Exposition and Description distinguished.

This sort of exposition is very near description; indeed, were the purpose different, it would be description. The purpose, however, is not to tell how an individual looks, but to place the object in a class. It is therefore not description, but exposition. Moreover, the method is different. In description those characteristics are given that distinguish the object from the rest of the class; while in exposition those qualities are selected which are common to all objects of its class.

Logical Definition.

On account of the length of the definition by an enumeration of all the attributes, it is not frequently used except in long treatises. For it there has been substituted what is called a logical definition. Instead of naming all the characteristics of an object, a logical definition groups many attributes under one general term, and then adds a quality which distinguishes the object from the others of the general class. Man has been defined as the "reasoning animal." In this definition a large number of attributes have been gathered together in the general term "animal;" then man is separated from the whole class "animal" by the word "reasoning." A logical definition consists, then, of two parts: the general term naming the genus, and the limiting term naming the distinguishing attribute called the differentia.

Genus and Differentia.

Genus and differentia are found in every good definition. The genus should be a term more general than the term defined. "Man is a person who reasons" is a poor definition; because "person" is no more general than "man." "A canine is a dog that is wild" is very bad, because "dog," the general term in the definition, is less general than the word defined. However, to say that "a dog is a canine that has been domesticated," is a definition in which the genus is more general than the term defined.

Next, the genus should be a term well understood. "Man is a mammal who reasons" is all right, in having a genus more general than the term defined, but the definition fails with many because "mammal" is not well understood. "Botany is that branch of biology which treats of plant life" has in it the same error. "Biology" is not so well understood as "botany," though it is a more general term. In cases of this sort, the writer should go farther toward the more general until he finds a term perfectly clear to all. "Man is an animal that reasons," "botany is the branch of science that treats of plant life," would both be easily understood. The genus should be a term better understood than the term defined; and it should be a term more general than the term defined.

A definition may be faulty in its differentia also. The differentia is that part of a definition which names the difference between the term defined and the general class to which it belongs. "Man is a reasoning animal." "Animal" names the general class, and "reasoning" is the differentia which separates "man" from other "animals." On the selection of this limiting word depends the accuracy of the definition. "Man is an animal that walks," or "that has hands," or "that talks," are all faulty; because bears walk, monkeys have hands, and parrots talk. Supposing the following definitions were given: "A cat is an animal that catches rats and mice;" "A rose is a flower that bears thorns;" "Gold is a metal that is heavy;" all would be faulty because the differentia in each is faulty. Notice, too, the definitions of "dog" and "canine" already given. Even "man is a reasoning animal" may fail; since many men declare that other animals reason. The differentia should include all the members that the term denotes, and it should exclude all that it does not denote.

Requisites of a good Definition.

The requisites of a good definition are: first, that it shall include or denote all the members of the class; second, that it shall exclude everything which does not belong to its class; third, that the words used in the definition shall be better understood than the word defined; fourth, that it shall be brief.

A definition may perfectly expound a term; and because of the very qualities that make it a good definition, accuracy and brevity, it may be almost valueless to the ordinary reader. For instance, this definition, "An acid is a substance, usually sour and sharp to the taste, that changes vegetable blue colors to red, and, combining with an earth, an alkali, or a metallic oxide, forms a salt," would not generally be understood. So it frequently becomes necessary to do more than give a definition in order to explain the meaning of a term. This brings us to the study of exposition, as it is generally understood, in which all the resources of language are called into service to explain a term or a proposition.

How do Men explain? First, by Repetition.

What, then, are the methods of explaining a proposition? First, a proposition may be explained by the repetition of the thought in some other form. To be effective, repetition must add something to what has been said; the words used may be more specific or they may be more general. For example, "A strong partisan may not be a good citizen. The stanchest Republican may by reason of a blind adherence to party be working an injury to the country he loves. Indeed, one can easily conceive a body of men so devoted to a theory, beautiful though it may be in many respects, that they stand in the way of the world's progress." The second sentence repeats the thought of the first in more specific terms; the third repeats it in more general terms. The specific may be explained by the general; more often the general is cleared up by the specific. In either case, the proposition must be brought one step nearer to the reader by the restatement, or the repetition is not good.

Speaking of written or printed words, Barrett Wendell writes:—

"In themselves, these black marks are nothing but black marks more or less regular in appearance. Modern English type and script are rather simple to the eye. Old English and German are less so; less so still, Hebrew and Chinese. But all alphabets present to the eye pretty obvious traces of regularity; in a written or printed page the same mark will occur over and over again. This is positively all we see,—a number of marks grouped together and occasionally repeated. A glance at a mummy-case, an old-fashioned tea-chest, a Hebrew Bible, will show us all that any eye can ever see in a written or printed document. The outward and visible body of style consists of a limited number of marks which, for all any reader is apt to know, are purely arbitrary." ("English Composition.")

In this paragraph every sentence is a repetition of some part of the opening or topic sentence, and serves to explain it.

Second, by telling the obverse.

Second, a proposition may be explained by telling what it is not. At times this is as valuable as telling what it is. Care should be taken that the thing excluded or denied have some likeness to the proposition or term being explained; that the two be really in some danger of being confused. Unless to a hopelessly ignorant person, it would not explain anything to say "a horse is not a man;" but to assert that "a whale is not a fish, though they have many points in common," would prepare the way for an explanation of what a whale is. The obverse statement is nearly always followed by a repetition of what the thing is.

The following from Newman illustrates the method:

"Now what is Theology? First, I will tell you what it is not. And here, in the first place (though of course I speak on the subject as a Catholic), observe that, strictly speaking, I am not assuming that Catholicism is true, while I make myself the champion of Theology. Catholicism has not formally entered into my argument hitherto, nor shall I just now assume any principle peculiar to it, for reasons which will appear in the sequel, though of course I shall use Catholic language. Neither, secondly, will I fall into the fashion of the day, of identifying Natural Theology with Physical Theology; which said Physical Theology is a most jejune study, considered as a science, and really no science at all, for it is ordinarily no more than a series of pious or polemical remarks upon the physical world viewed religiously, whereas the word 'Natural' comprehends man and society, and all that is involved therein, as the great Protestant writer, Dr. Butler, shows us. Nor, in the third place, do I mean by Theology polemics of any kind; for instance, what are called 'Evidences of Religion,' or 'the Christian Evidences.'... Nor, fourthly, do I mean by Theology that vague thing called 'Christianity,' or 'our common Christianity,' or 'Christianity the law of the land,' if there is any man alive who can tell what it is.... Lastly, I do not understand by Theology, acquaintance with the Scriptures; for, though no person of religious feeling can read Scripture but he will find those feelings roused, and gain much knowledge of history into the bargain, yet historical reading and religious feeling are not a science. I mean none of these things by Theology. I simply mean the Science of God, or the truths we know about God put into a system; just as we have a science of the stars, and call it astronomy, or of the crust of the earth, and call it geology."[15]

Third, by Details.

Third, a common way of explaining a proposition is to go into particulars about it. Enough particulars should be given to furnish a reasonable explanation of the proposition. Macaulay, writing of the "muster-rolls of names" which Milton uses, goes into details. He says:—

"They are charmed names. Every one of them is the first link in a long chain of associated ideas. Like the dwelling place of our infancy revisited in manhood, like the song of our country heard in a strange land, they produce upon us an effect wholly independent of their intrinsic value. One transports us back to a remote period of history. Another places us among the novel scenes and manners of a distant region. A third evokes all the dear classical recollections of childhood,—the schoolroom, the dog-eared Virgil, the holiday, and the prize. A fourth brings before us the splendid phantoms of chivalrous romance, the trophied lists, the embroidered housings, the quaint devices, the haunted forests, the enchanted gardens, the achievements of enamoured knights, and the smiles of rescued princesses."[16]

Fourth, by Illustrations.

Fourth, a proposition may be explained by the use of a single example or illustration. The value of this method depends on the choice of the example. It must in no essential way differ from the general case it is intended to illustrate. Supposing this proposition were advanced by some woman-hater: "All women are, by nature, liars," and it should be followed by this sentence, "For example, take this lady of fashion." Such an illustration is worthless. The individual chosen does not fairly represent the class. If, on the other hand, a teacher in physics should announce that "all bodies fall at the same rate in a vacuum," and should illustrate by saying, "If I place a bullet and a feather in a tube from which the air has been exhausted, they will be found to fall equally fast," his example would be a fair one, as the two objects differ in no manner essential to the experiment from "all bodies."

Here should be included anecdotes used as illustrations. They are of value if they are of the same type as the general class they are intended to explain. They may be of little value, however. It could safely be said that half the stories told in campaign speeches are not instances in point at all, but are told only to amuse and deceive. Specific instances must be chosen with care if they are to serve a useful purpose in exposition.

This example is from Newman:—

"To know is one thing, to do is another; the two things are altogether distinct. A man knows that he should get up in the morning,—he lies abed; he knows that he should not lose his temper, yet he cannot keep it. A laboring man knows that he should not go to the ale-house, and his wife knows that she should not filch when she goes out charing, but, nevertheless, in these cases, the consciousness of a duty is not all one with the performance of it. There are, then, large families of instances, to say the least, in which men may become wiser, without becoming better."[17]

Fifth, by Comparisons.

Last, a thing may be explained by telling what it is like, or what it is not like. This method of comparison is very frequently employed. To liken a thing to something already known is a vivid way of explaining. Moreover in many cases it is easier than the method of repetition or that of details. By this method Macaulay explains his proposition that "it is the character of such revolutions that we always see the worst of them first." He says:—

"A newly liberated people may be compared to a northern army encamped on the Rhine or the Xeres. It is said that when soldiers in such a situation first find themselves able to indulge without restraint in such a rare and expensive luxury, nothing is to be seen but intoxication. Soon, however, plenty teaches discretion, and, after wine has been for a few months their daily fare, they become more temperate than they had ever been in their own country. In the same manner, the final and permanent fruits of liberty are wisdom, moderation, and mercy. Its immediate effects are often atrocious crimes, conflicting errors, skepticism on points the most clear, dogmatism on points the most mysterious."[18]

The comparison may be a simile or a metaphor, as when Huxley writes, explaining "the physical basis of life:"—

"Protoplasm, simple or nucleated, is the formal basis of all life. It is the clay of the potter: which, bake it and paint it as he will, remains clay, separated by artifice, and not by nature, from the commonest brick or sun-dried clod."[19]

These, then, are the methods commonly adopted for explaining terms and propositions. First, by the use of definitions; second, by repeating the proposition either directly or obversely, adding something to the thought by each repetition; third, by enumerating particulars which form the ground for the statement; fourth, by selecting an instance which fairly illustrates the proposition; fifth, by the use of comparisons and analogies.

The Subject.

Some general considerations regarding the choice of a subject have been given. A subject should lend itself to the form of discourse employed; next, it should be a subject interesting to the readers; and third, it should be interesting to the writer and suited to his ability. The last condition makes it advisable to limit the subject to a narrow field. Few persons have the ability to view a general subject in all its relations. "Books" everybody knows something of; yet very few are able to treat this general subject in all its ramifications. A person writing of the general topic "books" would not only be compelled to know what a book is, what may truly be called a book, and what is the value of books to readers, and therefore the influence of the different kinds of literature; he would also be driven to study the machinery for making books, the history of printing, illustrating, and binding books, and all the mechanical processes connected with the manufacture of books. The subject might take quite another turn, and be the development of fiction or drama; it might be a discussion of the influences, political or social, that have moulded literature; it might be a study of character as manifested in an author's works. No one is well fitted to write on the general topic "books." A subject should be limited.

The Subject should allow Concrete Treatment.

For young persons the subject should be so selected and stated that the treatment may be concrete. As persons advance they make more generalizations; few, however, go so far as to think in general terms. Macaulay says, "Logicians may reason about abstractions, but the great mass of men must have images." That author depended largely for his glittering effects upon the use of common, concrete things which the masses understand. The subject should be such that it can be treated concretely. "Love," as a general proposition, is beautiful; but what more can a young writer say about it? Let him leave the whole horde of abstract subjects found in old rhetorics alone. They are subjects for experience; they cannot be handled by youth.

The Theme.

After the subject has been chosen, the writer next considers how he shall treat it. He selects the attitude he will assume toward the proposition, his point of view; and this position he embodies in a short sentence, called his theme. For instance, "patriotism" is the subject; as it stands it is abstract and very general. However, this, "Can a partisan be a patriot?" would be sufficiently concrete to be treated. Even yet there is no indication of the author's point of view. Should he write, "A real partisan is no patriot," his theme is announced, and his point of view known.

A theme, either explicit or implicit, is essential in exposition. It is not necessary that it shall be stated to the reader, but it must be clearly stated by the writer for his own guidance. It is, however, usually announced at the opening of the essay. Whether announced or not, it is most essential to the success of the essay. It is the touchstone by which the author tries all the material which he has collected. Not everything on the subject of patriotism should be admitted to an essay that has for its theme, "A real partisan cannot be a true patriot." It would save many a digression if the theme were always written in bold, black letters, and placed before the author as he writes. Every word in a theme should be there for a purpose, expressing some important modification of the thought. For instance, the statement above regarding a partisan may be too sweeping; perhaps the essayist would prefer to discuss the modified statement that "a blind partisan cannot always be a true patriot." The theme should state exactly what will be treated in the essay. The statement of it should employ the hardest kind of thinking; and when the theme is determined definitely and for all, the essay is safe from the intrusion of foreign ideas which disturb the harmony of the whole.

Another advantage in the theme is that, when once chosen, it will go far toward writing the essay. One great trouble with the young writer is that he is not willing to rely on his theme to suggest his composition. Mr. Palmer well says:—

"He examines his pen point, the curtains, his inkstand, to see if perhaps ideas may not be had from these. He wonders what the teacher will wish him to say, and he tries to recall how the passage sounded in the Third Reader. In every direction but one he turns, and that is the direction where lies the prime mover of his toil, his subject. Of that he is afraid. Now, what I want to make evident is that his subject is not in reality the foe, but the friend. It is his only helper. His composition is not to be, as he seems to suppose, a mass of laborious inventions, but it is made up exclusively of what the subject dictates. He has only to attend. At present he stands in his own way, making such a din with his private anxieties that he cannot hear the rich suggestions of his subject. He is bothered with considering how he feels, or what he or somebody else will like to see on his paper. This is debilitating business. He must lean on his subject, if he would have his writing strong, and busy himself with what it says, rather than with what he would say."[20]

The Title.

Having selected a subject, and with care stated the theme, it yet remains to give the essay a name. There is something in a name, and those authors who make a living by the pen are the shrewdest in displaying their wares under the most attractive titles. The title should be attractive, but it should not promise what the essay does not give. Newspaper headlines are usually attractive enough, but shamefully untruthful. Next, the title should indicate the scope of the essay. When Mr. Palmer calls his little book "Self-Cultivation in English," it is evident that it is not a text-book, and that it will not treat English as literature or as a science. Then, the title should be short. The theme can rarely be used as a title; it is too long. But the paramount idea developed in the essay should be embodied in the title. "Partisanship and Patriotism" would be a good subject to give the essay we have spoken of. The title, then, should be attractive; it should be short; and it should truthfully indicate the contents of the essay.

Selection of Material.

One of the important factors in the construction of an essay is the selection of material. Though theme and title have already been discussed, it was not because they are the things for a writer to consider next after he has chosen his subject, but because they are so intimately bound up in the subject that their consideration at that time was natural. Before a writer can decide upon the position he will assume toward a proposition, he should have looked over the field in a general way; for only with the facts before him is he competent to choose his point of view and to state his theme. The title is not in the least essential to the writing of the essay; it may be deferred until the essay is finished. It is necessary, however, that the writer have much knowledge of his subject, and that from this knowledge he be able to frame an opinion regarding the subject. When this has been done he is ready to begin the work of constructing his essay; and the first question in exposition, as in narration and description, is the selection of material to develop the theme he has chosen.

The selection of material is a more difficult matter in exposition than in narration and description. It requires the shrewdest scrutiny to keep out matter that does not help the thought forward. In narration we decided by the main incident; in description by the purpose and the point of view; in exposition we test all material by its relation to the theme. Does it help to explain the theme? If not, however good material it may be, it has no business in the essay.

Association of ideas is a law by which, when one of two related ideas is mentioned, the other is suggested. To illustrate, when Manila is mentioned, Admiral Dewey appears; when treason is spoken of, Arnold is in the mind. This law is of fundamental importance in arranging an essay; one thing should suggest the next. But valuable as it is, even indispensable, it may become the source of much mischief. For instance, a pupil has this for a topic, "Reading gives pleasure to many." He writes as his second sentence, "By pleasure I mean the opposite of pain," and goes on. "All things are understood by their opposites. If we did not know sickness, we could not enjoy our health. Joy is understood through sorrow. I remember my first sorrow. My father had just given me a new knife,—my first knife," and so on from one thing to another. And not so unnaturally either; each sentence has suggested the next, but not one is on the topic. The most anxious watch must be kept in the selection of material. Some will be admitted without any question; some will be excluded with a brusqueness almost brutal. There is a third class, however, that is allied with the subject, yet it is not so easy to determine whether it should be admitted or rejected. This class requires the closest questioning. It must contribute to the strength of the essay, not to its pages, or it has no place there.

Scale of Treatment.

There is another condition which must be considered in the selection of material, the scale of treatment. If Macaulay had been asked by a daily paper to contribute a paragraph of five hundred words on Milton, he could not have introduced all the numerous topics which have their place in his essay of one hundred pages. He might have mentioned Milton's poetry and his character, the two main divisions of the present essay; but Dante and Aeschylus, Puritan and Royalist, would scarcely have received notice. The second consideration in selecting material is the purpose and length of the essay, and the consequent thoroughness with which the subject is to be treated.

The exhaustiveness with which an author treats any subject depends, first, on his knowledge. Any person could write a paragraph on Milton; Macaulay and Lowell wrote delightful essays on the topic; David Masson has written volumes about him. These would have been impossible except to a person who had been a special student of the subject. Second, the thoroughness of the treatment depends on the knowledge of the readers. For persons acquainted with the record of the momentous events of Milton's time, it would have been quite unnecessary, it might be considered even an insult to intelligence, to go into such details of history. The shortest statement suffices when the reader is already familiar with the subject and needs only to know the application in this case. Third, the scale of treatment depends on the purpose for which the essay is written. If a newspaper paragraph, it is one thing; if for a magazine, it is quite another; if it is to be the final word on the subject, it may reach to volumes.

An apt illustration of proportion in the scale of treatment has been given by Scott and Denny in their "Composition-Rhetoric." They suggest that three maps of the United States, one very large, another half the size of the first, and a third very small, be hung side by side. If a comparison be made, it will be found that, whereas a great number of cities are represented on the largest map, only half as many appear on the middle-sized map. If the smallest map be examined, only the largest cities, the longest rivers, the greatest lakes, and the highest mountains can be found; all others must be omitted. On all three maps the same relation of parts is maintained. In proportion to the whole, New York State will hold the same position in all of them. The Mississippi River will flow from Minnesota to the Gulf of Mexico, and the Gulf will sweep in a curve from Texas to Florida. The scale is different, but the proportion does not change.

This principle applies in the construction of themes. In a paragraph only very important topics will receive any mention. In an essay these important topics retain their proper place and relation, while many other points of subordinate rank will be introduced. If the treatment be lengthened to a book, a host of minor sub-topics will be considered, each adding something to the development of the theme, and each giving to its principal topic the relative importance which belongs to the main divisions of the essay. The scale of treatment will have much to do with the selection of material.

Using Macaulay's "Milton" as an illustration, the analyses below will show how by increasing the size of the essay new subjects come into the field for notice. The first is but a paragraph and has the two main divisions of the essay. The second is an outline for an essay of two thousand words. In the third only one of the sub-topics is analyzed, as Macaulay has discussed it. It would take too much space to analyze minutely the whole essay.

MILTON.

A. Milton's poetry has given him his position among great men. B. His conduct was such as was to be expected from a man of a spirit so high and of an intellect so powerful.

In the following outline the same main headings are retained, and the sub-topics which explain them are introduced. The numbers indicate the paragraphs in Macaulay's essay given to each topic.

INTRODUCTION (1-8).

A. Milton's poetry has given him his position among men. (9-46.) I. No poet has ever triumphed over greater difficulties than Milton. (10-19.) II. In his lesser works he shows his great power. (20-31.) III. There is but one modern poem that can be compared with "Paradise Lost;" Dante's "Divine Comedy" has great power, is upon a kindred subject, but in style of treatment widely different. (32-46.) Transition. (47-49.) B. His conduct was such as was to be expected from a man of a spirit so high and of an intellect so powerful. (50-90.) I. He lived at one of the most memorable eras in the history of mankind, and his conduct must be judged as that of the people is judged. (50-78.) II. There were some peculiarities which distinguished him from his contemporaries. (79-90.) Conclusion. (91-94.)

Again, taking up but one section, B, II., the analysis is as follows:—

II. There were some peculiarities which distinguished him from his contemporaries. (79-90.) A. Milton adopted the noblest qualities of every party— 1. Puritans. (80-84.) a. They excited contempt. However b. They were no vulgar fanatics; but c. They derived their peculiarities from their daily contemplation of superior beings and eternal interests. d. Thus the Puritan was made up of two men,—the one all self-abasement, the other all pride. e. Resume of character of Puritans. 2. Heathens were passionate lovers of freedom. (85.) 3. Royalists had individual independence, learning, and polite manners of the Court. B. But he alone fought the battle for the freedom of the mind. (88.) 1. This led him to discard parties; and (89) 2. To dare the boldest literary services. (90.)

The fundamental principle guiding in the selection of material is unity. It decides what may with propriety be admitted to the essay, and it determines in part what must be left out. Another principle, secondary to this, is scale of treatment. If the essay is to be short, only essentials may be used; if long, many related sub-topics must take their subordinate positions in the essay.

Arrangement.

Following the selection of material comes its arrangement. Here also there is greater difficulty than was experienced in narration or description. Though the same principles of Coherence and Mass guide, they are more difficult to apply. The seat of the difficulty is in the elusiveness of the material. It is hard to picture distinctly the value and relation of the different topics of an essay. Suppose the subject is "The Evils of War." The first paragraph might contain a general statement announcing the theme. Then these topics are to be discussed:—

1. The effect on the morale of a nation. 2. The suffering of friends and relatives. 3. The destruction of life. 4. The backward step in civilization. 5. The destruction of property.

The order could not be much worse. How shall a better be obtained?

Use Cards for Subdivisions.

The most helpful suggestion regarding a method of making the material in some degree visible, capable of being grasped, is that each subdivision be placed on a separate card, and that, as the material is gathered, it be put upon the card containing the group to which it belongs. By different arrangements of these cards the writer can find most easily the order that is natural and effective. It is much like anagrams, this ordering of matter in an essay. Take these letters, s-l-y-w-a-r-e, and in your head try to put them together to make a word; you will have some trouble, probably. If, however, these same letters be put upon separate slips of paper, you may with some arrangement get out the rather common word, lawyers. It is much the same with topic cards in exposition; they can be moved and rearranged in all possible ways, and at last an order distinctly better than any other will be found.

Speaking of cards, it might be well to say that the habit of putting down a fact or an idea bearing on a topic just as soon as it occurs to one is invaluable for a writer. All men have good memories; some persons have better ones than others. But there is no one who does not forget; and each catches himself very often saying, "I knew that, but I forgot it." It is a fact, not perhaps complimentary, that paper tablets are surer than the tablets of memory.

An Outline.

In exposition, where the whole attention of the reader should be given to the thought, where more than ever the mind should be freed from every hindrance, and its whole energy directed to getting the meaning, the greatest care should be given to making a plan. No person who has attained distinction in prose has worked without a plan. Any piece of literature, even the most discursive, has in it something of plan; but in literature of the first rank the plan is easily discovered. How clear it is in Macaulay's essay has been seen. In Burke it is yet more logical and exact. However beautiful a piece may be, however naturally one thought grows out of another, as though it were always so and could be no other way, be sure it is so because of some man's thought, on account of careful planning. And it may be said without a chance of contradiction that when an essay has been well planned it is half done, and that half by far the harder. "We can hardly at the present day understand what Menander meant, when he told a man who inquired as to the progress of his comedy that he had finished it, not having yet written a single line, because he had constructed the action of it in his mind. A modern critic would have assured him that the merit of his piece depended on the brilliant things which arose under his pen as he went along." The brilliant things are but the gargoyles and the scrolls, the ornaments of the structure; and when so brilliant as to attract especial attention, they divert the mind from the total effect much as a series of beautiful marbles set between those perfect columns would have ruined the Parthenon. It was not in any single feature—not in pediment, column, or capital, not in frieze, architrave, or tympanum—that its glorious beauty lay, but in the simple strength and the harmonious symmetry of the whole, in the general plan. Webster planned his orations, Newman planned his essays, Carlyle planned his Frederick the Great. Their works are not a momentary inspiration; they are the result of forethought, long and painstaking. The absolute essential in the structure of an essay, that without which it will fail to arrive anywhere, that compared to which all ornament, all fine writing, is but sounding brass and a tinkling cymbal, that absolute essential is the total effect secured by making a plan.

Mass the End.

The principles governing the arrangement of material are Mass and Coherence. Both are equally essential, but in practice some questions regarding Mass are settled first. The important positions in an essay are the beginning and the end; of these the more important is the end. In this place, then, there shall be those sentences or those paragraphs which deserve that distinction. Here frequently stands the theme, the conclusion of the whole matter, that for which the composition was constructed. So that if one wished to know the theme of an essay, he would be justified in looking at its conclusion to find it. In the essay on "Milton," it is evident from the last paragraph that Macaulay never intended it to be only a criticism of his poetry, though he has devoted many pages to this discussion. Here is just the last sentence: "Nor do we envy the man who can study either the life or the writings of the great poet and patriot without aspiring to emulate, not indeed the sublime works with which his genius has enriched our literature, but the zeal with which he labored for the public good, the fortitude with which he endured every private calamity, the lofty disdain with which he looked down on temptations and dangers, the deadly hatred which he bore to bigots and tyrants, and the faith which he so sternly kept with his country and his fame." Notice the last sentence of a delightful essay by George William Curtis; one could easily guess the contents and the title. "Fear of yourself, fear of your own rebuke, fear of betraying your consciousness of your duty and not doing it—that is the fear that Lovelace loved better than Lucasta; that is the fear which Francis, having done his duty, saved, and justly called it honor." Examples of the ending in which the theme of the essay stands in the place of greatest distinction are so plentiful that there needs no collector to establish the assertion.

In a single paragraph of exposition not exceeding two or three hundred words, it is a very safe rule for a beginner always to have the theme in the last sentence; or if he has stated the theme in the opening, to have a restatement of it in different form, fuller and more explicit usually, sometimes a shorter and more epigrammatic form, in the conclusion.

If the pupil should obey this little rule to have at the end something worthy of the position, a vast amount of time would be saved both to teacher and to pupil. It can be safely said that not more than one half the essays end when the thought ends. Instead of quitting when he has finished, the writer dribbles on, repeating in diluted fashion what he has said with some force before, and often introducing matters that are not within hailing distance of his theme. When one has said what he started out to say, it is time to stop. If he stops then, he will have something important in the place of distinction.

The Beginning.

The position of second importance is the beginning. If but a paragraph be written, the topic is usually announced at the opening. In short essays this is the most frequent beginning, and it may safely be used at all times. Exposition is explanation; the natural thing is to let the reader know at once what the writer is attempting to explain. Then the reader knows what the author is talking about and can relate every statement to the general proposition. To delay the topic compels the reader to hold in mind all that has been said up to the time the real theme is uncovered; this frequently results in inattention. In the little book by Mr. Palmer, the first paragraph opens with these two sentences: "English as a study has four aims: the mastery of our language as a science, as a history, as a joy, and as a tool. I am concerned with but one, the mastery of it as a tool." So, too, the essay of which the last sentence has been quoted begins: "These are very precious words of Lovelace:—

'I could not love thee, dear, so much, Loved I not honor more.'

And Francis First's message to his mother after Pavia, 'All is lost but honor,' is in the same key."

Instead of announcing the theme at the very beginning, in essays of some length there is sometimes an account of the occasion which led to the composition. Macaulay has used this opening in the essay on "Milton." Second, the opening may be the clearing away of matters unrelated in reality, but which people have commonly associated with the topic. And third, the essay may open with definitions of the terms that will be used in the discussion. Of these three, only the first will be much used by young persons. It makes an easy approach to the subject, and avoids the unpleasant jar of an abrupt start. It is common with Macaulay, Lowell, and many essayists that write in an easy, almost conversational style.

There is one case in which the theme should not be announced at the opening. If the proposition were distasteful, if it were generally believed to be false, it would not be policy to announce it at the beginning. However reasonable men may be, it is still true that reason is subject to emotions and beliefs to a greater degree than is praiseworthy. If a man should open an address upon Abraham Lincoln by saying that he was a cringing coward, he would have difficulty to get an audience to hear anything he said after that, no matter how much truth he spoke. The author of such a statement would be so disliked that nothing would win for him favor. When an unwelcome theme is to be discussed, it must be approached carefully by successive steps which prepare the reader for the reception of a truth that before seemed false to him. In this case the theme will be stated at the end, but not at the beginning of the essay.

Get started as soon as you can, and stop when you have finished; by so doing you will have important matters in those places which will emphasize them. Shun the allurements of high-sounding introductions and conclusions. Professor Marston used to tell his pupils to write the best introduction they could, to fashion their most gorgeous peroration, and to be sure to have the discussion clear, logical, and well expressed. Then he said that when he had cut off both ends, he generally had left a good essay. An essay should be done much as a business man does business. He does not want the gentleman who calls on him during business hours to bow and scatter compliments before he takes up the matter which brought him there; nor does he care to see him swaying on the doorknob after the business is finished. To the business at once, and leave off when you have done. Introductions, exordiums, perorations, and conclusions are worthless unless they be in reality a part of the discussion and necessary to the understanding of the whole.

Proportion in Treatment.

Everything, however, cannot occupy the first and last places. How can other matters be emphasized? To refer to the parallel of the map, in order to make people see that the Mississippi River is longer than the Hudson, the designer made it longer on the map. That is exactly what is done in an essay. If one matter is of greater importance than another, it should take up a larger part of the essay. When Macaulay passes over Milton's sonnets with a paragraph, while he devotes sixteen paragraphs to "Paradise Lost," he indicates by the greater mass the greater value he ascribes to the epic. So again, a very good proof that he did not intend this essay to be a literary criticism primarily, another evidence beside the closing paragraph, is found in his division of the whole essay. To Milton's poetry he has given forty-one paragraphs, and to his character fifty-two paragraphs. The most common way of emphasizing important divisions of an essay is by increasing the length of treatment.

Emphasis of Emotion.

However, there are times when this cannot be done: a point may be so well known that it needs no amplification. In such a case there may be an emphasis of emotion; that is, the statement may be made with an intensity that counterbalances the weight of the larger treatment. It might be said that the one has great velocity and little mass, while the other has great mass and little velocity. By hurling forth the smaller mass at a higher velocity, the momentum may be as great as when the larger mass moves with little velocity. The dynamic force of burning words may give an emphasis to a paragraph out of all proportion to the length of treatment. In one paragraph Macaulay dashes aside all the defenses of Charles. He writes:—

"The advocates of Charles, like the advocates of other malefactors against whom overwhelming evidence is produced, generally decline all controversy about the facts, and content themselves with calling testimony to character. He had so many private virtues! And had James II. no private virtues? Was Oliver Cromwell, his bitterest enemies themselves being the judges, destitute of private virtues? And what, after all, are the virtues ascribed to Charles? A religious zeal, not more sincere than that of his son, and fully as weak and narrow-minded, and a few of the ordinary household decencies which half the tombstones in England claim for those who lie beneath them. A good father! A good husband! Ample apologies indeed for fifteen years of persecution, tyranny, and falsehood." ("Essay on Milton.")

Phrases indicating Emphasis.

Moreover, phrases and sentences may be introduced to show that a writer considers some topics of equal importance to others, or even of greater importance, though they do not demand the same length of treatment. Of equal importance, not less weighty, beyond question the most pertinent, illustrate what is meant by phrases which indicate values. These and many of their class which the occasion will call forth are necessary to give certain topics the rank they hold in the writer's conception of the whole subject. In discussing the temper and character of the American people, Burke ascribes it to six powerful causes. The relative value of these is indicated in the last three by phrases. I quote only the opening sentences.

"First, the people of the colonies are descendants of Englishmen."... "They were further confirmed in this pleasing error by the form of their provincial legislative assemblies."... "If anything were wanting to this necessary operation of the form of government, religion would have given it a complete effect."... "There is a circumstance attending these [southern] colonies which makes the spirit of liberty still more high and haughty than in those to the northward."... "Permit me, Sir, to add another circumstance which contributes no mean part towards the growth and effect of this untractable spirit."... "The last cause of this disobedient spirit in the colonies is hardly less powerful than the rest."[21]

Emphasis is indicated, then, by position; by the length of treatment; by dynamic statement; and by phrases denoting values.

Coherence.

Coherence is the second principle which modifies the internal structure of a composition. That arrangement should be sought for that places in proximity one to another those ideas which are most closely related. More than in composition dealing with things, in those forms of discourse dealing with intangible, invisible ideas,—with thoughts, with speculations,—the greatest care is necessary to make one topic spring of necessity from a preceding topic. And this is not impossible when the material has been carefully selected. The principal divisions of the subject bear a necessary and logical relation to the whole theme, and the subordinate divisions have a similar relation to their main topic. In the essay on "Milton," Macaulay is seeking to commend his hero to the reader for two reasons: first, because his writings "are powerful, not only to delight, but to elevate and purify;" second, because "the zeal with which he labored for the public good, the fortitude with which he endured every private calamity, the lofty disdain with which he looked down on temptations and dangers, the deadly hatred which he bore to bigots and tyrants, and the faith which he so sternly kept with his country and with his fame" made him a patriot worthy of emulation. We feel instinctively that this arrangement, poetry first and character next, and not the reverse, is the right order. To discuss character first and poetry last would have been ruinous to Macaulay's purpose. Notice next the development of a sub-topic in the same essay. Only one sentence from a paragraph is given. The defenders of Charles do not choose to discuss "the great points of the question," but "content themselves with exposing some of the crimes and follies to which public commotions necessarily give birth." "Be it so." "Many evils were produced by the Civil War." "It is the character of such revolutions that we always see the worst of them first." Yet "there is only one cure for the evils which newly acquired freedom produces, and that cure is freedom." "Therefore it is that we decidedly approve of the conduct of Milton and the other wise and good men who, in spite of much that was ridiculous and hateful in the conduct of their associates, stood firmly by the cause of public liberty." No other arrangement of these paragraphs seems possible. To shift the sequence would break the chain. Each paragraph grows naturally from the paragraph preceding. Closely related topics stand together. There is Coherence.

Transition Phrases.

The logical connection between topics which have been well arranged may be made more evident by the skillful use of words and phrases that indicate the relation of what has been said to what is to be said. These phrases are guideposts pointing the direction the next topic will take. They advise the reader where he is and whither he is going. Cardinal Newman, who had the ability to write not only so that he could be understood, but so that he could not be misunderstood, made frequent use of these guides. The question in one of his essays is "whether knowledge, that is, acquirement, is the real principle of enlargement, or whether that is not rather something beyond it." These fragments of sentences open a series of paragraphs. 1. "For instance, let a person ... go for the first time where physical nature puts on her wilder and more awful forms," etc. 2. "Again, the view of the heavens which the telescope opens," etc. 3. "And so again, the sight of beasts of prey and other foreign animals," etc. 4. "Hence Physical Science generally," etc. 5. "Again, the study of history," etc. 6. "And in like manner, what is called seeing the world," etc. 7. "And then again, the first time the mind comes across the arguments and speculations of unbelievers," etc. 8. "On the other hand, Religion has its own enlargement," etc. 9. "Now from these instances, ... it is plain, first, that the communication of knowledge certainly is either a condition or a means of that sense of enlargement, or enlightenment of which at this day we hear so much in certain quarters: this cannot be denied; but next, it is equally plain, that such communication is not the whole of the process." How extremely valuable such phrases are may be realized from the fact that, though the matter is entirely unknown, any one can know the relation of the parts of this essay, whither it tends, and can almost supply Newman's thoughts.

Summary and Transition.

To secure coherence between the main divisions of an essay, instead of words and phrases, there are employed sentences and paragraphs of summary and transition. Summaries gather up what has been said on the topic, much like a conclusion to a theme; transitions show the relation between the topic already discussed and the one next to be treated. Summaries at the conclusion of any division of the whole subject are like the seats on a mountain path which are conveniently arranged to give the climber a needed rest, and to spread out at his feet the features of the landscape through which he has made his way. Summaries put the reader in possession of the situation up to that point, and make him ready for the next stage of the advance. At the end of the summary there is frequently a transition, either a few sentences or sometimes a short paragraph. The sentence or paragraph of transition is much more frequent than the paragraph which summarizes.

The examples of these summaries and transitions are so frequent in Macaulay and Burke that one transition is sufficient to indicate their use. Macaulay writes:—

"There are several minor poems of Milton on which we would willingly make a few remarks.... Our limits, however, prevent us from discussing the point at length. We hasten on to that extraordinary production which the general suffrage of critics has placed in the highest class of human compositions." ("Essay on Milton.")

To conclude, exposition embraces definition and explanation. Definition is usually too concise to be clear, and needs an added explanation. In any piece of exposition there must be unity, and this principle will dispense with everything that is not essential to the theme; there must be judicious massing, that those parts of the essay deserving emphasis may receive it; and there must be a coherence between the parts, large and small, so close and intimate that the progress from one topic to another shall be steady and without hindrance. Unity, Mass, and Coherence should be the main considerations in composition the aim of which is to explain a term or a proposition.

SUGGESTIVE QUESTIONS AND EXERCISES.

QUESTIONS.

MACAULAY'S ESSAY ON MILTON. (Riverside Literature Series, No. 103.)

What makes up the introduction of this essay? Does he use the same method in the Essay on Addison? Take a volume of his essays and see how many begin in similar fashion. At what paragraph of this Essay on Milton does the introduction end? Would it be as well to omit it? Give reasons for your opinion.

Make an analysis of his argument of the proposition, "No poet has ever triumphed over greater difficulties than Milton."

Does Macaulay give a definition of poetry on page 13, or is it an exposition of the term?

What figure of speech do you find in the last sentence of the paragraph on page 43?

When Macaulay begins to discuss "the public conduct of Milton," what method of introduction does he adopt? What value is there in it?

Do the trifles mentioned at the end of the paragraph on page 55 make an anticlimax?

What arrangement of sentences in the paragraph does he use most, individual or serial?

Does he close his paragraphs with a repetition of the topic more frequently than with a single detail emphasizing the topic?

Is his last sentence, in case it is a repetition of the topic, longer or shorter than the topic sentence?

Does Macaulay frequently use epigrams? antitheses?

Find all transition paragraphs.

Find ten full sentence transitions outside of the transition paragraphs.

Where, in such paragraphs, is the topic sentence?

In this essay find examples of the five methods of expounding a proposition.

Which method does Macaulay use oftenest?

Is his treatment of the subject concrete?

What advantage is there in such treatment?

OF KINGS' TREASURIES. (Riverside Literature Series, No. 142.)

Do you think the title good?

Is Ruskin wise in disclosing his subject at once?

In section 3 what purpose does the first paragraph fulfill? What method of exposition is adopted in the last paragraph? What method in section 4?

For what purpose is the first paragraph of section 5 introduced? Is the last paragraph of this section a digression?

Do you think the last sentence of section 9 upon the topic announced in the first sentence? Where does Ruskin begin to treat the second topic? Should there be two paragraphs?

Find the genus and differentia in the definition of "a good book of the hour."

What is the use of the analogy in section 13?

What figure do you find in section 14?

Do you think a large part of section 30 a digression?

What do you think of the structure of sentences 4 and 8 in section 32? Could you improve it by a change of punctuation?

What is the effect of the supposed case at the end of section 33? Is it a fair deduction? Is it at the right place in the paragraph, and why?

Where would you divide the paragraph in section 37?

Is the example in section 36 a fair one, and does it prove the case?

What is a very common method with Ruskin of connecting paragraphs?

Could you break up the sixth sentence of section 31 so that it would be better?

If his audience had been hostile to him would he have been fortunate in some of his assertions? Make an analysis of the whole essay. Does he seem to you to have digressed from his topic? At what point? Should it be two essays?

What led Ruskin into this long criticism of English character?

Could you include all the main topics that Ruskin has included, and by a change in proportion keep the essay on the subject?

WEBSTER'S BUNKER HILL ORATION. (Riverside Literature Series, No. 56.)

Number the paragraphs in this oration.

Why is paragraph 3 introduced?

What method of development is used in paragraph 7? In paragraph 8?

In how many paragraphs is the last sentence short?

In how many is the last sentence a repetition of the topic?

What purpose is served in paragraphs 8, 9, and 10?

In paragraph 12 note the use of contrast.

What kind of development in paragraph 27?

Analyze the oration from paragraph 28.

Does he place the topic sentence near the beginning of the paragraphs?

Does he frequently use transition sentences?

Do you think the outline of this as distinct as that of Macaulay's Essay on Milton? Should it be?

What figure of speech in the word "axe" in paragraph 32, and "bayonet" in paragraph 36?

What figure at the end of paragraph 40?

Does he use figures as frequently as Macaulay?

EXERCISES.

This year, taking up the study of exposition, offers especially good opportunities for exercises in paragraph and sentence construction. During the first eight or ten weeks the pupils will write isolated paragraphs. The unity and arrangement of these should be carefully criticised. Also the exercises should be arranged so that the pupils will employ all forms of paragraphs. Before he begins to write a paragraph, the pupil should know what he is to include in it, and in what order; otherwise the paragraph will fail in unity and effective massing. Paragraphs are made by forethought, not by inspiration.

Following the writing of isolated paragraphs is the composition of the long essay. The first thing is a study of outlines. This will take up six or eight weeks. To secure the view of the whole in different arrangements, use the cards.

When the class has gained some grasp of outlines, the writing of essays should be begun. At the option of the pupils, they may write some of the essays already outlined, or study new themes. Two or three paragraphs are all that can be well done for a lesson. Good, not much, should be the ideal. In this way a single essay may occupy a class from three to six weeks.

It should be remembered that these exercises are written consciously for practice. They are exercises—no more. Their purpose is to give skill and judgment in composition. It is because they are exercises that they may be somewhat stereotyped and artificial in form, just as exercises in music may be artificially constructed to meet the difficulties the young musician will have to confront.

During the writing of these essays special attention should be given to sentence construction. The inclusion of just the ideas needed in the sentence and no more; the massing that makes prominent the thought that deserves prominence; and the nice adjustment of one sentence to the next: these objects should be striven for during this semester.

1, 2. Write definitions of such common terms as jingoism, civil service, gold standard, the submerged tenth, sweat shop, internal revenue, cyclonic area, foreign policy, imperialism, free silver, mugwump, political pull, Monroe doctrine, etc. Five or six terms which are not found in a dictionary will make a hard exercise; and two or three lessons in definitions will set the pupils in the direction of accurate and adequate statements.

For isolated paragraphs write upon the following subjects:—

3. Novel reading gives one a knowledge of the world not to be gained in any other way. Particulars.

4. Novel reading unfits people for the actualities of life. Specific instances.

5. Among the numerous uses of biography three stand forth preeminent,—it furnishes the material of history, it lets us into the secrets of the good and great, and it sets before us attainable ideals of noble humanity. Repetition.

6. It is beyond any possibility of successful contradiction that the examination system encourages cheating. Proofs.

7. Electric cars and automobiles are driving horses out of the cities. Instances.

8. Every great development in the culture of a nation has followed a great war. Proofs.

9. From the following general subjects have the pupils state definite themes. Write isolated paragraphs on a few of them.

Political Parties. War. Books. Machines. Inventions. Great Men. Planets. Civil Service. Coeducation. Roads. Tramps. Boycotts.

10. Place another similar list on the board and have the pupils vote on what three they prefer. Use these in making outlines. Then select more.

Supposing they had settled upon this theme: The tramp is the logical result of our economic system; have it outlined. The result might be as follows:—

A. What is a tramp? 1. Who become tramps? 2. Their number. 3. Where are they? B. Why is he a tramp? 1. Inventions have increased the power of production more rapidly than the demand for products has grown. a. On the farm. b. Transportation. c. Factories. d. Piecework. 2. Women now do much work formerly done by men. a. As clerks. b. As typewriters, stenographers, and bookkeepers. c. In the professions. 3. The result of these causes is that many men willing to work are out of employment. C. What must be done?

11. Fill out the following outline.

Subject: The Thermometer. A. Its Invention. B. Its Construction. C. Its Value and Uses.

12. Outline six more themes.

13. Beginning the writing of long essays, write essays in sections. Using "Tramps" for an illustration, as it is outlined it contains about twelve paragraphs. All of section "A" may be included in one paragraph. "B, 1" may be a paragraph of repetition; "a," "b," "c," "d," may each make a paragraph of particulars. By stating "B, 2" in the following way, it may be a paragraph of "what not:" It was once considered unladylike for women to engage in any occupation outside of the home. Men said that they could not retain, etc.—Go on with the things woman could not do, closing with a statement of what she does do.

"B, 2, a." On account of their fidelity, honesty, and courtesy, women succeed as clerks. Repetition.

b. The quickness of their intelligence and the accuracy of their work have made women more desirable for routine work in an office than men. Comparison and Contrast.

c. There are certain feminine qualities which especially fit women for the practice of teaching and medicine. Details.

"B, 3." By Combination of Forms.

"C." By Details.

It would be a pleasure to go on with this list of exercises, but it is unnecessary and it is unwise. These indicate the objects to be sought for in the exercises. They are not a specific course, though they might suit a certain environment. Each teacher knows her own pupils,—their attainments and their interests. The subjects should be chosen to suit their special cases. Only make them interesting; put them into such form that there is something to get hold of; and adapt them so that all the topics to be studied will be illustrated in the work. The pupils should be able to write any form of paragraph, to arrange it so that any idea is made prominent, and to make easy transitions. Arrange the exercises to accomplish definite results.

During the third year, attention should be given to words and to the refinements of elegant composition. These the pupils will best learn by careful watch of the literature. The teacher should be quick to feel the strength and beauty of any passage and able to point out the means adopted to obtain the delightful effect. Clearness first is the thing to be desired; if to this can be added force and a degree of elegance during the last two years, the work of the instructor has been well done.

* * * * *

CHAPTER VI

ARGUMENT

Argument has been defined as that form of discourse the purpose of which is to convince the reader of the truth or falsity of a proposition. It is closely allied with exposition. To convince a person, it is first necessary that the proposition be explained to him. This is all that is necessary in many cases. Did men decide all matters without prejudice, and were they willing to accept the truth at any cost, even to discard the beliefs that have been to them the source of greatest happiness, the simple explanation would be sufficient. However, as men are not all-wise, and as they are not always "reasonable," they are found to hold different opinions regarding the same subject; and one person often wishes to convince another of the error of his beliefs. Men continually use the words because and therefore; indeed, a great deal of writing has in it an element of argument.

From the fact that argument and exposition are so nearly alike, it follows that they will be governed by much the same principles. As argument, in addition to explaining, seeks to convince, it is necessary, in addition to knowing how to explain, to know what is considered convincing,—what are proofs; and secondly, what is the best order in which to arrange proofs.

Induction and Deduction.

Arguments have been classified as inductive and deductive.[22] Induction includes arguments that proceed from individual cases to establish a general truth. Deduction comprises arguments that proceed from a general truth to establish the proposition in specific instances, or groups of instances.

Syllogism. Premises.

If one should say "Socrates is mortal because he is a man," or "Socrates will die because all men are mortal," or "Socrates is a man, therefore he will die," by any of these he has expressed a truth which all men accept. In any of these expressions are bound up two propositions, called premises, from which a third proposition, called a conclusion, is derived. If expanded, the three propositions assume this form: All men are mortal. Socrates is a man. Therefore Socrates is mortal. This is termed a syllogism. A syllogism consists of a major premise, a predication about all the members of a general class of objects; a minor premise, a predication that includes an individual or a group of individuals in the general class named by the major premise; and a conclusion, the proposition which is derived from the relation existing between the other two propositions. The propositions above would be classified as follows:—

Major premise: All men are mortal, a predication about all men.

Minor premise: Socrates is a man, including an individual in the general class.

Conclusion: Socrates is mortal.

Terms.

In every syllogism there are three terms,—major, minor, and middle. The middle term is found in both the premises, but not in the conclusion. It is the link connecting the major and minor terms. The major term is usually the predicate of the major premise and the predicate of the conclusion. The minor term is the subject of the minor premise and the subject of the conclusion. "Men" is the middle term, "are mortal" the major term, and "Socrates," the minor term.

Enthymeme.

It is rarely the case in literature that the syllogism is fully stated: generally one of the premises is omitted. Such a form of statement is termed an enthymeme. "Socrates will die because all men are mortal" is an enthymeme. The minor premise has been omitted. "Socrates is mortal because he is a man" is also an enthymeme, because the major premise which states that "all men are mortal" has been omitted.

The conclusions arrived at by means of syllogisms are irresistible, provided the form be correct and the premises be true. It is impossible here to discuss the forms of syllogisms; they are too many. It will be of value, however, to call attention to a few of the commonest errors in syllogisms.

Definition of Terms.

The first error arises from a misunderstanding of terms. It is often said that George Eliot is a poet; there are some who disagree. Certain it is that she wrote in verse form; and it is true that she has embodied noble thoughts in verse; but it is quite as true that she lacks "the bird-note." If this were reduced to a syllogism, it would not be a discussion of whether George Eliot be a poet, but rather a discussion of what is a poet. Stated, it reads: All persons who embody noble thoughts in verse form are poets. George Eliot is a person who has embodied noble thoughts in verse form. Therefore George Eliot is a poet. If the major premise of this syllogism be granted, the conclusion is unquestionable. The terms should be defined at the beginning; then this error, springing from a misunderstanding of terms, perhaps the most common, would be avoided.

Undistributed Middle.

The second error arises from the fact that the middle term is not "distributed;" that is, the major premise makes no statement about all the members of a class. The premises in the following are true, but the conclusion is nonsense.

A horse is an animal. Man is an animal. Therefore, man is a horse.

The middle term, in this case "animal," must be "distributed;" some statement must be made of all animals. The following would be true: All animals have life; therefore man has life. The major premise predicates life of all animals.

False Premises.

A third error in a syllogism is in the premises themselves. If either premise be false, the conclusion is not necessarily true. A parent might say to his son, "You are doing wrong, and you will pay the penalty for it soon." Generally he would be right. However, if this were put into a syllogism, it would read as follows: All persons who do wrong pay the penalty soon. You are such a person. Therefore, etc. Admitting the son is breaking the law, the fact is that the major premise is not always true, and the conclusion holds the weakness of the weak premise. Again, supposing everybody accepted the general truth, "All unrepentant sinners will be punished." The minister might then say to a young man, "You will certainly be punished, because all unrepentant sinners will be punished." The young man might deny the suppressed minor premise, which is, "You are an unrepentant sinner." Both premises must be true if they prove anything. The conclusion contains the weakness of either premise. In both of these examples note that the mistake is in the premise which does not appear. In an enthymeme, great care should be taken with the suppressed premise. Be sure it is true when you use this form of argument, and be sure to look for it and state it in full when examining another's argument. It is a common way of hiding a weak point to cover it in the suppressed premise of an enthymeme.

Method of Induction.

Induction, which proceeds directly opposite to the method of deduction, is the method by which all our ultimate knowledge has been obtained. By observing individual instances man has gathered a great store of general truths. There was a time when the first man would not have been justified in saying, "The sun will rise in the east to-morrow." The general law had not been established. To-day it is practically certain that the sun will rise in the east to-morrow morning, because it has done so for thousands of years; the large number of instances establishes the general truth. Yet there may come a day when it will rise in the south, or not rise at all. Until every case has been tried and found to conform to the law, theoretically man cannot be absolutely certain of any general truth. There may come an exception to the general rule that all men must die. So far, however, there is no experience to justify any man in hoping to escape death. "As sure as death" means in practice absolutely sure, though this is not what is called a perfect induction; that is, an induction in which every possible case has been included. "All the other States are smaller than Texas" is a perfect induction, but it forms no basis for argument. All the cases must be known for a perfect induction; there is no unknown to argue to. This, then, is only a short statement of many individual truths, and has but little of value. Induction that is imperfect is more valuable; for with many cases the probability becomes so strong that it is a practical certainty. It is the method of science.

More valuable for literature is another division of arguments into arguments from cause, arguments from sign, and arguments from example.

Arguments from Cause.

Arguments from cause include those propositions which, if they were granted, would account for the fact or proposition maintained. The decisive test is to suppose the proposition to be true; then, if it will account for the condition, it is an argument from cause. A child holds its finger in a flame; therefore its finger is burned. If the first proposition be supposed to be true, it will account for a burned finger. It is an argument from cause, and it is conclusive. Again, if a man severs his carotid artery, he will die. If the first proposition be supposed to be true, it will account for the man's subsequent death. Now, supposing a man takes strychnine, he will die. This is not quite so sure. If a stomach-pump were used or an antidote given, he might not die. The cause has been hindered in its action, or another cause has intervened to counterbalance the first. If, then, a cause be adequate to produce the effect, and if it act unhindered or unmodified, the effect will certainly follow the active cause. An argument that uses as a premise such a cause may predicate its effect as a conclusion with absolute certainty. Such an argument is conclusive.

The argument from cause is used more frequently to establish a probability than to prove a fact or proposition. However strong the proofs of a statement may be, men hesitate to accept either the statement or the proofs if the proposition is not plausible, or, as people say, if "they do not understand it," or if "it is not reasonable." If a murder be done and circumstances all point to your friend, you do not believe your friend to be the criminal until some fact is produced sufficient to cause your friend to commit the crime,—until some motive is established. If it be shown that the friend hated the murdered man and would be benefited by his death, a motive is established,—the proposition is made plausible. A man could "understand how he came to do it." The hatred and the benefit being granted, they would account for his deed. It is an argument from cause, used not as a proof, but to establish a probability. It makes the proposition ready for proof.

Arguments from Sign.

The second class of arguments, arguments from sign, is most often used for proof. If two facts or conditions always occur together, the presence of one is a sign of the presence of the other. Cause and effect are so related that if either be observed, it is an indication of the other. No cause acts without a consequent effect; an effect is a sure sign of a preceding cause. Supposing one should say, "Because the flowers are dead, there was a frost," or "If ice has formed on the river, it must have been cold," in both instances the argument would be an argument from sign. Both also proceed from the effect to the cause. Only a low temperature forms ice on the river; the argument from effect to cause is conclusive. In the first case, the argument is not conclusive, because flowers may die from other causes. In a case like this, it is necessary to find all possible causes, and then by testing each in succession to determine which could not have acted and leave the one that is the only actual cause. A man is found dead; death has resulted from natural causes, from murder, or from suicide. Each possible cause would be tested; and by elimination of the other possible causes the one right cause would be left. This method of elimination is frequently employed in arguments from effect to cause. When this method is used the alternatives should be few, else it gives rise to confusion and to lack of attention caused by the tediousness of the discussion. And an enumeration of all possible causes must be made; for if one be omitted it may be the one that is in fact the right one.

The relation between cause and effect is so intimate that the occurrence of one may be regarded as a sure sign of the presence of the other. If an effect is produced by only one cause, the presence of the effect is a certain indication of the cause. If several causes produce the same effect, some other methods must be used to determine the cause operating in this special case.

Sequence and Cause.

In reasoning from effect to cause, one must be sure that he is dealing with a cause. As effect follows cause, there is danger that anything that follows another may be considered as caused by it. Because a man died just after eating, it would not be quite reasonable to connect eating and death as cause and effect. The fact is that death is surer to follow starvation. The glow at evening is generally followed by fair weather the next day; but the fair weather is not an effect of a clear sunset. Common sense must be used to determine whether the relation is one of cause and effect; something more than a simple sequence is necessary.

Another argument from sign associates conditions that frequently occur together, though one is not the cause of the other. "James is near, because there is his blind father," means that James always accompanies his father; where the father is, the son is too. If one had noticed that potatoes planted at the full of the moon grew well, and potatoes planted at other times did not thrive, he might say as a result of years of observation that a certain crop would be a failure because it was not planted at the right time. This argument might have weight with ignorant people, but intelligent persons do not consider it a sure sign. All signs belong to this class of arguments; they are of value or worthless as they come true more or less frequently. Every time there is an exception the argument is weakened; another case of its working strengthens it. Where there is no sure relation like cause and effect, the strength of the argument depends on the frequency of the recurrence of the associated conditions.

A third argument from sign associates two effects of the same cause. A lad on waking exclaims, "The window is covered with frost; I can go skating to-day." The frost on the window is not the cause of the ice on the river. Rather, both phenomena are results of the same cause. This kind of argument is not necessarily conclusive; yet with others it always strengthens a case.

Testimony is usually called an argument from sign. The assertion by some one that a thing occurred is not sure proof; it is only a sign that it occurred. People have said that they have seen witches, ghosts, and sea serpents, and unquestionably believed it; men generally do not accept their testimony. In a criminal case, it would be difficult to accept the testimony of both sides. Though testimony seems a strong argument, it is or it is not, according to the conditions under which it is given. One would care little for the testimony of an ignorant man in a matter that called for wisdom; he would hesitate to accept the testimony of a man who claimed he saw, but upon cross-examination could not report what he saw; and he would not think it fair to be condemned upon the testimony of his enemies. Books have been written upon evidence, but three principles are all that are needed in ordinary arguments. First, the person giving testimony must be capable of observation; second, he must be able to report accurately what he has observed; third, he must have a desire to tell the exact truth.

Arguments from Example.

The third large division comprises arguments from example. That is, if a truth be asserted of an individual, it can therefore be predicated of the class to which the individual belongs. For instance, if the first time a person saw a giraffe, he observed that it was eating grass, he would be justified in saying that giraffes are herbivorous. All gold is yellow, heavy, and not corroded by acid, though no one has tested it all. However, every giraffe does not have one ear brown and the other gray because the first one seen happened to be so marked; neither is all gold in the shape of ten-dollar gold pieces. Only common sense will serve to pick out essential qualities; but if essential and invariable qualities be selected, the argument from the example of an individual to all members of its class is very powerful.

Analogies resemble examples. In exposition they are used for illustration; in argument they are employed as proofs. Though two things belong to different classes of objects, they may have some qualities that are similar, and so an argument may be made from one to another. "Natural Law in the Spiritual World" is a book written to show how the physical laws hold true in the region of spirit. It is not because an enemy sowed tares in a neighbor's field that there are wicked men in the world; nor is it because a lover of jewels will sell everything that he has to buy the pearl of greatest price that men devote everything they have to the kingdom of heaven. Analogies prove nothing. They clear up relations and often help the reader to appreciate other arguments. They are valuable when the likeness is broad and easily traced. They should never be used alone.

These, then, are the principal forms of argument: deduction and induction; arguments from cause, from sign, and from example. Upon these men depend when they wish to convince of truth or error.

Selection of Material.

In argument the material is selected with reference to its value as proof. Every particle of matter must be carefully tested. While a piece of material that could be omitted without loss to the explanation may sometimes find a place in exposition, such a thing must not occur in argument. As soon as a reader discovers that the writer is off the track, either he loses respect for the author's words, or he suspects him of trying to hide the weakness of his position in a cloud of worthless and irrelevant matters. Every bit of material should advance the argument one step; it should fill its niche in the well-planned structure; it should contribute its part to the strength of the whole.

Plan called The Brief.

When the material has been selected, it must be arranged. An argument is a demonstration. Each of its parts is the natural result of what has preceded, and, up to the last step, each part is the basis for the next step. As in geometry a demonstration that omits one step in its development, or, which comes to the same thing, puts the point out of its logical order, is worthless as a demonstration, so in argument not one essential step can be omitted, nor can it be misplaced. The plan in an argument may be more evident than in exposition. We are a little offended if the framework shows too plainly in exposition; but there is no offense in a well-articulated skeleton in an argument. It is quite the rule that the general plan and the main divisions of the argument are announced at the very beginning. Any device that will make the relation of the parts clearer should be used. Over and over again the writer should arrange the cards with the topics until he is certain that no other order is so good. The writing is a mere trifle compared with the outline, called in argument the brief.

Though the brief is so essential, it is unfortunately a thing about which but few suggestions can be given. The circumstances under which arguments are written—especially whether written to defend a position or to attack it—are so various that rules cannot be given. Still a few general principles may be of value.

Climax.

Proofs should be arranged in a climax. This does not mean that the weakest argument should come first, and the next stronger should follow, and so on until the last and strongest is reached. It is necessary to begin with something that will catch the attention; and in argument it is frequently a proof strong enough to convince the reader that the writer knows what he is contending for, and that he can strike a hard blow. Then again, it is evident that in all arguments there are main points in the discussion that must be established by points of minor importance. The main points should be arranged in a logical climax, and the sub-topics which go to support one of the main divisions should have their climax. At the end of the whole should be the strongest and the most comprehensive argument. It should be a general advance of the whole line of argument, including all the propositions that have previously been called into action, sweeping everything before it.

Inductive precedes Deductive.

To gain this climax what kind of arguments should precede? Of inductive and deductive, the inductive proofs generally go first. The advance from particular instances to general truths is the best suited to catch the attention, for men think with individual examples, and general truths make little appeal to them. Moreover, if one is addressing people of opposing views,—and in most cases he is, else why is he arguing?—it is unwise to begin with bald statements of unwelcome truths. They will be rejected without consideration. They can with advantage be delayed until they are reached in the regular development, and the reader has been prepared for their reception. General truths and their application by deductive arguments usually stand late in the brief.

Cause precedes Sign.

Of arguments from cause, sign, or example, it is ordinarily wise to place arguments from cause first. A person does not listen to any explanation of an unknown truth until he knows that the explanation is plausible; that the cause assigned is adequate to produce the result. After one knows that the cause is sufficient and may have brought about the result, he is in a position to learn that it is the very cause that produced the effect. Arguments from cause are very rarely conclusive proofs of fact. They only establish a probability. And it would be unwise to prove that a thing might be a possibility after one had attempted to prove that it is a fact. It would be a long step backward, a retreat. Therefore arguments from cause, unless absolutely conclusive proof of fact, should not come last; but by other arguments,—by testimony, by example, by analogy,—the possibility, which has been reached by the argument from cause, may be established as a fact.

Example follows Sign.

Of the two, sign and example, example generally follows sign. In arguments about human affairs, examples seldom prove anything; for under similar conditions one person may not act like another. Though this be true, the argument from example is one of the most effective—it is not at all conclusive—in that class of cases where oratory is combined with argument to convince and persuade. This is because men learn most readily from examples. To reason about matters of conduct on abstract principles of morality convinces but few; to point to a Lincoln or a Franklin has persuaded thousands. Examples are of most use in enforcing and illustrating and strengthening a point already established, and they generally follow arguments from sign.

Refutation.

One other class of arguments finds a place in debate: namely, indirect arguments. It is often as much an advantage to a debater to dispose of objections as it is to establish his own case. This is because a question usually has two alternatives. If one can refute the arguments in favor of the opponent's position, he has by that very process established his own. If the points of the refutation are of minor importance and are related to any division of his own direct argument, the refutation of such points should be taken up in connection with the related parts of the direct argument. If, however, it is an argument of some weight and should be considered separate and apart from the direct argument, it is generally wisest to proceed to its demolition at the end of the direct argument and before the conclusion of the whole. For then the whole weight of the direct argument will be thrown into the refutation and will render every word so much the more destructive. Again, if the opposing argument be very strong and have taken complete possession of the audience, it must be attacked and disposed of at the very beginning. Otherwise it is impossible for the direct argument to make any advance.

From these suggestions one derives the general principle that each case must be considered by itself. There will be cases of conflict among the rules, and there must be a careful weighing of methods. Common sense and patient labor are the most valuable assistants in arranging a powerful argument.

It hardly needs to be said that the suggestions made in the chapter on Exposition regarding Mass and Coherence should be observed here. In argument as in exposition, topics are emphasized by position, and by proportion in the scale of treatment. Here as there, matters that are closely related in thought should be connected in the discourse, and matters that are not related in thought should not be associated in the essay.

It will be an advantage now to look through "Conciliation with the Colonies" and note its general plan of structure. Only the main divisions of this powerful oration can be given, as to make a full brief would deprive this piece of literature of half its value for study.

Analysis of Burke's Oration.

Mr. Burke begins by saying that it is "an awful subject or there is none this side of the grave." He states that he has studied the question for years, and while Parliament has pursued a vacillating policy and one aggravating to the colonies, he has a fixed policy and one sure to restore "the former unsuspecting confidence in the Mother Country." His policy is simple peace. This by way of introduction. He then divides the argument into two large divisions and proceeds.

I. OUGHT YOU TO CONCEDE? A. What are "the true nature and the peculiar circumstances of the object which we have before us?" I. America has a rapidly growing population. II. It has a rapidly increasing commercial value, shown by 1. Its demand for our goods. 2. The value of its agricultural products. 3. The value of the products of its fisheries. III. There is in the people a "fierce spirit of liberty." This is the result of 1. Their descent from Englishmen. 2. Their popular form of government. 3. Religion in the North. 4. The haughty spirit of the South. 5. Their education. 6. Their remoteness from the governing body. B. "You have before you the object." "What ... shall we do with it?" "There are but three ways of proceeding relative to this stubborn spirit in the colonies." I. To change it by removing the causes. This is impracticable. II. To prosecute it as criminal. This is inexpedient. III. To comply with it as necessary. This is the answer to the first question.

II. OF WHAT NATURE OUGHT THE CONCESSION TO BE? A. A concession that grants to any colony the satisfaction of the grievances it complains of brings about conciliation and peace. This general proposition is established by the following examples. It has done so in 1. Ireland, 2. Wales, 3. Durham, and 4. Chester. B. The grievances complained of in America are unjust taxation and no representation. C. Therefore these resolutions rehearsing facts and calculated to satisfy their grievances will bring about conciliation and peace. I. They are unrepresented. II. They are taxed. III. No method has been devised for procuring a representation in Parliament for the said Colonies. IV. Each colony has within itself a body with powers to raise, levy, and assess taxes. V. These assemblies have at sundry times granted large subsidies and aids to his Majesty's service. VI. Experience teaches that it is expedient to follow their method rather than force payment. D. As a result of the adoption of these resolutions, "everything which has been made to enforce a contrary system must, I take it for granted, fall along with it. On that ground, I have drawn the following resolutions." I. It is proper to repeal certain legislation regarding taxes, imports, and administration of justice. II. To secure a fair and unbiased judiciary. III. To provide better for the Courts of Admiralty. E. He next considers objections. Conclusion.

Notice first the introduction. It goes straight to the question. To tell a large opposition that it has vacillated on a great question is not calculated to win a kind hearing; yet this point, necessary to Burke's argument, is so delicately handled that no one could be seriously offended, nor could any one charge him with weakness. The introduction serves its purpose; it gains the attention of the audience and it exactly states the proposition.

He then divides the whole argument into two parts. The framework is visible, and with intent. These great divisions he takes up separately. First, that there may be a perfect understanding of the question, he explains "the true nature and the peculiar circumstances of the object which we have before us." This illustrates the use of exposition in argument. The descent and education did not prove that the Americans had a fiery spirit; that was acknowledged and needed no proof. It simply sets forth the facts,—facts which he afterward uses as powerful instruments of conviction. As long as a man can use exposition, he can carry his readers with him; it is when he begins to argue, to force matters, that he raises opposition. So this use of exposition was fortunate. America was an English colony. Her strength and riches were England's strength and wealth. It would be pleasing to all Englishmen to hear the recital of America's prosperity. Up to the time he asks, "What, in the name of God, shall we do with it," the oration is not essentially argument; it does nothing more than place "before you the object."

In the section marked "I. B," Burke begins the real argument by the method of elimination. He asserts that there are only three ways of dealing with this fierce spirit of liberty. Then he conclusively proves the first impracticable and the second inexpedient. There is left but the one course, concession. This method of proof is absolutely conclusive if every possible contingency is stated and provided for. Notice that in this section "B" everything that was mentioned in the first section "A" is used, and the whole is one solid mass moving forward irresistibly to the conclusion of the first and the most important part of this argument.

The second main division is devoted to the conclusion of the first. If you must concede,—the conclusion of the first half,—what will be the nature of your concession? A concession, to be a concession, must grant what the colonists wish, not what the ministry thinks would be good for them. Then by the history of England's dealings with Ireland, Wales, Chester, and Durham, he proves that such a concession has been followed by peace. This makes the major premise of his syllogism, stated in "II. A." The minor premise is a statement of the grievances of the colonies. The conclusion is in the resolutions for the redress of the grievances of the colonies. The second part is then one great syllogism, the premises of which are established by ample proof, the conclusion of which cannot well be disputed.

"And here I should close," says the orator; the direct argument is finished. There are some objections which demand dignified consideration. At this point, however, it is easy to refute any objections, for behind each word there is now the crushing weight of the whole argument.

The conclusion recites the advantages of Burke's plan over all others, and reasserts its value, now proven at every point. It is a powerful summary, and a skillful plea for the adoption of a policy of conciliation with the colonies of America.