ing of innumerable bees."

In these lines, fully as much is conveyed to the reader by the mere
melody of m's and r's and l's as by the content, or denotation, of
the words. For instance, the word "innumerable," which denotes to the
intellect merely "incapable of being numbered," is in this connection
made to suggest to the senses the murmuring of bees. That one word,
therefore, accomplishes a dual service, and contributes to the
expression of the general idea in one way through its content and in
another through its sound.

This co-ordination of the two appeals is the origin and the essence
of the quality of style. But the question now demands to be
considered,--_how_ may this co-ordination be effected? The first
detail we must attend to is the choice of words. Tennyson's task, in
the lines that we have just considered, was comparatively easy. He was
writing about certain sounds; and it was not especially difficult for
him to imitate those sounds with the words that he selected to denote
them. His device was the obvious one which is called, by rhetoricians,
onomatop[oe]ia. In every language those words which are denotative of
sounds are nearly always also imitative of them. Such words, as, for
example, "whisper," "thunder," "rattle," are in themselves stylistic.
Alone, and apart from any context, they incorporate that cognate
appeal of significance and sound which is the secret of style. Thus
far the matter is extremely simple. But there are also many words
which denote other things than sounds and yet somehow convey subtly
to the ear a sensuous suggestion of their content. Such words, for
instance, are "mud," "nevermore," and "tremulous." Any child could
tell you that words like these "sound just like what they mean";
and yet it would be impossible for the critical intellect to explain
exactly wherein lies the fitness between sound and sense in such a
word as "mud." The fitness, however, is obviously there. If we select
from several languages words which are identical in denotation, we
are likely to find that, because of their difference in sound, they
connote different phases of the idea which they contain. For example,
the English word "death" has a spiritual sound; whereas the German
"_der Tod_" sounds terrible and grim, and the French "_la mort_"
sounds horrid and bizarre. In content, these three words are
indistinguishable; but in style they differ very widely. Their
diversity of connotation is obviously inheren