ON ORGANIZING THE THEME
=Different Ways of Planning.=—There are various kinds of
composition,—description, narration, argument, and others. These will
be treated one by one in later chapters. Each kind has laws of its
own. Each has its own vocabulary, which may well be studied apart
from other vocabularies. So, too, each type calls for special methods
of organization. For the present, only a few principles of planning,
applicable to all types alike, need be considered.
=The Growth of a Thought.=—When a thought is first conceived, it is
always misty, dim, nebulous.[26] When we speak of having a “general
notion,” a “vague notion,” we usually mean that a thought is just
beginning. If it receives attention, it emerges from the nebulous
condition and forms into several definite thoughts. Or, to change the
figure, it grows and branches. Suppose that the mind awakes to the vague
notion that the room is getting cold. _Cold_ is the undeveloped root
from which may presently branch off such thoughts as these: “Yes, it is
really cold. In fact, I feel cold all over. My hands are blue, and I am
shivering. Besides, Horace over there is standing with his back to the
radiator, and so he too must be cold.” The thought has grown into several
sentences. _Cold_ branched into _I am cold all over_, and this also sent
off two shoots—_My hands are blue, and I am shivering._ Then the mind
stopped this line of branching, and out from the stock sprang a new
branch: _Horace is standing with his back to the radiator_; and then this
sends off the branch _and so he too must be cold_. Try to draw a picture
to represent the process that has gone on.
Now, the whole growth of a thought—stock and branches—can sometimes be
expressed within the limits of one grammatical sentence. If there are too
many thoughts for this, they are put into separate sentences, and the
whole is called a miniature composition, or isolated paragraph.
Exactly as a paragraph grows, so a long composition may grow out of one
vague idea. Some ideas have in them only enough matter to be developed
into a paragraph. Others are germs from which whole books might grow.
“That apple looks good” would probably develop into a short paragraph;
but, “it is strange that that apple should fall to the earth instead of
away from it” might blossom into a great system of natural philosophy.
If a nebulous idea has in it the making of a long theme, it will develop
into main parts if the attention be fixed keenly upon it. These are
paragraph nebulæ, which will subdivide into sentences. Or, to vary the
figure, the main thought will send out main branches (paragraphs) which
will send off lesser ones (sentences).
=Unity.=—Although thought grows, one must keep in mind that it does not
always grow to fruit unless it is trained and pruned. Thought loves
to branch, and unless restrained by a stern sense of logic, it will
often end in a mere tangle of superfluous twigs and leaves. To speak
less figuratively, every writer is in danger of setting down matters
suggested by the subject in hand but not logically related to it. This
is as true of a large piece of work as of a sentence (compare page
90). Every theme, like every sentence, should have unity. It should be
the development of one idea—a large, complex idea, if you please, but,
nevertheless, one. No matter how long or how short the whole, it must
all concern the different phases of one thing or one thought. It should
grow naturally from one germ. Every part in it should bear on the central
idea of the whole—so that, after reading any given sentence, the reader
can see a real connection between title and sentence. A well-organized
composition cannot spare any part; each is essential to its life. Milton
said, “Almost as well kill a man as kill a good book”; and we may adapt
this idea to the structure of the theme. A good composition is so well
organized that if you cut it anywhere it will bleed.
=Planning a Paragraph.=—Before writing a paragraph, try to think out the
whole of it. Let the thought grow in the mind before you let it grow on
paper. This method will afford a chance to review the whole mentally and
to determine whether the thoughts follow each other logically.
=The Topic Sentence.=—When an after-dinner speaker rises to respond to a
toast, he generally announces his topic at once, or after a sentence or
two of introduction. He is very likely also to announce at once his chief
thought about the subject; for he knows that people like to hear him come
to the point. If however he has reason to think that his hearers may not
agree with him immediately, he is likely to state his subject first, and
then lead up gradually to his own conclusion about it.
We naturally follow some such course in writing. With each paragraph we
begin a new speech, as it were. It is a matter both of courtesy and of
economy if in each we state definitely what we are talking about. The
topic sentence of a paragraph ordinarily states the general _subject_, or
else declares the general _thought_, i.e. _conclusion_, of the whole. It
is generally short, because emphatic.
The following paragraph shows its general _subject_ in the opening
sentence.
A Tree-Planting Association has been organized in New York
City. The Association will be organized with twelve or more
members on a block, who will form a local club under the
Association. A tree-planting association may, in this city,
fail to plant trees, but it certainly will encourage the
planting of window boxes, the fencing of unused lots, the
painting of fences to the exclusion of posters, and the general
care of the public street. Back yards will assume some relation
to the general good of the community, and trees, vines, and
flowers will find place in them. The children will be taught to
care for the appearance of the block, and chalk-marks and other
defacements will soon disappear, because of new-born civic
pride.—_The Outlook._
In the following paragraph, Macaulay does not state his topic till the
second sentence. The first is a general remark by way of introduction.
One of the first objects of an inquirer, who wishes to form a
correct notion of the state of a community at a given time,
must be to ascertain of how many persons that community
then consisted. _Unfortunately the population of England in
1685, cannot be ascertained with perfect accuracy._ For no
great state had then adopted the wise course of periodically
numbering the people. All men were left to conjecture for
themselves; and, as they generally conjectured without
examining facts, and under the influence of strong passions
and prejudices, their guesses were often ludicrously absurd.
Even intelligent Londoners ordinarily talked of London as
containing several millions of souls. It was confidently
asserted by many that, during the thirty-five years which had
elapsed between the accession of Charles the First and the
Restoration, the population of the City had increased by two
millions. Even while the ravages of the plague and fire were
recent, it was the fashion to say that the capital still had a
million and a half of inhabitants. Some persons, disgusted by
these exaggerations, ran violently into the opposite extreme.
Thus Isaac Vossius, a man of undoubted parts and learning,
strenuously maintained that there were only two millions
of human beings in England, Scotland, and Ireland taken
together.—MACAULAY: _History of England, Chapter III_.
In the following paragraph, the topic sentence states the general
_thought_ of the whole.
The appetite of this fish is almost insatiable. Mr. Jesse
threw to one pike of five pounds’ weight, four roach, each
about four inches in length, which it devoured instantly, and
swallowed[27] a fifth within a quarter of an hour. Moor-hens,
ducks, and even swans have been known to fall a prey to this
voracious fish, its long teeth effectually keeping them
prisoners under water until drowned.—DR. J. G. WOOD.
The following paragraph states in the topic sentence the general
_subject_, in the last sentence the _general thought_, which has grown
out of the subject.
Two years ago the Boston School Board encouraged the
establishment of cheap luncheons in the schools. Up to the
present time this has been considered an experiment. It is now
conceded that the experimental stage is passed, and that cheap,
nutritious school luncheons can successfully be provided, and
are in demand.
The following shows how the first sentence of a paragraph may be made to
include the general topic.
I cite as an instance of _the absence of vandalism in Japan_
the experience of a Japanese friend of mine who lived on a
street near and parallel to the busiest street in Tokio. He
had placed in his front gate, bordering immediately upon the
sidewalk, an exquisite panel carved in delicate tracery and
nearly two hundred years old. Such a specimen would be placed
in our Museums of Art under lock and key. On my expressing
surprise that he would expose so precious a relic without fear
that some heedless boy might break off a twig, or otherwise
deface it, he assured me it was quite as safe there as in
his library. Three years afterwards I chanced to be in Japan
again, and though my friend was dead, and a stranger occupied
the premises, I was led to seek the place to ascertain the
condition of the delicate wood-carving. It was absolutely
uninjured, though slightly bleached by the weather, and this in
the great commercial city of Tokio, with a population of over
one million.—EDWARD S. MORSE.[28]
=Kinds of Paragraphs.=—What can be said within the limits of a paragraph?
The same things that can be said in a sentence, but more fully. We
need to consider here only a few of these. The sentences may repeat
the substance of the topic sentence, adding something new. Or, if the
paragraph states the general conclusion first, the succeeding sentences
may give the needed particulars, or illustrations, or examples, or
proofs. Once more, the paragraph may open with the statement of a
_cause_, this being followed by the statement of a necessary _effect_.
Or, the paragraph as a whole may develop a _contrast_. Or, it may consist
of a group of sentences that narrate the particulars of some event, or
describe some scene.
The following paragraph exhibits a single thought by repetition.
A true critic must love the subject-matter of literature. He
must care for its message. The theme of the story, the thing
the author was trying to say, must not escape him. The form of
the thing is much, but the soul is more.
The following gives a general thought first, then the particulars.
That farm bore every manner of fruit known to the climate.
There were apples, a score of varieties, from the snow apple
that burned among the leaves, and when bitten revealed a flesh
so white that you kept biting it lest the juice should discolor
it, to the great cold autumn fruits that were resonant beneath
the snap of your finger. There were opulent pears, distilling
the golden sun into their bottles. There were plums, the kind
that succeed. Grapes there were, and quinces, and peaches,—the
last not so prolific as the apples, but a very worthy fruit.
The following gives a general thought, repeats it, explains it,
illustrates it, and so defends it.
If it were only for a vocabulary, the scholar would be covetous
of action. Life is our dictionary. Years are well spent
in country labors; in town; in the insight into trades and
manufactures; in frank intercourse with many men and women; in
science; in art; to the one end of mastering in all their facts
a language by which to illustrate and embody our perceptions.
I learn immediately from any speaker how much he has already
lived, through the poverty or the splendor of his speech. Life
lies behind us as the quarry from whence we get tiles and
copestones for the masonry of to-day. This is the way to learn
grammar. Colleges and books only copy the language which the
field and the work-yard made.—EMERSON.
The following gives cause and effect:—
The King could not see that there were two Englands—that of
himself and North, and that of Burke and Chatham. The result
was inevitable. A third England sprang up across the sea.
The following sets up a quaint contrast. The passage is from Dr.
Johnson’s allegory on _Wit and Learning_:—
Their conduct was, whenever they desired to recommend
themselves to distinction, entirely opposite. WIT was daring
and adventurous; LEARNING cautious and deliberate. WIT
thought nothing reproachful but dullness; LEARNING was afraid
of no imputation but that of error. WIT answered before he
understood, lest his quickness of apprehension should be
questioned; LEARNING paused, where there was no difficulty,
lest any insidious sophism should lie undiscovered. WIT
perplexed every debate by rapidity and confusion; LEARNING
tired the hearers with endless distinctions, and prolonged the
dispute without advantage, by proving that which never was
denied. WIT, in hopes of shining, would venture to produce
what he had not considered, and often succeeded beyond his
own expectation, by following the train of a lucky thought;
LEARNING would reject every new notion, for fear of being
entangled in consequences which she could not foresee, and was
often hindered, by her caution, from pressing her advantages,
and subduing her opponent.
=Oral Exercise.=[29]—Each of the following paragraphs had a topic
sentence stating a _cause_, which was then followed by a statement of the
_effect_. Frame a topic sentence for each, stating the _cause_.
1. — — — — — — Consequently it is a good thing to apply pretty sharp
tests to whatever offers itself as the genuine thing. Often the great
schemes that men hatch for growing rich are nothing but pyrites. The acid
of sharp common sense corrodes and discolors them.
2. — — — — — — — — — — — — Nothing worse could have befallen the man.
Being unused to the possession of wealth he ran through his millions in a
year. In 1876 his old friend Everard met him in the street and passed him
by as a beggar.
=Oral Exercise.=—Examine the following paragraphs of _explanation_, and
form a topic sentence for each.
1. — — — — — — — — — — — In other words, hold to the good you have. Let
well enough alone. People lay great plans; they see the future through
rosy lenses; they build castles in Spain. But great plans that can’t be
carried out are of less value than small, practicable plans; the future
is never just what it promises to be; and as for castles in Spain, of
what value are they to owners who can neither rent nor inhabit them?
2. — — — — — — — — — — — — — It is not, observe, a mere coating of snow
of given depth throughout, but it is snow loaded on until the rocks can
hold no more. The surplus does not fall in the winter, because, fastened
by continual frost, the quantity of snow which an Alp can carry is
greater than each single winter can bestow; it falls in the first mild
days of spring in enormous avalanches. Afterward the melting continues,
gradually removing from all the steep rocks the small quantity of snow
which was all they could hold, and leaving them black and bare among the
accumulated fields of unknown depth, which occupy the capacious valleys
and less inclined superficies of the mountain.
=Oral Exercise.=—Analyze the following narrative paragraphs from Irving’s
_Sketch-Book_, endeavoring to discover what office each sentence performs
in the paragraph.
“We had not been long home when the sound of music was heard from a
distance. A band of country lads, without coats, their shirt-sleeves
fancifully tied with ribbons, their hats decorated with greens, and
clubs in their hands, were seen advancing up the avenue, followed by a
large number of villagers and peasantry. They stopped before the hall
door, where the music struck up a peculiar air, and the lads performed a
curious and intricate dance, advancing, retreating, and striking their
clubs together, keeping exact time to the music; while one, whimsically
crowned with a fox’s skin, the tail of which flaunted down his back, kept
capering round the skirts of the dance, and rattling a Christmas-box with
many antic gesticulations.”
“After the dance was concluded, the whole party was entertained with
brawn and beef and stout home-brewed. The ’Squire himself mingled among
the rustics, and was received with awkward demonstrations of deference
and regard. It is true, I perceived two or three of the younger peasants,
as they were raising their tankards to their mouths, when the ’Squire’s
back was turned, making something of a grimace, and giving each other the
wink; but the moment they caught my eye they pulled grave faces, and were
exceedingly demure. With Master Simon, however, they all seemed more at
their ease. His varied occupations and amusements had made him well known
throughout the neighborhood. He was a visitor at every farm-house and
cottage; gossiped with the farmers and their wives; romped with their
daughters; and, like that type of a vagrant bachelor, the humble-bee,
tolled the sweets from all the rosy lips of the country round.”
=Theme.=—Choose one of the following topic sentences, and develop the
idea coherently, by a succession of illustrations, of details, or of
particulars, into a paragraph of 150 words.
1. The ghosts one hears of are not all alike.
2. In some respects, athletics are dangerous.
3. It was a dreary day.
4. It was one of those mornings that stir the blood.
5. There are battles with fate that can never be won.
6. “A dog hath his day,” runs the old proverb.
7. It is easy to enumerate the ways of getting a lesson.
8. The race is not always to the swift.
9. There are many instances of bravery in everyday life.
10. Many phases of American life are illustrated in American short
stories.
=Theme.=—Choose one of the following topic sentences, and defend it by
giving reasons, proofs, to the extent of 150 or 200 words.
1. On the whole, school athletics are a good thing.
2. Vivisection is necessary to science.
3. Vivisection is cruel and unnecessary.
4. None but scientists are competent to decide whether or not vivisection
is necessary to science.
5. If necessary to science, vivisection should be practised only when
necessary.
6. A debating society is a help in education.
7. The American Revolution is an uninteresting theme topic.
8. The American Revolution is not an uninteresting theme topic.
[Other sentences can easily be suggested by students or teacher.]
=Theme.=—Develop one of the following topic sentences into a paragraph of
_contrast_,—200 words.
1. There is a difference between knowing a thing, and being able to tell
it.
2. Outside the wild winds were rioting; within all was cheer.
3. I saw an old man holding his granddaughter in his arms.
4. I know two persons: one is a dreamer, the other a doer.
5. Hawthorne [or some other writer] has two characters that are strong
foils to each other.
6. I imagined what was going on in those two houses.
7. Some men are always hopeful, some always in despair.
8. I knew two men of very unlike abilities.
9. I knew two persons of very unlike dispositions.
10. The great choir presented fine contrasts in color of garments.
=Expansion of One Paragraph into Several.=—Let it be supposed that having
composed a theme of one paragraph, a student has been asked to develop
the subject at greater length; the paragraph has 85 words, and the
audience wants 200, or 225. What will be the right course? It is possible
to expand one paragraph of 85 words into one paragraph of 225 words.
But if the paragraph of 85 words has two or three distinct parts, it is
better to expand each into a new paragraph.
Let it be imagined that Dr. Wood, the English naturalist, had written a
very short paragraph on the Crustacea; that it ran somewhat like this.
THE CRUSTACEA
The aquatic animals known as the Crustacea have no internal
skeleton, but are defended by a strong crust, made of a series
of rings. This unyielding armor, together with the coverings
of the eyes, the tendons of the claws, and the lining membrane
of the stomach, with its teeth, is cast off annually to permit
the growth of the body. The Crustacea possess the power of
reproducing a lost or original limb; and, indeed, if injured
the animal itself shakes off the injured joint.
Suppose, now, that Dr. Wood found himself dissatisfied with these
somewhat cramped and overloaded sentences, and determined to rewrite,
making three paragraphs where he had formerly but one. In the new theme,
the main topics would be, as before: _Definition of Crustacea_; _Annual
shedding_; _Reproduction of Limbs_. Each would have a paragraph to
itself, where before it had but a sentence. All the sentences to be made
about the Definition would be set off by themselves as one main part of
the theme; all those about the Shedding would form a second; all those
about the New Limbs, a third.
“Set off”;—that is, by _indentation_, or _indention_. This word means, “a
biting in,” or, more properly, “a biting out.” Where a new division of
the theme begins, the first line does not come up plumb to the straight
edge at the left; it is bitten into; it begins farther to the right than
do the other lines. In the printed book, the indentation is small—usually
the width of a letter _m_. But in a manuscript it is important for the
indentation to be absolutely unmistakable. Some persons keep so ragged
an edge at the left hand that it is impossible to know whether or not
they should be credited with understanding what a paragraph is. Indent
each new paragraph one or two inches. Bring every line of the paragraph,
_except the last_, up even with the right-hand margin; the last line may
be stopped anywhere, if the paragraph is complete in sense; often this
line has but a word or two. If at any time you inadvertently omit the
indentation, and have not time to copy, place a paragraph mark where the
new paragraph should begin; thus, ¶.
A rough outline for Dr. Wood’s new paragraphs could now be made. The
topics being known, the number of sentences under each could be guessed
at. There is nothing in the original paragraph to show that Dr. Wood
ascribed especial importance to some one of the three topics. The third
is perhaps the least important. It may be estimated that in the completed
theme he would give about 80 words to each of the first two, and about 50
to the third. The outline would be something like this, the full stops
representing those of the future theme.
THE CRUSTACEA
¶ Crustacea are aquatic. No skeleton, but crust, which protects
and strengthens. Framework of rings; part develops into limbs.
Articulated animals.
¶ Curious way of growth. Other animals not inconvenienced
as they grow. Not so Crustacea. Mail unyielding. Is cast
off annually and larger coat grows. Eye-covering, tendons,
stomach-membrane are also shed.
¶ Curious reproduction of lost or injured limb. New one grows
if old lost; animal shakes off injured joint. Lobsters do, when
alarmed.
As a matter of fact, Dr. Wood did write a short chapter on the Crustacea,
and here it is.
THE CRUSTACEA
The Crustacea are almost all aquatic animals. They have no
internal skeleton, but their body is covered with a strong
crust, which serves for protection as well as for strength.
Their whole framework consists of a series of rings fitted
to, and working in each other; some forming limbs, and others
developing into the framework supporting the different organs.
From this reason, they and the remaining animals, as far as the
star-fishes, who have no limbs at all, are called “articulated”
animals.
Their method of growth is very curious. Other animals, as they
increase in size, experience no particular inconvenience. Not
so the Crustacea. Their bodies are closely enveloped in a
strong, unyielding mail, which cannot grow with them. Their
armor is therefore cast off every year, and a fresh coat formed
to suit their increased dimensions. Not only is the armor cast
off, but even the covering of the eyes, the tendons of the
claws, and the lining membrane of the stomach, with its teeth.
They all also possess the curious power of reproducing a lost
or injured limb. In the former case, a fresh limb supplies the
place of that lost; and in the latter case, the animal itself
shakes off the injured joint, and a new one soon takes its
place. Lobsters, when alarmed, frequently throw off their claws.
=Theme.=—Choose one of the following paragraphs and expand it into a
theme. Each sentence should grow into a paragraph. The proportions to be
observed are suggested by the number of amplifying sentences prescribed
for the different paragraphs. Write a title above the theme.
1. (_a_) I like winter for its outdoor sports. [Four or five sentences.]
(_b_) I like it no less for its indoor sports. [Four or five sentences.]
2. (_a_) Wearing birds is foolish, for it is a remnant of savagery, like
tattooing. [Two or three sentences.] (_b_) It is less artistic than is
often supposed. [Two or three sentences.] (_c_) It is unwise, because it
threatens the extinction of certain species of flycatchers and warblers.
[Two or three sentences.] (_d_) It is cruel, necessitating slaughter
of innocent life, and producing callousness to suffering. [Five or six
sentences.]
3. (_a_) A contrast between faces. [Two sentences.] (_b_) The face of
Napoleon is intellectual, firm, and cruel. [Three sentences, giving
details of the face.] (_c_) The face of Lincoln is intellectual, firm,
and kind. [Three sentences, giving details.]
4. (_a_) There are two kinds of people,—those who know what they want
life to do for them, and those who do not. [This introductory sentence
may be made a part of the first paragraph.] The people who know what they
want are few. [Three or four sentences.] (_b_) The people who do not know
what they want are partly young people, who have not had training enough
to know; partly older people. [Three or four sentences.]
5. (_a_) Some dinners I like, some I do not. [Part of first paragraph.]
The kinds I like; food; company. [Three or four sentences.] The kinds I
do not like; food; company. [Three or four sentences.]
=Oral Exercise.=—Discuss with the instructor and the class the best way
of paragraphing each of the following topics. Form first an idea as to
how many paragraphs each should have and what should be the paragraph
subjects. 1. This recitation room. 2. How Lincoln looked. 3. A painting
I like. 4. What I do in a day. 5. My plans. 6. The walk to school. 7. My
past education. 8. The elm. 9. The construction of the steam engine. 10.
An ocean steamer. 11. Evening in the country.
=Oral Exercise.=—Read carefully the following speech and state the
paragraph subjects. Estimate the number of words in each paragraph, and
say whether you think the proportion of parts is bad or good. The speech
will be recognized as that delivered by Lincoln at the dedication of the
Gettysburg National Cemetery. It was written first as one paragraph; but
a year later, in making a copy, the President divided it as you see.
“Fourscore and seven years ago, our fathers brought forth on this
continent a new nation, conceived in liberty, and dedicated to the
proposition that all men are created equal.
“Now we are engaged in a great civil war, testing whether that nation, or
any nation so conceived and so dedicated, can long endure. We are met on
a great battlefield of that war. We have come to dedicate a portion of
that field as a final resting-place for those who here gave their lives
that that nation might live. It is altogether fitting and proper that we
should do this.
“But, in a larger sense, we cannot dedicate—we cannot consecrate—we
cannot hallow this ground. The brave men, living and dead, who struggled
here, have consecrated it far above our poor power to add or detract.
The world will little note, nor long remember, what we say here, but it
can never forget what they did here. It is for us, the living, rather
to be dedicated here to the unfinished work which they who fought here
have thus far so nobly advanced. It is rather for us to be here dedicated
to the great task remaining before us—that from these honored dead we
take increased devotion to that cause for which they gave the last full
measure of devotion,—that we here highly resolve that these dead shall
not have died in vain,—that this nation, under God, shall have a new
birth of freedom,—and that government of the people, by the people, for
the people, shall not perish from the earth.”
=Oral Exercise.=—The importance of modelling all work on the right
scale is illustrated in the task of the editor of an encyclopædia. His
problem is to give each subject space and prominence according to its
importance. Opening Johnson’s Encyclopædia, I find seven columns devoted
to Shakespeare. Of these, two and a half are given to the poet’s life,
four and a half to his works. Is the proportion about right? If you were
editing an encyclopædia of geography, how much space should you give to
Africa as compared with Europe? How much, if the encyclopædia dealt with
civilization?
=Oral Exercise in Proportioning.=—In treating each of the following
subjects, (_a_) what paragraph topics might be chosen? (_b_) which
paragraph ought to be the longest, dealing with the most important phase
of the subject? 1. Living statesmen. 2. Advantages of country life. 3.
The life of Lincoln. 4. The uses of gold. 5. A railway accident. 6. A
cyclone. 7. A visit to an art-gallery. 8. A week of camping.
=Exercise in Varying the Scale.=—Read one of the following poems.
Then write two papers, the first retelling (not closely paraphrasing)
the story of the poem in one paragraph of about 100 words, the second
retelling the same story in a theme of 300 words, properly paragraphed.
_In each theme give space to every part according to its relative
importance._
Browning: Tray—about vivisection; Clive—story of courage; Incident of the
French camp—story of heroism; How we brought the good news from Ghent
to Aix—story of endurance; The Pied Piper of Hamelin—story of pathos;
Muleykeh—owner’s pride in a horse; The Bean Feast—a Pope’s humility.
Longfellow: The Fell of Atri; Paul Revere’s Ride; Evangeline; The Legend
Beautiful; Robert of Sicily. Lowell: The Vision of Sir Launfal. Drayton:
The Ballad of Agincourt (_Heart of Oak Books_, Vol. V.). Thackeray:
Chronicle of the Drum (_Ibid._). Tennyson: The Revenge (_Ibid._).
Coleridge: The Rime of the Ancient Mariner (_Ibid._). Whittier: Skipper
Ireson’s Ride (_Ibid._).
=Choice of Topic; Method of Work.=—It is easier to choose among definite
theme subjects, printed in the book, than to choose from an unlimited
number of topics. Left free, a person may be attracted to a subject that
is either too large, or else mechanically limited. The latter kind is
the easier to manage. “The parts of a certain city,” is a topic easily
paragraphed. To choose no subjects but such as this would lead a person
into making his theme in water-tight compartments. On the other hand,
what can any one write in half an hour that will interest a reasonable
being in such a subject as Water, or Clouds, or Steam, or Electricity, or
the Rise and Fall of Nations?
If the student is given free choice of a subject, he should select
something that he really cares about, and that he wishes some definite
audience to care about. Different modes of treatment are necessary to
interest different audiences.
Very often the attractive subject will not be capable of easy analysis.
In such a case, choose only a few paragraph topics, thus narrowing the
treatment; pick out the most attractive phases of the subject.
_This done, invent a theme title that will give an adequate hint of
what is coming._ The actor, Mr. Joseph Jefferson, once made a charming
talk to some college men about the “starring system,” concluding with
remarks about the fancy of some people that Bacon wrote Shakespeare and
put a cryptogram into the plays. A college periodical, wanting to give
some hint of both topics, reported the speech under the heading “Stars
and Cryptograms.” It was not a very good title, for it was meaningless.
But it was designed to rouse curiosity, and, taken in connection with
Jefferson’s name, it did as well, I dare say, as a less vague and
fanciful title.
Let it be supposed that a person is to choose a subject for a simple
theme,—any subject he pleases. He is to select one that will interest
high school students as well as himself. His window looks out on a lake.
How will _Lakes_ do, for a topic? It is too large; one would never have
done. Nobody enjoys reading a small theme on a large matter. The window
affords a glimpse of the lake; perhaps this _Glimpse of the Lake_ would
serve for a theme. There would be no difficulty in paragraphing; one
section would go to the water, one to the boats, one to the sky. But the
water would have to be described exactly as it now looks, though looking
its worst. The boats are all absent except one, and perhaps there are
other kinds that he would like to tell about. Besides, the lad in the
boat is fishing, and the writer may be glad to tell about the fishing on
this lake. If however memories of the past few days must be dragged in to
make the theme interesting to us all, why, the name must be changed. The
writer may call it, _A Glimpse of the Lake and Some Memories_; the title
can then be interpreted with some elasticity.
What, now, are the chief things to say? A brief paragraph of
introduction, perhaps, though that is by no means necessary. Then
something about the look of the lake. Then a word about the boats. Then
something about the fishing. Here is enough: _water_, _boats_, _fishing_.
Now for the outline. ¶ Sprained ankle, armchair. Must study landscape.
Window shows lake. ¶ Lake has moods. Dull now. Glare this morning,
colors last night. Sometimes calm; crystal depths. Ripples. Wind makes
it blossom; raises undercurrents. Rain quiets it. Freckled look. Queer
way water _fits_ land. ¶ Steamer seen. Variety of boats. Red-stack boats.
Swarms of passengers. Boats gay at night. Launches. Pulse of engines.
Sailboat. It upset, the other day. Rowboats. Fisherman. ¶ Casting for
bass. Amateur. Wish him luck! I tried for pike. Tried for bass. No luck.
Tried for perch. Caught a bass. [Six or eight sentences.]
In the last paragraph it perhaps occurs to the writer that the bullheads
bite when the water is muddy; and this _muddiness_ suggests the first
paragraph; the _muddiness_ should be described back there with the
changing look of the water.
Next, the composition. It is not offered as a model of style, but to
suggest a possible way of organizing any simple theme.
A GLIMPSE OF THE LAKE, AND SOME MEMORIES
Here I am, planted in an armchair before the window, my
sprained ankle reposing, or trying to repose, on a smaller
chair. In such a position one must be thankful for his mercies;
he must take the exceptional chance to study the landscape.
Fortunately, the window cuts off a goodly section of the lake
which lies down there below.
An exquisite thing is the lake, with as many moods as a baby.
Just now it is dull in color, for the sky is overcast and there
is mist in the air. But early this morning it blazed with
light, and last night at sunset it was awake with every fashion
of color. Sometimes, when the heavens are bare and windless,
the water takes on an indescribable calm; and then if you look
down from this height there seems to be no surface at all—only
depths of blue, such as the poets are always likening to
crystal or to sapphire. At other times clouds and a breeze move
over it, and the surface ruffles till one’s mind is tired with
fancying the million lines of ripples. If the wind stiffens
and stays by, there soon are waves; the water breaks white and
springs up in blossoms over the whole dark field; then the
under streams are roused out of their quiet and the whole mass
thunders in upon the shore, muddy but grand. Now it begins
to rain; and rain is the witch that charms the savage waters
into rest. Presently the surface is dull again, but for the
freckled look made by the plunging drops. One notes through the
gathering mist an odd thing—the way the water seems to settle
into place, fitting into the curves and nooks of the shore; the
edge of the lake seems to grow white and distinct, and to cling
to the land in a sharp outline.
Breaking through that white streak of water near the shore
comes a dark something, which soon takes form and is seen to be
a steamer. What a variety of craft haunt the lake! The largest
are these tall steamers, taller still for their red stacks.
At night, with their colored lights, they look like jewelled
slippers. By day they carry crowds, which seem to rim each
deck with a black band. Then there are the launches, slipping
here and there straight across the bow of the bigger craft.
They have a curiously trim and self-satisfied look; and their
naphtha engines, beating no louder than some great, fast pulse,
seem to make fun of the slow-puffing monsters that stain the
air with smoke. A sailboat—a little sloop—slips across the
picture. It is the one that upset the other day and gave my
friend the Doctor a thorough soaking. Two rowboats are standing
to the south. In the bow of one there’s a lone fisherman.
That lad is casting for bass. He is an amateur—from his dress.
Better luck to him than has thus far befallen the amateur who
sits watching him from this window! I trolled in the lake for
silver pike, but with never a rise to break the monotony. Then
I tried thrice in the early morning for yellow bass, using
first minnows for bait, afterward grasshoppers, and lastly
frogs. No luck! Disgusted, I stole out one afternoon to catch
perch, hoping to be seen by no one. The perch bit languidly,
and the few that were taken seemed to have a supercilious
look. “Here’s my last worm!” I cried; “then for the hotel and
farewell to these fishing grounds where no fish are.” A bite!
a competent, masterly, vicious bite! It’s a bass, strayed away
from home, and too hungry to ask for delicate diet! Pull him
in—seize the line, for the pole is light and the hook is small.
Safely landed, and not less in weight than two pounds! Let them
brag of six-pounders; this gleaming, muscular fellow, smelling
of fresh water and mint, is good enough game for me. As I gaze
and remember, the amateur in his boat moves out of the picture
frame and the lake is a blank again.
=Oral Exercise.=—Why are the following subjects unfit for short themes?
Suggest two or three theme topics that might be derived from each. 1.
George Washington. 2. Snow. 3. War. 4. Evening. 5. Light. 6. Politeness.
=Oral Exercise.=—Name several limited subjects that would be available
if you were trying to interest legitimately (_a_) an audience of college
men, (_b_) an audience of high school boys, (_c_) an audience of high
school girls, (_d_) an audience of business men.
=Theme.=—Choose one of the following subjects, and think how to secure
for it the interest of persons three or four years younger than yourself.
Think of some intelligent boy or girl, one who, though considerably your
junior, distinctly commands your respect, and explain to him high school
ways of studying either (_a_) physiography, or (_b_) history, or (_c_)
Latin, or (_d_) manual training, or (_e_) English, or some other subject.
The theme should consist of one paragraph, of about 200 words.
=Oral and Written Exercise.=—Choose _three_ of the following subjects,
and think what illustrations you would use to make them clear to
different audiences. Draw upon your knowledge of the things that are most
familiar to the experience of each audience. Jot down memoranda of the
illustrations that you suggest, and afterward compare notes in the oral
discussion. For example,
Explain, by illustration:—
_A gentleman_, to a gamin.
_Ice_, to a native of the tropics.
_The charm of foot-ball_, to a girl.
_The pleasure of work_, to a shirk.
_Wagner’s music_, to a deaf painter.
_The charm of foot-ball_, to a soldier.
_The solar system_, to a child of eight.
_Oranges_, to a native of the polar regions.
_The charm of a true lady_, to an awkward lad.
_The Jungle Book_, to a North American Indian.
_A newsboy’s life_, to an earl’s son or a millionnaire’s son.
_A sleepless night_, to a person who sleeps like a top.
_A headache_, to a person who never had a headache.
_The charm of Stevenson_, to a reader of dime novels.
_Taking gas at the dentist’s_, to a person who never lost a tooth.
_An encyclopædia_, to a man who never heard of such a book.
_Paragraph construction_, to a youth who cares only for the shop.
_The danger of open windows_, to a child who never heard of death.
_Some good monthly_, to a bright boy or girl who had never seen
a magazine.
=Transitions between Paragraphs.=—Suppose that a given theme is a unit,
no idea being admitted that does not bear on the topic; suppose, further,
that the paragraphs are units, each treating a distinct part of the theme
idea; it remains to be sure that the reader gets easily from paragraph to
paragraph. Sometimes the writer is so anxious to make each paragraph a
unit in itself that the reader does not feel at once that the new section
has anything to do with the preceding.
Look back to the theme on the _Glimpse of the Lake_. There were three
things to talk about: water, boats, fishing. At the end of the paragraph
on _the water_ the attention must be led over without any jar to the
subject of _boats_. The last idea of the _water_ paragraph was that
the edge of the lake grew white and distinct. In beginning the new
paragraph, we may refer to that idea. “Breaking through that white streak
of water near the shore comes a dark something,” etc.
Now look at the paragraph on fishing. How does the writer try to get over
to the _fishing_ from the _boats_? Explain in recitation.
The joints of the theme should be smooth and strong, like the joints of
bamboo—not a rude joint made by chisel and hammer.
=Written Exercise.=—The instructor will hand you in class your themes
thus far written. Go over them carefully, trying by revision to make the
thought connection closer between the paragraphs. For the future, always
read carefully the whole paragraph before beginning the next.
=Transitions between Sentences.=—Within the paragraph each sentence
should grow vitally out of the preceding. “Connection is the soul of good
writing,” said the great translator, Jowett of Balliol. _Plan sentences
ahead; and read each sentence before you write the next._ Make it
impossible for people to say of you as they used to say of Emerson, “His
sentences read equally well in any order.” Make it impossible to pick
a sentence out and set it down elsewhere, without tearing the theme as
Æneas rent young Polydore.
Frequently the sentences can be bound tighter together by beginning the
next with a reference to some idea contained in the preceding. Burke,
pleading in Parliament for America, said: “But with regard to her own
internal establishment, she may, I doubt not she will, contribute in
moderation. I say in moderation, for she ought not to be permitted to
exhaust herself. She ought to be reserved to a war, the weight of which,
with the enemies that we are most likely to have, must be considerable
in her quarter of the globe. There she may serve you, and serve you
essentially.” Here the last words of each sentence suggest the first
words of the next. Of course this way of getting coherence is easily
overdone; but it is very valuable, nevertheless.
It is easy to discover the order in which Ruskin wrote the following
sentences, here printed in wrong order. Find the true arrangement, and
tell how it was found.
Well, whatever bit of a wise man’s work is honestly and
benevolently done, that bit is his book, or his piece of art.
But, again, I ask you, do you at all believe in honesty or at
all in kindness, or do you think there is never any honesty
or benevolence in wise people? If you read rightly, you will
easily discover the true bits, and those _are_ the book.
=Oral Exercise.=—Change either the grammatical construction or the order
of words wherever you think such change will increase the coherence of
the following paragraph.
“We were coasting down chapel hill. In western New York, this is one
of many similar long hills. This state is indeed a coaster’s paradise
in many parts. The particular paradise I speak of, saw, however, a
disastrous fall of a brave young Adam and a gentle young Eve. Williams,
I mean by this, who was coming like a meteor down the hill, with Miss ——
in front of him on the “bob-sled,” as he reached the bridge, was thrown
out of the track. Luckless bridge! it ought to have been guarded by
stout rails. There were no rails, however, and across the narrow canyon,
Williams, with his precious charge, took a flying leap. On the other side
of it, five feet below, was a wooden abutment. The lives of the young
people were saved by this; for the sled shot across the gulf and landed
on the projection. We picked the adventurers up from this perilous perch.
They were more surprised than hurt. But after he had time to think,
Williams confessed that he was never more frightened in his life; for he
thought of the thirty feet of space below that wooden ledge.”