Style

Technology has no recognized rank in what is called polite literature; the subject-matter of engineering is not supposed to lend itself to artistic treatment; we are the hewers of wood and drawers of water to the high-priests of learning that live on the cold summit above our humbler dwellings. Therefore the hierophants smile at the notion of 'style'- “that curiously personal thing”--in technical writing. The "great art" of Pater, the "inevitable phrase" of Raleigh, the "note of distinction" that Arnold demanded are said to be beyond the scope, as they are supposed to be beside the need, of a writer on geology or engineering. This is a narrow view. Science, no less than belles lettres, calls for the best exercise of the human intelligence; the art of writing should be employed as skilfully and as earnestly in a description of the structure of the Sierra Nevada, or of the construction of a tunnel through the range, as in a rhapsody welcoming the rosy fingers of the dawn. The idea still lingers that fine writing does not befit technology, even though the masters of the Victorian period- Huxley, Tyndall, Ruskin-proved that science is worthy to be arrayed in the best robes that the looms of thought can weave. At the beginning of these lectures I quoted Barrie's remark touching the inability of the scientific man to express himself. That imputation has been passed to the technologist, whose utilitarian pursuits are supposed to make him too clumsy for the refinements of human speech. We may not have acquired the self-consciousness of those writers on Art whose "power of expression is so cultivated that their sensual caterwauling may be almost mistaken for the music of the spheres"; nor can we imitate the politicians, who have the ability to speak far beyond anything that they may have to say; but we too have a litera-