COMPOSITION AND PUNCTUATION

FAMILIARLY EXPLAINED.

CHAPTER I.

PLAN OF THE WORK.

I HAVE been induced to write this treatise, not with a design of superseding any other, on the subject of composition, but because I have seen none that condescends to take my humble route. I consider, therefore, that I have the field to myself. Seeing an unclaimed spot, which is a thing not to be found every day, I have taken possession-nor will I give up the ground, until some abler pen shall warn me that I have not a good title.

My object is, to instruct those who know how to read and write, but who are unacquainted with grammar. I propose, questionable as it may appear, to show such persons how they may compose sentences of which they may not, at least, be ashamed, and how they may express meaning intelligibly, without exciting a laugh at their expense.

Such is the task that I have undertaken. There are many thousands, who, though very intelligent and witty, believe grammar to be so uncommonly difficult, that they will make no attempt to learn, what they feel is beyond their attainment. They say that all the world could not beat grammar into their heads-that they had, when at school, learned verbs, participles, and the other parts of speech, but that they never did, nor never could, understand them."

When men take up such notions, it is not easy to seduce them into study. They are then afraid to write, because they are terrified about all that they hear of grammatical

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errors. They think that composition, without grammar, must be an absurd attempt, and thus we are, to my own knowledge, deprived of many useful essays-nay even of books. Several of those individuals who shine in conversation by the originality and brilliancy, and the weight and accuracy, of their observations, are afraid to touch a pen, through a fear of the alarming requisites that composition demands.

Now, if we cannot prevail on such persons to study grammar, would it not be a meritorious attempt, to induce some of them to commit their thoughts to paper? The gratification of seeing themselves in print might inspire confidence, and arm them with fortitude to combat their ill-founded apprehensions to look that science in the face which appears so appalling. If ever this were desirable, it is now, when we have grammars so simplified compared with those out of which they vainly strove to learn in their younger days.

The failure of such persons arises from three causes :— FIRST. Their over anxiety to express themselves clearly, and to include all possible contingencies and exceptions, before they finish a sentence.

SECONDLY. Their fear of repetitions of the same word.

THIRDLY. Their not duly considering the previous part of a sentence, which often produces ludicrous errors, such as making a horse or a house appear to do the business of a

man.

To these I might add a fourth-their terror of punctuation, which seems to present insurmountable difficulties.

I propose to explain, chiefly by examples, these three causes of failure, and to show the illiterate how they may easily punctuate their writings. If any of the learned happen to take up my book, I request that they will recollect, that it is not addressed to them. It has little to say to scholars or men of education, for, though they may, occasionally, find some hints not beneath their consideration, its chief pretension is, to instruct those who have not the advantage of grammatical knowledge.

FIRST CAUSE OF FAILURE IN COMPOSITION.

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CHAPTER II.

FIRST CAUSE OF FAILURE IN COMPOSITION.

THIS, as described, is the bane of ordinary writing, and, until we can find an antidote, we may despair of being read with pleasure, or even with common patience. Our work, whatever it be, is soon thrown aside. People do not like to wade through long-winded sentences-they will not take the trouble of connecting their various members, so as to arrive at the sense. The consequence is, that all those efforts at clearness operate as fatally as obscurity, except in a letter or law-document, which our interest may compel us to read.

Such anxiety for clearness of expression produces, necessarily, those protracted sentences that are so fearful to the general reader. Besides, it leads to the use of frequent parentheses, which should be avoided by all who aspire above the lowest class of writers. In latter times, the parenthesis has fallen into well-merited contempt, and it is now almost confined to the persons for whom I have composed this treatise. Indeed, it should never be introduced, except on very extraordinary occasions, or for the purpose of indispensable reference, and, as it might be unsafe to let my pupils make those distinctions, the best advice that I can give them is, never to bring it into any composition whatever. The general school definition is, that it is something that may be passed without injury to sense or connection, but I protest against a doctrine so destructive to good writing. Never suppose that you write anything that could be safely omitted.

The following is a sample of this parenthetical writing :

I received yours of the 25th ult. (tho' I must observe it did not come to hand, as you supposed until the 6th inst. owing to the bearer, Mr. Jackson being detained by the heavy snows falling these some days past) and I now take the first opportunity business affords (which thank God is very good lately) of answering it, and which I shall do with as much particularity and attention to all your different commands as any spare time (which as I said before is now very agreeably contracted by the increased business) will permit me, and I think you may expect them all done in three weeks or thereabouts

(for it may be a few days more) and then you will be tolerably provided for, for the remainder of the winter, which (as you justly observe) promises to be severer than most others in our memories.

What a precious rigmarole is here! But perhaps you will say, "Well then, I shall take away the parentheses, and then it will read better." Not at all. That could effect no improvement, for they are still there in substance, and the mere omission of the marks would signify nothing. You must endeavour to write, as much as possible, without those understood parentheses—if not, you will never attain to brevity or clearness. On due examination we shall find, that parentheses generally show our want of capacity, and very ordinary capacity too, for bringing into a better place something that we do not wish to omit altogether. Some excuse must be allowed, however, for the influence of old authority. The examples of former teachers are only partially exploded, and too many follow the spirit of the explanation in our old spelling-books, "I gave all I have (except my watch) to Alexander." What an illustration! So then an exception, that may prove of great importance, is only a thing "that may be omitted without injury to the sense!" Why, according to this licence, we may put whatever we please in parentheses.

There is nothing like analysis for coming at the truth, and I shall, therefore, examine this more critically. It is admitted that sentences may be transposed, by which is meant that we may, generally, place the members otherwise than in the natural or regular order. Suppose we exercise this privilege with the example before us, and begin with the exception, see how the matter stands :

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(Except my watch) I give all I have to Alexander. Here is a fair dissection of this parenthesis, for, if it be one, it must retain its character under every change of place, and yet I hardly think, that Fenning or Dilworth themselves would have allowed it to commence a sentence. From this you may see how liable to absurdity parentheses are, and how necessary it is to avoid them. Yet, though their injury to good writing is now pretty well known and acknowledged, they are not sufficiently reprobated. Mr. Murray's directions

for their management, though not at all exceptionable, are the best guide that I have seen. Their frequent use is the chief reason why our old English writers seem so tiresome. Wishing to appear very correct and exact, they could hardly make an assertion, without lugging into one part or other of the sentence, some qualification or exception of little importance. As far as my observation has gone, Dryden appears to be the first who emancipated our style from this insipid prolixity. His dedications are, I think, freer than any other prose compositions of the same age, from those defects under consideration, for though Lord Bacon and some others wrote before him, with great strength of construction, their English is now, unavoidably, too antiquated for our present purpose. The parenthesis, whether short or extended, marked or understood, is plainly a digression in a sentence, and it should always, unless very concise, be transferred to the next, or so placed as to read smoothly, and to glide at once into our conception. Dean Swift was rather sparing of parentheses, though they were much used in his time. He seems indeed inclined to ridicule them, as appears from the following passage in his letter to Dr. Sheridan, dated Clonfert, August 3, 1723 :—

Quilca (let me see) you see I can (if I please) make parentheses (as well as others) is about a hundred miles from Clonfert.

But, though I have commended Dryden, here is a sentence, from his Dedication of the Æneid, upon which my eye has just glanced. It is newly punctuated by Carey, and, were it not for that assistance, I believe it would be very difficult to find out the sense :

Statius-who, through his whole poem, is noted for want of conduct and judgment—instead of staying, as he might have done, for the death of Capaneus, Hippomedan, Tydeus, or some other of his seven champions (who are all heroes alike), or more properly for the tragical end of the two brothers, whose exequies the next successor had leisure to perform when the siege was raised, and in the interval betwixt the poet's first action and his secondwent out of his way, as it were on prepense malice to commit a fault. For he took his opportunity to kill a royal infant, &c.

Were it not for Mr. Carey's judicious punctuation, it would be a study to comprehend this sentence. The first and last dashes show us that Statius went, &c., and all the intermediate part is a monstrous suspension, to be read, I suppose,