Books: How to Speak and Write Correctly

J >> Joseph Devlin >> How to Speak and Write Correctly

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True, a small vocabulary will carry you through, but it is an advantage
to have a large one. When you live alone a little pot serves just as well
as a large one to cook your victuals and it is handy and convenient, but
when your friends or neighbors come to dine with you, you will need a
much larger pot and it is better to have it in store, so that you will
not be put to shame for your scantiness of furnishings.

Get as many words as you possibly can--if you don't need them now, pack
them away in the garrets of your brain so that you can call upon them if
you require them.

Keep a note book, jot down the words you don't understand or clearly
understand and consult the dictionary when you get time.

PURITY

_Purity_ of style consists in using words which are reputable, national
and present, which means that the words are in current use by the best
authorities, that they are used throughout the nation and not confined to
one particular part, and that they are words in constant use at the
present time.

There are two guiding principles in the choice of words,--_good use_
and _good taste_. _Good use_ tells us whether a word is right or wrong;
_good taste_, whether it is adapted to our purpose or not.

A word that is obsolete or too new to have gained a place in the
language, or that is a provincialism, should not be used.

Here are the Ten Commandments of English style:

(1) Do not use foreign words.

(2) Do not use a long word when a short one will serve your purpose.
_Fire_ is much better than _conflagration_.

(3) Do not use technical words, or those understood only by specialists
in their respective lines, except when you are writing especially for
such people.

(4) Do not use slang.

(5) Do not use provincialisms, as "I guess" for "I think"; "I reckon" for
"I know," etc.

(6) Do not in writing prose, use poetical or antiquated words: as "lore,
e'er, morn, yea, nay, verily, peradventure."

(7) Do not use trite and hackneyed words and expressions; as, "on the
job," "up and in"; "down and out."

(8) Do not use newspaper words which have not established a place in the
language as "to bugle"; "to suicide," etc.

(9) Do not use ungrammatical words and forms; as, "I ain't;" "he don't."

(10) Do not use ambiguous words or phrases; as--"He showed me all about
the house."

Trite words, similes and metaphors which have become hackneyed and worn
out should be allowed to rest in the oblivion of past usage. Such
expressions and phrases as "Sweet sixteen" "the Almighty dollar," "Uncle
Sam," "On the fence," "The Glorious Fourth," "Young America," "The lords
of creation," "The rising generation," "The weaker sex," "The weaker
vessel," "Sweetness long drawn out" and "chief cook and bottle washer,"
should be put on the shelf as they are utterly worn out from too much
usage.

Some of the old similes which have outlived their usefulness and should
be pensioned off, are "Sweet as sugar," "Bold as a lion," "Strong as an
ox," "Quick as a flash," "Cold as ice," "Stiff as a poker," "White as
snow," "Busy as a bee," "Pale as a ghost," "Rich as Croesus," "Cross as a
bear" and a great many more far too numerous to mention.

Be as original as possible in the use of expression. Don't follow in the
old rut but try and strike out for yourself. This does not mean that you
should try to set the style, or do anything outlandish or out of the way,
or be an innovator on the prevailing custom. In order to be original
there is no necessity for you to introduce something novel or establish a
precedent. The probability is you are not fit to do either, by education
or talent. While following the style of those who are acknowledged
leaders you can be original in your language. Try and clothe an idea
different from what it has been clothed and better. If you are speaking
or writing of dancing don't talk or write about "tripping the light
fantastic toe." It is over two hundred years since Milton expressed it
that way in "_L'Allegro_." You're not a Milton and besides over a million
have stolen it from Milton until it is now no longer worth stealing.

Don't resurrect obsolete words such as _whilom_, _yclept_, _wis_, etc.,
and be careful in regard to obsolescent words, that is, words that are at
the present time gradually passing from use such as _quoth, trow,
betwixt, amongst, froward_, etc.

And beware of new words. Be original in the construction and arrangement
of your language, but don't try to originate words. Leave that to the
Masters of language, and don't be the first to try such words, wait until
the chemists of speech have tested them and passed upon their merits.

Quintilian said--"Prefer the oldest of the new and the newest of the
old." Pope put this in rhyme and it still holds good:

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.

PROPRIETY

_Propriety_ of style consists in using words in their proper sense and as
in the case of purity, good usage is the principal test. Many words have
acquired in actual use a meaning very different from what they once
possessed. "Prevent" formerly meant to go before, and that meaning is
implied in its Latin derivation. Now it means to put a stop to, to
hinder. To attain propriety of style it is necessary to avoid confounding
words derived from the same root; as _respectfully_ and _respectively_;
it is necessary to use words in their accepted sense or the sense which
everyday use sanctions.

SIMPLICITY

_Simplicity_ of style has reference to the choice of simple words and
their unaffected presentation. Simple words should always be used in
preference to compound, and complicated ones when they express the same
or almost the same meaning. The Anglo-Saxon element in our language
comprises the simple words which express the relations of everyday life,
strong, terse, vigorous, the language of the fireside, street, market and
farm. It is this style which characterizes the Bible and many of the
great English classics such as the "Pilgrim's Progress," "Robinson
Crusoe," and "Gulliver's Travels."

CLEARNESS

_Clearness_ of style should be one of the leading considerations with the
beginner in composition. He must avoid all obscurity and ambiguous
phrases. If he write a sentence or phrase and see that a meaning might be
inferred from it otherwise than intended, he should re-write it in such a
way that there can be no possible doubt. Words, phrases or clauses that
are closely related should be placed as near to each other as possible
that their mutual relation may clearly appear, and no word should be
omitted that is necessary to the complete expression of thought.

UNITY

_Unity_ is that property of style which keeps all parts of a sentence in
connection with the principal thought and logically subordinate to it. A
sentence may be constructed as to suggest the idea of oneness to the
mind, or it may be so loosely put together as to produce a confused and
indefinite impression. Ideas that have but little connection should be
expressed in separate sentences, and not crowded into one.

Keep long parentheses out of the middle of your sentences and when you
have apparently brought your sentences to a close don't try to continue
the thought or idea by adding supplementary clauses.

STRENGTH

_Strength_ is that property of style which gives animation, energy and
vivacity to language and sustains the interest of the reader. It is as
necessary to language as good food is to the body. Without it the words
are weak and feeble and create little or no impression on the mind. In
order to have strength the language must be concise, that is, much
expressed in little compass, you must hit the nail fairly on the head and
drive it in straight. Go critically over what you write and strike out
every word, phrase and clause the omission of which impairs neither the
clearness nor force of the sentence and so avoid redundancy, tautology
and circumlocution. Give the most important words the most prominent
places, which, as has been pointed out elsewhere, are the beginning and
end of the sentence.

HARMONY

_Harmony_ is that property of style which gives a smoothness to the
sentence, so that when the words are sounded their connection becomes
pleasing to the ear. It adapts sound to sense. Most people construct
their sentences without giving thought to the way they will sound and as
a consequence we have many jarring and discordant combinations such as
"Thou strengthenedst thy position and actedst arbitrarily and
derogatorily to my interests."

Harsh, disagreeable verbs are liable to occur with the Quaker form _Thou_
of the personal pronoun. This form is now nearly obsolete, the plural
_you_ being almost universally used. To obtain harmony in the sentence
long words that are hard to pronounce and combinations of letters of one
kind should be avoided.

EXPRESSIVE OF WRITER

Style is expressive of the writer, as to who he is and what he is. As a
matter of structure in composition it is the indication of what a man can
do; as a matter of quality it is an indication of what he is.

KINDS OF STYLE

Style has been classified in different ways, but it admits of so many
designations that it is very hard to enumerate a table. In fact there are
as many styles as there are writers, for no two authors write _exactly_
after the same form. However, we may classify the styles of the various
authors in broad divisions as (1) dry, (2) plain, (3) neat, (4) elegant,
(5) florid, (6) bombastic.

The _dry_ style excludes all ornament and makes no effort to appeal to
any sense of beauty. Its object is simply to express the thoughts in a
correct manner. This style is exemplified by Berkeley.

The _plain_ style does not seek ornamentation either, but aims to make
clear and concise statements without any elaboration or embellishment.
Locke and Whately illustrate the plain style.

The _neat_ style only aspires after ornament sparingly. Its object is to
have correct figures, pure diction and clear and harmonious sentences.
Goldsmith and Gray are the acknowledged leaders in this kind of style.

The _elegant_ style uses every ornament that can beautify and avoids
every excess which would degrade. Macaulay and Addison have been
enthroned as the kings of this style. To them all writers bend the knee
in homage.

The _florid_ style goes to excess in superfluous and superficial
ornamentation and strains after a highly colored imagery. The poems of
Ossian typify this style.

The _bombastic_ is characterized by such an excess of words, figures and
ornaments as to be ridiculous and disgusting. It is like a circus clown
dressed up in gold tinsel Dickens gives a fine example of it in Sergeant
Buzfuz' speech in the "Pickwick Papers." Among other varieties of style
may be mentioned the colloquial, the laconic, the concise, the diffuse,
the abrupt the flowing, the quaint, the epigrammatic, the flowery, the
feeble, the nervous, the vehement, and the affected. The manner of these
is sufficiently indicated by the adjective used to describe them.

In fact style is as various as character and expresses the individuality
of the writer, or in other words, as the French writer Buffon very aptly
remarks, "the style is the man himself."

CHAPTER X

SUGGESTIONS

How to Write--What to Write--Correct Speaking and Speakers

Rules of grammar and rhetoric are good in their own place; their laws
must be observed in order to express thoughts and ideas in the right way
so that they shall convey a determinate sense and meaning in a pleasing
and acceptable manner. Hard and fast rules, however, can never make a
writer or author. That is the business of old Mother Nature and nothing
can take her place. If nature has not endowed a man with faculties to put
his ideas into proper composition he cannot do so. He may have no ideas
worthy the recording. If a person has not a thought to express, it cannot
be expressed. Something cannot be manufactured out of nothing. The author
must have thoughts and ideas before he can express them on paper. These
come to him by nature and environment and are developed and strengthened
by study. There is an old Latin quotation in regard to the poet which
says "Poeta nascitur non fit" the translation of which is--the poet is
born, not made. To a great degree the same applies to the author. Some
men are great scholars as far as book learning is concerned, yet they
cannot express themselves in passable composition. Their knowledge is
like gold locked up in a chest where it is of no value to themselves or
the rest of the world.

The best way to learn to write is to sit down and write, just as the best
way how to learn to ride a bicycle is to mount the wheel and pedal away.
Write first about common things, subjects that are familiar to you. Try
for instance an essay on a cat. Say something original about her. Don't
say "she is very playful when young but becomes grave as she grows old."
That has been said more than fifty thousand times before. Tell what you
have seen the family cat doing, how she caught a mouse in the garret and
what she did after catching it. Familiar themes are always the best for
the beginner. Don't attempt to describe a scene in Australia if you have
never been there and know nothing of the country. Never hunt for
subjects, there are thousands around you. Describe what you saw yesterday--
a fire, a runaway horse, a dog-fight on the street and be original in
your description. Imitate the best writers in their _style_, but not in
their exact words. Get out of the beaten path, make a pathway of your
own.

Know what you write about, write about what you know; this is a golden
rule to which you must adhere. To know you must study. The world is an
open book in which all who run may read. Nature is one great volume the
pages of which are open to the peasant as well as to the peer. Study
Nature's moods and tenses, for they are vastly more important than those
of the grammar. Book learning is most desirable, but, after all, it is
only theory and not practice. The grandest allegory in the English, in
fact, in any language, was written by an ignorant, so-called ignorant,
tinker named John Bunyan. Shakespeare was not a scholar in the sense we
regard the term to-day, yet no man ever lived or probably ever will live
that equalled or will equal him in the expression of thought. He simply
read the book of nature and interpreted it from the standpoint of his own
magnificent genius.

Don't imagine that a college education is necessary to success as a
writer. Far from it. Some of our college men are dead-heads, drones,
parasites on the body social, not alone useless to the world but to
themselves. A person may be so ornamental that he is valueless from any
other standpoint. As a general rule ornamental things serve but little
purpose. A man may know so much of everything that he knows little of
anything. This may sound paradoxical, but, nevertheless, experience
proves its truth.

If you are poor that is not a detriment but an advantage. Poverty is an
incentive to endeavor, not a drawback. Better to be born with a good,
working brain in your head than with a gold spoon in your mouth. If the
world had been depending on the so-called pets of fortune it would have
deteriorated long ago.

From the pits of poverty, from the arenas of suffering, from the hovels
of neglect, from the backwood cabins of obscurity, from the lanes and
by-ways of oppression, from the dingy garrets and basements of unending
toil and drudgery have come men and women who have made history, made the
world brighter, better, higher, holier for their existence in it, made of
it a place good to live in and worthy to die in,--men and women who have
hallowed it by their footsteps and sanctified it with their presence and
in many cases consecrated it with their blood. Poverty is a blessing, not
an evil, a benison from the Father's hand if accepted in the right spirit.
Instead of retarding, it has elevated literature in all ages. Homer was a
blind beggarman singing his snatches of song for the dole of charity;
grand old Socrates, oracle of wisdom, many a day went without his dinner
because he had not the wherewithal to get it, while teaching the youth of
Athens. The divine Dante was nothing better than a beggar, houseless,
homeless, friendless, wandering through Italy while he composed his
immortal cantos. Milton, who in his blindness "looked where angels fear
to tread," was steeped in poverty while writing his sublime conception,
"Paradise Lost." Shakespeare was glad to hold and water the horses of
patrons outside the White Horse Theatre for a few pennies in order to buy
bread. Burns burst forth in never-dying song while guiding the ploughshare.
Poor Heinrich Heine, neglected and in poverty, from his "mattress grave"
of suffering in Paris added literary laurels to the wreath of his German
Fatherland. In America Elihu Burritt, while attending the anvil, made
himself a master of a score of languages and became the literary lion of
his age and country.

In other fields of endeavor poverty has been the spur to action. Napoleon
was born in obscurity, the son of a hand-to-mouth scrivener in the backward
island of Corsica. Abraham Lincoln, the boast and pride of America, the
man who made this land too hot for the feet of slaves, came from a log
cabin in the Ohio backwoods. So did James A. Garfield. Ulysses Grant came
from a tanyard to become the world's greatest general. Thomas A. Edison
commenced as a newsboy on a railway train.

The examples of these men are incentives to action. Poverty thrust them
forward instead of keeping them back. Therefore, if you are poor make
your circumstances a means to an end. Have ambition, keep a goal in sight
and bend every energy to reach that goal. A story is told of Thomas
Carlyle the day he attained the highest honor the literary world could
confer upon him when he was elected Lord Rector of Edinburgh University.
After his installation speech, in going through the halls, he met a
student seemingly deep in study. In his own peculiar, abrupt, crusty way
the Sage of Chelsea interrogated the young man: "For what profession are
you studying?" "I don't know," returned the youth. "You don't know,"
thundered Carlyle, "young man, you are a fool." Then he went on to
qualify his vehement remark, "My boy when I was your age, I was stooped
in grinding, gripping poverty in the little village of Ecclefechan, in
the wilds of [Transcriber's note: Part of word illegible]-frieshire,
where in all the place only the minister and myself could read the Bible,
yet poor and obscure as I was, in my mind's eye I saw a chair awaiting
for me in the Temple of Fame and day and night and night and day I
studied until I sat in that chair to-day as Lord Rector of Edinburgh
University."

Another Scotchman, Robert Buchanan, the famous novelist, set out for
London from Glasgow with but half-a-crown in his pocket. "Here goes,"
said he, "for a grave in Westminster Abbey." He was not much of a
scholar, but his ambition carried him on and he became one of the great
literary lions of the world's metropolis.

Henry M. Stanley was a poorhouse waif whose real name was John Rowlands.
He was brought up in a Welsh workhouse, but he had ambition, so he rose
to be a great explorer, a great writer, became a member of Parliament and
was knighted by the British Sovereign.

Have ambition to succeed and you will succeed. Cut the word "failure" out
of your lexicon. Don't acknowledge it. Remember

"In life's earnest battle they only prevail
Who daily march onward and never say fail."

Let every obstacle you encounter be but a stepping stone in the path of
onward progress to the goal of success.

If untoward circumstances surround you, resolve to overcome them. Bunyan
wrote the "Pilgrim's Progress" in Bedford jail on scraps of wrapping
paper while he was half starved on a diet of bread and water. That
unfortunate American genius, Edgar Allan Poe, wrote "The Raven," the most
wonderful conception as well as the most highly artistic poem in all
English literature, in a little cottage in the Fordham section of New
York while he was in the direst straits of want. Throughout all his short
and wonderfully brilliant career, poor Poe never had a dollar he could
call his own. Such, however, was both his fault and his misfortune and he
is a bad exemplar.

Don't think that the knowledge of a library of books is essential to
success as a writer. Often a multiplicity of books is confusing. Master a
few good books and master them well and you will have all that is
necessary. A great authority has said: "Beware of the man of one book,"
which means that a man of one book is a master of the craft. It is
claimed that a thorough knowledge of the Bible alone will make any person
a master of literature. Certain it is that the Bible and Shakespeare
constitute an epitome of the essentials of knowledge. Shakespeare
gathered the fruitage of all who went before him, he has sown the seeds
for all who shall ever come after him. He was the great intellectual
ocean whose waves touch the continents of all thought.

Books are cheap now-a-days, the greatest works, thanks to the printing
press, are within the reach of all, and the more you read, the better,
provided they are worth reading. Sometimes a man takes poison into his
system unconscious of the fact that it is poison, as in the case of
certain foods, and it is very hard to throw off its effects. Therefore,
be careful in your choice of reading matter. If you cannot afford a full
library, and as has been said, such is not necessary, select a few of the
great works of the master minds, assimilate and digest them, so that they
will be of advantage to your literary system. Elsewhere in this volume is
given a list of some of the world's masterpieces from which you can make
a selection.

Your brain is a storehouse, don't put useless furniture into it to crowd
it to the exclusion of what is useful. Lay up only the valuable and
serviceable kind which you can call into requisition at any moment.

As it is necessary to study the best authors in order to be a writer, so
it is necessary to study the best speakers in order to talk with
correctness and in good style. To talk rightly you must imitate the
masters of oral speech. Listen to the best conversationalists and how
they express themselves. Go to hear the leading lectures, speeches and
sermons. No need to imitate the gestures of elocution, it is nature, not
art, that makes the elocutionist and the orator. It is not _how_ a
speaker expresses himself but the language which he uses and the manner
of its use which should interest you. Have you heard the present day
masters of speech? There have been past time masters but their tongues
are stilled in the dust of the grave, and you can only read their
eloquence now. You can, however, listen to the charm of the living. To
many of us voices still speak from the grave, voices to which we have
listened when fired with the divine essence of speech. Perhaps you have
hung with rapture on the words of Beecher and Talmage. Both thrilled the
souls of men and won countless thousands over to a living gospel. Both
were masters of words, they scattered the flowers of rhetoric on the
shrine of eloquence and hurled veritable bouquets at their audiences
which were eagerly seized by the latter and treasured in the storehouse
of memory. Both were scholars and philosophers, yet they were far surpassed
by Spurgeon, a plain man of the people with little or no claim to
education in the modern sense of the word. Spurgeon by his speech
attracted thousands to his Tabernacle. The Protestant and Catholic, Turk,
Jew and Mohammedan rushed to hear him and listened, entranced, to his
language. Such another was Dwight L. Moody, the greatest Evangelist the
world has ever known. Moody was not a man of learning; he commenced life
as a shoe salesman in Chicago, yet no man ever lived who drew such
audiences and so fascinated them with the spell of his speech. "Oh, that
was personal magnetism," you will say, but it was nothing of the kind. It
was the burning words that fell from the lips of these men, and the way,
the manner, the force with which they used those words that counted and
attracted the crowds to listen unto them. Personal magnetism or personal
appearance entered not as factors into their success. Indeed as far as
physique were concerned, some of them were handicapped. Spurgeon was a
short, podgy, fat little man, Moody was like a country farmer, Talmage in
his big cloak was one of the most slovenly of men and only Beecher was
passable in the way of refinement and gentlemanly bearing. Physical
appearance, as so many think, is not the sesame to the interest of an
audience. Daniel O'Connell, the Irish tribune, was a homely, ugly,
awkward, ungainly man, yet his words attracted millions to his side and
gained for him the hostile ear of the British Parliament, he was a master
of verbiage and knew just what to say to captivate his audiences.

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