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                            THE CHAUTAUQUAN.

      _A MONTHLY MAGAZINE DEVOTED TO THE PROMOTION OF TRUE CULTURE.
        ORGAN OF THE CHAUTAUQUA LITERARY AND SCIENTIFIC CIRCLE._

                 VOL. V.        JUNE, 1885.       No. 9.


OFFICERS OF THE CHAUTAUQUA LITERARY AND SCIENTIFIC CIRCLE.

_President_, Lewis Miller, Akron, Ohio. _Chancellor_, J. H. Vincent,
D.D., New Haven, Conn. _Counselors_, The Rev. Lyman Abbott, D.D.;
the Rev. J. M. Gibson, D.D.; Bishop H. W. Warren, D.D.; Prof. W. C.
Wilkinson, D.D.; Edward Everett Hale. _Office Secretary_, Miss Kate
F. Kimball, Plainfield, N. J. _General Secretary_, Albert M. Martin,
Pittsburgh, Pa.




Contents

Transcriber’s Note: This table of contents of this periodical was created
for the HTML version to aid the reader.

    REQUIRED READING
    The Mechanism of the English Language                  497
    Home Studies in Chemistry and Physics
        Chemistry of Organisms                             500
        Physics of Organisms                               503
    Sunday Readings
        [_June 7_]                                         504
        [_June 14_]                                        504
        [_June 21_]                                        505
        [_June 28_]                                        505
    The Heart Busy With Things About Us                    505
    Easy Lessons in Animal Biology
        Chapter III.                                       509
    Summer Homes for the City Poor                         514
    Learn to Enjoy People                                  517
    Our Ladies of Sorrow                                   517
    The Nicaragua and Panama Routes to the Pacific         518
    Geography of the Heavens for June                      520
    How to Win
        Chapter IV.                                        521
    The Catlin Paintings                                   524
    George Bancroft                                        526
    How Perseus Began To Be Great                          529
    Canada of To-Day                                       529
    Some American Museums                                  531
    Natural History and People of Borneo                   533
    The What-To-Do Club                                    536
    Criticisms                                             537
    Outline and Programs                                   539
    Local Circles                                          540
    The C. L. S. C. Classes                                545
    The Chautauqua University                              547
    Editor’s Outlook                                       549
    Editor’s Note-Book                                     551
    C. L. S. C. Notes on Required Readings for June        553
    Course of Reading for 1885-6                           554
    Paragraphs from New Books                              555
    Talk About Books                                       556
    Books Received                                         557
    Special Notes                                          557
    Important to Members of the C. L. S. C.                558
    Chautauqua School of Languages, 1885                   558




REQUIRED READING FOR JUNE.




THE MECHANISM OF THE ENGLISH LANGUAGE.

BY PRESIDENT D. H. WHEELER, D.D., LL.D.


To _us_ the unit of speech is the word; historically, the unit is the
sentence. It matters little which of the theories respecting the first
forms of speech we adopt; all such theories may be rejected, and still we
shall find it most reasonable to believe that man’s earliest utterances
were wholes, answering in value to our sentences. A revolution has been
effected and we have a _part of speech_ for our unit. We construct or
build our sentences out of pieces of different meaning and value. Our
simplest sentence has two of these pieces—a subject or noun, and a verb;
a long sentence may have a dozen or a score of pieces. The making of
sentences out of parts of speech is a kind of mechanics. The sentence
has its mechanism, of which we usually learn the science by analyzing
sentences. This analytical process yields what we call the principles
of syntax. It must be remembered, however, that we learn to talk before
we learn grammar, and that multitudes of people scarcely know any unit
except the sentence. Their vocabulary is a phrase-book, in which every
word has a fixed and unchangeable position. These persons abound in the
illiterate countries; in Italy, for example, the majority of the people
speak only in sentences having invariable forms; change the order of the
words and you become unintelligible to them. The same effect is produced
by employing a synonym for any word in any sentence. Our people are
usually more alert to variety in expression and catch meanings in forms
and arrangements to which they are unaccustomed.

A long sentence falls, when we take it apart, into two large pieces; the
subject and its belongings, and the predicate and its belongings. Each of
these large pieces breaks up into a number of small pieces. If we look
carefully at the average long sentence, we shall find that the parts are
held together by a systematic and habitual principle of arrangement,
and that this changes in passing from one language to another. French
says “a man good,” English “a good man.” Reverse the order of noun and
adjective in either language, and the sense is obscured for the average
hearer or reader. There is a number of these differences; and therefore
every language has its peculiar mechanism. In mechanical type languages
fall into groups. Greek and Latin, for example, use inflections to
connect the words with each other; English does not employ inflections
for this purpose. We have a few inflected forms, but we use them merely
because they have come down to us. Greek syntax is inflectional; our
syntax is said to be that of flat construction, or, as I prefer to say,
it is positional. The _place_ of a word determines its function and
relations in the sentence. This flat construction is found in other
tongues; but English abounds in it and depends upon it as a principle
of arrangement. When we say “proud men,” the hearer knows that the
adjective _proud_ describes the noun _men_. In Latin, the adjective
would have a termination to correspond in value to that of the noun, and
the two might be separated by several words. Our principle requires the
two to keep close together. If the adjective is to be modified, we may
reverse the order and write “Men proud of their country.” If, however,
the sentence is simple enough, the adjective may move to the other end
of the statement and become a predicate, as when we say, “Men in that
country are proud of their civilization.” These rules show the mechanics
of the adjective. We expect it to precede the noun or to follow it with a
dependent clause, or to follow, at an interval, the verb as a predicate.
Young writers will be helped in their work by remembering that these are
principles of mechanism—that they are building their sentences, and that
the parts have their proper place and order, just as wood, brick and
stone have in a building.

The foregoing illustrations are briefly stated to prepare the way for
a few suggestions respecting some special mechanical contrivances of
our language. A general principle in grammar acts as an aggressive and
conquering force; it extends its domain, insensibly and gradually, but
surely, as far as possible. In an inflectional age a tendency to increase
and perfect inflections is discovered; in a flat-construction age the
tendency to extend the domain of flat syntax is equally manifest. In
our language some constructions are common now, though at one time they
were scarcely allowed. This general observation is illustrated in the
flat construction of a modifying clause in the nature of a relative
pronoun clause. For example, “The man we saw” is a flat construction
which has invaded the territory of the relative pronoun. The sentence is
cut down from “the men _whom_ we saw.” Very little study has been given
to these encroachments and conquests; but they will amply reward the
careful student of them. The flat construction in the province of the
relative is one of our devices for reducing the use of _who_, _which_,
_whose_, _whom_ and _that_. These words occur so frequently in the speech
and on the printed page that we have quite unconsciously gone about
reducing their importance, and the results are so considerable as to
merit special attention. I have made some comparative studies, having
for their object something like accurate measurement of the change in
the use of this class of pronouns, since the year 1611, the date of the
English Bible of King James. Two great changes are easily discovered.
(1) The number of relative pronouns on a page has been reduced, on an
average, about one half. (2) The word _that_ has been almost pushed out
of the relative office. The devices by which the use of relatives has
been rendered unnecessary, are generally forms of the flat construction.
The ousting of _that_ from relative functions has been promoted by the
unconscious effort to dispense with the excessive repetition of the
word. When used as a conjunction, a demonstrative and a relative, its
repetition becomes tiresome to both writer and reader. A careful study
will show that present English employs _that_ very seldom as a relative,
and much less frequently than the English of the last century employed
it as a connective and a demonstrative. In the case of _that_ we see the
operation of a principle in architectural criticism. If a particular
architectural device becomes common, it becomes unfashionable. Its
frequency offends the taste and the offense is punished by a change.
Forty years ago the ordinary Greek column was used on small private
dwellings in many sections of this country. It became so disagreeable
to our taste that this column was for some time nearly out of use in
public buildings. _That_ is, like any piece in architecture, made so
common as to become unconsciously offensive. The fact brings out a
subtle principle of sentence mechanics—we require variety and dislike a
dreary uniformity in this kind of architecture. Good writing in English,
_readable_ English, will always respond in greater or less measure to
the unconscious demand of the English-reading mind. Most persons do not
know what is the offending element in a dreary sentence; they only know
that “the style” is tiresome, and that they can not interest themselves
in the reading. The good writer overcomes the difficulty by avoiding the
offending elements.

It will usually be found that the tiresome effect is produced by
repetition and uniformity. The pieces used may all be good; but we
do not like to see Greek pillars before every house along the road.
We tire of Gibbon’s periods, of Addison’s perfection, of Macaulay’s
stateliness. We can read a little of each with delight; for daily diet
we do not desire any of them. I will now give some of the results of
my comparative studies of relative pronouns in the English sentence.
I begin with the Bible of 1611. I notice first here that the Psalms
differ from other books of the Bible, and I suppose that the difference
arises from the superior directness of prayer. The same difference is
discoverable between the modern prayer and the sermon. In the Psalms
there is one relative in each ninety-five words, on the average; and
about four fifths of these are _thats_. In the _number_ of relatives,
the Psalms approach closely to modern parsimony; but in the use of
_that_ they exaggerate the practice of the