I think I can in a very few words show that some clauses admit changes which take the form now of additions not necessary to the sense, now of curtailments rendering the sense incomplete; and that these changes are introduced by poets and prose-writers simply in order to add charm and beauty to the rhythm. Thus the following expression used by Demosthenes indisputably contains a pleonastic addition made for the sake of the rhythm: “He who contrives and prepares means whereby I may be captured is at war with me, though not yet shooting javelins or arrows.” Here the reference to “arrows” is added not out of necessity, but in order that the last clause “though not yet shooting javelins,” being rougher than it ought to be and not pleasant to the ear, may be made more attractive by this addition. Again, the famous period of Plato which that author inserts in the Funeral Speech has beyond dispute been extended by a supplement not necessary to the sense: “When deeds have been nobly done, then through speech finely uttered there come honour and remembrance to the doers from the hearers.” Here the words “from the hearers” are not at all necessary to the sense; they are added in order that the last clause, “to the doers,” may correspond with and balance what has preceded it. Again, take these words found in Aeschines, “you summon him against yourself; you summon him against the laws; you summon him against the democracy,” a sentence of great celebrity, formed of three clauses: does it not belong to the class we are considering? What could have been embraced in one clause as follows, “you summon him against yourself and the laws and the democracy,” has been divided into three, the same expression being repeated not from any necessity but in order to make the rhythm more agreeable.
In such ways, then, may clauses be expanded: how can they be abridged? This comes about when something necessary to the sense is likely to offend and jar on the ear, and when, consequently, its removal adds to the charm of the rhythm. An example, in verse, is afforded by the following lines of Sophocles: —
I close mine eyes, I open them, I rise —
Myself the warder rather than the warded.
Here the second line is composed of two imperfect clauses. The expression would have been complete if it had run thus,
“myself warding others rather than being warded by others.” But violence would have been done to the metre, and the line would not have acquired the charm which it actually has. In prose there are such instances as: “I will pass by the fact that it is a piece of injustice, simply because a man brings charges against some individuals, to attempt to withhold exemption from every one.” Here, too, each of the two first clauses is abbreviated. They would have been each complete in itself if worded thus: “I will pass by the fact that it is a piece of injustice, simply because a man brings charges against some individuals and declares them unfit for exemption, to attempt to withhold that privilege from every one — even those who are justly entitled to it.” But Demosthenes did not approve of paying more heed to the exactitude of the clauses than to the beauty of the rhythm.
I wish what I have just said to be understood as applying also to what are called “periods.” For, when it is fitting to express one’s meaning in periods, these too must be arranged so as to precede or follow each other appropriately. It must, of course, be understood that the periodic style is not suitable everywhere: and the question when periods should be used and to what extent, and when not, is precisely one of those with which the science of composition deals.