Dr Blair says that the periodic style is "the most pompous, musical, and oratorical manner of composing," and that it "gives an air of gravity and dignity to composition." The Doctor pro

bably had in his eye such periodic writers as Hooker, Sir Thomas Browne, and Johnson. Undoubtedly long periodic sentences give great scope for pomp, music, gravity, dignity, and such effects, but these are not necessary attributes of the period. A period, as we have defined it, need not be long; and a lively interest may be sustained as well as a grave interest.

Advantages and disadvantages of the periodic structure.—To some extent we have anticipated these in considering the effect of the period.

In light subjects, neatness or finish is generally regarded as an advantage. Yet even in this a caution is needed; rounded neatness, if it recurs too frequently, may become tiresome. The caution can probably be given in no more definite form than Hamlet's. Be not too periodic neither, but let your own discretion be your

tutor.

In unfamiliar subjects, care must be taken that the considerations kept in suspense be not too numerous or too abstruse. De Quincey has vividly described "the effect of weariness and repulsion which may arise from this single vice of unwieldy comprehensiveness in the structure of sentences." "Those who are not accustomed to watch the effects of composition upon the feelings, or have had little experience in voluminous reading pursued for weeks, would scarcely imagine how much of downright physical exhaustion is produced by what is technically called the periodic style of writing. It is not the length, the dreраvтоλoyía, the paralytic flux of words. It is not even the cumbrous involution of parts within parts, separately considered, that bears so heavily upon the attention. It is the suspense, the holding on of the mind until what is called the dródoσis, or coming round of the sentence, commences. This it is which wears out the faculty of attention. A sentence, for example, begins with a series of ifs; perhaps a dozen lines are occupied with expanding the conditions under which something is affirmed or denied. Here you cannot dismiss and have done with the ideas as you go along; for as yet all is hypothetic-all is suspended in air. The conditions are not fully to be understood until you are acquainted with the dependency: you must give a separate attention to each clause of this complex hypothesis, and yet, having done that by a painful effort, you have done nothing at all; for you must exercise a reacting attention through the corresponding latter section, in order to follow out its relations to all parts of the hypothesis which sustains it." These remarks point to the abuse rather than to the use of the periodic style, and were

directed against a prevailing style in newspaper "leaders." It is obviously necessary, for the avoiding of perplexity, not to bring in too many or too abstruse considerations before their bearing is made known. A writer with the least regard for his readers, should see that by so doing he exacts too severe an effort of attention. It may safely be laid down that the longer a period is, the simpler should be both the language and the matter of the suspended clauses.

Mr Herbert Spencer in his Essay on the Philosophy of Style,' and Professor Bain in his Rhetoric, advocate what we have defined as periodic structure, on the ground that it enables us to apprehend the meaning of a complex statement with less risk of confusion. The advantage of placing qualifying words before the object that they qualify is briefly stated in Bain's Rhetoric, under the "order of words."

The legitimate use of the periodic structure in impassioned prose is best seen in the so-called "prose fantasies" of De Quincey.

II. Sentences studiously Long and studiously Short.-No small element in the mechanical art of sentence-building is the adjustment of the length of the sentence. One of the greatest faults in our early writers is that their sentences are too long. They did not know when to stop. They seem to have been afraid to let a sentence out of their hands till they had tacked on all the more important qualifications of the main statement. They thus frequently ran on to a most cumbrous length; and when they did proceed to a new sentence, frequently took no pains to connect it with the preceding main statement, but started off in pursuit of some subordinate idea suggested by one of the qualifying statements. So defective, indeed, were they in sentence-structure, that it is dangerous for a beginner in composition to spend much time in their company. And one great part of this deficiency was, that they did not know when to end a sentence, or, in other words, that they had not the art of beginning a new sentence at the proper point.

It would be absurd to prescribe a definite limit for the length of sentences, or even to say in what proportion long and short should be intermixed. Here, too, discretion is the tutor. Only it must be borne in mind that a long series either of very short sentences or of very long sentences is tiresome.

The distinction between the "periodic style" (style périodique) and the "abrupt style" (style coupé) depends to a great extent upon the length of the sentences. The Periodic style (as we see from its description by De Quincey) implies something more than the use of the periodic structure; it implies long periods, elaborately constructed, holding a flock of clauses" in suspense, and moving with a stately rhythm. So in the Abrupt style, the short

sentence is an important feature, although, as appears in the style of Macaulay, it is not the only feature.1

The use of a startling series of short sentences may almost be said to be a feature of English oratory. We find it in the journals of the Elizabethan Parliaments; and, later, in the writings of Bolingbroke, in the published speeches of Chatham, and in the speeches and writings of Burke.

The long sentence, formed of several members gradually increasing in length so as to make a climax in sound, would universally be designated oratorical. It was much affected by Cicero.

III. The Balanced Sentence.-" When the different clauses of a compound sentence are made similar in form, they are said to be balanced.

The artifice of constructing successive clauses upon the same plan is said to have been introduced into our language from the Italian. Wherever it came from, it begins to appear noticeably about the middle of the sixteenth century. In Elizabeth's reign, it became very fashionable. It was one feature of Lyly's "Euphuism." It held its ground through the reign of James, appearing even in booksellers' advertisements and in the titles of maps. One of John Speed's maps is entitled, 'A new and accurate map of the world, drawn according to the truest descriptions, latest discoveries, and best observations, that have been made by English or strangers.

The advantages of the balanced structure are pointed out briefly, but fully, in Bain's Rhetoric. It is a pleasure in itself; when not carried to excess, it is a help to the memory; and, when the balanced clauses stand in antithesis, it lends emphasis to the opposition. We find also in practice that it serves as a guide to the proper arrangement of the important words. Under a natural sense of effect the important word is often reserved for the last place, the best position for emphasis. Further, in impassioned prose, as in Raleigh's invocation to Death, and De Quincey's imitations-the invocations to Opium and to Solitude, balance has something of the effect of metre.

In the case of balance, much more than in the case of the periodic structure, it is necessary to beware of going to excess. There is almost no limit to the means of disguising the periodic structure. The reader may be entertained with such variety in the parts of a period, that he enjoys its bracing effects without knowing the cause. But the balanced structure cannot be so disguised: it is like metre-to disguise it is to destroy it. Clauses

While speaking of these general distinctions of style, we may note a third, the Pointed style, consisting in "the profuse employment of the Balanced Sentence, in conjunction with Antithesis, Epigram, and Climax." How far these distinctions are from being distinctive, in the sense of indicating incompatible modes of composition, may be judged from the fact that Dr Johnson often employs all the three "styles" in one paragraph.

are constructed on the same plan, or they are not; corresponding words occupy corresponding places in their respective clauses, or they do not. And while the balanced structure is prominent, and thus apt to fatigue the ear, it is very catching; it has a great power of enslaving whoever employs it heedlessly. Several of our writers, such as Johnson, "Junius," and Macaulay, allowed their ear to be captivated, and not only employed balanced forms to excess, but often added tautologous and otherwise questionable clauses from an irresistible craving for the familiar measure.

IV. The Condensed Sentence." This is a sentence abbreviated by a forced and unusual construction."

Anything so violently artificial as this can be used but seldom without giving offence. It was a favourite artifice with Gibbon. In the present day, when used at all, it is used chiefly for comic purposes. Readers of Dickens and his imitators are familiar with such terms as "drew tears from his eyes and a handkerchief from his pocket." Occasionally we find it in works of more serious pretensions, as in Mr Forster's Life of Goldsmith; but nobody now uses it for serious purposes so often as Gibbon did.

GENERAL CONSIDERATIONS. I. The Emphatic Places of a Sentence." As in an army on the march, the fighting columns are placed front and rear, and the baggage in the centre, so the emphatic parts of a sentence should be found either in the beginning or in the end, subordinate and matter-of-course expressions in the middle."

The

There is nothing more urgently required for the improvement of our sentences than a constant study to observe this principle. The special artifices that we have mentioned are good only for certain modes of composition and for particular purposes, and become offensive when too often repeated; but it is difficult to conceive when there would be an impropriety in placing important words where the reader naturally expects to find them. reader's attention falls easily and naturally upon what stands at the beginning and what stands at the end, unless obviously introductory in the one case, or obviously rounding off in the other. The beginning and the end are the natural places for the important words. This arrangement is conducive both to clearness and to elegance: it prevents confusion, and is an aid to justness of emphasis. As important words need not occupy absolutely the first place nor absolutely the last, but at the beginning may be preceded by qualifying clauses, and at the end may be followed by unemphatic appendages that are not of a nature to distract attention, we are not required to make unnatural inversions or to take unidiomatic liberties of any kind. If a writer finds a construction stiff and unnatural, he may be sure that he has not succeeded in throwing the emphasis where it should be

thrown; if he has not buried the important words in the depths of the sentence, he has probably done worse: he has probably drawn off the reader's attention from the words altogether, and fixed it where it should seldom or never be fixed

form.

upon the

The following out of this principle is not so easy as it appears. One is safe to assert that it will never be carried out thoroughly till it is made an important part of school drill. Without some such long and early training, a scrupulous purist in this respect might hang as long over his sentences as Mr Tennyson is said to hang over his lines, and commit blunders after all. In bringing sentences into harmony with this principle of arrangement alone, there is a field for endless variety of school exercises in composition.

II. Unity of Sentence. Upon this point it is especially dangerous to lay down any abstract rule. Irving's statements, that "a sentence or period ought to express one entire thought or mental proposition," and that "it is improper to connect in language things which are separated in reality," are much too dogmatic and cramping. Separate particulars must often be brought together in the same sentence.

The only universal caution that can be given is, to beware of distracting from the effect of the main statement by particulars not immediately relevant. "Every part should be subservient to one principal affirmation."

The advice not to overcrowd a sentence may have to yield to a law of the paragraph concerning the due subordination in form of whatever is subordinate in meaning. "A statement merely explanatory or qualifying, put into a sentence apart, acquires a dangerous prominence."

Most of the faults specified by Blair as breaches of "unity" occur in connection with other arts of sentence-structure. "Excess of parenthetical clauses" is an abuse of the periodic structure, objectionable only in so far as it imposes too severe a strain upon the retentive powers of the reader. It is a fault often committed by De Quincey, whose own powers of holding several things in the mind at once without confusion sometimes betrayed him into forgetting that all are not equally gifted. The fault of not "bringing the sentence to a full and perfect close "-so flagrant in our early writers-is not likely to be committed by any one aware of the value of the end of a sentence as the place for important words.

The specialties of the sentence in Narrative and in Description are examined at length in Bain's Rhetoric (THE SENTENCE, sec. 25). He says that "the only rule that can be observed in distinguishing the sentences is to choose the larger breaks in the sense.