28. English Composite. The English language is composite, its words being drawn from various sources. The original and principal element is Anglo-Saxon, which prevailed in England for about five hundred years. By the conquest of William of Normandy, French was introduced into England, and was spoken by the ruling classes for about three hundred years. The amalgamation of the Anglo-Saxon and the Norman French—a process that was fairly completed in the fourteenth century—resulted in modern English. But numerous words came in from other sources. The early introduction of Roman Christianity into England, and the revival of learning at the close of the Middle Ages, introduced a large Latin element. The Celtic population of the British Isles contributed a few words, such as pibroch, clan, bard. A considerable Greek element has been introduced by theology and science, and English conquests and commerce have introduced words from almost every portion of the globe, of which pagoda, bazaar, veda, bamboo, taboo, and raccoon will serve as examples.

The composite character of our language has made it very copious and very interesting. No other language has so many words, our largest dictionaries defining more than a hundred thousand. Every word has its history, and often a very interesting one. Raccoon, for instance, takes us back to the adventures of the redoubtable John Smith in Virginia. The word bishop carries us back to the introduction of Christianity among the Anglo-Saxons at the close of the sixth century, and then through the Latin to the primitive days of the Church, when an episkopos, or overseer, presided over the newly founded congregations in the leading cities of Greece. Taboo reminds us of English explorations and conquests in the islands of the Pacific. Thus nearly every word may be traced to its source and, rightly understood, is freighted with tales of conquest, battle, exploration, commerce, science, and invention. It carries with it its meaning and atmosphere of association, which the intelligent and skillful writer knows how to use to advantage.

29. Anglo-Saxon and Latin Elements. The Anglo-Saxon or Teutonic element of our language embraces about sixty per cent of the words in common use. It may be regarded as the trunk, on which the other elements have been grafted as branches. The Latin element embraces about thirty per cent of an ordinary vocabulary, nearly two thirds of which, or about twenty per cent, comes through the French. The question has been raised as to which element is preferable. Should a writer's style be Saxonized or Latinized?

No absolute rule can be laid down. The two elements supplement each other. In general the Anglo-Saxon element comprises concrete terms, and the Latin element abstract terms. As Trench has pointed out, "The great features of nature, sun, moon, and stars, earth, water, and fire; the divisions of time; three out of the four seasons, spring, summer, and winter; the features of natural scenery, the words used in earliest childhood, the simpler emotions of the mind; all the prime social relations, father, mother, husband, wife, son, daughter, brother, sister,—these are of native growth and unborrowed."[57:1]

It is thus seen that the Anglo-Saxon element is full of force in its presentation of definite concrete objects; and it is a noteworthy fact that our best writers use a large proportion of native words. In ordinary discourse none of our best writers, perhaps, fall below seventy per cent of Anglo-Saxon. But in philosophy, which deals largely with abstract ideas, the Anglo-Saxon element, as in passages from Herbert Spencer, may fall as low as sixty per cent. It is interesting to estimate the percentage of Anglo-Saxon or Latin in an author. This may easily be done by counting the number of words in a given passage for the denominator, and the number of Anglo-Saxon or Latin words for the numerator of a common fraction, which may then be reduced to a decimal.

30. What Element to Choose. A writer's style should be determined by higher considerations than the deliberate purpose to use as far as possible any single element of our language. Such a purpose degenerates into affectation, and becomes a mannerism. The following extract from a sonnet by Addison Alexander shows what may be done by short Anglo-Saxon words; but, because of its lack of musical rhythm and fine poetic quality, it is not to be commended as a model:

With this may be compared the following lines from a sonnet by Longfellow, in which the musical effect of the Latin element will be clearly recognized:

The use of Latin words often gives clearness and melody to style; and instead of a violent effort to Saxonize his writing, an author should clothe his thoughts in the diction that is most fitting and expressive.

31. Diction. Aristotle truly said that "the beginning of style is correctness of diction." By diction is meant the choice and use of words. Good diction lies at the basis of good writing. Words are used to express ideas; and in view of this fundamental principle, it follows that they should be intelligible and correct. They should belong to our language; and hence the use of foreign words and phrases, except to supply a real want in English, is generally in bad taste. The use of provincial expressions, such as tote for carry, is to be avoided, except in the portrayal of provincial character. Archaic words, as well as those that have not yet established themselves, should not be employed. For these two classes of words Pope has laid down an excellent rule in his "Essay on Criticism":

There is sometimes an obvious effort among young or half-cultured writers to seek after unusual words.

Unless the purpose of discourse is to be defeated, it is evident that the words used by a writer should have their accepted and exact meaning. The study of etymology, though sometimes misleading, is very helpful in learning the exact force of words. There are very few words in our language that are exactly synonymous; and while synonyms are often loosely used, the skillful writer is careful to distinguish their different shades of meaning. This nice use of words, impossible to the uncultivated mind, adds an exquisite charm to writing.

A very common fault of diction results in what is called "fine writing." This fault consists in the choice of high-sounding words to express commonplace ideas. It is the besetting vice of half-educated writers. In the hands of such persons a "fair lady" becomes a "female possessing considerable personal attractions," and "drinking liquor" turns into "ingurgitating spirituous stimulus." Except for purposes of wit or humor, this affectation is not to be tolerated.

32. Sentences. In reading various authors, it is readily observed that they use different kinds of sentences. Some writers use short sentences, others long and complicated sentences. In comparing recent authors with those of two or three centuries ago, it will generally be found that shorter sentences are now more frequent. This brevity and simplicity of predication has resulted in greater clearness. But the constant use of short, simple sentences produces a disagreeable monotony.

Sentences are rhetorically distinguished as loose, periodic, and balanced. A loose sentence is one in which the meaning is complete at one or more points before the end. Thus, at the beginning of "Pilgrim's Progress," we read: "As I walked through the wilderness of this world, I lighted on a certain place where was a den, and laid me down in that place to sleep; and as I slept, I dreamed a dream."

A periodic sentence holds the meaning in suspense till the close. For example, Macaulay writes: "If any man could have succeeded in this attempt, a man of talents so rare, of judgments so prematurely ripe, of temper so calm, and of manners so plausible, might have been expected to succeed."

A balanced sentence consists of two parts, the one corresponding to the other. In Johnson's famous parallel we read: "The style of Dryden is capricious and varied, that of Pope is cautious and uniform; Dryden obeys the motions of his own mind, Pope constrains his mind to his own rules of composition. Dryden is sometimes vehement and rapid; Pope is always smooth, uniform, and gentle."

A good style is apt to make use of all three kinds of sentences, which give an agreeable diversity to composition. The exclusive use of any one form produces monotony. In studying a writer's style, it is important to determine the prevailing type, as well as the average length, of his sentences. This investigation will give us some insight into a source of his weakness or power, and furnish a basis of interesting comparison with others.

Every sentence should have clearness, unity, harmony, and strength. Of these four qualities, clearness is the most important; for without it the purpose of discourse is defeated. Apart from the right choice and position of words, clearness is secured by unity of thought. This requires that the main subject retain a dominant place throughout the sentence. The writer should not allow himself to be switched off from the main proposition. Harmony is attained by the choice of euphonious words, and by their arrangement in an agreeable or rhythmical order. Strength is secured, in large measure, by the omission of unnecessary words. The error of repeating the same thought in different words is called tautology, while the use of more words than are necessary is known as pleonasm or redundancy. The fault of redundancy is most likely to be found in the use of adjectives; and a chaste or classic style appears particularly in a severe self-restraint in the use of qualifying expressions.

33. Paragraph. A paragraph consists of a group of sentences related in thought. It contains the discussion of a single phase of the subject. The nature of the paragraph determines its laws. The paragraph, like each sentence, should be characterized by unity. The opening sentence should contain the subject, or phase of the subject, to be discussed. The succeeding treatment should be cumulative in character, so that the reader is led on by a sense of the unfolding of the point under consideration.

There are various ways of expanding or building up the paragraph. It may be expanded by a process of definition. Frequently one specification after another is given till all sides of the subject have been presented. Sometimes a general statement is followed by concrete and individual instances. Again, the development of the paragraph takes the form of proof or illustration. But whatever may be the form of development, it should grow in importance till the conclusion.

The importance of paragraphing is often lost sight of by even experienced writers. Sometimes there is an absence of clear, definite thought. Hence it happens that we frequently find whole pages without any break to indicate the transitions of thought. Such writing is apt to leave a confused or obscure impression.