they do not include a sentence about the judicial branch of the government. They do not, therefore, fulfill the promise made in the opening sentence, and are no more a paragraph than two feet are a yard. This fault is illustrated in the paragraphing of the following composition: Of the scenes in The Merchant of Venice the ones which excite the most sympathy for Shylock are those where Bassanio asks for the loan, the scene where he bewails that even his daughter has left him, and finally the court scene. In the first of these three Shylock probably makes his most famous plea, and tries to show Bassanio that he like other men must eat to live, and has feelings, a heart and soul. His defence of himself in this instance is strong and shows his good character. In the second scene Shakespeare makes the reader realize the agony of Shylock, when even his daughter, Jessica, runs away and leaves him alone. The last scene in which Portia, acting as a judge, pronounces to Shylock that he can have a pound of flesh, and not an ounce more nor a drop of blood. Poor Shylock sees right away that he has lost all. He can neither obtain his three thousand ducats nor his pound of flesh. This last scene probably excites more sorrow for him than any other, because here even the learned judge turns against him. According to its plan, this composition should be all one paragraph, or it should be developed into four paragraphs. 132. The Topic-Sentence. We are more liable, however, to violate unity in the structure of paragraphs by including too many ideas in one paragraph than by including too few. The surest method of guarding against this danger is to see to it that we never construct a paragraph which cannot be summarized in a single sentence. In planning our theme, in other words, each group of minor points must fall naturally under 66 some major heading. It should always be kept in mind, however, that this "topic-sentence" need not be actually written out in the paragraph. To illustrate, suppose that we wish to write a paragraph about Joseph Addison's Sense of Humor." We may not at any point in the paragraph use those five words together; and yet, if we have thought out our work with proper care, the paragraph may make upon the mind of the person who reads it just as strong an impression of unity as if the first sentence in the paragraph had been "Had Addison any sense of humor? and the last, Thus it appears that Addison's sense of humor, though very subtle, was very strong." For the beginner the latter method of opening and closing paragraphs of surrounding them, so to speak, by a frame is perhaps safest. Especially is this the case in the more formal kinds of writing exposition, criticism, and argument. Here are a number of When a group of families moved out into the wilderness they built themselves a station or stockade fort; a square palisade of upright logs, loop-holed, with strong blockhouses as bastions at the corners. One side at least was generally formed by the backs of the cabins themselves, all standing in a row; and there 1 For further illustrations see the paragraph on Polonius, p. 69, and also College Readings, p. 16 (J. H. Newman, "The Aim of a University Education"); p. 115 ff. (H. Croly, "Lincoln as More Than an American"); p. 124 ff. (J. Corbin, “English and American Sportsmanship"); p. 130 ff. (G. H. Palmer, "Self-Cultivation in English"); p. 137 ff. (W. James, “The Social Value of the College-Bred"); p. 203 ff. (G. E. Woodberry, “The Waverley Novels"); p. 232 ff. (T. H. Huxley, “Three Hypotheses Respecting the History of Nature"); p. 248 ff. (E. L. Godkin, "Professor Huxley's Lectures"); p. 34 ff. (W. Wilson, "The House of Representatives"). was a great door or gate, that could be strongly barred in case of need. Often no iron whatever was employed in any of the buildings. The square inside contained the provision sheds and frequently a strong central blockhouse as well. These forts, of course, could not stand against cannon, and they were always in danger when attacked with fire; but save for this risk of burning they were very effectual defences against men without artillery, and were rarely taken, whether by whites or Indians, except by surprise. Few other buildings have played so important a part in our history as the rough stockade fort of the backwoods.1 Not only is the God of the great Christian churches often a War God, but the Christian life itself is often represented in Christian hymn and preachings as a battle. The Christian fights against Satan and the powers of evil, he goes forth to war against the evils and wrongs of his day: "The Son of God goes forth to war, a kingly crown to gain” meanest of motives. The saint wears armor, the armor of the mediæval battle-field, and the archangels and the knights set upon the dragons and fiends, and slay them with swords. A large part of the imagery of Christian literature is drawn from the work of soldiers and armies. "Onward, Christian soldiers, marching as to war" is to-day one of the favorite hymns of the Protestant churches. In the annual procession of the Corpus Christi in Vienna, three bodies take common part, each with great magnificence, the court, the army, and the church. This is the habitual association which has gradually undermined the capacity of the Church to advance in modern Europe the cause of justice, mercy, and liberty, and hence of peace and goodwill.2 Macaulay's use of the topic-sentence at the beginning of paragraphs is especially skillful. Note this series: 1 Theodore Roosevelt, The Winning of the West, Vol. I, Ch. v. It was by the highways that both travellers and goods generally passed from place to place. One chief cause of the badness of the roads seems to have been the defective state of the law. . . ... On the best highways heavy articles were, in the time of Charles the Second, generally conveyed from place to place by stage On byroads, and generally throughout the country north of York and west of Exeter, goods were carried by long trains of pack-horses. The rich commonly travelled in their own carriages, with at least four horses.1 In argument it is not only monotonous but maladroit to announce the topic, or statement to be proved, continually at the beginning. Vary the structure by opening with the details of evidence and leading up to the point which they prove. This device holds the attention. For example: Similar, too, has been the experience of several smaller cities which have changed to the one-man system. Indianapolis, since the adoption of her centralizing charter in 1891, has not elected a single mayor who has obeyed the spirit, or even the letter, of the laws regulating the civil service. All appointments have been made on strictly partisan grounds. Four years after Quincy, Mass., greatly increased the power of the mayor, Mr. Gamaliel Bradford, who had specially urged the change, was forced to confess that "extravagance of expenditure, local jobbing, and caucus politics are as rampant as in any other city in the state." In Cleveland the mayor has abused his appointing power for the sake of aiding his own political ambitions. Nowhere, in fact, can the advocate of mayor domination, if he be candid, point to anything like thoroughly and con 1T. B. Macaulay, The History of England, Ch. iii. tinuously good administration where that system has prevailed. Temporary improvement has often followed a change to mayor rule; permanent improvement even has resulted in certain cases from doing away with the anomalies and complexities of earlier charters; but the actual success of the centralization of power has fallen very far short of fulfilling the promises which were held out to us.1 133. Unity in Description. On account of the throng of details that may come crowding into your mind when you are writing descriptive paragraphs, you must be particularly careful to produce a unified effect. Here the devices of point of view and dominant tone save the day. Be sure to keep one point of view throughout a paragraph. You cannot take two pictures on the same film. If you try to, the result will be like this: We were rounding New York on the departing steamer, and we were, by this time, well around to the east. The sun was just below the horizon, and the city was outlined on a field of gold, across which was a sweep of the purest blue I have ever seen. Above the city, the spare forms of the Singer and Metropolitan buildings towered; and, to the left, Brooklyn Bridge stretched out like a mighty arm. There was none of the grimness and newness of the city in broad daylight: the whole mass was fused into one by a beautiful violet light, which toned down the obtrusive brick color of the bridge and buildings to its own hue. As the sun sank, the lights along Broadway and Times Square sprang into life. In the center of the square the glittering electric signs were bewildering. They painted the faces of the hurrying throng sometimes with a bluish tint, sometimes with a yellow glare. The taxis, coming from the side streets suddenly, glittered as they shot into the blaze, so rapidly did 1 E. Dana Durand, "Council Government vs. Mayor Government," in College Readings, p. 247. |