(4) A form, more or less perfect. Form is the union of all the means which the writer employs to convey his thought and emotion to the reader. Flaubert has said, “Among all the expressions of the world there is but one, one form, one mode, to express what I want to say.”—“Say what you have to say, what you have a will to say, in the simplest, the most direct and exact manner possible, with no surplusage,” Walter Pater has spoken. Then the form and the matter will fit each other so perfectly there will be no unnecessary adornment.
In regard to form it is to be remembered that feeling is best awakened incidentally by suggestion. Words are the instruments, the medium of the writer. Words have two powers: the power to name what they mean, or denotation; and the power to suggest what they imply, or connotation. Words have the power of connotation in two ways: They may mean more than they say or they may produce emotional effect not only from meaning but also from sound. To make these two suggestive powers of words work together is the perfect art of Milton. Pope describes for us the relation of sound to sense in a few lines which themselves illustrate the point:—
Soft is the strain when
zephyr gently blows,
And the smooth stream
in smoother numbers flows.
But when loud surges
lash the sounding shore,
The hoarse, rough verse,
should like the torrent roar.
When Ajax strives some
rock’s vast weight to throw.
The line too labors,
and the words move slow:
Not so when swift Camilla
scours the plain,
Flies o’er the
unbending corn and skims along the main.