It is not in the nature of all the words in a sentence to affect the ear in the same way, any more than all visible objects produce the same impression on the sense of sight, things tasted on that of taste, or any other set of stimuli upon the sense to which they correspond. No, different sounds affect the ear with many different sensations of sweetness, harshness, roughness, smoothness, and so on. The reason is to be found partly in the many different qualities of the letters which make up speech, and partly in the extremely various forms in which syllables are put together. Now since words have these properties, and since it is impossible to change the fundamental nature of any single one of them, we can only mask the uncouthness which is inseparable from some of them, by means of mingling and fusion and juxtaposition, — by mingling smooth with rough, soft with hard, cacophonous with melodious, easy to pronounce with hard to pronounce, long with short; and generally by happy combinations of the same kind. Many words of few syllables must not be used in succession (for this jars upon the ear), nor an excessive number of polysyllabic words; and we must avoid the monotony of setting side by side words similarly accented or agreeing in their quantities. We must quickly vary the cases of substantives (since, if continued unduly, they greatly offend the ear); and in order to guard against satiety, we must constantly break up the effect of sameness entailed by placing many nouns, or verbs, or other parts of speech, in close succession. We must not always adhere to the same figures, but change them frequently; we must not re-introduce the same metaphors, but vary them; we must not exceed due measure by beginning or ending with the same words too often.
Still, let no one think that I am proclaiming these as universal rules — that I suppose keeping them will always produce pleasure, or breaking them always produce annoyance. I am not so foolish. I know that pleasure often arises from both sources — from similarity at one time, from dissimilarity at another. In every case we must, I think, keep in view good taste, for this is the best criterion of charm and its opposite. But about good taste no rhetorician or philosopher has, so far, produced a definite treatise. The man who first undertook to write on the subject, Gorgias of Leontini, achieved nothing worth mentioning. The nature of the subject, indeed, is not such that it can fall under any comprehensive and systematic treatment, nor can good taste in general be apprehended by science, but only by personal judgment. Those who have continually trained this latter faculty in many connexions are more successful than others in attaining good taste, while those who leave it untrained are rarely successful, and only by a sort of lucky stroke.
To proceed. I think the following rules should be observed in composition by a writer who looks to please the ear. Either he should link to one another melodious, rhythmical, euphonious words, by which the sense of hearing is touched with a feeling of sweetness and softness, — those which, to put it broadly, come home to it most; or he should intertwine and interweave those which have no such natural effect with those that can so bewitch the ear that the unattractiveness of the one set is overshadowed by the grace of the other. We may compare the practice of good tacticians when marshalling their armies: they mask the weak portions by means of the strong, and so no part of their force proves useless. In the same way I maintain we ought to relieve monotony by the tasteful introduction of variety, since variety is an element of pleasure in everything we do. And last, and certainly most important of all, the setting which is assigned to the subject matter must be appropriate and becoming to it. And, in my opinion, we ought not to feel shy of using any noun or verb, however hackneyed, unless it carries with it some shameful association; for I venture to assert that no part of speech which signifies a person or a thing will prove so mean, squalid, or otherwise offensive as to have no fitting place in discourse. My advice is that, trusting to the effect of the composition, we should bring out such expressions with a bold and manly confidence, following the example of Homer, in whom the most commonplace words are found, and of Demosthenes and Herodotus and others, whom I will mention a little later so far as is suitable in each case. I think I have now spoken at sufficient length on charm of style. My treatment has been but a brief survey of a wide field, but will furnish the main heads of the study.