A First Book in Writing English

by Edwin Herbert Lewis

There is, first, the literature of knowledge; and, secondly, the literature of power. The function of the first is, to teach; the function of the second is, to move; the first is a rudder, the second an oar or a sail. The first speaks to the mere discursive understanding; the second speaks ultimately, it may happen, to the higher understanding or reason, but always through affections of pleasure and sympathy.—De Quincey.

There is, first, the literature of knowledge. And, secondly, the literature of power. The function of the first is, to teach. The function of the second is, to move. The first is a rudder. The second, an oar or a sail. The first speaks to the mere discursive understanding. The second speaks ultimately, it may happen, to the higher understanding or reason, but always through affections of pleasure and sympathy.

From a study of the foregoing selections, it becomes clear that the sentence is not its own master. It is the servant of the paragraph. The paragraph, having an idea to give, uses sentences to develop this idea. A skilful writer is not in haste to crowd into a sentence all of one large, complex thought. The full expression of that thought is the task of the paragraph. The sentences are the means by which its parts may be made clear. The long sentences are for explanatory details; the short ones are for emphatic summaries or generalizations, and for rapid narrative.

Sentence Unity.—I. A sentence that possesses Unity of Substance constitutes one main step in the development of the paragraph-idea. A main step, as thus employed, usually means a sentence giving one of the following: (1) the general subject of the paragraph; (2) the general thought or assertion of the paragraph; (3) the repetition of a preceding idea in new words; (4) an illustration; (5) a group of particulars or details; (6) one proof, or term, in a chain of reasoning; (7) a brief contrast; (8) a cause and an effect; (9) an assertion and a very brief illustration. It would be absurd to hold these principles of unity anxiously in mind when one is writing. Having thought them over a little, and taken to heart the general doctrine that the sentence should be one main step, the scholar should trust his own sense of unity. The chief value of any such analysis is that it may help the scholar to give thought to his own sentences.

II. A sentence that possesses Unity of Form keeps one coherent structure throughout, and subordinates unimportant clauses to the important. Unity of form does not concern the division of the paragraph into sentences. It will be considered in Chapter [VI.], under Well-knit Sentences.

I. Unity of Substance by Excluding Irrelevant Ideas.—Perhaps the first thing that is noticed in reading hasty composition, is that some sentences are too long. Here is one, written by a lad of fourteen. It will seem to most readers to be a sentence of infantine simplicity, such as no high school student is in the slightest danger of perpetrating. My apology for giving it is that it renders every heterogeneous sentence ridiculous.

Oliver Orlando’s brother did not like him and when he heard that Orlando whipped Charles he was very angry and was going to burn Orlando’s house up with him in it, but Adam, Orlando’s faithful servant, ran out and told him, so they got all the money they had and started for the forest of Arden, when they got pretty near there Adam being so old fainted from hunger.

The student who wrote this was not thinking of the parts of his paragraph; he was thinking merely of the story of As You Like It. He plunged ahead after the story, never looking behind him. The result is a long, rambling sentence, with several chief thoughts in it. These chief thoughts are four: (1) Oliver hatefully plots to kill Orlando. (2) Adam foils Oliver. (3) Adam and Orlando flee. (4) Adam at last faints. The paragraph therefore divides into four decent, though childish, sentences:—

Oliver, Orlando’s brother, did not like him; and when he heard that Orlando whipped Charles he was very angry, and was going to burn Orlando’s house up with him in it. But Adam, Orlando’s faithful servant, ran out and told him. So they got together all the money they had, and started for the forest of Arden. When they got pretty near there, Adam, being so old, fainted from hunger.