Chapter IV · PUNCTUATION

In this chapter we shall adhere generally to our plan of not giving systematic positive directions, or attempting to cover all ground familiar and unfamiliar, important or not, but drawing attention only to the most prevalent mistakes. On so technical a subject, however, a few preliminary remarks may be made; and to those readers who would prefer a systematic treatise Beadnell’s Spelling and Punctuation (Wyman’s Technical Series, Menken, 2/6) may be recommended. We shall refer to it occasionally in what follows; and the examples to which —B. is attached instead of an author’s name are taken from it; these are all given in Beadnell (unless the contrary is stated) as examples of correct punctuation. It should be added that the book is written rather from the compositor’s than from the author’s point of view, and illustrates the compositor’s natural weaknesses; it is more important to him, for instance, that a page should not be unsightly (the unsightliness being quite imaginary, and the result of professional conservatism) than that quotation marks and stops, or dashes and stops, should be arranged in their true significant order; but, as the right and unsightly is candidly given as well as the wrong and beautiful, this does not matter; the student can take his choice.

We shall begin by explaining how it is that punctuation is a difficult matter, and worth a writer’s serious attention. There are only six stops, comma, semicolon, colon, full stop, question mark, exclamation mark; or, with the dash, seven. The work of three of them, full stop, question, exclamation, is so clear that mistakes about their use can hardly occur without gross carelessness; and it might be thought that with the four thus left it ought to be a very simple matter to exhaust all possibilities in a brief code of rules. It is not so, however. Apart from temporary disturbing causes—of which two now operative are (1) the gradual disappearance of the colon in its old use with the decay of formal periodic arrangement, and (2) the encroachments of the dash as a saver of trouble and an exponent of emotion—there are also permanent difficulties.

Before mentioning these we observe that the four stops in the strictest acceptation of the word (,) (;) (:) (.)—for (!) and (?) are tones rather than stops—form a series (it might be expressed also by 1, 2, 3, 4), each member of which directs us to pause for so many units of time before proceeding. There is essentially nothing but a quantitative time relation between them.

The first difficulty is that this single distinction has to convey to the reader differences of more than one kind, and not commensurable; it has to do both logical and rhetorical work. Its logical work is helping to make clear the grammatical relations between parts of a sentence or paragraph and the whole or other parts: its rhetorical work is contributing to emphasis, heightening effect, and regulating pace. It is in vain that Beadnell lays it down: ‘The variation of pause between the words of the same thought is a matter of rhetoric and feeling, but punctuation depends entirely upon the variation of relations—upon logical and grammatical principles’. The difference between these two:

is in logic nothing; but in rhetoric it is the difference between matter-of-fact statement and indignant statement: a strap, we are to understand from the comma, is a barbarous instrument.

Again, in the two following examples, so far as logic goes, commas would be used in both, or semicolons in both. But the writer of the second desires to be slow, staccato, and impressive: the writer of the first desires to be rapid and flowing, or rather, perhaps, does not desire to be anything other than natural.

Mathematicians have sought knowledge in figures, philosophers in systems, logicians in subtilties, and metaphysicians in sounds.—B.

In the eclogue there must be nothing rude or vulgar; nothing fanciful or affected; nothing subtle or abstruse.—B.

The difference is rhetorical, not logical. It is true, however, that modern printers make an effort to be guided by logic or grammar alone; it is impossible for them to succeed entirely; but any one who will look at an Elizabethan book with the original stopping will see how far they have moved: the old stopping was frankly to guide the voice in reading aloud, while the modern is mainly to guide the mind in seeing through the grammatical construction.

A perfect system of punctuation, then, that should be exact and uniform, would require separate rhetorical and logical notations in the first place. Such a system is not to be desired; the point is only that, without it, usage must fluctuate according as one element is allowed to interfere with the other. But a second difficulty remains, even if we assume that rhetoric could be eliminated altogether. Our stop series, as explained above, provides us with four degrees; but the degrees of closeness and remoteness between the members of sentence or paragraph are at the least ten times as many. It is easy to show that the comma, even in its purely logical function, has not one, but many tasks to do, which differ greatly in importance. Take the three examples:

His method of handling the subject was ornate, learned, and perspicuous.—B.

The removal of the comma after learned makes so little difference that it is an open question among compositors whether it should be used or not.

The criminal, who had betrayed his associates, was a prey to remorse.

With the commas, the criminal is necessarily a certain person already known to us: without them, we can only suppose a past state of society to be described, in which all traitors were ashamed of themselves—a difference of some importance.

Colonel Hutchinson, the Governor whom the King had now appointed, having hardened his heart, resolved on sterner measures.

Omission of the comma after appointed gives us two persons instead of one, and entirely changes the meaning, making the central words into, what they could not possibly be with the comma, an absolute construction.

These commas, that is, have very different values; many intermediate degrees might be added. Similarly the semicolon often separates grammatically complete sentences, but often also the mere items of a list, and between these extremes it marks other degrees of separation. A perfect system for the merely logical part of punctuation, then, would require some scores of stops instead of four. This again is not a thing to be desired; how little, is clear from the fact that one of our scanty supply, the colon, is now practically disused as a member of the series, and turned on to useful work at certain odd jobs that will be mentioned later. A series of stops that should really represent all gradations might perhaps be worked by here and there a writer consistently with himself; but to persuade all writers to observe the same distinctions would be hopeless.

A third difficulty is this: not only must many tasks be performed by one stop; the same task is necessarily performed by different stops according to circumstances; as if polygamy were not bad enough, it is complicated by an admixture of polyandry. We have already given two sentences of nearly similar pattern, one of which had its parts separated by commas, the other by semicolons, and we remarked that the difference was there accounted for by the intrusion of rhetoric. But the same thing occurs even when logic or grammar (it should be explained that grammar is sometimes defined as logic applied to speech, so that for our purposes the two are synonymous) is free from the disturbing influence; or when that influence acts directly, not on the stop itself that is in question, but only on one of its neighbours. To illustrate the first case, when the stops are not affected by rhetoric, but depend on grammar alone, we may take a short sentence as a nucleus, elaborate it by successive additions, and observe how a particular stop has to go on increasing its power, though it continues to serve only the same purpose, because it must keep its predominance.

When ambition asserts the monstrous doctrine of millions made for individuals, is not the good man indignant?

The function of the comma is to mark the division between the subordinate and the main clauses.

When ambition asserts the monstrous doctrine of millions made for individuals, their playthings, to be demolished at their caprice; is not the good man indignant?

The semicolon is doing now exactly what the comma did before; but, as commas have intruded into the clause to do the humble yet necessary work of marking two appositions, the original comma has to dignify its relatively more important office by converting itself into a semicolon.

When ambition asserts the monstrous doctrine of millions made for individuals, their playthings, to be demolished at their caprice; sporting wantonly with the rights, the peace, the comforts, the existence, of nations, as if their intoxicated pride would, if possible, make God’s earth their football: is not the good man indignant?—B.

The new insertion is also an apposition, like the former ones; but, as it contains commas within itself, it must be raised above their level by being allowed a semicolon to part it from them. The previous semicolon, still having the same supreme task to do, and challenged by an upstart rival, has nothing for it but to change the regal for the imperial crown, and become a colon. A careful observer will now object that, on these principles, our new insertion ought to have had an internal semicolon, to differentiate the subordinate clause, as if, &c., from the mere enumeration commas that precede: in which case the semi-colon after caprice should be raised to a colon; and then what is the newly created emperor to do? There is no papal tiara for him to assume, the full stop being confined to the independent sentence. The objection is quite just, and shows how soon the powers of the four stops are exhausted if relentlessly worked. But we are concerned only to notice that the effect of stops, even logically considered, is relative, not absolute. It is also true that many modern writers, if they put down a sentence like this, would be satisfied with using commas throughout; the old-fashioned air of the colon will hardly escape notice. But the whole arrangement is according to the compositor’s art in its severer form.

A specimen of the merely indirect action of rhetoric may be more shortly disposed of. In a sentence already quoted—

Mathematicians have sought knowledge in figures, philosophers in systems, logicians in subtilties, and metaphysicians in sounds—

suppose the writer to have preferred for impressive effect, as we said he might have, to use semicolons instead of commas. The immediate result of that would be that what before could be left to the reader to do for himself (i. e., the supplying of the words have sought knowledge in each member) will in presence of the semicolon require to be done to the eye by commas, and the sentence will run:

Mathematicians have sought knowledge in figures; philosophers, in systems; logicians, in subtilties; and metaphysicians, in sounds.

But, lest we should be thought too faithful followers of the logicians, we will now assume that our point has been sufficiently proved: the difficulties of punctuation, owing to the interaction of different purposes, and the inadequacy of the instruments, are formidable enough to be worth grappling with.

We shall now only make three general remarks before proceeding to details. The first is implied in what has been already said: the work of punctuation is mainly to show, or hint at, the grammatical relation between words, phrases, clauses, and sentences; but it must not be forgotten that stops also serve to regulate pace, to throw emphasis on particular words and give them significance, and to indicate tone. These effects are subordinate, and must not be allowed to conflict with the main object; but as the grammatical relation may often be shown in more than one way, that way can be chosen which serves another purpose best.

Secondly, it is a sound principle that as few stops should be used as will do the work. There is a theory that scientific or philosophic matter should be punctuated very fully and exactly, whereas mere literary work can do with a much looser system. This is a mistake, except so far as scientific and philosophic writers may desire to give an impressive effect by retarding the pace; that is legitimate; but otherwise, all that is printed should have as many stops as help the reader, and not more. A resolution to put in all the stops that can be correctly used is very apt to result in the appearance of some that can only be used incorrectly; some of our quotations from Huxley and Mr. Balfour may be thought to illustrate this. And whereas slight stopping may venture on small irregularities, full stopping that is incorrect is also unpardonable. The objection to full stopping that is correct is the discomfort inflicted upon readers, who are perpetually being checked like a horse with a fidgety driver.

Thirdly, every one should make up his mind not to depend on his stops. They are to be regarded as devices, not for saving him the trouble of putting his words into the order that naturally gives the required meaning, but for saving his reader the moment or two that would sometimes, without them, be necessarily spent on reading the sentence twice over, once to catch the general arrangement, and again for the details. It may almost be said that what reads wrongly if the stops are removed is radically bad; stops are not to alter meaning, but merely to show it up. Those who are learning to write should make a practice of putting down all they want to say without stops first. What then, on reading over, naturally arranges itself contrary to the intention should be not punctuated, but altered; and the stops should be as few as possible, consistently with the recognized rules. At this point those rules should follow; but adequately explained and illustrated, they would require a volume; and we can only speak of common abuses and transgressions of them.

First comes what may be called for short the spot-plague—the tendency to make full-stops do all the work. The comma, most important, if slightest, of all stops, cannot indeed be got rid of, though even for that the full-stop is substituted when possible; but the semicolon is now as much avoided by many writers as the colon (in its old use) by most. With the semicolon go most of the conjunctions. Now there is something to be said for the change, or the two changes: the old-fashioned period, or long complex sentence, carefully worked out with a view to symmetry, balance, and degrees of subordination, though it has a dignity of its own, is formal, stiff, and sometimes frigid; the modern newspaper vice of long sentences either rambling or involved (far commoner in newspapers than the spot-plague) is inexpressibly wearisome and exasperating. Simplification is therefore desirable. But journalists now and then, and writers with more literary ambition than ability generally, overdo the thing till it becomes an affectation; it is then little different from Victor Hugo’s device of making every sentence a paragraph, and our last state is worse than our first. Patronizing archness, sham ingenuousness, spasmodic interruption, scrappy argument, dry monotony, are some of the resulting impressions. We shall have to trouble the reader with at least one rather long specimen; the spot-plague in its less virulent form, that is, when it is caused not by pretentiousness or bad taste, but merely by desire to escape from the period, does not declare itself very rapidly. What follows is a third or so of a literary review, of which the whole is in exactly the same style, and which might have been quoted entire for the same purpose. It will be seen that it shows twenty full-stops to one semicolon and no colons. Further, between no two of the twenty sentences is there a conjunction.

The life of Lord Chatham, which has just appeared in three volumes, by Dr. Albert v. Ruville of the University of Halle deserves special notice. It is much the most complete life which has yet appeared of one of the most commanding figures in English history. It exhibits that thoroughness of method which characterized German historical writings of other days, and which has not lately been conspicuous. It is learned without being dull, and is free from that uncritical spirit of hostility to England which impairs the value of so many recent German histories. That portion which deals with the closing years of George II and with events following the accession of George III is exceptionally interesting. One of the greatest misfortunes that ever happened to England was the resignation of Pitt in 1761. It was caused, as we all know, by difference of opinion with his colleagues on the Spanish question. Ferdinand VI of Spain died in 1759, and was succeeded by King Charles III, one of the most remarkable princes of the House of Bourbon. This sovereign was an enthusiastic adherent of the policy which found expression in the celebrated family compact. On August 15, 1761, a secret convention was concluded between France and Spain, under which Spain engaged to declare war against England in May, 1762. Pitt quite understood the situation. He saw that instant steps should be taken to meet the danger, and proposed at a Cabinet held on October 2 that war should be declared against Spain. Newcastle, Hardwicke, Anson, Bute, and Mansfield combated this proposal, which was rejected, and two days afterwards Pitt resigned. His scheme was neither immature nor ill-considered. He had made his preparations to strike a heavy blow at the enemy, to seize the Isthmus of Panama, thereby securing a port in the Pacific, and separating the Spanish provinces of Mexico and Peru. He had planned an expedition against Havana and the Philippine Islands, where no adequate resistance could have been made; and, had he remained in office, there is but little doubt that the most precious possessions of Spain in the New World would have been incorporated in the British Empire. When he left the Cabinet all virility seems to have gone out of it with him. As he had foreseen, Spain declared war on England at a suitable moment for herself, and the unfortunate negotiations were opened leading to the Peace of Paris in 1763, which was pregnant with many disastrous results for England. The circumstances which led to the resignation of Pitt are dealt with by Dr. v. Ruville much more lucidly than by most historians. This portion of his work is the more interesting because of the pains he takes to clear George III from the charge of conspiring against his great Minister.—Times.

The reader’s experience has probably been that the constant fresh starts are at first inspiriting, that about half-way he has had quite enough of the novelty, and that he is intensely grateful, when the solitary semicolon comes into sight, for a momentary lapse into ordinary gentle progress. Writers like this may almost be suspected of taking literally a summary piece of advice that we have lately seen in a book on English composition: Never use a semicolon when you can employ a full-stop. Beadnell lays down a law that at first sight seems to amount to the same thing: The notion of parting short independent sentences otherwise than by a full-stop, rests upon no rational foundation, and leads to endless perplexities. But his practice clears him of the imputation: he is saved by the ambiguity of the word independent. There are grammatical dependence, and dependence of thought. Of all those ‘little hard round unconnected things’, in the Times review, that ‘seem to come upon one as shot would descend from a shot-making tower’ (Sir Arthur Helps), hardly one is not dependent on its neighbours in the more liberal sense, though each is a complete sentence and independent in grammar. Now one important use of stops is to express the degrees of thought dependence. A style that groups several complete sentences together, by the use of semicolons, because they are more closely connected in thought, is far more restful and easy—for the reader, that is—than the style that leaves him to do the grouping for himself; and yet it is free from the formality of the period, which consists, not of grammatically independent sentences, but of a main sentence with many subordinate clauses. We have not space for a long example of the group system rightly applied; most good modern writers free from the craving to be up to date will supply them on every page; but a very short quotation may serve to emphasize the difference between group and spot-plague principles. The essence of the latter is that almost the only stops used are full-stops and commas, that conjunctions are rare, and that when a conjunction does occur the comma is generally used, not the full-stop. What naturally follows is an arrangement of this kind:

The sheil of Ravensnuik was, for the present at least, at his disposal. The foreman or ‘grieve’ at the Home Farm was anxious to be friendly, but even if he lost that place, Dan Weir knew that there was plenty of others.—Crockett.

(To save trouble, let it be stated that the sheil is a dependency of the Home Farm, and not contrasted with or opposed to it.) Here there are three grammatically independent sentences, between the two latter of which the conjunction but is inserted. It follows from spot-plague principles that there will be a full-stop at the end of the first, and a comma at the end of the second. With the group system it is not so simple a matter; before we can place the stops, we have to inquire how the three sentences are connected in thought. It then appears that the friendliness of the grieve is mentioned to account for the sheil’s being at disposal; that is, there is a close connexion, though no conjunction, between the first and the second sentences. Further, the birds in the bush of the third sentence are contrasted, not with the second sentence’s friendliness, but with the first sentence’s bird in the hand (which, however, is accounted for by the second sentence’s friendliness). To group rightly, then, we must take care, quite reversing the author’s punctuation, that the first and second are separated by a stop of less power than that which separates the third from them. Comma, semicolon, would do it, if the former were sufficient between two grammatically independent sentences not joined by a conjunction; it obviously is not sufficient here (though in some such pairs it might be); so, instead of comma, semicolon, we must use semicolon, full-stop; and the sentence will run, with its true meaning much more clearly given:

The sheil of Ravensnuik was, for the present at least, at his disposal; the foreman or ‘grieve’ at the Home Farm was anxious to be friendly. But even if he lost that place, Dan Weir knew that there was plenty of others.

The group system gives more trouble to the writer or compositor, and less to the reader; the compositor cannot be expected to like it, if the burden falls on him; inferior writers cannot be expected to choose it either, perhaps; but the good writers who do choose it no doubt find that after a short time the work comes to do itself by instinct.

We need now only add two or three short specimens, worse, though from their shortness less remarkable, than the Times extract. They are not specially selected as bad; but it may be hoped that by their juxtaposition they may have some deterrent effect.

So Dan opened the door a little and the dog came out as if nothing had happened. It was now clear. The light was that of late evening. The air hardly more than cool. A gentle fanning breeze came from the North and....—Crockett.

Allies must have common sentiments, a common policy, common interests. Russia’s disposition is aggressive. Her policy is the closed door. Her interests lie in monopoly. With our country it is precisely the opposite. Japan may conquer, but she will not aggress. Russia may be defeated, but she will not abandon her aggression. With such a country an alliance is beyond the conception even of a dream.—Times.

Upon a hillside, a great swelling hillside, high up near the clouds, lay a herd lad. Little more than a boy he was. He did not know much, but he wanted to know more. He was not very good, but he wanted to be better. He was lonely, but of that he was not aware. On the whole he was content up there on his great hillside.—Crockett.

To be popular you have to be interested, or appear to be interested, in other people. And there are so many in this world in whom it is impossible to be interested. So many for whom the most skilful hypocrisy cannot help us to maintain a semblance of interest.—Daily Telegraph.

Of course a girl so pretty as my Miss Anne could not escape having many suitors, especially as all over the countryside Sir Tempest had the name of being something of a skinflint. And skinflints are always rich, as is well known.—Crockett.

The last sentence here is a mere comment on what is itself only an appendage, the clause introduced by especially; it has therefore no right to the dignity of a separate sentence. But it can hardly be mended without some alteration of words as well as stops; for instance, put a semicolon after suitors, write moreover for especially as, and put only a comma after skinflint; the right proportion would then be secured.

The spot-plague, as we have shown, sometimes results in illogicality; it need not do so, however; when it does, the fault lies with the person who, accepting its principles, does not arrange his sentences to suit them. It is a new-fashioned and, in our opinion, unpleasant system, but quite compatible with correctness.

Over-stopping, to which we now proceed, is on the contrary old-fashioned; but it is equally compatible with correctness. Though old-fashioned, it still lingers obstinately enough to make some slight protest desirable; the superstition that every possible stop should be inserted in scientific and other such writing misleads compositors, and their example affects literary authors who have not much ear. Any one who finds himself putting down several commas close to one another should reflect that he is making himself disagreeable, and question his conscience, as severely as we ought to do about disagreeable conduct in real life, whether it is necessary. He will find that the parenthetic or emphatic effect given to an adverbial phrase by putting a comma at each end of it is often of no value whatever to his meaning; in other words, that he can make himself agreeable by merely putting off a certain pompous solemnity; erasing a pair of commas may make the difference in writing that is made in conversation by a change of tone from the didactic to the courteous. Sometimes the abundance of commas is not so easily reduced; a change in the order of words, the omission of a needless adverb or conjunction, even the recasting of a sentence, may be necessary. But it is a safe statement that a gathering of commas (except on certain lawful occasions, as in a list) is a suspicious circumstance. The sentence should at least be read aloud, and if it halts or jolts some change or other should be made.

The smallest portion possible of curious interest had been awakened within me, and, at last, I asked myself, within my own mind....—Borrow.

None of the last three commas is wanted; those round at last are very unpleasant, and they at least should be omitted.

In questions of trade and finance, questions which, owing, perhaps, to their increasing intricacy, seem....—Bryce.

Perhaps can do very well without commas.

It is, however, already plain enough that, unless, indeed, some great catastrophe should upset all their calculations, the authorities have very little intention....—Times.

Indeed can do without commas, if it cannot itself be done without.

Jeannie, too, is, just occasionally, like a good girl out of a book by a sentimental lady-novelist.—Times.

If just is omitted, there need be no commas round occasionally. There may be a value in just; but hardly enough to compensate for the cruel jerking at the bit to which the poor reader is subjected by a remorseless driver.

Thus, their work, however imperfect and faulty, judged by modern lights, it may have been, brought them face to face with....—Huxley.

The comma after thus is nothing if not pompous. And another can be got rid of by putting it may have been before judged by modern lights.

Lilias suggested the advice which, of all others, seemed most suited to the occasion, that, yielding, namely, to the circumstances of their situation, they should watch....—Scott.

Omit namely and its commas.

Shakespeare, it is true, had, as I have said, as respects England, the privilege which only first-comers enjoy.—Lowell.

A good example of the warning value of commas. None of these can be dispensed with, since there are no less than three parenthetic qualifications to the sentence. But the crowd of commas ought to have told the writer how bad his sentence was; it is like an obstacle race. It should begin, It is true that ..., which disposes of one obstacle. As I have said can be given a separate sentence afterwards—So much has been said before.

Private banks and capitalists constitute the main bulk of the subscribers, and, apparently, they are prepared to go on subscribing indefinitely.—Times.

Putting commas round apparently amounts to the insertion of a further clause, such as, Though you would not think they could be such fools. But what the precise contents of the further clause may be is problematic. At any rate, a writer should not invite us to read between the lines unless he is sure of two things: what he wants to be read there; and that we are likely to be willing and able readers of it. The same is true of many words that are half adverbs and half conjunctions, like therefore. We have the right to comma them off if we like; but, unless it is done with a definite purpose, it produces perplexity as well as heaviness. In the first of the next two examples, there is no need whatever for the commas. In the second, the motive is clear: having the choice between commas and no commas, the reporter uses them because he so secures a pause after he, and gives the word that emphasis which in the speech as delivered doubtless made the I that it represents equivalent to I for my part.

Both Tom and John knew this; and, therefore, John—the soft-hearted one—kept out of the way.—Trollope.

It would not be possible to sanction an absolutely unlimited expenditure on the Volunteers; the burden on the tax-payers would be too great. He, therefore, wished that those who knew most about the Volunteers would make up their minds as to the direction in which there should be development.—Times.

After for and and beginning a sentence commas are often used that are hardly even correct. It may be suspected that writers allow themselves to be deceived by the false analogy of sentences in which the and or for is immediately followed by a subordinate clause or phrase that has a right to its two commas. When there is no such interruption, the only possible plea for the comma is that it is not logical but rhetorical, and conveys some archness or other special significance such as is hardly to be found in our two examples:

The lawn, the soft, smooth slope, the ... bespeak an amount of elegant comfort within, that would serve for a palace. This indication is not without warrant; for, within it is a house of refinement and luxury.—Dickens.

And, it is true that these were the days of mental and moral fermentation.—Hutton.

We shall class here also, assuming for the present that the rhetorical plea may be allowed even when there is no logical justification for a stop, two sentences in which the copula is, standing between subject and complement, has commas on each side of it. Impressiveness is what is aimed at; it seems to us a tawdry device for giving one’s sentence an ex cathedra air:

The reason why the world lacks unity, is, because man is disunited with himself.—Emerson.

The charm in Nelson’s history, is, the unselfish greatness.—Emerson.

Many other kinds of over-stopping might be illustrated; but we have intentionally confined ourselves here to specimens in which grammatical considerations do not arise, and the sentence is equally correct whether the stops are inserted or not. Sentences in which over-stopping outrages grammar more or less decidedly will be incidentally treated later on. Meanwhile we make the general remark that ungrammatical insertion of stops is a high crime and misdemeanour, whereas ungrammatical omission of them is often venial, and in some cases even desirable. Nevertheless the over-stopping that offends against nothing but taste has its counterpart in under-stopping of the same sort. And it must be added that nothing so easily exposes a writer to the suspicion of being uneducated as omission of commas against nearly universal custom. In the examples that follow, every one will see at the first glance where commas are wanting. When it is remembered that, as we have implied, an author has the right to select the degree of intensity, or scale, of his punctuation, it can hardly be said that grammar actually demands any stops in these sentences taken by themselves. Yet the effect, unless we choose to assume misprints, as we naturally do in isolated cases, is horrible.

It may be asked can further depreciation be afforded.—Times.

I believe you used to live in Warwickshire at Willowsmere Court did you not?—Corelli.

The hills slope gently to the cliffs which overhang the bay of Naples and they seem to bear on their outstretched arms a rich offering of Nature’s fairest gifts for the queen city of the south.—F. M. Crawford.

‘You made a veritable sensation Lucio!’ ‘Did I?’ He laughed. ‘You flatter me Geoffrey.’—Corelli.

I like your swiftness of action Geoffrey.—Corelli.

Good heavens man, there are no end of lords and ladies who will....—Corelli.

Although we are, when we turn from taste to grammar, on slightly firmer ground, it will be seen that there are many debatable questions; and we shall have to use some technical terms. As usual, only those points will be attended to which our observation has shown to be important.

1. The substantival clause.

Subordinate clauses are sentences containing a subject and predicate, but serving the purpose in the main sentence (to which they are sometimes joined by a subordinating conjunction or relative pronoun, but sometimes without any separate and visible link) of single words, namely, of noun, adjective, or adverb; they are called respectively substantival, adjectival, or adverbial clauses. Examples:

Substantival. He asked what I should do. (my plan, noun)

Adjectival. The man who acts honestly is respected. (honest, adjective)

Adverbial. I shall see you when the sun next rises. (to-morrow, adverb)

Now there is no rule that subordinate clauses must be separated from the main sentence by a stop; that depends on whether they are essential parts of the proposition (when stops are generally wrong), or more or less separable accidents (when commas are more or less required). But what we wish to draw attention to is a distinction in this respect, very generally disregarded, between the substantival clause and the two other kinds. When the others are omitted, though the desired meaning may be spoilt, the grammar generally remains uninjured; a complete, though not perhaps valuable sentence is left. The man is respected, I shall see you, are as much sentences alone as they were with the adjectival and adverbial clauses. With substantival clauses this is seldom true; they are usually the subjects, objects, or complements, of the verbs, that is, are grammatically essential. He asked is meaningless by itself. (Even if the point is that he asked and did not answer, things, or something, has to be supplied in thought.) Now it is a principle, not without exceptions, but generally sound, that the subject, object, or complement, is not to be separated from its verb even by a comma (though two commas belonging to an inserted parenthetic clause or phrase or word may intervene). It follows that there is no logical or grammatical justification, though there may be a rhetorical one, for the comma so frequently placed before the that of an indirect statement. Our own opinion (which is, however, contrary to the practice of most compositors) is that this should always be omitted except when the writer has a very distinct reason for producing rhetorical impressiveness by an unusual pause. Some very ugly overstopping would thus be avoided.

Yet there, too, we find, that character has its problems to solve.—Meredith.

We know, that, in the individual man, consciousness grows.—Huxley.

And it is said, that, on a visitor once asking to see his library, Descartes led him....—Huxley.

The general opinion however was, that, if Bute had been early practised in debate, he might have become an impressive speaker.—Macaulay.

The comma before whether in the next is actually misleading; we are tempted to take as adverbial what is really a substantival clause, object to the verbal noun indifference:

The book ... had merits due to the author’s indifference, whether he showed bad taste or not, provided he got nearer to the impression he wished to convey.—Speaker.

Grammar, however, would afford some justification for distinguishing between the substantival clause as subject, object, or complement, and the substantival clause in apposition with one of these. Though there should decidedly be no comma in He said that ..., it is strictly defensible in It is said, that.... The that-clause in the latter is explanatory of, and in apposition with, it; and the ordinary sign of apposition is a comma. Similarly, My opinion is that: It is my opinion, that. But as there seems to be no value whatever in the distinction, our advice is to do without the comma in all ordinary cases of either kind. A useful and reasonable exception is made in some manuals; for instance, in Bigelow’s Manual of Punctuation we read: ‘Clauses like “It is said”, introducing several propositions or quotations, each preceded by the word that, should have a comma before the first that. But if a single proposition or quotation only is given, no comma is necessary. Example:

Philosophers assert, that Nature is unlimited in her operations, that she has inexhaustible treasures in reserve, that....’

Anything that shows the reader what he is to expect, and so saves him the trouble of coming back to revise his first impressions, is desirable if there is no strong reason against it.

A more important distinction is this: He said, &c., may have for its object, and It is said, &c., for its (virtual) subject, either the actual words said, or a slight rearrangement of them (not necessarily to the eye, but at least to the mind), which makes them more clearly part of the grammatical construction, and turns them into true subordinate clauses. Thus He told her, You are in danger may be kept, but is usually altered to He told her that she was in danger, or to He told her she was in danger. In the first, You are in danger is not properly a subordinate clause, but a sentence, which may be said to be in apposition with these words understood. In the second and third alike, the altered words are a subordinate substantival clause, the object to told. It follows that when the actual words are given as such (this is sometimes only to be known by the tone: compare I tell you, I will come, and I tell you I will come), a comma should be inserted; whereas, when they are meant as mere reported or indirect speech, it should be omitted. Actual words given as such should also be begun with a capital letter; and if they consist of a compound sentence, or of several sentences, a comma will not suffice for their introduction; a colon, a colon and dash, or a full stop, with quotation marks always in the last case, and usually in the others, will be necessary; but these are distinctions that need not be considered here in detail.

Further, it must be remembered that substantival clauses include indirect questions as well as indirect statements, and that the same rules will apply to them. The two following examples are very badly stopped:

(a) Add to all this that he died in his thirty-seventh year: and then ask, If it be strange that his poems are imperfect?—Carlyle.

Accommodation of the stops to the words would give:

and then ask if it be strange that his poems are imperfect.

And accommodation of the words to the stops would give:

and then ask, Is it strange that his poems are imperfect?

(b) It may be asked can further depreciation be afforded.—Times.

The two correct alternatives here are similarly:

It may be asked, Can further depreciation be afforded?

It may be asked whether further depreciation can be afforded.

As the sentences stood originally, we get in the Carlyle a most theatrical, and in the Times a most slovenly effect.

2. The verb and its subject, object, or complement.

Our argument against the common practice of placing a comma before substantival that-clauses and others like them was, in brief: This sort of that-clause is simply equivalent to a noun; that noun is, with few exceptions, the subject, object, or complement, to a verb; and between things so closely and essentially connected as the verb and any of these no stop should intervene (unless for very strong and special rhetorical reasons). This last principle, that the verb and its essential belongings must not be parted, was merely assumed. We think it will be granted by any one who reads the next two examples. It is felt at once that a writer who will break the principle with so little excuse as here will shrink from nothing.

So poor Byron was dethroned, as I had prophesied he would be, though I had little idea that his humiliation, would be brought about by one, whose sole strength consists in setting people to sleep.—Borrow.

He was, moreover, not an unkind man; but the crew of the Bounty, mutinied against him, and set him half naked in an open boat.—Borrow.

Very little better than these, but each with some perceptible motive, are the next six:

Depreciation of him, fetched up at a stroke the glittering armies of her enthusiasm.—Meredith.

Opposition to him, was comparable to the stand of blocks of timber before a flame.—Meredith.

In each of these the comma acts as an accent upon him, and is purely rhetorical and illogical.

Such women as you, are seldom troubled with remorse.—Corelli.

Here the comma guards us from taking you are together. We have already said that this device is illegitimate. Such sentences should be recast; for instance, Women like you are seldom, &c.

The thick foliage of the branching oaks and elms in my grounds afforded grateful shade and repose to the tired body, while the tranquil loveliness of the woodland and meadow scenery, comforted and soothed the equally tired mind.—Corelli.

With them came young boys and little children, while on either side, maidens white-veiled and rose-wreathed, paced demurely, swinging silver censers to and fro.—Corelli.

Swift’s view of human nature, is too black to admit of any hopes of their millennium.—L. Stephen.

Loveliness, maidens, view, the strict subjects, have adjectival phrases attached after them. The temptation to insert the comma is comprehensible, but slight, and should have been resisted.

In the three that come next, the considerable length of the subject, it must be admitted, makes a comma comforting; it gives us a sort of assurance that we have kept our hold on the sentence. It is illogical, however, and, owing to the importance of not dividing subject from verb, unpleasantly illogical. In each case the comfort would be equally effective if it were legitimized by the insertion of a comma before as well as after the clause or phrase at the end of which the present comma stands. The extra commas would be after earth, victims, Schleiden.

To see so many thousand wretches burdening the earth when such as her die, makes me think God did never intend life for a blessing.—Swift.

An order of the day expressing sympathy with the families of the victims and confidence in the Government, was adopted.—Times.

The famous researches of Schwann and Schleiden in 1837 and the following years, founded the modern science of histology.—Huxley.

It may be said that it is ‘fudging’ to find an excuse, as we have proposed to do, for a stop that we mean really to do something different from its ostensible work. But the answer is that with few tools and many tasks to do much fudging is in fact necessary.

A special form of this, in protest against which we shall give five examples, each from a different well-known author, is when the subject includes and ends with a defining relative clause, after which an illogical comma is placed. As the relative clause is of the defining kind (a phrase that has been explained[12]), it is practically impossible to fudge in these sentences by putting a comma before the relative pronoun. Even in the first sentence the length of the relative clause is no sufficient excuse; and in all the others we should abolish the comma without hesitation.

The same quickness of sympathy which had served him well in his work among the East End poor, enabled him to pour feeling into the figures of a bygone age.—Bryce.

One of its agents is our will, but that which expresses itself in our will, is stronger than our will.—Emerson.

The very interesting class of objects to which these belong, do not differ from the rest of the material universe.—Balfour.

And thus, the great men who were identified with the war, began slowly to edge over to the party....—L. Stephen.

In becoming a merchant-gild the body of citizens who formed the ‘town’, enlarged their powers of civic legislation.—J. R. Green.

In the two sentences that now follow from Mr. Morley, the offending comma of the first parts centre, which is what grammarians call the oblique complement, from its verb made; the offending comma of the second parts the direct object groups from its verb drew. Every one will allow that the sentences are clumsy; most people will allow that the commas are illogical. As for us, we do not say that, if the words are to be kept as they are, the commas should be omitted; but we do say that a good writer, when he found himself reduced to illogical commas, should have taken the trouble to rearrange his words.

De Maistre was never more clear-sighted than when he made a vigorous and deliberate onslaught upon Bacon, the centre of his movement against revolutionary principles.—Morley.

In saying that the Encyclopaedists began a political work, what is meant is that they drew into the light of new ideas, groups of institutions, usages, and arrangements which affected the well-being of France, as closely as nutrition affected the health and strength of an individual Frenchman.—Morley.

It may be added, by way of concluding this section, that the insertion of a comma in the middle of an absolute construction, which is capable, as was shown in the sentence about Colonel Hutchinson and the governor, of having very bad results indeed, is only a particular instance and reductio ad absurdum of inserting a comma between subject and verb. The comma in the absolute construction is so recognized a trap that it might have been thought needless to mention it; the following instances, however, will show that a warning is even now necessary.

Sir E. Seymour, having replied for the Navy, the Duke of Connaught, in replying for the Army, said....—Times.

Thus got, having been by custom poorly substituted for gat, so that we say He got away, instead of He gat away, many persons abbreviate gotten into got, saying He had got, for He had gotten.—R. G. White.

The garrison, having been driven from the outer line of defences on July 30, Admiral Witoft considered it high time to make a sortie.—Times.

But that didn’t last long; for Dr. Blimber, happening to change the position of his tight plump legs, as if he were going to get up, Toots swiftly vanished.—Dickens.

3. The adjectival clause.

This, strictly speaking, does the work of an adjective in the sentence. It usually begins with a relative pronoun, but sometimes with a relative adverb. The man who does not breathe dies, is equivalent to The unbreathing man dies. The place where we stand is holy ground, is equivalent to This place is holy ground. But we shall include under the phrase all clauses that begin with a relative, though some relative clauses are not adjectival, because a division of all into defining clauses on the one hand, and non-defining or commenting on the other, is more easily intelligible than the division into adjectival and non-adjectival. This distinction is more fully gone into in the chapter on Syntax, where it is suggested that that, when possible, is the appropriate relative for defining, and which for non-defining clauses. That, however, is a debatable point, and quite apart from the question of stopping that arises here. Examples of the two types are:

(Defining) The river that (which) runs through London is turbid.

(Commenting) The Thames, which runs through London, is turbid.

It will be seen that in the first the relative clause is an answer to the imaginary question, ‘Which river?’; that is, it defines the noun to which it belongs. In the second, such a question as ‘Which Thames?’ is hardly conceivable; the relative clause gives us a piece of extra and non-essential information, an independent comment. The two types are not always so easily distinguished as in these examples constructed for the purpose. What we wish here to say is that it would contribute much to clearness of style if writers would always make up their minds whether they intend a definition or a comment, and would invariably use no commas with a defining clause, and two commas with a non-defining. All the examples that follow are in our opinion wrong. The first three are of defining relative clauses wrongly preceded by commas; the second three of commenting relative clauses wrongly not preceded by commas. The last of all there may be a doubt about. If the long clause beginning with which is intended merely to show how great the weariness is, and which is practically equivalent to so great that, it may be called a defining clause, and the omission of the comma is right. But if the which really acts as a mere connexion to introduce a new fact that the correspondent wishes to record, the clause is non-defining, and the comma ought according to our rule to be inserted before it.

The man, who thinketh in his heart and hath the power straightway (very straightway) to go and do it, is not so common in any country.—Crockett.

Now everyone must do after his kind, be he asp or angel, and these must. The question, which a wise man and a student of modern history will ask, is, what that kind is.—Emerson.

Those, who are urging with most ardour what are called the greatest benefits of mankind, are narrow, self-pleasing, conceited men.—Emerson.

A reminder is being sent to all absent members of the Nationalist party that their attendance at Westminster is urgently required next week when the Budget will be taken on Monday.—Times.

The Marshall Islands will pass from the control of the Jaluit Company under that of the German colonial authorities who will bear the cost of administration and will therefore collect all taxes.—Times.

The causes of this popularity are, no doubt, in part, the extreme simplicity of the reasoning on which the theory rests, in part its extreme plausibility, in part, perhaps, the nature of the result which is commonly thought to be speculatively interesting without being practically inconvenient.—Balfour.

Naval critics ... are showing signs of weariness which even the reported appearance of Admiral Nebogatoff in the Malacca Strait is unable to remove.—Times.

4. The adverb, adverbial phrase, and adverbial clause.

In writing of substantival and adjectival clauses, our appeal was for more logical precision than is usual. We said that the comma habitual before substantival clauses was in most cases unjustifiable, and should be omitted even at the cost of occasional slight discomfort. We said that with one division of adjectival, or rather relative clauses, commas should always be used, and with another they should always be omitted. With the adverbial clauses, phrases, and words, on the other hand, our appeal is on the whole for less precision; we recommend that less precision should be aimed at, at least, though more attained, than at present. Certain kinds of laxity here are not merely venial, but laudable: certain other kinds are damning evidence of carelessness or bad taste or bad education. It is not here a mere matter of choosing between one right and one wrong way; there are many degrees.

Now is an adverb; in the house is usually an adverbial phrase; if I know it is an adverbial clause. Logic and grammar never prohibit the separating of any such expressions from the rest of their sentence—by two commas if they stand in the middle of it, by one if they begin or end it. But use of the commas tends, especially with a single word, but also with a phrase or clause, though in inverse proportion to its length, to modify the meaning. I cannot do it now means no more than it says: I cannot do it, now conveys a further assurance that the speaker would have been delighted to do it yesterday or will be quite willing tomorrow. This distinction, generally recognized with the single word, applies also to clauses; and writers of judgement should take the fullest freedom in such matters, allowing no superstition about ‘subordinate clauses’ to force upon them commas that they feel to be needless, but inclining always when in doubt to spare readers the jerkiness of overstopping. It is a question for rhetoric alone, not for logic, so long as the proper allowance of commas, if any, is given; what the proper allowance is, has been explained a few lines back. We need not waste time on exemplifying this simple principle; there is so far no real laxity; the writer is simply free.

Laxity comes in when we choose, guided by nothing more authoritative than euphony, to stop an adverbial phrase or adverbial clause, but not to stop it at both ends, though it stands in the middle of its sentence. This is an unmistakable offence against logic, and lays one open to the condemnation of examiners and precisians. But the point we wish to make is that in a very large class of sentences the injury to meaning is so infinitesimal, and the benefit to sound so considerable, that we do well to offend. The class is so large that only one example need be given:

But with their triumph over the revolt, Cranmer and his colleagues advanced yet more boldly.—J. R. Green.

The adverbial phrase is with their triumph over the revolt. But does not belong to it, but to the whole sentence. The writer has no defence whatever as against the logician; nevertheless, his reader will be grateful to him. The familiar intrusion of a comma after initial And and For where there is no intervening clause to justify it, of which we gave examples when we spoke of overstopping, comes probably by false analogy from the unpleasant pause that rigid punctuation has made common in sentences of this type.

Laxity once introduced, however, has to be carefully kept within bounds. It may be first laid down absolutely that when an adverbial clause is to be stopped, but incompletely stopped, the omitted stop must always be the one at the beginning, and never the one at the end. Transgression of this is quite intolerable; we shall give several instances at the end of the section to impress the fact. But it is also true that even the omission of the beginning comma looks more and more slovenly the further we get from the type of our above cited sentence. The quotations immediately following are arranged from the less to the more slovenly.

His health gave way, and at the age of fifty-six, he died prematurely in harness at Quetta.—Times.

If mankind was in the condition of believing nothing, and without a bias in any particular direction, was merely on the look-out for some legitimate creed, it would not, I conceive, be possible....—Balfour.

The party then, consisted of a man and his wife, of his mother-in-law and his sister.—F. M. Crawford.

These men in their honorary capacity, already have sufficient work to perform.—Guernsey Evening Press.

It will be observed that in the sentence from Mr. Balfour the chief objection to omitting the comma between and and without is that we are taken off on a false scent, it being natural at first to suppose that we are to supply was again; this can only happen when we are in the middle of a sentence, and not at the beginning as in the pattern Cranmer sentence.

The gross negligence or ignorance betrayed by giving the first and omitting the second comma will be convincingly shown by this array of sentences from authors of all degrees.

It is not strange that the sentiment of loyalty should, from the day of his accession have begun to revive.—Macaulay.

Was it possible that having loved she should not so rejoice, or that, rejoicing she should not be proud of her love?—Trollope.

I venture to suggest that, had Lord Hugh himself been better informed in the matter he would scarcely have placed himself....—Times.

The necessary consequence being that the law, to uphold the restraints of which such unusual devices are employed is in practice destitute of the customary sanctions.—Times.

The view held ... is that, owing to the constant absence of the Commander-in-Chief on tour it is necessary that....—Times.

The master of the house, to whom, as in duty bound I communicated my intention....—Borrow.

After this victory, Hunyadi, with his army entered Belgrade, to the great joy of the Magyars.—Borrow.

M. Kossuth declares that, until the King calls on the majority to take office with its own programme chaos will prevail.—Times.

A love-affair, to be conducted with spirit and enterprise should always bristle with opposition and difficulty.—Corelli.

And that she should force me, by the magic of her pen to mentally acknowledge ..., albeit with wrath and shame, my own inferiority!—Corelli.

She is a hard-working woman dependant on her literary success for a livelihood, and you, rolling in wealth do your best to deprive her of the means of existence.—Corelli.

Although three trainings of the local militia have been conducted under the new regime, Alderney, despite the fact that it is a portion of the same military command has not as yet been affected.—Guernsey Evening Press.

5. Parenthesis.

In one sense, everything that is adverbial is parenthetic: it can be inserted or removed, that is, without damaging the grammar, though not always without damaging the meaning, of the sentence. But the adverbial parenthesis, when once inserted, forms a part of the sentence; we have sufficiently dealt with the stops it requires in the last section; the use of commas emphasizes its parenthetic character, and is therefore sometimes desirable, sometimes not; no more need be said about it.

Another kind of parenthesis is that whose meaning practically governs the sentence in the middle of which it is nevertheless inserted as an alien element that does not coalesce in grammar with the rest. The type is—But, you will say, Caesar is not an aristocrat. This kind is important for our purpose because of the muddles often made, chiefly by careless punctuation, between the real parenthesis and words that give the same meaning, but are not, like it, grammatically separable. We shall start with an indisputable example of this muddle:

Where, do you imagine, she would lay it?—Meredith.

These commas cannot possibly indicate anything but parenthesis; but, if the comma’d words were really a parenthesis, we ought to have would she instead of she would. The four sentences that now follow are all of one pattern. The bad stopping is probably due to this same confusion between the parenthetic and the non-parenthetic. But it is possible that in each the two commas are independent, the first being one of those that are half rhetorical and half caused by false analogy, which have been mentioned as common after initial And and For; and the second being the comma wrongly used, as we have maintained, before substantival that-clauses.

Whence, it would appear, that he considers that all deliverances of consciousness are original judgments.—Balfour.

Hence, he reflected, that if he could but use his literary instinct to feed some commercial undertaking, he might gain a considerable....—Hutton.

But, depend upon it, that no Eastern difficulty needs our intervention so seriously as....—Huxley.

And yet, it has been often said, that the party issues were hopelessly confused.—L. Stephen.

A less familiar form of this mistake, and one not likely to occur except in good writers, since inferior ones seldom attempt the construction that leads to it, is sometimes found when a subordinating conjunction is placed late in its clause, after the object or other member. In the Thackeray sentence, it will be observed that the first comma would be right (1) if them had stood after discovered instead of where it does, (2) if them had been omitted, and any had served as the common object to both verbs.

And to things of great dimensions, if we annex an adventitious idea of terror, they become without comparison greater.—Burke.

Any of which peccadilloes, if Miss Sharp discovered, she did not tell them to Lady Crawley.—Thackeray.

6. The misplaced comma.

Some authors would seem to have an occasional feeling that here or hereabouts is the place for a comma, just as in handwriting some persons are well content if they get a dot in somewhere within measurable distance of its i. The dot is generally over the right word at any rate, and the comma is seldom more than one word off its true place.

All true science begins with empiricism—though all true science is such exactly, in so far as it strives to pass out of the empirical stage.—Huxley.

Exactly qualifies and belongs to in so far, &c., not such. The comma should be before it.

This, they for the most part, throw away as worthless.—Corelli.

For the most part, alone, is the adverbial parenthesis.

But this fault occurs, perhaps nine times out of ten, in combination with the that-clause comma so often mentioned. It may be said, when our instances have been looked into, that in each of them, apart from the that-clause comma, which is recognized by many authorities, there is merely the licence that we have ourselves allowed, omission of the first, without omission of the last, comma of an adverbial parenthesis. But we must point out that Huxley, Green, and Mr. Balfour, man of science, historian, and philosopher, all belong to that dignified class of writers which is supposed to, and in most respects does, insist on full logical stopping; they, in view of their general practice, are not entitled to our slovenly and merely literary licences.

And the second is, that for the purpose of attaining culture, an exclusively scientific education is at least as effectual as....—Huxley.

But the full discussion which followed over the various claims showed, that while exacting to the full what he believed to be his right, Edward desired to do justice to the country.—J. R. Green.

The one difference between these gilds in country and town was, that in the latter case, from their close local neighbourhood, they tended to coalesce.—J. R. Green.

It follows directly from this definition, that however restricted the range of possible knowledge may be, philosophy can never be excluded from it.—Balfour.

But the difficulty here, as it seems to me, is, that if you start from your idea of evolution, these assumptions are....—Balfour.

He begged me to give over all unlawful pursuits, saying, that if persisted in, they were sure of bringing a person to destruction.—Borrow.

7. Enumeration.

This name, liberally interpreted, is meant to include several more or less distinct questions. They are difficult, and much debated by authorities on punctuation, but are of no great importance. We shall take the liberty of partly leaving them undecided, and partly giving arbitrary opinions; to argue them out would take more space than it is worth while to give. But it is worth while to draw attention to them, so that each writer may be aware that they exist, and at least be consistent with himself. Typical sentences (from Beadnell) are:

a. Industry, honesty, and temperance, are essential to happiness.—B.

b. Let us freely drink in the soul of love and beauty and wisdom, from all nature and art and history.—B.

c. Plain honest truth wants no colouring.—B.

d. Many states are in alliance with, and under the protection of France.—B.

Common variants for (a) are (1) Industry, honesty and temperance are essential ... (2) Industry, honesty and temperance, are essential ... (3) Industry, honesty, and temperance are essential.... We unhesitatingly recommend the original and fully stopped form, which should be used irrespective of style, and not be interfered with by rhetorical considerations; it is the only one to which there is never any objection. Of the examples that follow, the first conforms to the correct type, but no serious harm would be done if it did not. The second also conforms; and, if this had followed variant (1) or (2), here indistinguishable, we should have been in danger of supposing that Education and Police were one department instead of two. The third, having no comma after interests, follows variant (3), and, as it happens, with no bad effect on the meaning. All three variants, however, may under different conditions produce ambiguity or worse.

But those that remain, the women, the youths, the children, and the elders, work all the harder.—Times.

Japanese advisers are now attached to the departments of the Household, War, Finance, Education, and Police.—Times.

An American, whose patience, tact, and ability in reconciling conflicting interests have won the praise of all nationalities.—Times.

Sometimes enumerations are arranged in pairs; it is then most unpleasant to have the comma after the last pair omitted, as in:

The orange and the lemon, the olive and the walnut elbow each other for a footing in the fat dark earth.—F. M. Crawford.

There is a bastard form of enumeration against which warning is seriously needed. It is viewed as, but is not really, a legitimate case of type (a); and a quite unnecessary objection to the repetition of and no doubt supplies the motive. Examples are:

He kept manœuvring upon Neipperg, who counter-manœuvred with vigilance, good judgment, and would not come to action.—Carlyle.

Moltke had recruited, trained, and knew by heart all the men under him.—Times.

Hence loss of time, of money, and sore trial of patience.—R. G. White.

The principle is this: in an enumeration given by means of a comma or commas, the last comma being replaced by or combined with and—our type (a), that is—, there must not be anything that is common to two members (as here, counter-manœuvred with, had, loss) without being common to all. We may say, Moltke had recruited and trained and knew, Moltke had recruited, had trained, and knew, or, Moltke had recruited, trained, and known; but we must not say what the Times says. The third sentence may run, Loss of time and money, and sore trial, or, Loss of time, of money, and of patience; but not as it does.

So much for type (a). Type (b) can be very shortly disposed of. It differs in that the conjunction (and, or, nor, &c.) is expressed every time, instead of being represented except in the last place by a comma. It is logically quite unnecessary, but rhetorically quite allowable, to use commas as well as conjunctions. The only caution needed is that, if commas are used at all, and if the enumeration does not end the sentence, and is not concluded by a stronger stop, a comma must be inserted after the last member as well as after the others. In the type sentence, which contains two enumerations, it would be legitimate to use commas as well as ands with one set and not with the other, if it were desired either to avoid monotony or to give one list special emphasis. The three examples now to be added transgress the rule about the final comma. We arrange them from bad to worse; in the last of them, the apparently needless though not necessarily wrong comma after fall suggests that the writer has really felt a comma to be wanting to the enumeration, but has taken a bad shot with it, as in the examples of section 6 on the misplaced comma.

Neither the Court, nor society, nor Parliament, nor the older men in the Army have yet recognized the fundamental truth that....—Times.

A subordinate whose past conduct in the post he fills, and whose known political sympathies make him wholly unfitted, however loyal his intentions may be, to give that....—Times.

But there are uninstructed ears on whom the constant abuse, and imputation of low motives may fall, with a mischievous and misleading effect.—Times.

Of type (c) the characteristic is that we have two or more adjectives attached to a following noun; are there to be commas between the adjectives, or not? The rule usually given is that there should be, unless the last adjective is more intimately connected with the noun, so that the earlier one qualifies, not the noun, but the last adjective and the noun together; it will be noticed that we strictly have no enumeration then at all. This is sometimes useful; and so is the more practical and less theoretic direction to ask whether and could be inserted, and if so use the comma, but not otherwise. These both sound sufficient in the abstract. But that there are doubts left in practice is shown by the type sentence, which Beadnell gives as correct, though either test would rather require the comma. He gives also as correct, Can flattery soothe the dull, cold ear of death?—which is not very clearly distinguishable from the other. Our advice is to use these tests when in doubt, but with a leaning to the omission of the comma. If it happens that a comma of this particular class is the only stop in a sentence, it has a false appearance of dividing the sentence into two parts that is very unpleasant, and may make the reader go through it twice to make sure that all is right—an inconvenience that should by all means be spared him.

Type (d) is one in which the final word or phrase of a sentence has two previous expressions standing in the same grammatical relation to it, but their ending with different prepositions, or the fact that one is to be substituted for the other, or the length of the expressions, or some other cause, obscures this identity of relation. Add to the type sentence the following:

His eloquence was the main, one might almost say the sole, source of his influence.—Bryce.

To dazzle people more, he learned or pretended to learn, the Spanish language.—Bagehot.

... apart from philosophical and sometimes from theological, theories.—Balfour.

The rules we lay down are: (1) If possible use no stops at all. (2) Never use the second comma and omit the first. (3) Even when the first is necessary, the second may often be dispensed with. (4) Both commas may be necessary if the phrases are long.

We should correct all the examples, including the type: the type under rule (1); the Bryce (which is strictly correct) under rule (3); the Bagehot under rules (2) and (1); and the Balfour under rules (2) and (3); the list two are clearly wrong. The four would then stand as follows:

Many states are in alliance with and under the protection of France.

His eloquence was the main, one might almost say the sole source of his influence.

To dazzle people more, he learned or pretended to learn the Spanish language.

... apart from philosophical, and sometimes from theological theories.

Learners will be inclined to say: all this is very indefinite; do give us a clear rule that will apply to all cases. Such was the view with which, on a matter of even greater importance than punctuation, Procrustes identified himself; but it brought him to a bad end. The clear rule, Use all logical commas, would give us:

He was born, in, or near, London, on December 24th, 1900.

No one would write this who was not suffering from bad hypertrophy of the grammatical conscience. The clear rule, Use no commas in this sort of enumeration, would give:

If I have the queer ways you accuse me of, that is because but I should have thought a man of your perspicacity might have been expected to see that it was also why I live in a hermitage all by myself.

No one would write this without both commas (after because and why) who was not deeply committed to an anti-comma crusade. Between the two extremes lie cases calling for various treatment; the ruling principle should be freedom within certain limits.

8. The comma between independent sentences.

Among the signs that more particularly betray the uneducated writer is inability to see when a comma is not a sufficient stop. Unfortunately little more can be done than to warn beginners that any serious slip here is much worse than they will probably suppose, and recommend them to observe the practice of good writers.

It is roughly true that grammatically independent sentences should be parted by at least a semicolon; but in the first place there are very large exceptions to this; and secondly, the writer who really knows a grammatically independent sentence when he sees it is hardly in need of instruction; this must be our excuse for entering here into what may be thought too elementary an explanation. Let us take the second point first; it may be of some assistance to remark that a sentence joined to the previous one by a coordinating conjunction is grammatically independent, as well as one not joined to it at all. But the difference between a coordinating and a subordinating conjunction is itself in English rather fine. Every one can see that ‘I will not try; it is dangerous’ is two independent sentences—independent in grammar, though not in thought. But it is a harder saying that ‘I will not try, for it is dangerous’ is also two sentences, while ‘I will not try, because it is dangerous’ is one only. The reason is that for coordinates, and because subordinates; instead of giving lists, which would probably be incomplete, of the two kinds of conjunction, we mention that a subordinating conjunction may be known from the other kind by its being possible to place it and its clause before the previous sentence instead of after, without destroying the sense: we can say ‘Because it is dangerous, I will not try’, but not ‘For it is dangerous, I will not try’. This test cannot always be applied in complicated sentences; simple ones must be constructed for testing the conjunction in question.

Assuming that it is now understood (1) what a subordinating and what a coordinating conjunction is, (2) that a member joined on by no more than a coordinating conjunction is a grammatically independent sentence, or simply a sentence in the proper meaning of the word, and not a subordinate clause, we return to the first point. This was that, though independent sentences are regularly parted by at least a semicolon, there are large exceptions to the rule. These we shall only be able to indicate very loosely. There are three conditions that may favour the reduction of the semicolon to a comma: (1) Those coordinating conjunctions which are most common tend in the order of their commonness to be humble, and to recognize a comma as sufficient for their dignity. The order may perhaps be given as: and, or, but, so, nor, for; conjunctions less common than these should scarcely ever be used with less than a semicolon; and many good writers would refuse to put a mere comma before for. (2) Shortness and lightness of the sentence joined on helps to lessen the need for a heavy stop. (3) Intimate connexion in thought with the preceding sentence has the same effect. Before giving our examples, which are all of undesirable commas, we point out that in the first two there are independent signs of the writers’ being uneducated; and such signs will often be discoverable. It will be clear from what we have said why the others are bad—except perhaps the third; it is particularly disagreeable to have two successive independent sentences tagged on with commas, as those beginning with nor and for are in that example.

No peace at night he enjoys, for he lays awake.—Guernsey Advertiser.

Now accepted, nominal Christendom believes this, and strives to attain unto it, then why the inconsistency of creed and deed?—Daily Telegraph.

But who is responsible to Government for the efficiency of the Army? The Commander-in-Chief and no one else, nor has anyone questioned the fact, for it is patent.—Times.

But even on this theory the formula above stated holds good, for such systems, so far from being self-contained (as it were) and sufficient evidence for themselves, are really....—Balfour.

Some banks on the Nevsky Prospect are having iron shutters fitted, otherwise there is nothing apparently to justify General Trepoff’s proclamation.—Times.

Everybody knows where his own shoe pinches, and, if people find drawbacks in the places they inhabit, they must also find advantages, otherwise they would not be there.—Times.

We have suffered many things at the hands of the Russian Navy during the war, nevertheless the news that Admiral Rozhdestvensky ... will send a thrill of admiration....—Times.

I think that on the whole we may be thankful for the architectural merits of the Gaiety block, it has breadth and dignity of design and groups well on the angular site.—Times.

It will not be irrelevant to add here, though the point has been touched upon in Understopping, that though a light and-clause may be introduced by no more than a comma, it does not follow that it need not be separated by any stop at all, as in:

When the Motor Cars Act was before the House it was suggested that these authorities should be given the right to make recommendations to the central authorities and that right was conceded.—Times.

9. The semicolon between subordinate members.

Just as the tiro will be safer if he avoids commas before independent sentences, so he will generally be wise not to use a semicolon before a mere subordinate member. We have explained, indeed, that it is sometimes quite legitimate for rhetorical reasons, and is under certain circumstances almost required by proportion. This is when the sentence contains commas doing less important work than the one about which the question arises. But the tiro’s true way out of the difficulty is to simplify his sentences so that they do not need such differentiation. Even skilful writers, as the following two quotations will show, sometimes come to grief over this.

One view called me to another; one hill to its fellow, half across the county, and since I could answer at no more trouble than the snapping forward of a lever, I let the county flow under my wheels.—Kipling.

Nay, do not the elements of all human virtues and all human vices; the passions at once of a Borgia and of a Luther, lie written, in stronger or fainter lines, in the consciousness of every individual bosom?—Carlyle.

In the first of these the second comma and the semicolon clearly ought to change places. In the second it looks as if Carlyle had thought it dull to have so many commas about; but the remedy was much worse than dullness. Avoidance of what a correspondent supposes to be dull, but what would in fact be natural and right, accounts also for the following piece of vicarious rhetoric; the writer is not nearly so excited, it may be suspected, as his semicolons would make him out. The ordinary sensible man would have (1) used commas, and (2) either omitted the third and fourth denies (reminding us of Zola’s famous j’accuse, not vicarious, and on an adequate occasion), or else inserted an and before the last repetition.

Mr. Loomis denies all three categorically. He denies that the Asphalt Company paid him £2,000 or any other sum; denies that he purchased a claim against the Venezuelan Government and then used his influence when Minister at Caracas to collect the claim; denies that he agreed with Mr. Meyers or anybody else to use his influence for money.—Times.

10. The exclamation mark when there is no exclamation.

My friend! this conduct amazes me!—B.

We must differ altogether from Beadnell’s rule that ‘This point is used to denote any sudden emotion of the mind, whether of joy, grief, surprise, fear, or any other sensation’—at least as it is exemplified in his first instance, given above. The exclamation mark after friend is justifiable, not the other. The stop should be used, with one exception, only after real exclamations. Real exclamations include (1) the words recognized as interjections, as alas, (2) fragmentary expressions that are not complete sentences, as My friend in the example, and (3) complete statements that contain an exclamatory word, as:

What a piece of work is man!—B.

The exception mentioned above is this: when the writer wishes to express his own incredulity or other feeling about what is not his own statement, but practically a quotation from some one else, he is at liberty to do it with a mark of exclamation; in the following example, the epitaph-writer expresses either his wonder or his incredulity about what Fame says.

The exclamation mark is a neat and concise sneer at the legal profession.

Outside these narrow limits the exclamation mark must not be used. We shall quote a very instructive saying of Landor’s: ‘I read warily; and whenever I find the writings of a lady, the first thing I do is to cast my eye along her pages, to see whether I am likely to be annoyed by the traps and spring-guns of interjections; and if I happen to espy them I do not leap the paling’. To this we add that when the exclamation mark is used after mere statements it deserves the name, by which it is sometimes called, mark of admiration; we feel that the writer is indeed lost in admiration of his own wit or impressiveness. But this use is mainly confined to lower-class authors; when a grave historian stoops to it, he gives us quite a different sort of shock from what he designed.

The unfortunate commander was in the situation of some bold, high-mettled cavalier, rushing to battle on a warhorse whose tottering joints threaten to give way at every step, and leave his rider to the mercy of his enemies!—Prescott.

The road now struck into the heart of a mountain region, where woods, precipices, and ravines were mingled together in a sort of chaotic confusion, with here and there a green and sheltered valley, glittering like an island of verdure amidst the wild breakers of a troubled ocean!—Prescott.

11. Confusion between question and exclamation.

Fortunate man!—who would not envy you! Love!—who would, who could exist without it—save me!—Corelli.

What wonder that the most docile of Russians should be crying out ‘how long’!—Times.

We have started with three indisputable instances of the exclamation mark used for the question mark. It is worth notice that the correct stopping for the end of the second quotation (though such accuracy is seldom attempted) would be:—long?’? To have fused two questions into an exclamation is an achievement. But these are mere indefensible blunders, not needing to be thought twice about, such as author and compositor incline to put off each on the other’s shoulders.

The case is not always so clear. In the six sentences lettered for reference, a-d have the wrong stop; in e the stop implied by he exclaims is also wrong; in f, though the stop is right assuming that the form of the sentence is what was really meant, we venture to question this point, as we do also in some of the earlier sentences. Any one who agrees with the details of this summary can save himself the trouble of reading the subsequent discussion.

a. In that interval what had I not lost!—Lamb.

b. And what will not the discontinuance cost me!—Richardson.

c. A streak of blue below the hanging alders is certainly a characteristic introduction to the kingfisher. How many people first see him so?—Times.

d. Does the reading of history make us fatalists? What courage does not the opposite opinion show!—Emerson.

e. What economy of life and money, he exclaims, would not have been spared the empire of the Tsars had it not rendered war certain by devoting itself so largely to the works of peace.—Times.

f. How many, who think no otherwise than the young painter, have we not heard disbursing secondhand hyperboles?—Stevenson.

It will be noticed that in all these sentences except c there is a negative, which puts them, except f, wrong; while in c it is the absence of the negative that makes the question wrong. It will be simplest to start with c. The writer clearly means to let us know that many people see the kingfisher first as a blue streak. He might give this simply so, as a statement. He might (artificially) give it as an exclamation—How many first see him so! Or he might (very artificially) give it as a question—How many do not first see him so?—a ‘rhetorical question’ in which How many interrogative is understood to be equivalent to Few positive. He has rejected the simple statement; vaulting ambition has o’erleapt, and he has ended in a confusion between the two artificial ways of saying the thing, taking the words of the possible exclamation and the stop of the possible question. In a, b, d, and implicitly in e, we have the converse arrangement, or derangement. But as a little more clear thinking is required for them, we point out that the origin of the confusion (though the careless printing of fifty or a hundred years ago no doubt helped to establish it) lies in the identity between the words used for questions and for exclamations. It will be enough to suggest the process that accounts for a; the ambiguity is easily got rid of by inserting a noun with what.

Question: What amount had I lost?

Exclamation: What an amount I had lost!

That is the first stage; the resemblance is next increased by inverting subject and verb in the exclamation, which is both natural enough in that kind of sentence, and particularly easy after In that interval. So we get

Question: In that interval, what (amount) had I lost?

Exclamation: In that interval, what (an amount) had I lost!

The words, when the bracketed part of each sentence is left out, are now the same; but the question is of course incapable of giving the required meaning. The writer, seeing this, but deceived by the order of words into thinking the exclamation a question, tries to mend it by inserting not; what ... not, in rhetorical questions, being equivalent to everything. At this stage some writers stick, as Stevenson in f. Others try to make a right out of two wrongs by restoring to the quondam exclamation, which has been wrongly converted with the help of not into a question, the exclamation mark to which it has after conversion no right. Such is the genesis of a, b, d. The proper method, when the simple statement is rejected, as it often reasonably may be, is to use the exclamation, not the Stevensonian question[13], to give the exclamation its right mark, and not to insert the illogical negative.

12. Internal question and exclamation marks.

By this name we do not mean that insertion of a bracketed stop of which we shall nevertheless give one example. That is indeed a confession of weakness and infallible sign of the prentice hand, and further examples will be found in Airs and Graces, miscellaneous; but it is outside grammar, with which these sections are concerned.

Under these circumstances, it would be interesting to ascertain the exact position of landlords whose tenants decline to pay rent, and whose only asset (!) from their property is the income-tax now claimed.—Times.

What is meant is the ugly stop in the middle of a sentence, unbracketed and undefended by quotation marks, of which examples follow. To novelists, as in the first example, it may be necessary for the purpose of avoiding the nuisance of perpetual quotation marks. But elsewhere it should be got rid of by use of the indirect question or otherwise. Excessive indulgence in direct questions or exclamations where there is no need for them whatever is one of the sensational tendencies of modern newspapers.

Why be scheming? Victor asked.—Meredith.

What will Japan do? is thought the most pressing question of all.—Times. (What Japan will do is thought, &c.)

What next? is the next question which the American Press discusses.—Times. (‘What next?’ is, &c. Or, What will come next is, &c.)

Amusing efforts are shown below at escaping the ugliness of the internal question mark. Observe that the third quotation has a worse blunder, since we have here two independent sentences.

Can it be that the Government will still persist in continuing the now hopeless struggle is the question on every lip?—Times.

Men are disenchanted. They have got what they wanted in the days of their youth, yet what of it, they ask?—Morley.

Yet we remember seeing l’Abbé Constantin some sixteen years ago or more at the Royalty, with that fine old actor Lafontaine in the principal part, and seeing it with lively interest. Was it distinctly ‘dates’, for nothing wears so badly as the namby-pamby?—Times.

13. The unaccountable comma.

We shall now conclude these grammatical sections with a single example of those commas about which it is only possible to say that they are repugnant to grammar. It is as difficult to decide what principle they offend against as what impulse can possibly have dictated them. They are commonest in the least educated writers of all; and, next to these, in the men of science whose overpowering conscientiousness has made the mechanical putting in of commas so habitual that it perhaps becomes with them a sort of reflex action, and does itself at wrong moments without their volition.

The Rector, lineal representative of the ancient monarchs of the University, though now, little more than a ‘king of shreds and patches.’—Huxley.

The Colon

It was said in the general remarks at the beginning of this chapter that the systematic use of the colon as one of the series (,), (;), (:), (.), had died out with the decay of formal periods. Many people continue to use it, but few, if we can trust our observation, with any nice regard to its value. Some think it a prettier or more impressive stop than the semicolon, and use it instead of that; some like variety, and use the two indifferently, or resort to one when they are tired of the other. As the abandonment of periodic arrangement really makes the colon useless, it would be well (though of course any one who still writes in formal periods should retain his rights over it) if ordinary writers would give it up altogether except in the special uses, independent of its quantitative value, to which it is being more and more applied by common consent. These are (1) between two sentences that are in clear antithesis, but not connected by an adversative conjunction; (2) introducing a short quotation; (3) introducing a list; (4) introducing a sentence that comes as fulfilment of a promise expressed or implied in the previous sentence; (5) introducing an explanation or proof that is not connected with the previous sentence by for or the like. Examples are:

(1) Man proposes: God disposes.

(2) Always remember the ancient maxim: Know thyself.—B.

(3) Chief rivers: Thames, Severn, Humber....

(4) Some things we can, and others we cannot do: we can walk, but we cannot fly.—Bigelow.

(5) Rebuke thy son in private: public rebuke hardens the heart.—B.

In the following clear case of antithesis a colon would have been more according to modern usage than the semicolon.

As apart from our requirements Mr. Arnold-Forster’s schemes have many merits; in relation to them they have very few.—Times.

It now only remains, before leaving actual stops for the dash, hyphen, quotation mark, and bracket, to comment on a few stray cases of ambiguity, false scent, and ill-judged stopping. We have not hunted up, and shall not manufacture, any of the patent absurdities that are amusing but unprofitable. The sort of ambiguity that most needs guarding against is that which allows a sleepy reader to take the words wrong when the omission or insertion of a stop would have saved him.

The chief agitators of the League, who have—not unnaturally considering the favours showered upon them in the past—a high sense of their own importance....—Times.

With no comma after unnaturally the first thought is that the agitators not unnaturally consider; second thoughts put it right; but second thoughts should never be expected from a reader.

Simultaneously extensive reclamation of land and harbour improvements are in progress at Chemulpo and Fusan.—Times.

With no comma after the first word, the sleepy reader is set wondering what simultaneously extensive means, and whether it is journalese for equally extensive.

But Anne and I did, for we had played there all our lives—at least, all the years we had spent together and the rest do not count in the story. When Anne and I came together we began to live.—Crockett.

A comma after together would save us from adding the two sets of years to each other. In the next piece, on the other hand, the uncomfortable comma after gold is apparently meant to warn us quite unnecessarily that here and there belongs to the verb.

Flecks of straw-coloured gold, here and there lay upon it, where the sunshine touched the bent of last year.—Crockett.

After that, having once fallen off from their course, they at length succeeded in crossing the Aegean, and beating up in the teeth of the Etesian winds, only yesterday, seventy days out from Egypt, put in at the Piraeus.—S. T. Irwin.