. I do not 
 choose to be caught by a foreign enemy at the end 
 of this exhausting conflict, and still less in the midst 
 of it. I may escape; but I can make no insurance 
 against such an event. Let me add that I do not 
 choose wholly to break the American spirit, because 
 it is the spirit that has made the country. 
 
SPECIMENS EOR ANALYSIS. 273 
 
 Lastly, we have no sort of experience in favor of 
 force as an instrument in the rule of our colonies. 
 Their growth and their utility has been owing to 
 methods altogether different. Our ancient indulgence 
 has been said to be pursued to a fault. It may be so. 
 But we know, if feeling is evidence, that our fault 
 was more tolerable than our attempt to mend it; and 
 our sin far more salutary than our penitence. 
 
 These, Sir, are my reasons for not entertaining that 
 high opinion of untried force, by which many gentle- 
 men, for whose sentiments in other particulars I have 
 great respect, seem to be so greatly captivated. But 
 there is still behind a third consideration concerning 
 this object, which serves to determine my opinion on 
 the sort of policy which ought to be pursued in the 
 management of America, even more than its popu- 
 lation and its commerce — I mean its temper and 
 character. 
 
 In this character of the Americans, a love of free- 
 dom is the predominating feature which marks and 
 distinguishes the whole; and as an ardent is always 
 a jealous affection, your colonies become suspicious, 
 restive, and untractable, whenever they see the least 
 attempt to wrest from them by force, or shuffle from 
 them by chicane, what they think the only advantage 
 worth living for. This fierce spirit of liberty is 
 
274 
 
 theme-writing. 
 
 stronger in the English colonies probably than in any 
 other people of the earth ; and this from a great 
 variety of powerful causes ; which, to understand the 
 true temper of their minds and the direction which 
 this spirit takes, it will not he amiss to lay open 
 somewhat more largely. 
 
 First, the people of the colonies are descendants of 
 Englishmen. England, Sir, is a nation which still, 
 I hope, respects, and formerly adored, her freedom. 
 The colonists emigrated from you when this part of 
 your character was most predominant ; and they took 
 this bias and direction the moment they parted from 
 your hands. They are therefore not only devoted to 
 liberty, but to liberty according to English ideas, and 
 on English principles. Abstract liberty, like other 
 mere abstractions, is not to be found. Liberty inheres 
 in some sensible object; and every nation has formed 
 to itself some favorite point, which by way of emi- 
 nence becomes the criterion of their happiness. It hap- 
 pened, you know. Sir, that the great contests for free- 
 dom in this country were from the earliest times chiefly 
 upon the question of taxing. Most of the contests in 
 the ancient commonwealths turned primarily on the 
 right of election of magistrates, or on the balance 
 among the several orders of the state. The question 
 of money was not with them so immediate. But in 
 
SPECIMENS FOR ANALYSIS. 2/5 
 
 England it was otherwise. On this point of taxes, 
 the ablest pens and most eloquent tongues have been 
 exercised ; the greatest spirits have acted and suffered. 
 In order to give the fullest satisfaction concerning the 
 importance of this point, it was not only necessary for 
 those who in argument defended the excellence of the 
 English Constitution to insist on this privilege of 
 granting money as a dry point of fact, and to prove 
 that the right had been acknowledged, in ancient 
 parchments and blind usages, to reside in a certain 
 body called the House of Commons. They went much 
 further : they attempted to prove, and they succeeded, 
 that in theory it ought to be so, from the particular 
 nature of a House of Commons as an immediate rep- 
 resentative of the people, whether the old records had 
 delivered this oracle or not. They took infinite pains 
 to inculcate, as a fundamental principle, that, in all 
 monarchies, the people must in effect themselves, medi- 
 ately or immediately, possess the power of granting 
 their own money, or no shadow of liberty could sub- 
 sist. The colonies draw from you, as with their life- 
 blood, these ideas and principles. Their love of lib- 
 erty, as with you, fixed and attached on this specific 
 point of taxing. Liberty might be safe, or might be 
 endangered, in twenty other particulars, without their 
 being much pleased or alarmed. Here they felt its 
 
276 
 
 THEME-WRITING. 
 
 pulse ; and as they found that beat, they thought them- 
 selves sick or sound. I do not say whether they were 
 right or wrong in applying your general arguments 
 to their own case. It is not easy, indeed, to make a 
 monopoly of theorems and corollaries. The fact is, 
 that they did thus apply those general arguments ; and 
 your mode of governing them, whether through lenity 
 or indolence, through wisdom or mistake, confirmed 
 them in the imagination that they, as well as you, had 
 an interest in these common principles. 
 
 They were further confirmed in this pleasing error 
 by the form of their provincial legislative assemblies. 
 Their governments are popular in a high degree ; some 
 are merely popular; in all, the popular representative 
 is the most weighty; and this share of the people in 
 their ordinary government never fails to inspire them 
 with lofty sentiments, and with a strong aversion 
 from whatever tends to deprive them of their chief 
 importance. 
 
 If anything were wanting to this necessary opera- 
 tion of the form of government, religion would have 
 given it a complete effect. Religion, always a prin- 
 ciple of energy, in this new people is no way worn 
 out or impaired; and their mode of professing it is 
 also one ma,in cause of this free spirit. The people 
 are Protestants ; and of that kind which is the most 
 
SPgCIMBNS FOR ANALYSIS. 277 
 
 adverse to all implicit submission of mind and opinion. 
 This is a persuasion not only favorable to liberty, but 
 built upon it. I do not think, Sir, that the reason of 
 this averseness in the dissenting churches from all 
 that looks like absolute government is so much to be 
 sought in their religious tenets, as in their history. 
 Every one knows that the Roman Catholic religion is 
 at least coeval with most of the governments where 
 it prevails; that it has generally gone hand in hand 
 with them, and received great favor and every kind 
 of support from authority. The Church of England 
 too was formed from her cradle under the nursing 
 care of regular government. But the dissenting inter- 
 ests have sprung up in direct opposition to all the 
 ordinary powers of the world, and could justify that 
 opposition only on a strong claim to natural liberty. 
 Their very existence depended on the powerful and 
 unremitted assertion of that claim. All Protestant- 
 ism, even the most cold and passive, is a sort of dis- 
 sent. But the religion most prevalent in our northern 
 colonies is a refinement on the principle of resistance ; 
 it is the dissidence of dissent, and the protestantism 
 of the Protestant religion. This religion, under a 
 variety of denominations agreeing in nothing but in 
 the communion of the spirit of liberty, is predominant 
 in most of the northern provinces, where the Church 
 
278 
 
 THEME-WRITING. 
 
 of England, notwithstanding its legal rights, is in 
 reality no more than a sort of private sect, not com- 
 posing most probably the tenth of the people. The 
 colonists left England when this spirit was high, and 
 in the emigrants was the highest of all; and even that 
 stream of foreigners which has been constantly flow- 
 ing into these colonies has, for the greatest part been 
 composed of dissenters from the establishments of 
 their several countries, who have brought with them 
 a temper and character far from alien to that of the 
 people with whom they mixed. 
 
 Sir, I can perceive by their manner that some 
 gentlemen object to the latitude of this description, 
 because in the southern colonies the Church of Eng- 
 land forms a large body, and has a regular establish- 
 ment. It is certainly true. There is, however, a 
 circumstance attending these colonies which, in my 
 opinion, fully counterbalances this difference, and 
 makes the spirit of liberty still more high and haughty 
 than in those to the northward. It is that in Vir- 
 ginia and the Carolinas they have a vast multitude 
 of slaves. Where this is the case in any part of the 
 world, those who are free are by far the most proud 
 and jealous of their freedom. Freedom is to them 
 not only an enjoyment, but a kind of rank and privi- 
 lege. Not seeing there, that freedom, as in countries 
 
SPECIMENS FOR ANALYSIS. 279 
 
 where it is a common blessing and as broad and gen- 
 eral as the air, may be united with much abject toil, 
 with great misery, with all the exterior of servitude ; 
 liberty looks, amongst them, like something that is 
 more noble and liberal. I do not mean, Sir, to com- 
 mend the superior morality of this sentiment, which 
 has at least as much pride as virtue in it; but I can- 
 not alter the nature of man. The fact is so ; and 
 these people of the southern colonies are much more 
 strongly, and with an higher and more stubborn spirit, 
 attached to liberty than those to the northward. Such 
 were all the ancient commonwealths ; such were our 
 Gothic ancestors ; such in our days were the Poles ; 
 and such will be all masters of slaves, who are not 
 slaves themselves. In such a people, the haughtiness 
 of domination combines with the spirit of freedom, 
 fortifies it, and renders it invincible. 
 
 Permit me. Sir, to add another circumstance in our 
 colonies which contributes no mean part towards the 
 growth and effect of this untractable spirit. I mean 
 their education. In no country, perhaps, in the world 
 is the law so general a study. The profession itself 
 is numerous and powerful ; and in most provinces it 
 takes the lead. The greater number of the deputies 
 sent to the Congress were lawyers. But all who read, 
 and most do read, endeavor to obtain some smattering 
 
28 o 
 
 THEME-WRITING. 
 
 in that science. 'I have been told by an eminent book- 
 seller, that in no branch of his business, after tracts 
 of popular devotion, were so many books as those on 
 the law exported to the Plantations. The colonists 
 have now fallen into the way of printing them for 
 their own use. I hear that they have sold nearly aS 
 many of Blackstone’s Commentaries in America as 
 in England. General Gage marks out this disposition 
 very particularly in a letter on your table. He states 
 that all the people in his government are lawyers, or 
 smatterers in law ; and that in Boston they have been 
 enabled, by successful chicane, wholly to evade many 
 parts of one of your capital penal constitutions. The 
 smartness of debate will say that this knowledge ought 
 to teach them more clearly the rights of legislature, 
 their obligations to obedience, and the penalties of 
 rebellion. All this is mighty well. But my honor- 
 able and learned friend on the floor (the Attorney 
 General), who condescends to mark what I say for 
 animadversion, will disdain that ground. He has 
 heard, as well as I, that when great honors and great 
 emoluments do not win over this knowledge to the 
 service of the state, it is a formidable adversary to 
 government. If the spirit be not tamed and broken 
 by these happy methods, it is stubborn and litigious. 
 Abeunt stiidia in mores. This study renders men 
 acute, inquisitive, dexterous, prompt in attack, ready 
 
SPECIMENS FOR ANALYSIS. 281 
 
 in defence, full of resources. In other countries, the 
 people, more simple and of a less mercurial cast, judge 
 of an ill principle in government only by an actual 
 grievance; here they anticipate the evil, and judge of 
 the pressure of the grievance by the badness of the 
 principle. They augur misgovernment at a distance, 
 and snuff the approach of tyranny in every tainted 
 breeze. 
 
 The last cause of this disobedient spirit in the colo- 
 nies is hardly less powerful than the rest, as it is not 
 merely moral, but laid deep in the natural constitution 
 of things. Three thousand miles of ocean lie between 
 you and them. No contrivance can prevent the effect 
 of this distance, in weakening government. Seas roll, 
 and months pass, between the order and the execu- 
 tion; and the want of a speedy explanation of a single 
 point is enough to defeat a whole sy.stem. You have, 
 indeed, winged ministers of vengeance, who carry 
 your bolts in their pounces to the remotest verge of 
 the sea. But there a power steps in that limits the 
 arrogance of raging passions and furious elements, 
 and says, “ So far shalt thou go, and no farther.” 
 Who are you, that you should fret and rage, and bite 
 the chains of nature? Nothing worse happens to you 
 than does to all nations who have extensive empire; 
 and it happens in all the forms into which empire can 
 be thrown. In large bodies the circulation of power 
 
THEME-WRITING. 
 
 must be less vigorous at the extremities. Nature has 
 said it. The Turk cannot govern Egypt and Arabia 
 and Kurdistan as he governs Thrace ; nor has he the 
 same dominion in Crimea and Algiers which he has 
 at Brusa and Smyrna. Despotism itself is obliged to 
 truck and huckster. The Sultan gets such obedience 
 as he can. He governs with a loose rein, that he 
 may govern at all ; and the whole of the force and 
 vigor of his authority in his centre is derived from 
 a prudent relaxation in all his borders. Spain, in 
 her provinces, is, perhaps, not so well obeyed as you 
 are in yours. She complies, too ; she submits ; she 
 watches times. This is the immutable condition, the 
 eternal law of extensive and detached empire. 
 
 Then, Sir, from these six capital sources — of 
 descent, of form of government, of religion in the 
 northern provinces, of manners in the southern, of 
 education, of the remoteness of situation from the 
 first mover of government — from all these causes 
 a fierce spirit of liberty has grown up. It has grown 
 with the growth of the people in your colonies, and 
 increased with the increase of their wealth; a spirit 
 that, unhappily meeting with an exercise of power 
 in England which, however lawful, is not reconcilable 
 to any ideas of liberty, much less with theirs, has 
 kindled this flame that is ready to consume us. 
 
SPECIMEN CONCLUSION. 
 
 AN EXTRACT FROM AN ADDRESS ON 
 ABRAHAM LINCOLN.^ 
 
 BY COB. HENRY WATTERSON. 
 
 HAT was the mysterious power of this 
 mysterious man, and whence ? 
 
 His was the genius of common sense; of 
 
 common sense in action ; of common sense in thought ; 
 of common sense enriched by experience and unhin- 
 dered by fear. “ He was a common man,” says his 
 friend Joshua Speed, “ expanded into giant propor- 
 tions; well acquainted with the people, he placed his 
 hand on the beating pulse of the nation, judged of 
 its disease, and was ready with a remedy.” Inspired 
 he was truly, as Shakspere was inspired; as Mozart 
 was inspired ; as Burns was inspired ; each, like him, 
 sprung directly from the people. 
 
 I look into the crystal globe that, slowly turning, 
 tells the story of his life, and I see a little heart- 
 broken boy, weeping by the outstretched form of a 
 
 1 Copyright, 1899, by The Courier-Journal Job Printing Company 
 Reproduced by permission. 
 
284 
 
 THEME-WRITING. 
 
 dead mother, then bravely, nobly trudging a hun- 
 dred miles to obtain her Christian burial. I see this 
 motherless lad growing to manhood amid the scenes 
 that seem to lead to nothing but abasement ; no 
 teachers ; no books ; no chart, except his own untu- 
 tored mind ; no compass, except his own undisciplined 
 will ; no light, save light from heaven ; yet like the 
 caravel of Columbus, struggling on and on through 
 the trough of the sea, always toward the destined 
 land. I see the full-grown man, stalwart and brave, 
 an athlete in activity of movement and strength of 
 limb, yet vexed by weird dreams and visions ; of life, 
 of love, of religion, sometimes verging on despair. 
 I see the mind, grown as robust as the body, throw 
 off these phantoms of the imagination and give itself 
 wholly to the work-a-day uses of the world; the 
 rearing of children ; the earning of bread ; the multi- 
 plied duties of life, I see the party leader, self con- 
 fident in conscious rectitude; original, because it was 
 not his nature to follow ; potent, because he was fear- 
 less, pursuing his convictions with earnest zeal, and 
 urging them upon his fellows with the resources of 
 an oratory which was hardly more impressive than 
 it was many-sided. I see him, the preferred among 
 his fellows, ascend the eminence reserved for him, 
 and him alone of all the statesmen of the time, amid 
 
SPECIMENS FOR ANALYSIS. 285 
 
 the derision of opponents and the distrust of sup- 
 porters, yet unawed and unmoved, because thoroughly 
 equipped to meet the emergency. The same being, 
 from first to last ; the poor child weeping over a dead 
 mother; the great chief sobbing amid the cruel hor- 
 rors of war; flinching not from duty, nor changing 
 his life-long ways of dealing with the stern realities 
 which pressed upon him and hurried him onward. 
 And, last scene of all, that ends this strange, eventful 
 history, I seem him lying dead there in the capitol 
 of the nation, to which he had rendered “ the last, 
 full measure of his devotion,” the flag of his country 
 around him, the world in mourning; and, asking 
 myself how could any man have hated that man, I 
 ask you, how can any man refuse his homage to his 
 memory? Surely, he was one of God’s elect; not in 
 any sense a creature of circumstance, or accident. 
 Recurring to the doctrine of inspiration, I say again 
 and again, he was inspired of God, and I cannot see 
 how anyone who believes in that doctrine can regard 
 him as anything else. 
 
 From ‘Caesar to Bismarck and Gladstone the world 
 has had its statesmen and its soldiers — men who 
 rose to eminence and power step by step, through 
 a series of geometric progression as it were, each 
 advancement following in regular order one after the 
 
286 
 
 THEME- WRITING. 
 
 other, the whole obedient to well-established and well- 
 understood laws of cause and effect. They were not 
 what we call “ men of destiny.” They were “ men 
 of the time.” They were men whose careers had a 
 beginning-, a middle, and an end, rounding off lives 
 with histories, full it may be of interesting and 
 exciting event, but comprehensive and comprehen- 
 sible ; simple, clear, complete. 
 
 The inspired ones are fewer. Whence their ema- 
 nation, where and how they got their power, by what 
 rule they lived, moved, and had their being, we know 
 not. There is no explication to their lives. They 
 rose from shadow and they went in mist. We see 
 them, feel them, but we know them not. They came, 
 God’s word upon their lips ; they did their office, God’s 
 mantle about them ; and they vanished, God’s holy 
 light between the world and them, leaving behind a 
 memory, half mortal and half myth. ' From first to 
 last they were the creations of some special Provi- 
 dence ; baffling the wit of man to fathom ; defeating 
 the machinations of the world, the flesh, and the 
 devil, until their work was done ; then passing from 
 the scene as mysteriously as they had come upon it. 
 
 Tried by this standard, where shall we find an 
 example so impressive as Abraham Lincoln, whose 
 career might be chanted by a Greek chorus as at 
 
SPECIMENS FOR ANALYSIS. 287 
 
 once the prelude and the epilogue of the most imperial 
 theme of modern times? 
 
 Born as lowly as the Son of God, in a hovel ; reared 
 in penury, squalor, with no gleam of light or fair 
 surrounding ; without graces, actual or acquired ; with- 
 out name or fame or official training ; it was reserved 
 for this strange being, late in life, to be snatched 
 from obscurity, raised to a supreme command at a 
 sujsreme moment, and intrusted with the destiny of 
 the nation. 
 
 The great leaders of his party, the most experienced 
 and accomplished public men of the day, were made 
 to stand aside ; were sent to the rear, whilst this fan- 
 tastic figure was led by unseen hands to the front and 
 given the reins of power. It is immaterial whether 
 we were for him, or against him; wholly immaterial. 
 That, during four years, carrying with them such a 
 weight of responsibility as the world never witnessed 
 before, he filled the vast space allotted him in the 
 eyes and actions of mankind, is to say that he was 
 inspired of God, for nowhere else could he have 
 acquired the wisdom and the virtue. 
 
 Where did Shakspere get his genius? Where did 
 Mozart get his music? Whose hand smote the lyre 
 of the Scottish plowman, and stayed the life of the 
 German priest? God, God, and God alone; and as 
 
288 
 
 THEME-WRITING. 
 
 surely as these were raised up by God, inspired by 
 God was Abraham Lincoln ; and a thousand years 
 hence, no drama, no tragedy, no epic poem will be 
 filled with greater wonder, or be followed by man- 
 kind with deeper feeling than that which tells the 
 story of his life and death. 
 
SPECIMEN OF THE LITERATURE OF FEEL- 
 ING: EXPOSITIONAL STRUCTURE. 
 
 LEVANA AND OUR LADIES OF SORROW. 
 
 
 BY THOMAS DE QUINCEY. 
 
 , FTENTIMES at Oxford I saw Levana in 
 my dreams. I knew her by her Roman sym- 
 bols. Who is Levana? Reader, that do not 
 pretend to have leisure for very much scholarship, 
 you will not be angry with me for telling you. Levana 
 was the Roman goddess that performed for the new- 
 born infant the earliest office of ennobling kindness 
 — typical, by its mode, of that grandeur which belongs 
 to man everywhere, and of that benignity in powers 
 invisible, which even in Pagan worlds sometimes de- 
 scends to sustain it. At the very moment of birth, 
 just as the infant tasted for the first time the atmos- 
 phere of our troubled planet, it was laid on the ground. 
 That might bear different interpretations. But imme- 
 diately, lest so grand a creature should grovel there 
 for more than one instant, either the paternal hand, 
 as proxy for the goddess Levana, or some near kins- 
 
290 
 
 theme-writing. 
 
 man, as proxy for the father, raised it upright, bade 
 it look erect as the king of all this world, and pre- 
 sented its forehead to the stars, saying, perhaps, in 
 his heart, “ Behold what is greater than yourselves ! ” 
 This symbolic act represented the function of Tevana. 
 And that mysterious lady, who never revealed her 
 face (except to me in dreams), but always acted by 
 delegation, had her name from the Latin verb (as 
 still it is the Italian verb) levare, to raise aloft. 
 
 This is the explanation of Levana. And hence it 
 has arisen that some people have understood by Levana 
 the tutelary power that controls the education of the 
 nursery. She, that would not suffer at his birth even 
 a prefigurative or mimic degradation for her awful 
 ward, far less could be supposed to suffer the real 
 degradation attaching to the non-development of his 
 powers. She therefore watches over human educa- 
 tion. Now, the word educo, with the penultimate 
 short, was derived (by a process often exemplified 
 in the crystallization of languages) from the word 
 educo, with the penultimate long. Whatsoever educes 
 or developes, educates. By the education of Levana 
 therefore, is meant — not the poor machinery that 
 moves by spelling-books and grammars, but that 
 mighty system of central forces hidden in the deep 
 bosom of human life, which by passion, by strife, 
 
SPECIMENS EOR analysis. 29I 
 
 by temptation, by the energies of resistance, works 
 forever upon children — resting not day or night, any 
 more than the mighty wheel of day and night them- 
 selves, whose moments, like restless spokes, are glim- 
 mering forever as they revolve. 
 
 If then these are the ministries by which Levana 
 works, how profoundly must she reverence the agen- 
 cies of grief! But you, reader! think — that children 
 generally are not liable to grief such as mine. There 
 are two senses in the word generally — the sense of 
 Euclid, where it means universally (or in the whole 
 extent of the genus ) , and a foolish sense of this world 
 where it means usually. Now I am far from saying 
 that children universally are capable of grief like mine. 
 But there are more than you ever heard of, who die 
 of grief in this island of ours. I will tell you a 
 common case. The rules of Eton require that a boy 
 on the foundation should be there twelve years : he is 
 superannuated at eighteen, consequently he must come 
 at six. Children torn away from mothers and sisters 
 at that age not un frequently die. I speak of what I 
 know. The complaint is not entered by the registrar 
 as grief; but that it is. Grief of that sort, and at 
 that age, has killed more than ever have been counted 
 amongst its martyrs. 
 
 Therefore it is that Levana often communes with 
 
292 
 
 THBME- WRITING. 
 
 the powers that shake man’s heart : therefore it is 
 that she dotes upon grief. “ These ladies,” said I 
 softly to myself, on seeing the ministers with whom 
 Levana was conversing, “ these are the Sorrows and 
 they are three in number, as the Graces are three, who 
 dress man’s life with beauty; the Parcse are three, 
 who weave the dark arras of man’s life in their 
 mysterious loom always with colors sad in part, some- 
 times angry with tragic crimson and black ; the Furies 
 are three, who visit with retributions called from the 
 other side of the grave, offences that walk upon this; 
 and as once even the Muses were but three, who fit 
 the harp, the trumpet, or the lute, to the great bur- 
 dens of man’s impassioned creations. These are the 
 Sorrows, all three of whom I know.” The last words 
 I say now ; but in Oxford I said, “ one of whom I 
 know, and the others too surely I shall know.” For 
 already in my fervent youth, I saw (dimly relieved 
 upon the dark background of my dreams) the imper- 
 fect lineaments of the awful sisters. 
 
 These sisters — by what name shall I call them? 
 If I say simply, “ The Sorrows,” there will be a 
 chance of mistaking the term ; it might be understood 
 of individual sorrow, separate cases of sorrow, — 
 whereas I want a term expressing the mighty abstrac- 
 tions that incarnate themselves in all individual suf- 
 
SPECIMENS for analysis. 293 
 
 ferings of man’s heart; and I wish to have these 
 abstractions presented as impersonations, that is, as 
 clothed with human attributes of life, and with func- 
 tions pointing to flesh. Let us call them, therefore. 
 Our Ladies of Sorrow. 
 
 I know them thoroughly, and have walked in all their 
 kingdoms. Three sisters they are, of one mysterious 
 household; and their paths are wide apart; but of 
 their dominion there is no end. Them I saw often 
 conversing with Levana, and sometimes about myself. 
 Do they talk then? Oh, no! Mighty phantoms like 
 these disdain the infirmities of language. They may 
 utter voices through the organs of man when they 
 dwell in human hearts, but amongst themselves is no 
 voice nor sound; eternal silence reigns in their king- 
 doms. They spoke not as they talked with Levana ; 
 they whispered not ; they sang not ; though often- 
 times methought they might have sung : for I upon 
 the earth had heard their mysteries oftentimes de- 
 ciphered by harp and timbrel, by dulcimer and organ. 
 Like God, whose servants they are, they utter their 
 pleasure not by sounds that perish, or by words that 
 go astray, but by signs in heaven, by changes on 
 earth, by pulses in secret rivers, heraldries painted 
 on darkness, and hieroglyphics written on the tablets 
 of the brain. They wheeled in mazes ; I spelled the 
 
294 THEMS-WRITING. 
 
 steps. They telegraphed from afar; I read the sig- 
 nals. They conspired together ; and on the mirrors 
 of darkness my eye traced the plots. Theirs were the 
 symbols ; mine are the words. 
 
 What is it the sisters are? What is it that they 
 do ? Tet me describe their form and their presence ; 
 if form it were that still fluctuated in its outline; or 
 presence it were that for ever advanced to the front, 
 or for ever receded amongst shades. 
 
 The eldest of the three is named Mater .Lachry- 
 mariim, Our Lady of Tears. She it is that night 
 and day raves and moans, calling for vani.dred faces. 
 She stood in Rama, where a voice was heard of 
 lamentation — Rachel weeping for her children, and 
 refusing to be comforted. She it was that stood in 
 Bethlehem on the night when Herod’s sword swept 
 its nurseries of innocents, and the little feet were 
 stiffened for ever, which, heard at times as they tot- 
 tered along floors overhead, woke pulses of love in 
 household hearts that were not unmarked in heaven. 
 Her eyes are sweet and subtle, wild and sleepy by 
 turns; oftentimes rising to the clouds, oftentimes chal- 
 lenging the heavens. She wears a diadem round her 
 head. And I knew by childish memories that she 
 could go abroad upon the winds, when she heard that 
 sobbing of litanies or the thundering of organs, and 
 
SPECIMENS FOR ANAEYSIS. 
 
 295 
 
 when she beheld the mustering of summer clouds. 
 This sister, the elder, it is that carries keys more than 
 papal at her girdle, which open every cottage and 
 every palace. She, to my knowledge, sate all last 
 summer by the bed-side of the blind beggar, him that 
 so often and so gladly I talked with, whose pious 
 daughter, eight years old, with the sunny countenance, 
 resisted the temptations of play and village mirth to 
 travel all day long on dusty roads with her afflicted 
 father. For this did God send her a great reward. 
 In the spring-time of the year, and whilst yet her own 
 spring was budding, he recalled her to himself. But 
 her blind father mourns for ever over her ; still he 
 dreams at midnight that the little guiding hand is 
 locked within his own; and still he wakens to a dark- 
 ness that is now within a second and a deeper dark- 
 ness. This Mater Lachrymarum also has been sit- 
 ting all this winter of 1844-5 within the bedchamber 
 of the Czar, bringing before his eyes a daughter (not 
 less pious) that vanished to God not less suddenly, 
 and left behind her a darkness not less profound. 
 By the power of her keys it is that our Lady of Tears 
 glides a ghostly intruder into the chambers of sleep- 
 less men, sleepless women, sleepless children, from 
 Ganges to the Nile, from Nile to Mississippi. And 
 her, because she is the first-born of her house, and 
 
296 
 
 THEME- WRITING. 
 
 has the widest empire, let us honor with the title of 
 “ Madonna.” 
 
 The second sister is called Mater Suspiriorum, Our 
 Lady of Sighs. She never scales the clouds, nor walks 
 abroad upon the winds. She wears no diadem. And 
 her eyes, if they were ever seen, would be neither 
 sweet nor subtle ; no man could read their story ; they 
 would be found filled with perishing dreams, and with 
 wrecks of forgotten delirium. But she raises not her 
 eyes ; her head, on which sits a dilapidated turban, 
 droops for ever, for ever fastens on the dust. She 
 weeps not, She groans not. But she sighs inaudibly at 
 intervals. Her sister Madonna, is oftentimes stormy 
 and frantic ; raging in the highest against heaven ; 
 and demanding back her darlings. But Our Lady of 
 Sighs never clamors, never defies, dreams not of rebel- 
 lious aspirations. She is humble to abjectness. Hers 
 is the meekness that belongs to the hopeless. Murmur 
 she may, but it is in her sleep. Whisper she may, 
 but it is to herself in the twilight. Mutter she does 
 at times, but it is in solitary places that are desolate 
 as she is desolate, in ruined cities, and when the sun 
 has gone down to his rest. This sister is the visitor 
 of the Pariah, of the Jew, of the bondsman to the 
 oar in the Mediterranean galleys, of the English crim- 
 inal in Norfolk island, blotted out from the books of 
 
Sl’ECIMENS FOR ANALYSIS. 297 
 
 remembrance in sweet far-off England, of the baffled 
 penitent reverting his eye for ever upon a solitary 
 grave, which to him seems the altar overthrown of 
 some past and bloody sacrifice, on which altar no 
 oblations can now be availing, whether towards par- 
 don that he might implore, or towards reparation that 
 he might attempt. Every slave that at noonday looks 
 up to the tropical sun with timid reproach, as he 
 points with one hand to the earth, our general mother, 
 but for him a stepmother, as he points with the other 
 hand to the Bible, our general teacher but against 
 him sealed and sequestered ; — every woman sitting in 
 darkness, without love to shelter her head, or hope 
 to illumine her solitude, because the heaven-born 
 instincts kindling in her nature germs of holy affec- 
 tions, which God implanted in her womanly bosom, 
 having been stifled by social necessities, now burn 
 sullenly to waste, like sepulchral lamps amongst the 
 ancients; every nun defrauded of her unreturning 
 May-time by wicked kinsman, whom God will judge; 
 every captive in every dungeon; all that are betrayed, 
 and all that are rejected; outcasts by traditionary law, 
 and children of hereditary disgrace — all these walk 
 with Our Lady of Sighs. She also carries a key ; 
 but she needs it little. For her kingdom is chiefly 
 amongst the tents of Shem, and the houseless vagrant 
 
298 
 
 THBME-WRITING. 
 
 of every clime. Yet in the very highest ranks of 
 man she finds chapels of her own ; and even in glo- 
 rious England there are some that, to the world, carry 
 their heads as proudly as the reindeer, who yet secretly 
 have received her mark upon their foreheads. 
 
 But the third sister, who is also the youngest — ! 
 Hush! whisper, whilst we talk of her! Her kingdom 
 is not large, or else no flesh should live ; but within 
 that kingdom all power is hers. Her head, turreted 
 like that of Cybele, rises almost beyond the reach of 
 sight. She droops not ; and her eyes rising so high 
 might be hidden by distance. But, being what they 
 are, they cannot be hidden ; through the treble veil of 
 crape which she wears, the flerce light of a blazing 
 misery, that rests not for matins or for vespers, for 
 noon of day or noon of night, for ebbing or for flow- 
 ing tide, may be read from the very ground. She 
 is the defler of God. She also is the mother of luna- 
 cies, and the suggestress of suicides. Deep lie the 
 roots of her power; but narrow is the nation that she 
 rules. For she can approach only those in whom a 
 profound nature has been upheaved by central con- 
 vulsions; in whom the heart trembles and the brain 
 rocks under conspiracies of tempest from without and 
 tempest from within. Madonna moves with uncer- 
 tain steps, fast or slow, but still with tragic grace. 
 
SPECIMENS FOR ANALYSIS. 2Q9 
 
 Our Lady of Sighs creeps timidly and stealthily. But 
 this youngest sister moves with incalculable motions, 
 bounding, and with a tiger’s leaps. She carries no 
 key; for, though coming rarely amongst men, she 
 storms all doors at which she is permitted to enter at 
 all. And her name is Mater Tenebrarum — Our Lady 
 of Darkness. 
 
 These were the Semnai Theai, or Sublime God- 
 desses, these were the Bumenides, or Gracious Ladies 
 (so called by antiquity in shuddering propitiation) 
 of my Oxford dreams. Madonna spoke. She spoke, 
 by her mysterious hand. Touching my head, she 
 beckoned to Our Lady of Sighs ; and what she spoke, 
 translated out of the signs which (except in dreams) 
 no man reads, was this : — 
 
 “ Lo ! here is he, whom in childhood I dedicated to 
 my altars. This is he that once I made my darling. 
 Him I led astray, him I beguiled, and from heaven I 
 stole away his young heart to mine. Through me did 
 he become idolatrous; and through me it was, by lan- 
 guishing desires, that he worshipped the worm, and 
 prayed to the wormy grave. Holy was the grave to 
 him ; lovely was its darkness ; saintly its corruption. 
 Him, this young idolator, I have seasoned for thee, 
 dear gentle Sister of Sighs! Do thou take him now 
 to thy heart, and season him for our dreadful sister. 
 
300 
 
 THEMi;-WRmNG, 
 
 And thou,” — turning to the Mater T encbrarum, she 
 said — “ wicked sister, that temptest and hatest, do 
 thou take him from her. See that thy scepter lie 
 heavy on his head. Suffer not woman and her ten- 
 derness to sit near him in his darkness. Banish the 
 frailties of hope, wither the relenting of love, scorch 
 the fountains of tears, curse him as only thou canst 
 curse. So shall he be accomplished in the furnace, 
 so shall he see the things that ought not to be seen, 
 sights that are abominable, and secrets that are un- 
 utterable. So shall he read elder truths, sad truths, 
 grand truths, fearful truths. So shall he rise again 
 before he dies. And so shall our commission be 
 accomplished which from God we had — to plague 
 his heart until we had unfolded the capacities of his 
 spirit.” 
 
SPECIMEN OF THE LITERATURE OF FEEL- 
 ING: NARRATIVE STRUCTURE. 
 
 THE MASQUE OF THE RED DEATH.^ 
 
 BY EDGAR ALLAN POE. 
 
 ^^■j^HE ■“ Red Death ” had long devastated the 
 / I country. No pestilence had ever been so fatal, 
 or so hideous. Blood was its avatar and its 
 seal — the redness and the horror of blood. There 
 were sharp pains, and sudden dizziness, and then pro- 
 fuse bleeding at the pores, with dissolution. The 
 scarlet stains upon the body, and especially upon the 
 face, of the victim were the pest ban which shut him 
 out from the aid and from the sympathy of his fellow- 
 men. And the whole seizure, progress, and termi • 
 nation of the disease were the incidents of half an 
 hour. 
 
 But the Prince Prospero was happy and dauntless 
 and sagacious. When his dominions were half depop- 
 ulated, he summoned to his presence a thousand hale 
 
 1 Reproduced, by permission, from the Stedman-Woodbury text. Copy- 
 right 1894 by Stone & Kimball ; Duffield & Company, Successors. 
 
302 
 
 THEME-WRITING. 
 
 and light-hearted friends from among the knights and 
 dames of his court, and with these retired to the deep 
 seclusion of one of his castellated abbeys. This was 
 an extensive and magnificent structure, the creation 
 of the Prince’s own eccentric yet august taste. A 
 strong and lofty wall girdled it in. This wall had 
 gates of iron. The courtiers, having entered, brought 
 furnaces and massy hammers, and welded the bolts. 
 They resolved to leave means neither of ingress or 
 egress to the sudden impulses of despair or of frenzy 
 from within. The abbey was amply provisioned. 
 With such precautions the courtiers might bid defiance 
 to contagion. The external world could take care of 
 itself. In the meantime it was folly to grieve, or to 
 think. The Prince had provided all the appliances of 
 pleasure. There were buffoons, there were improvisa- 
 tor!, there were ballet-dancers, there were musicians, 
 there was Beauty, there was wine. All these and 
 security were within. Without was the “ Red Death.” 
 
 It was toward the close of the fifth or sixth month 
 of his seclusion, and while the pestilence raged most 
 furiously abroad, that the Prince Prospero entertained 
 his thousand friends at a masked ball of the most 
 unusual magnificence. 
 
 It was a voluptuous scene, that masquerade. But 
 first let me tell of the rooms in which it was held. 
 
specimens eor analysis. 303 
 
 There were seven — an imperial suite. In many pal- 
 aces, however, such suites form a long and straight 
 vista, while the folding-doors slide back nearly to the 
 walls on either hand, so that the view of the whole 
 extent is scarcely impeded. Here the case was very 
 different, as might have been expected from the 
 Prince’s love of the bizarre. The apartments were so 
 irregularly disposed that the vision embraced but little 
 more than one at a time. There was a sharp turn at 
 every twenty or thirty yards, and at each turn a novel 
 effect. To the right and left, in the middle of each 
 wall, a tall and narrow Gothic window looked out upon 
 a closed corridor which pursued the windings of the 
 suite. These windows were of stained glass, whose 
 color varied in accordance with the prevailing hue of 
 the decorations of the chamber into which it opened. 
 That at the eastern extremity was hung, for example, 
 in blue — and vividly blue were its windows. The 
 second chamber was purple in its ornaments and tap- 
 estries, and here the panes were purple. The third 
 was green throughout, and so were the casements. 
 The fourth was furnished and lighted with orange, 
 the fifth with white, the sixth with violet. The sev- 
 enth apartment was closely shrouded in black velvet 
 tapestries that hung all over the ceiling and down the 
 walls, falling in heavy folds upon a carpet of the same 
 
304 
 
 THEME-WRITING. 
 
 material and hue. But, in this chamber only, the 
 color of the windows failed to correspond with the 
 decorations. The panes here were scarlet — a deep 
 blood-color. Now in no one of the seven apartments 
 was there any lamp or candelabrum, amid the profu- 
 sion of golden ornaments that lay scattered to and fro 
 or depended from the roof. There was no light of 
 any kind emanating from lamp or candle within the 
 suite of chambers. But in the corridors that followed 
 the suite there stood, opposite to each window, a heavy 
 tripod, bearing a brazier of fire, that projected its 
 rays through the tinted glass and so glaringly illu- 
 mined the room. And thus were produced a multi- 
 tude of gaudy and fantastic appearances. But in the 
 western or black chamber the effect of the firelight 
 that streamed upon the dark hangings through the 
 blood-tinted panes was ghastly in the extreme, and 
 produced so wild a look upon the countenances of 
 those who entered that there were few of the compaiw 
 bold enough to set foot within its precincts at all. 
 
 It was in this apartment, also, that there stood 
 against the western wall a gigantic clock of ebony. 
 Its pendulum swung to and fro with a dull, heavy, 
 monotonous clang; and when the minute-hand made 
 the circuit of the face, and the hour was to be stricken, 
 there came from the brazen lungs of the clock a sound 
 
SPECIMENS EOR ANALYSIS. 305 
 
 which was clear and loud and deep and exceedingly 
 musical, but of so peculiar a note and emphasis that, 
 at each lapse of an hour, the musicians of the orches- 
 tra were constrained to pause, momentarily, in their 
 performance, to hearken to the sound; and thus the 
 waltzers perforce ceased their evolutions ; and there 
 was a brief disconcert of the whole gay company ; 
 and, while the chimes of the clock yet rang, it was 
 observed that the giddiest grew pale, and the more 
 aged and sedate passed their hands over their brows 
 as if in confused revery or meditation. But when 
 the echoes had fully ceased, a light laughter at once 
 pervaded the assembly; the musicians looked at each 
 other and smiled as if at their own nervousness and 
 folly, and made whispering vows, each to the other, 
 that the next chiming of the clock should produce in 
 them no similar emotion ; and then, after the lapse of 
 sixty minutes (which embrace three thousand and six 
 hundred seconds of the Time that flies) there came 
 yet another chiming of the clock, and then were the 
 same disconcert and tremulousness and meditation as 
 before. 
 
 But, in spite of these things, it was a gay and mag- 
 nificent revel. The tastes of the Prince were peculiar. 
 He had a fine eye for colors and effects. He disre- 
 garded the decora of mere fashion. His plans were 
 
3o6 
 
 THEME-WRITING. 
 
 ■bold and fiery, and his conceptions glowed with bar- 
 baric lustre. There are some who would have thought 
 him mad. His followers felt that he was not. It was 
 necessary to hear and see and touch him to be sure 
 that he was not. 
 
 He had directed, in great part, the movable embel- 
 lishments of the seven chambers, upon occasion of 
 this great fete; and it was his own guiding taste 
 which had given character to the masqueraders. Be 
 sure they were grotesque. There were much, glare and 
 glitter and piquancy and phantasm — much of what 
 has been since seen in Hernani. There were arabesque 
 figures with unsuited limbs and appointments. There 
 were delirious fancies such as the madman fashions. 
 There was much of the beautiful, much of the wan- 
 ton, much of the bizarre, something of the terrible, 
 and not a little of that which might have excited dis- 
 gust. To and fro in the seven chambers there stalked, 
 in fact, a. multitude of dreams. And these — the 
 dreams — writhed in and about, taking hue from the 
 rooms, and causing the wild music of the orchestra 
 to seern as the echo of their steps. And, anon, there 
 strikes the ebony clock which stands in the hall of 
 the velvet. And then, for a moment, all is still, and 
 all is silent save the voice of the clock. The dreams 
 are stiff-frozen as they stand. But the echoes of the 
 
SPECIMENS EOR ANALYSIS. 3^7 
 
 chime die away — they have endured but an instant 
 and a light, half-subdued laughter floats after them as 
 they depart. And now again the music swells, and 
 the dreams live, and writhe to and fro more merrily 
 than ever, taking hue from the many tinted windows 
 through which stream the rays from the tripods. But 
 to the chamber which lies most westwardly of the 
 seven, there are now none of the maskers who ven- 
 ture; for the night is waning away, and there flows 
 a ruddier light through the blood-colored panes; and 
 the blackness of the sable drapery appalls; and to him 
 whose foot falls upon the sable carpet, there comes 
 from the near clock of ebony a muffled peal more 
 solemnly emphatic than any which reaches their ears 
 who indulge in the more remote gayeties of the other 
 apartments. 
 
 But these other apartments were densely crowded, 
 and in them beat feverishly the heart of life. And 
 the revel went whirlingly on, until at length there 
 commenced the sounding of midnight upon the clock. 
 And then the music ceased, as I have told ; and the 
 evolutions of the waltzers were quieted; and there 
 was an uneasy cessation of all things as before. But 
 now there were twelve strokes to be sounded by the 
 bell of the clock ; and thus it happened, perhaps, 
 that more of thought crept, with more of time, into 
 
3o8 
 
 THEME-WRITING. 
 
 the meditations of the thoughtful among those who 
 revelled. And thus too it happened, perhaps, that 
 before the last echoes of the last chime had utterly 
 sunk into silence, there were many individuals in the 
 crowd who had found leisure to become aware of the 
 presence of a masked figure which had arrested the 
 attention of no single individual before. And the 
 rumor of this new presence having spread itself whis- 
 peringly around, there arose at length from the whole 
 company a buzz, or murmur, expressive of disappro- 
 bation and surprise — then, finally, of terror, of hor- 
 ror, and of disgust. 
 
 In an assembly of phantasms such as I have painted, 
 it may well be supposed that no ordinary appearance 
 could have excited such sensation. In truth the mas- 
 querade license of the night was nearly unlimited ; but 
 the figure in question had out-Heroded Herod, and 
 gone beyond the bounds of even the Prince’s indefinite 
 decorum. There are chords in the hearts of the most 
 reckless which cannot be touched without emotion. 
 Even with the utterly lost, to whom life and death 
 are equally jests, there are matters of which no jest 
 can be made. The whole company, indeed, seemed 
 now deeply to feel that in the costume and bearing 
 of the stranger neither wit nor propriety existed. The 
 figure was tall and gaunt, and shrouded from head to 
 
SPECIMENS EOR ANAEYSIS. 3^9 
 
 foot in the habiliments of the grave. The mask which 
 concealed the visage was made so nearly to resemble 
 the countenance of a stiffened corpse that the closest 
 scrutiny must have had difficulty in detecting the cheat. 
 And yet all this might have been endured, if not 
 approved, by the mad revellers around. But the mum- 
 mer had gone so far as to assume the type of the Red 
 Death. His vesture was dabbled in blood — and his 
 broad brow, with all the features of the face, was 
 besprinkled with the scarlet horror. 
 
 When the eyes of Prince Prospero fell upon this 
 spectral image (which with a slow and solemn move- 
 ment, as if more fully to sustain its role, stalked to 
 and fro among the waltzers) he was seen to be con- 
 vulsed, in the first moment, with a strong shudder 
 either of terror or distaste; but, in the next, his brow 
 reddened with rage. 
 
 “Who dares?” he demanded hoarsely of the cour- 
 tiers who stood near him — “ who dares insult us with 
 this blasphemous mockery? Seize him and unmask 
 him — that we may know whom we have to hang at 
 sunrise, from the battlements ! ” 
 
 It was in the eastern or blue chamber in which 
 stood the Prince Prospero as he uttered these words. 
 They rang throughout the seven rooms loudly and 
 clearly — for the Prince was a bold and robust man. 
 
310 
 
 theme-writing. 
 
 and the music had become hushed at the waving of 
 his hand. 
 
 It was in the blue room where stood the Prince, 
 with a group of pale courtiers by his side. At first, 
 as he spoke, there was a slight rushing movement of 
 this group in the direction of the intruder, who at the 
 moment was also near at hand, and now, with delib- 
 erate and stately step, made closer approach to the 
 speaker. But from a certain nameless awe with which 
 the mad assumptions of the mummer had inspired the 
 whole party, there were found none who put forth 
 hand to seize him ; so that, unimpeded, he passed 
 within a yard of the Prince’s person; and while the 
 vast assembly, as if with one impulse, shrank from 
 the centres of the rooms to the walls, he made his 
 way uninterruptedly, but with the same solemn and 
 measured step which had distinguished him from 
 the first, through the blue chamber to the purple ■ — 
 through the purple to the green — through the green 
 to the orange — through this again to the white — 
 and even thence to the violet, ere a decided movement 
 had been made to arrest him. It was then, however, 
 that the Prince Prospero, maddening with rage and 
 the shame of his own momentary cowardice, rushed 
 hurriedly through the six chambers, while none fol- 
 lowed him on account of a deadly terror that had 
 
SPECIMENS FOR ANALYSIS. 3^^ 
 
 seized upon all. He bore aloft a drawn dagger, and 
 had approached, in rapid impetuosity, to within three 
 or four feet of the retreating figure, when the latter, 
 having attained the extremity of the velvet apartment, 
 turned suddenly and confronted his pursuer. There 
 was a sharp cry — and the dagger dropped gleaming 
 upon the sable carpet, upon which, instantly after- 
 wards, fell prostrate in death the Prince Prospero. 
 Then, summoning the wild courage of despair, a 
 throng of the revellers at once threw themselves into 
 the black apartment, and, seizing the mummer, whose 
 tall figure stood erect and motionless within the 
 shadow of the ebony clock, gasped in unutterable 
 horror at finding the grave cerements and corpse-like 
 mask, which they handled with so violent a rudeness, 
 untenanted by any tangible form. 
 
 And now was acknowledged the presence of the 
 Red Death. He had come like a thief in the night. 
 And one by one dropped the revellers in the blood- 
 bedewed halls of their revel, and died each in the 
 despairing posture of his fall. And the life of the 
 ebony clock went out with that of the last of the gay. 
 And the flames of the tripods expired. And Dark- 
 ness and Decay and the Red Death held illimitable 
 dominion over all. 
 
INDEX 
 
 Accedens of Armory, 236. 
 
 Addison, 220. 
 
 Adjective, punctuation of, 
 203, 206. 
 
 Adjective clause, punctuation 
 of, 204, 205, 207. 
 
 Adverb, punctuation of, 203, 
 206. 
 
 Adverbial clause, punctuation 
 of, 204, 20s, 207. 
 
 “Ad'journ,” 196. 
 
 JE'neid, 182. 
 
 “ Age cannot wither,” 199- 
 200. 
 
 Alma Mater, sonnet, 39. 
 
 Amplification, 109, 136-174, 
 
 230-234. 
 
 “ And,” 186-187, 190. 
 
 Antony and Cleopatra, igg- 
 200. 
 
 “ Athlete,” 175. 
 
 Appendix — Material for An- 
 alysis, 243-31 1. 
 
 Appendices, 235-240. 
 
 Apperception, 87. 
 
 Arrangement: for coherence, 
 85-87, 95. in paragraphs, 
 178-179, in sentences, i8g ; 
 for mass, or emphasis, 70- 
 76, 78, 81, in paragraphs, 
 178-179, in sentences, 188- 
 189. 
 
 Argumentation, Summary of 
 a Lecture on, 139-141. 
 Bacon, Francis, 219, 
 
 Baker, E. G., theme by, 139- 
 
 141. 
 
 Baker, Professor G. P., 25, 
 Ballad revival, 220. 
 
 Ballad of William and Mar- 
 garet, 239. 
 
 Barabas, Shylock and, 165- 
 
 173. 
 
 Barbarisms, 197. 
 Bastien-Lepage, Jules, 21. 
 Battleship, The Construction 
 of a Modern, 158-164. 
 Beaumont and Fletcher, 228. 
 Beers, Professor H. A., 220. 
 Before the Library, sonnet, 
 34- 
 
 Beginnings of the English 
 Romantic Movement, 220, 
 
 239. 
 
 Benson, N. P., theme by, 
 
 165-173- 
 
 Bibliography, 220, 235-238. 
 Blazon of Genfrie, 237. 
 Bradley, Professor A. C., 233. 
 Brodsky. J. C., theme by, 15. 
 Brown, Charles Brockden, 
 229, 
 
 Browning, Robert, 241. 
 
314 
 
 INDEX. 
 
 Burke, Edmund, 59, 61, 67, 
 91, 93, iin, 177, 271-282. 
 
 Buck’s Ticket Office, 45-48. 
 
 “ But,” 186-187, 190 - 
 
 Byproducts in research, 239. 
 
 “ Caput nectentur,” 182. 
 
 Caractacus, 222-224. 
 
 Cards, in plan-making, 114- 
 116, 126; in research, 220. 
 
 Carroll, " Lewis Carroll,” 43, 
 44 , 49 - 
 
 Cato the Elder, 76. 
 
 Central thought, 59, 71, lio- 
 112. 
 
 Chaucer, 182. 
 
 Chloe, verse, 18. 
 
 Chronology, 228-229, 238-239. 
 
 Citizenship, Training for, 
 255-265. 
 
 Clauses, punctuation of, 204- 
 208. 
 
 Coherence, 52, 53, 55, 57-69, 
 85-103, los, 133, 157-158; 
 in paragraphs, 178-179; in 
 sentences, 189-190 ; Pro- 
 fessor Wendell’s definition 
 of, 88. 
 
 Coleridge, S. T., 43, 44, 48, 
 232, 233. 
 
 College of Arms, History of, 
 236. 
 
 Comma-fault in sentence- 
 structure, 186-187. 
 
 Comment, themes of, 26, 39, 
 24-40. 
 
 Complex sentence : too com- 
 plex, 187-188; punctuation 
 of, 204, 205, 
 
 Composition, Of the Practice 
 of ; Chapter I, 1-40. 
 
 Composition, Of the Theory 
 of; Chapter II, 41-105. 
 
 Compound sentence : too 
 
 compound, 186-187; punc- 
 tuation of, 207, 208. 
 
 Compulsory attendance at 
 chapel, 63. 
 
 Concilation with America, 
 59, 61, 67, 91, 93, 116, 117, 
 177, 271-282. 
 
 Conclusion, 131, 155-157, 283- 
 288. 
 
 Concreteness, 1-8, 11-15, 30- 
 33, 40; in exposition, 136- 
 148; in theses, 230-233. 
 
 Congressional Procedure, 
 
 141-147- 
 
 Connotation, 15, 33, 40, 44, 
 45 - 50 , 148-157, 198-200. 
 
 Connotative coherence, see 
 Emotional coherence. 
 
 Connotative mass, or empha- 
 sis, see Emotional mass. 
 
 Construction of a Modern 
 Battleship, 158-164. 
 
 Cony High School Assembly, 
 255-265- 
 
 Co-ordinate elements, punc- 
 tuation of, 206-208. 
 
 Correctness : in paragraph- 
 
 ing, 176-177; in sentence- 
 structure, 181-1S5 ; in 
 choice of words, 195-197. 
 
 Damerel, S. V,, verse by, 18. 
 
 “ Delenda est Carthago,” 76. 
 
 Dennis, John, 221. 
 
INDBX. 
 
 Denotation and connotation, 
 15, 44, 45, SO, SS, 56; of 
 words, 198-200. 
 
 De Quincey, Thomas, 21, g6, 
 186, 190, 289-300. 
 
 Dictionary of National Biog- 
 grapliy, 219, 221-224. 
 
 Discipline, 180. 
 
 Discordant Note, A, ig. 
 
 Divisions, main, as few as 
 possible, 132, 230. 
 
 Dodgson, C. D., see “ Lewis 
 Carroll.” 
 
 “ Don’t,” 181. 
 
 Dryden, 232, 233. 
 
 Dramatic romances, 228. 
 
 Dutchessc of Malfy, The. 
 217. 
 
 Dumas, 79, 80. 
 
 Early Bird, An, 4. 
 
 Effect, Unity of, 50, 51-56, 
 105-7, 1 12. 
 
 Effectiveness : in paragraph- 
 ing. 178 tSo ; in sentence- 
 structure, 185-190; in 
 words, 198-200. 
 
 “ Elevated,” 195. 
 
 Eliot, George, 61. 
 
 Elizabethan Drama, Schel- 
 ling’s, 231. 
 
 Elfrida, 222-224. 
 
 Emotional coherence, 94-102. 
 
 Emotional effect, g-23 ; 
 through concreteness, ii- 
 15; through connotation, 
 
 15-23- 
 
 Emotional literature, litera- 
 
 315 
 
 ture of feeling, 42-44, 50, 
 SS- 
 
 Emotional mass, emotional 
 emphasis, 78-84. 
 
 Emphasis, see Mass. 
 
 “ Enjambement,” 196. 
 
 England, History of, Ma- 
 caulay’s, 73. 
 
 English Stage, Genest’s, 222- 
 224. 
 
 Entrance requirements in 
 English, 175. 
 
 Essay on Criticism, 44, 49. 
 
 Exercises : on paragraphing, 
 178 ; on sentence-structure, 
 igo-194; on words, 200- 
 201 ; on punctuation, 209- 
 216. 
 
 Expositional Themes, Of the 
 Writing of; Chapter III, 
 106-174. 
 
 Exposition, working rules 
 for, io8-iog, 173-174. 
 
 Expressed connection ; for co- 
 herence, 85, 88-94, 97-102 ; 
 of headings in a plan, 122- 
 126; in paragraphs, 179; in 
 sentences, 189-190. 
 
 Expression of the material in 
 theses, 226-234. 
 
 False co-ordination and false 
 subordination in sentence- 
 structure, i8g. 
 
 Feeling, literature of, emo- 
 tional literature, 42-44, 50, 
 SS- 
 
 “ Females,” 197. 
 
3i6 
 
 INDEX. 
 
 T'erne, John, 237-238. 
 
 Field, Eugene, 3-4. 
 
 “ Fifty-seven varieties,” 200. 
 
 “ Fishers of men,” 196. 
 
 Flinn, J. A., theme by, 6. 
 Foot-notes, 233, 
 
 Formulation of the topic, 108, 
 110-112, 173, 226-329. 
 Freight rates, 76. 
 
 Freshmen, An Address to, 
 
 24S-254. 
 
 Gathering material, 219-225. 
 Gay, Life of, Johnson’s 185. 
 Genest, Rev. John, 222-224. 
 German literature in New 
 England, 239. 
 
 Gildon, Charles, 232-233. 
 Goddard, Dr. H. C,, 239. 
 Good use : in sentences, 181- 
 185; in words, 195-197. 
 Graduate Theses ; Chapter V, 
 217-242, 
 
 ■Grammarian’s Funeral, A, 
 Browning’s, 241. 
 Grave-diggers in Hamlet, 68, 
 232. 
 
 Guillim, John, 238. 
 
 “ Had rather,” 183. 
 
 Hamilton, William, of Ban- 
 gour, 220. 
 
 Hamlet, 68, 232. 
 
 Harper, W. S-, theme by, 34- 
 Hazlitt, William, 232, 233. 
 Hearst, W. R., 266. 
 
 Hegel, 226. 
 
 Heine, 229. 
 
 Henry Esmond, 80. 
 
 Heraldry, A Display of, 238. 
 
 Herbartian theory of apper- 
 ception, 87. 
 
 Hinman, Miss C. L., theme 
 by, 36. 
 
 History of England, Ma- 
 caulay’s, 73. 
 
 History of English Romanti- 
 cism in the i8th Century, 
 220. 
 
 Hooker, F. C., theme by, 27. 
 
 Horace, 188, 
 
 How to Improve your Way 
 of Talking, 266-270. 
 
 “ However,” 190. 
 
 Hyde, William DeWitt, 245. 
 
 Idiom, 182. 
 
 II Penseroso, 62. 
 
 Impropriety, 197. 
 
 Indention ; in paragraphing, 
 176; in plans, 121. 
 
 Independent, The, 245. 
 
 Index, in theses, 239-240. 
 
 Insertions in quotations, 231- 
 233- 
 
 Introduction, 130, IS7, 233- 
 234, 266-270. 
 
 Intellectual capacity, 177. 
 
 Intellectual coherence, 86-94. 
 
 Intellectual effect, 24-40. 
 
 Intellectual literature, litera- 
 ture of thought, 42-44, so. 
 55- 
 
 Intellectual mass, intellectual 
 emphasis, 71-78. 
 
 Interpretive Criticism, An 
 Exercise in, 34. 
 
INDEX. 
 
 Interrelation of headings in a 
 plan, 120-126. 
 
 “ It,” 189. 
 
 Iteration, 76, 233-234. 
 
 Ivanhoe, 61, 82. 
 
 Jabberwocky, 44, 49. 
 
 Jew of Malta, 165-173, 
 
 Joan of Arc, 21, 
 
 Johnson, Dr. Samuel, 185, 
 220, 221, 232-233. 
 
 Journal, Neva York Evening, 
 266. 
 
 Kingsley, J. M., theme by, 
 
 156-157- 
 
 Kipling, Rndyard, 24, 225. 
 
 Kyd, Thomas, 156-157. 
 
 Kubla Khan, 43, 48. 
 
 L’ Allegro, 62. 
 
 Language of Love's Labour’s 
 Lost, 148-155- 
 
 Legh, Gerard, 236. 
 
 Levana and Our Ladies of 
 Sorrow, 96, 289-300. 
 
 Levy, Newman, rondeau by, 
 37 - 
 
 “ Lewis Carroll,” pseudo- 
 nym of C. L. Dodgson, 43, 
 44 , 49 - 
 
 Libraries, 220. 
 
 Lincoln, Abraham, 283-288. 
 
 Lincoln, P. S., theme by, 158- 
 164. 
 
 Localisms, 196. 
 
 Love, H. M., sonnets by, 21, 
 34 , 39 - 
 
 Love’s Labour’s Lost and A 
 Midsummer Night’s 
 Dream, 2j-2g. 
 
 317 
 
 '^Love’s Labour’s Lost, The 
 Language of, 148-IS5- 
 
 Lunt, George, theme by, 13. 
 
 Macaulay, 61, 72-76. 
 
 Macbeth, 61. 
 
 MacDonald, W. S., theme by, 
 180. 
 
 Mahomet, 221. 
 
 Main headings, 132. 
 
 Marlin, Miss Wenona, 
 themes by, 4, 7, 19. 
 
 "^Marlowe, Christopher, 117- 
 119, 165-173, 230-233. 
 
 Mason, William, 222-224. 
 
 Masque of the Red Death, 
 The, 78, 81, 82, 301-31 1. 
 
 Mass, or Emphasis, 52, 53, 55, 
 70-84, 104, 130-132; in para- 
 graphs, 178; in sentences, 
 188-189. Wendell’s . defini- 
 tion, 88. 
 
 Material, Unity of, 53, 55-69, 
 104, 1 12. 
 
 y Merchant of Venice, 61, 62, 
 
 165-173- 
 
 Merely Mary Ann, 97-99- 
 
 ' Midsummer Night’s Dream, 
 Notes on A, 30-33. 
 
 Milton, 62 ; his Sonnet on 
 His Blindness, 16-18; Ma- 
 caulay’s Essay on Milton, 
 
 ' 61. 
 
 Monsieur Beaucaire, 36, 99- 
 102. 
 
 “ Moreover,” 190. 
 
 National use: in sentences, 
 181 ; in words, 196. 
 
3i8 
 
 index. 
 
 New Boss, The, 7. 
 
 New York Evening Journal, 
 266. 
 
 Noble, Rev. Mark, 236. 
 
 Nolan, D. C., Jr., tiiemes by, 
 39, 141-7- 
 
 Nonrestrictive elements, 
 punctuation of, 204-206. 
 
 Notation of headings, 120. 
 
 Note-taking in research, 228- 
 230. 
 
 Observation, themes of, 3, i8, 
 1-23. 
 
 Omissions in quotations, 231- 
 233- 
 
 Order, determining punctua- 
 tion, 202-204. 
 
 Organization, 108, 113-13S, 
 
 173, 229-230; of a para- 
 graph, 179. 
 
 Palisades, The, sonnet, 21. 
 
 Paragraphing, 176-180. 
 
 Parallel construction, 85, 87- 
 88, 96-97; of headings, 122; 
 in paragraphs, 179; in sen- 
 tences, 189. See “ Phras- 
 ing.” 
 
 Participles : misrelated, 184- 
 18s ; punctuation of, 203- 
 206. 
 
 Peabody Library, 220. 
 
 Percy, Bishop Thomas, 220. 
 
 Peter, Saint, 225. 
 
 Phelps, Professor W. L., 220, 
 
 239- 
 
 Philips, Ambrose, 220. 
 
 Phoebe, a rondeau, 37. 
 
 Phrasing (parallel construc- 
 tion), 85, 87-88, 96-97; of 
 headings, 122; in para- 
 graphs, 179; in sentences, 
 189. 
 
 Pinafore, 24. 
 
 Plan: its form, 114-126; its 
 substance, 126-135; in 
 theses, 229-230 ; specimen 
 plans. 1 17, 1 18, iig, 123, 
 
 124, 13s, 137, 141, 158, 165. 
 
 Poe, Edgar Allan, 67, 78, 81, 
 82, 301. 
 
 Pope, Alexander, 44, 49, 197, 
 232, 233. 
 
 Population of England in 
 1685, 73. 
 
 Preparatory School Matters, 
 Certain ; Chapter IV, 175- 
 216. 
 
 Prepositions, 189. 
 
 Prepositional phrases, punc- 
 tuation of, 203-207. 
 
 Present use : in .sentences, 
 
 182; in words, 196-197. 
 
 Princess, The, 43, 48. 
 
 Prior, Matthew. 220, 
 
 Proportion for mass, or em- 
 phasis, 70, 76-78, 82-83 ; in 
 paragraphs, 178; in sen- 
 tences, 188. 
 
 Proposition, 60, 63, 66, iii- 
 112, 228; headings of a plan 
 should be expressed as 
 propositions, 116-120, 126. 
 
 Punctuation, 202-216 
 
 Quotations : as concrete ma- 
 
INDEX. 
 
 319 
 
 terial, 230; method of indi- 
 cating, 231-233. 
 
 Rambler, The, 220. 
 
 Ramsay, Allan, 220. 
 
 Red Death, The Masque of, 
 301-311. 
 
 Reed, Thomas B., 47. 
 
 References, 221. 
 
 Rehearsal, A, 5. 
 
 Relative clauses, See Ad- 
 jective clauses. 
 
 Reputable use : in sentences, 
 181 ; in words, 195. 
 
 Research, 217-241 ; value of, 
 241. 
 
 Restrictive elements, punc- 
 tuation of, 204-206. 
 
 Restrictive relative pronoun, 
 189. 
 
 Ritson, Joseph, 220. 
 
 Romantic Movement, Begin- 
 nings of the English, 220, 
 239 - 
 
 Romanticism in the i8th Cen- 
 tury, History of English, 
 220. 
 
 Rondeau, 37. 
 
 Roses, 99-102. 
 
 Rowe, Nicholas, 232, 233. 
 
 Rhymer, Thomas, 232, 233. 
 
 Sailing vessels, 198. 
 
 Schelling, Profesor Felix E., 
 
 231. 
 
 Schlegel, 232, 233. 
 
 Scholarship, 241-242. 
 
 School Review, The, 253. 
 
 'Schwarz, H. S., theme by, 5. 
 
 Scott, Sir Walter, 61, 82, 220. 
 
 Selection in research, 221. 
 
 Sentence structure, 181-194; 
 “ Not S.,” 183-184. 
 
 Sewanee Review, The, 231- 
 233 - 
 
 Shakspere, 27, 30, 61, 62, 68, 
 148-155, 156-157, 165-173, 
 
 199, 228, 229 ; Influence of 
 Marlowe on Shakspere, 
 117-119; Shakspere’ s Use of 
 Comedy in Tragedy, 232- 
 233; Shakespearean Trag- 
 edy, 233. 
 
 Shylock and Barabas, 165- 
 173 - 
 
 Silas Manner, 61. 
 
 Singsen, F. M., verse by, 23. 
 
 “ Skiddoo,” 197. 
 
 Snow, Charles Wilbert, 139. 
 
 Solecisms, 183-185. 
 
 Sonnets, 17, 19, 34, 39 ; Mil- 
 ton’s Sonnet on His Blind- 
 ness, 16-18. 
 
 Sources, 220, 231-233. 
 
 Spanish Tragedy, The, 156. 
 
 Specification, accusative of, 
 182. 
 
 Spectator, The, 220. 
 
 Starting point in research, 
 2ig. 
 
 Stephen, Sir Leslie, 222-224. 
 
 Still life, concrete treatment 
 of, 12-15. 
 
 Subject of thesis, 226-227. 
 
 “ Subject plus predicate,” 59, 
 64, 66, 111-112. 
 
320 
 
 INDEX. 
 
 Sugar wafers, igg. 
 
 Summaries, 157, 233-234, 271- 
 282 ; Summary of the 
 Theory of Composition, 
 104-105. 
 
 Suspended judgment, 226. 
 
 Suspiria de Profundis^ g6 ; 
 see Lcvana. 
 
 Talking, How to Improve 
 Your Way of, 266-270. 
 
 Tamhurlaine, 230, 231; see 
 Marlowe. 
 
 Tarkington. Booth, 36, 99-102. 
 
 “ Tea,” pronunciation of, 197. 
 
 Tennyson, 43, 44, 48. 
 
 Thackeray, 80. 
 
 Themes, Expositional ; Chap- 
 ter III, 106-174, Themes 
 of Observation and Com- 
 ment, Chapter I, 1-40. 
 
 Themes, specimen, 1, 4, S, 6, 
 7, 13, 14, 19, 21, 27, 30, 34, 
 36, 37, 137, 139, 142, 148, 
 156, 160, 166, 180. 
 
 “ There,” 189. 
 
 Theobald, Lewis, 232, 233. 
 
 Theses, Of Graduate; Chap- 
 ter V, 217-242. 
 
 Thinking — for one’s self, 24, 
 40. 
 
 Thought, literature of, 42-44, 
 50, 55- 
 
 Three Musketeers, The, 79, 
 
 , 80. 
 
 Ticknor Library, 220. 
 
 Titus Andronicus, IS 6 -IS 7 - 
 
 Tobin, Miss Mary H-, themes 
 by, 21, 137-139. 
 
 Tomlinson, 24, 225. 
 
 Tonsor, C. A., 76-77. 
 
 Topic sentence, 178. 
 
 T ransc endentalism , Studies 
 in New England. 239. 
 
 Transitions, 157, 233-234, 271- 
 282 ; see Coherence. 
 
 “ Trolley,” 195. 
 
 “ Twenty-three,” 197. 
 
 Two Races of Men, The, 37. 
 
 Ulrici, 233. 
 
 Unity of Effect, 51-56, and, 
 more broadly, to T05 ; Unity 
 of Material, 57-69, includ- 
 ing Intellectual Unity, or 
 Unity of Thought, 57-6s, 
 and Emotional Lmity, or 
 Unity of Feeling, 65-68; 
 summary of Unity of Ma- 
 terial, 68-69; summary of 
 Unity of Effect, 104-105 ; 
 Unity in exposition, 107- 
 109; through formulation 
 of the topic, 110-112; 
 through formulation of the 
 plan, 113, 127-135, 173-174; 
 Unity in a paragraph, 178- 
 180 ; Unity in a sentence, 
 185-188; Unity in theses, 
 226-230; Profes.scr Wen- 
 dell’s definition of Unity, 
 88 . 
 
 Value of research, 241. 
 
 Vergil, 182. 
 
INDEX. 
 
 321 
 
 Vers-de-societe, 196. 
 
 Verse, undergraduate, 18, 21, 
 23, 34, 37, 39- 
 Voltaire, 232. 
 
 JValk at Sunset, A, 6. 
 Watson, E. M., Jr., theme by, 
 
 148-155- 
 
 Watterson, Col. Henry, 283. 
 Weak beginning and ending, 
 see Mass. 
 
 Weak paragraph, see Cor- 
 rectness. 
 
 Webster, John, 217. 
 
 Wendell, Professor Barrett, 
 88 and Preface. 
 
 IVilliam and Margaret, Bal- 
 lad of, 239. 
 
 Williamsburg Bridge at 
 Night, The, 14. 
 
 Words, 195-201. 
 
 Working rules for exposition, 
 108-109. 
 
 Zangwill, Israel, 97. 
 
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