The foregoing, then, is one branch of the art of composition which requires consideration: namely, that which relates to the primary parts and elements of speech. But there is another, as I said at the beginning, which is concerned with the so-called “members” (“clauses”), and this requires fuller and more elaborate treatment. My views on this topic I will try to express forthwith.
The clauses must be fitted to one another so as to present an aspect of harmony and concord; they must be given the best form which they admit of; they must further be remodelled if necessary by shortening, lengthening, and any other change of form which clauses admit. As to each of these details experience itself must be your teacher. It will often happen that the placing of one clause before or after another brings out a certain euphony and dignity, while a different grouping sounds unpleasing and undignified. My meaning will be clearer if illustrated by an example. There is a well-known passage of Thucydides in the speech of the Plataeans, a delightfully arranged sentence full of deep feeling, which is as follows: “And we fear, men of Sparta, lest you, our only hope, should fail in steadfastness.” Now let this order be disturbed and the clauses be re-arranged as follows: “And we fear, men of Sparta, lest you should fail in steadfastness, that are our only hope.” When the clauses are arranged in this way, does the same fine charm remain, or the same deep feeling? Plainly not. Again, take this passage of Demosthenes, “So you admit as constitutional the acceptance of the offerings; you indict as unconstitutional the rendering of thanks for them.” Let the order be disturbed, and the clauses interchanged and presented in the following form: “So the acceptance of the offerings you admit as constitutional; the rendering of thanks for them you indict as unconstitutional.” Will the sentence be equally neat and effective? I, for my part, do not think so.