THE RHYTHM OF PROSE

By ABRAM LIPSKY

(1872- ). A teacher in the high schools of the City of New York. Among his works is a volume entitled “Old Testament Heroes.” Dr. Lipsky writes for many publications.

The Rhythm of Proseis a meditation on the music of language, on the “tune” that accompanies thought. The essay is not severe and formal,—as it would be if it were a treatise on prose rhythm,—but is easy-going and almost conversational. It is an interesting example of the didactic type of essay.“Good prose is rhythmical because thought is: and thought is rhythmical because it is always going somewhere, sometimes strolling, sometimes marching, sometimes dancing.”

“Good prose is rhythmical because thought is: and thought is rhythmical because it is always going somewhere, sometimes strolling, sometimes marching, sometimes dancing.”

The rhythm of prose is inseparable from its sense. This sense-rhythm is abetted and supported by the mechanical rhythm of syllables, but its larger outlines are staked out by tones of interrogation, by outcries, expostulations, threats, entreaties, resolves, by the tones of a multitude of emotions. These are heard as interior voices, and have their accompaniment of peculiar bodily motions, such as gritting of teeth, holding of breath, clenching of fists, tensions, and relaxations of numberless obscure muscles. All the organs of the body compose the orchestra that plays the rhythm of prose, which is not only a rhythm, but a tune. In short, the really important sort of rhythm in prose is that of phrase, clause, and sentence, and this rhythm is marked not merely by stresses, but by tones, which are of as great variety as the modes of putting a proposition, dogmatic, hypothetical, imperative, persuasive; or as the emotional tone of thought, solemn, jubilant, placid, mysterious.

Good prose is rhythmical because thought is; and thought is rhythmical because it is always going somewhere, sometimesstrolling, sometimes marching, sometimes dancing. Types of thought have their characteristic rhythms, and a resemblance is discernible between these and types of dancing. Note, for example, the Oriental undulation of De Quincey,[127]the sprightly two-stepping of Stevenson,[128]the placid glide of Howells,[129]the march of Gibbon.[130]A man who wishes to put the accent of moral authority into his style writes in a sententious, staccato rhythm. One who would appear profound adopts the voluminous, long-winded German period. The apocalyptic spirit manifests itself in a buoyant, shouting, leaping rhythm. Meditative calmness adopts the gliding movement that suggests the waltz.

Now, why do we become uneasy the moment we suspect a writer of aiming at musical effects? It is because we know instinctively that every thought creates its own rhythm, and that when a writer's attention is upon his rhythm, he is bent upon something else than his thought processes. The only way of giving the impression of thought that is not original or spontaneous is by imitating the rhythm of that thought. For real meanings cannot be borrowed. They are always new. Real thought is an action, an original adventure. It pulsates, and the body pulsates with it. No writer can produce this sense of original adventure in us unless he has it himself.

The various classes of writers and talkers whose business it is to sway the minds of others understand as well as the medicine-man in the primitive tribe the part that rhythm plays in their work. The rhythm of each is characteristic. The swelling, pompous senatorial style that suggests the weight of nations behind the speaker is familiar.

I admit that there is an ultimate violent remedy, above the Constitution and in defiance of the Constitution, which may be resorted to when a revolution is to be justified. But I do not admit that, under the Constitution and in conformity with it, there is any mode in which a state government, as a member of the Union, can interfere and stop the progress of the general Government by force of her own laws under any circumstances whatever.

Rhythm of this sort is not a matter of accented and unaccented syllables, but of length of phrase and suspension of voice as it gathers volume and momentum to break finally in an overwhelming roar.

Then there is the suave, insinuating clerical style that lulls opposition and penetrates the conscience of the listener with its smooth, unhalting naïveté.

How many of us feel that those who have committed grave outward transgressions into which we have not fallen because the motives to them were not present with us, or because God's grace kept us hedged round by influences which resisted them—may nevertheless have had hearts which answered more to God's heart, which entered far more into the grief and joy of His Spirit, than ours ever did.

Or, if the preacher is of the apocalyptic variety, we get the explosive shocks, the hammer-blows, and the thunderous reverberations.

Ah, no, this deep-hearted son of the wilderness with his burning black eyes and open, social, deep soul, had other thoughts in him than ambition.... The great mystery of existence, as I said, glared in upon him, with its terrors, with its splendors; no hear-says could hide that unspeakable fact, “Here am I.”

Editorial omniscience clothes itself in a martial array of unwavering units. There is no quickening or slackening in their irresistible advance. There is no weakening in their ranks, nor are they subject to sudden accessions of strength. All is as it was in the beginning, perfect wisdom without flaw.

All this is in prose what conventional meter is in verse. The writer sets himself a tune, which he follows. The political orator, the preacher, the editorial writer, the philosopher, the rhapsodist, knows that his writing acquires prestige from the class wisdom whose rhythm he chants. The reader whodoes not examine the thought too critically, but who recognizes the rhythm, is satisfied with the writer's credentials and bolts the whole piece. The reverence the average man has for print is largely due to the hypnotizing effect of its rhythm.

What we find intolerable is the setting of the tune at the start and the grinding it out to the end. In revenge the reading world consigns the much-vaunted Sir Thomas Browne's[131]“Urn Burial,” De Quincey's “Levana,”[132]and Pater's[133]famous purple patch about Mona Lisa to the rhetorical museums; but it never ceases to read “Robinson Crusoe,”[8] “Pilgrim's Progress,”[8] and “Gulliver's Travels,”[134]and it devours G. B. Shaw[135]with delight.

1. Public Speaking11. Stories in School Papers2. Tone in Conversation12. School Editorial Articles3. Selling Goods13. Written Translations4. Style in Letter Writing14. Laboratory Note Books5. The Art of Advertising15. The Sort of Novel I Like6. Coaching a Team16. Good Preaching7. Style in Debating17. Interesting Lectures8. The Best Graduation Oration18. Directions9. Newspaper Articles19. Good Teaching10. School Compositions20. Useful Text Books

Think of a thesis, or statement, in which you believe strongly. Explain, first of all, that it is entirely natural for any one to act in accordance with your thesis. Illustrate your thought by making definite references to well-known characteristics, and by making apt quotations. End your work by writing a paragraph that will correspond with the last paragraph of Dr. Lipsky's essay.

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