But, to return to the subject, let me tell you what delighted me in your letter. You have your words under control. You are not carried away by your language, or borne beyond the limits which you have determined upon.
Many writers are tempted by the charm of some alluring phrase to some topic other than that which they had set themselves to discuss. But this has not been so in your case; all your words are compact, and suited to the subject, You say all that you wish, and you mean still more than you say. This is a proof of the importance of your subject matter, showing that your mind, as well as your words, contains nothing superfluous or bombastic.
I do, however, find some metaphors, not, indeed, daring ones, but the kind which have stood the test of use. I find similes also; of course, if anyone forbids us to use them, maintaining that poets alone have that privilege, he has not, apparently, read any of our ancient prose writers, who had not yet learned to affect a style that should win applause.
For those writers, whose eloquence was simple and directed only towards proving their case, are full of comparisons; and I think that these are necessary, not for the same reason which makes them necessary for the poets, but in order that they may serve as props to our feebleness, to bring both speaker and listener face to face with the subject under discussion.
Many writers are tempted by the charm of some alluring phrase to some topic other than that which they had set themselves to discuss. But this has not been so in your case; all your words are compact, and suited to the subject, You say all that you wish, and you mean still more than you say. This is a proof of the importance of your subject matter, showing that your mind, as well as your words, contains nothing superfluous or bombastic.
I do, however, find some metaphors, not, indeed, daring ones, but the kind which have stood the test of use. I find similes also; of course, if anyone forbids us to use them, maintaining that poets alone have that privilege, he has not, apparently, read any of our ancient prose writers, who had not yet learned to affect a style that should win applause.
For those writers, whose eloquence was simple and directed only towards proving their case, are full of comparisons; and I think that these are necessary, not for the same reason which makes them necessary for the poets, but in order that they may serve as props to our feebleness, to bring both speaker and listener face to face with the subject under discussion.
—from Seneca, Moral Letters 59
Just as the temperate man can regulate his passions, and the intemperate man permits himself to be swept away by them, so we might say that some are masters of their words, while others are slaves to them. It is no accident that wayward speech is so often a sign of wayward character.
I do not mean merely the rash act of speaking before thinking, but the more subtle error of allowing our language to tickle our sense of self-importance. A fixation with the appearance makes us lose focus on the task at hand.
I am regularly drawn to some clever phrase or pretentious expression, and before I know it, I am not only craving attention, but I have also completely abandoned my original argument in favor of some intellectual diversion. An obsession with pretty words undermines my commitment to grounded reasoning.
If I can manage to keep my speech in check, and not permit it to drag me about, I am contributing one more component to the habit of self-control. This can be rather difficult, for I am tempted to believe that sounding more profound might actually make me a better man, and it’s all because I have mistaken recognition for merit.
Grand analogies, for example, have a way of running away with me, as I try to force an immediate reality into some obscure symbolism that doesn’t quite fit. The complexity of my words has now made the whole matter more confused, when my writing was meant to make it clearer. More isn’t necessarily any better.
Should I then toss out all comparisons? Is reaching for a metaphor a sign of weakness? As always, let me be wary of swinging from one extreme to the other. While I must avoid the urge to wax poetic, the fact remains that an analogy can help us to gradually work from the more familiar to the less familiar, to learn more about what we don’t yet know by means of what we already do know.
Employed with a firm restraint, and keeping in mind how no resemblance can be perfectly exact, the art of comparing and contrasting is a fine tool for fuller understanding. The abuse only begins when our words get too big for our meaning.
I need all the help I can get!
Just as the temperate man can regulate his passions, and the intemperate man permits himself to be swept away by them, so we might say that some are masters of their words, while others are slaves to them. It is no accident that wayward speech is so often a sign of wayward character.
I do not mean merely the rash act of speaking before thinking, but the more subtle error of allowing our language to tickle our sense of self-importance. A fixation with the appearance makes us lose focus on the task at hand.
I am regularly drawn to some clever phrase or pretentious expression, and before I know it, I am not only craving attention, but I have also completely abandoned my original argument in favor of some intellectual diversion. An obsession with pretty words undermines my commitment to grounded reasoning.
If I can manage to keep my speech in check, and not permit it to drag me about, I am contributing one more component to the habit of self-control. This can be rather difficult, for I am tempted to believe that sounding more profound might actually make me a better man, and it’s all because I have mistaken recognition for merit.
Grand analogies, for example, have a way of running away with me, as I try to force an immediate reality into some obscure symbolism that doesn’t quite fit. The complexity of my words has now made the whole matter more confused, when my writing was meant to make it clearer. More isn’t necessarily any better.
Should I then toss out all comparisons? Is reaching for a metaphor a sign of weakness? As always, let me be wary of swinging from one extreme to the other. While I must avoid the urge to wax poetic, the fact remains that an analogy can help us to gradually work from the more familiar to the less familiar, to learn more about what we don’t yet know by means of what we already do know.
Employed with a firm restraint, and keeping in mind how no resemblance can be perfectly exact, the art of comparing and contrasting is a fine tool for fuller understanding. The abuse only begins when our words get too big for our meaning.
I need all the help I can get!
—Reflection written in 6/2013
IMAGE: Artemisia Gentileschi, Allegory of Rhetoric (c. 1650)
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