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 1 
 
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 6 
 
ELEMENTS 
 
 OF THK 
 
 ART OF RHETORIC: 
 
 ADAPTED FOR USB 
 
 COLLEGES AND ACADEMIES, 
 
 ▲KS FOB 
 
 PRIVATE STUDY. 
 
 This isi 
 Which doth mend nature, chqpgftil rathcRjJbnt 
 The art itself Is nature. 'I ^ 
 Cl. 
 
 r-c-j 
 
 BY IIEx\RY i;:DAY, , 
 
 raorasaoR or rhetoric ix western- u^smve coixEGBT^aiOt 
 
 FOURTH EDITION. 
 
 KEW YOKK: 
 PUBLISHED BY A. S. BARNES & Co., 
 Ill & 113 WILLIAM ST., cor. JOHN. 
 
 1867. 
 
Entered iwftordlti? to Act of Congress, in the year 1850, 
 by Henry N. Day, in the Clerk's Office of the District Court of 
 
 the District of Obia 
 
PREFACE 
 
 The particulars, in which the Treatise on Rhetoric now 
 offered to the public differs from other works on the same 
 subject in the English language, are chiefly the following: 
 
 First Invention is treated as a distinct and primary de- 
 partment of the art of Rhetoric. From most English trea- 
 tises this department has been entirely excluded; and rae- 
 toric has been generally regarded as confined almost exclu- 
 sively to style. If we leave out of view some older and 
 nearly forgotten works that were modeled on the pattern of 
 the Grecian and Roman rhetoricians. Dr. Whately's work 
 furnishes, perhaps, the only exception to this general remark. 
 The work of Dr. Whately, however, embraces but a small 
 portion of what properly belongs to rhetorical invention. 
 The attention of learners has thus been turned chiefly or 
 solely upon style. The consequence has been, as might 
 naturally be expected where manner is the chief object of 
 reoard, that exercises in composition have been exceedmgly 
 repulsive and profitless drudgeries. On the other hand, ex- 
 perience confirms most f Jly what was beforehand to be con- 
 fideutlv counted on, that if the mind be turned mainly on 
 the matter,— the thought to be presented &nd the design oi 
 presenting it, the exercise of composition becomes a most 
 interesting, attractive and profitable exercise. The mind. 
 
IV 
 
 PREFACE. 
 
 having thought to express, and being animated by a per- 
 ceived object in expressing it, when furnished with the 
 guiding principles in such expression, acts intelligently, 
 easily, and with satisfaction to itself. Such exercise is, in- 
 deed, one of the most pleasing employments of mind. Style, 
 itself, then becomes a matter of interest; for the desire is a 
 natural one to see the thought so expressed as to accomplish 
 the object in expressing it. A foundation is thus furn-ished 
 for criticism; its principles and the application of them 
 become intelligible, and therefore interesting even to the 
 inexperienced writer. The ancients regarded invention as 
 the soul of the art of rhetoric; and the success of their rhe- 
 torical training is to be attributed mainly to the tact that 
 their attention was chiefly directed to this department of the 
 art. The disestcem into which instruction in rhetoric has 
 fallen in modern times, is, perhaps, justly due to the exclu- 
 sion of invention from our rhetorical text-books. 
 
 Secondly, the endeavor has been made, with what success 
 the public will decide, to reduce to a more exact system the 
 principles of rhetoric, in the determination of the proper pro- 
 vince of rhetoric, and of its departments, and^ also, in the 
 development of the principles involved in both divisions of 
 the art. So far as was deemed compatible with the charac- 
 ter of a practical treatise, — of an art as distinguished from 
 a science, — the grounds have been indicated for the devel- 
 opment of the art at each successive stage. The divisions, 
 thus, are exhibited as given necessarily on rational grounds. 
 It is a great satisfaction to the mind of a learner to be able 
 to see that the path over which he is conducted is not an arbi- 
 trary one, but is determined by the very nature of the sub- 
 ject. Nothing is lost, while much is gained, by a conform 
 ity to strict philosophical principles in the construction oi 
 text-books for the use even of immature minds. 
 
PR, FAC'i:. 
 
 The author flatters himself that the view presented of the 
 province oi' Rhetoric, while it will appear in its own light 
 to be philosophically correct, avoids the confusion and difFx- 
 culties, not to say the contradictions, that have been experi- 
 enced in ol) er s\ stems The province of Rhetoric, as the 
 art of oratoiy, is well defined and is philu.suphically dislin- 
 yuisjuible from Logic, (^ranunar. Aesthetics, Poetry, and 
 Elocution. liicludiag, as it mut-'l if li. be a proper art, both 
 the supply of thought and of language, it is saved from 
 beiijg degraded to a mere negative, critical system; — it be- 
 comes a positively invigorating and developing art, most 
 admirably fitted to call forth and di;u;ipline the mental 
 powers in a course of rationally prescribed and attractive 
 exercises. Covering the entire held of pure discc/urse as nd- 
 dress to another miad, it is redeemed from the shackles a ad 
 embarrassments of Ihat view v\ hich confines it to n.ere argu- 
 mentative composition, ov the art of producing Belief. This 
 view of Rhetoric, in which Dr. Whately is followed by the 
 writer of the article in the Encyclopaedia Britannica, conr 
 sistently carried out, excludes all Explanatory Discourse as 
 well as all Persuasion. The allusion to the one, and the 
 fuller consideration of the other, in Dr. Whately's Rhetoric, 
 are justified by the author on grounds that are not tenable 
 for a moment. Argumentative Discourse, the art of pro- 
 ducing belief, can not, without violence to the well estab- 
 lished import of language, include that discourse, the pri- 
 mary and controlling design of which is to inform or instruct, 
 or that, the end of which is to persuade. Instruction and 
 conviction are as widely distinguished as perception and 
 Delief J and it must appear on a very slight investigation of 
 the subject that "generally speaking the same rules will^ not 
 '' be serviceable for attaining each of these objects." Nar- 
 ration and argumentation have little in common, so far as 
 
▼I 
 
 PREFACE. 
 
 the conduct of the thought is concerned. There is very little, 
 accordingly, in Dr.Whately's treatise, except under tiie head 
 of Style, which has any application to Explanatory Discourse, 
 as History or Description. And Persuasion, although it 
 may make use of Argumentation, docs not always recjuire 
 its help, and seeks entirely a ditferent end by an entirely 
 diifereut process. 
 
 The distribution of the diflerent forms of discussion, and 
 of the dill'erent specific processes in each, will enable the 
 learner not only to obtain a more thorough knowledge of 
 the art of constructing discourse than he could from more 
 general views, but will greatly I'acilitate the practical appli- 
 cation of rhetorical principles to actual composition. In his 
 exercises, he will know precisely what to do; while the sup- 
 ply of the matter of the composition, by being his own 
 woik, will give to the whole elVort an interest and pleasure 
 which are entirely foreign from exercises in composition as 
 usually directed. It is the utter ignorance of what he is to 
 do when set to the task of writing a composition, as it is 
 called, which makes the task so repulsive. Suppose, for 
 illustration, that "the French Revolution of 1848 " be given 
 out as the theme of a composition. No intimation bein«»- 
 given in regard to the object in the discussion of the theme, the 
 mind of the pupil is left without an aim, and it cannot work. 
 It will be the merest matter of chance whether he propose to 
 himself any aim at all in the discussion, or whether he do 
 not blindly and confusedly bring together manifold and in- 
 congruous aims, and his effort, pursued thus irrationally, 
 give him only disgust from beginning to end. But let him 
 understand that it is as necessary to settle definitely the 
 object as the subject of his composition; to determine that 
 he is to write a narrative of the events of that Revolution, 
 w of its causes or its effects; or a description of its exciting 
 
 ft 
 
PREFACE. 
 
 ▼II 
 
 M 
 
 scenes J or argue its necest.ity or its righteousness or its expe* 
 diency ; or exhibit it us a political movement lilted to awaken 
 emotions of admiration or of fear and horror; or as a motive 
 to others to seek to gain their liberties or to guard against 
 revolutionary outbreaks, one or another of these objects 
 and but one, and he is at once prepared to proceed ration- 
 ally in his work. He knows what matter he needs to col- 
 lect and in what form. He knows when to begin, how 
 to proceed, and where to end. The procedure is now all 
 plain, simple, and satisfactory. He can see now at what 
 points his effort is successful and at what it is delicient. He * 
 can receive criticism and profit by it. 
 
 A new analysis is given in the work of the properties of 
 style, which, it is hoped, will aid the student in ascertain- 
 ing what properties should be secured to expression in rhe- 
 toric and what faults should be avoided, as well as in 
 understanding on what grounds they are classed, as proper- 
 ties of style. Both in the designation, and in the enumera- 
 tion and description of the oral properties, there will be 
 observed a departure from former systems which, it is 
 hoped, will commend itself to every candid and thorough 
 investigator. It will be seen that these properties can be 
 classed together and be subdivided on the strictest philoso- 
 phical principles, and that, consequently, they may and 
 should be carefully distinguished specifically from one an- 
 other and generically from the other classes of properties. 
 The attempt has been made, also, to reduce to some order 
 and system the " Figures of speech " so called. 
 
 Thirdly, the treatise has been prepared with a reference to 
 practical instruction in rhetoric; as an art, and not merely 
 as a science. The principles have been presented with a view 
 to their application in suitable exercises. It is accordingly 
 recommended in the use of the work in instruction, th»* 
 
^ 
 
 fill 
 
 rUL \(F.. 
 
 'II : 
 
 exercises he presciibtd lo ihe pu|iil uhich shall involve the 
 •ysteiiiutic ujjpiicuui.u u( the principles. A list of thcuiea 
 has been added in aa Jipjiendix, dcsi-^ned for exercise on the 
 principles ol' iavenliun wliich applj. to diHerent kinds of 
 literary composition. It will be lound iiselul .to prescribe 
 themes of the dille.ent classes separately, and subject tiie 
 composition when prepared to the test ol" the princijdea 
 which apply to it. I'hiis, the exercises in narrative dis- 
 course may be continued till the laws of such discourse 
 shall become practically fan'.iliar. The only exercises, per- 
 haps, which the study of style readily admits, are those of 
 correcting faults or of ascertaining the particular excellencies 
 of a given discourse. Particularly, will it be found to bo a 
 profitable exercise to the learner to detect and correct, as far 
 as it may be, the faults in the passages selected for exenipli- 
 fication of the princi])les. The fi)rm of the work, it will be 
 observed, contemplates a thorough sfudi/ing of its prin- 
 ciples. It is not a work from which a mere cursory perusal 
 will derive much benefit or satisfaction. 
 
 It is proper to add here that the original design of pre- 
 paring the work, as well as the plan of it, have been sug- 
 gested in the eiperience of the author as an instructor in 
 rhetoric. The endeavor to teach the art under the guidance 
 of our common treatises on rhetoric, u ith a predominant 
 view to style or expression, proved so unsatisfactory as to 
 put upon a diligent search after a better meth(;d.' That 
 method was found in the study of the ancient rhetoricians 
 and particularly in observation on Ihe success of exercises 
 in Homiletics which were mainly exercises in invention; at 
 all eveats it was found, in actual experience, that the substi- 
 tution of exeicisjs in rhet(,rical invention,- exercises in 
 which the thfOic, the object, a^d li.e oujdini. principles^./ 
 the 6omj)osiuou were pit.cribed,-in uiace oi )nere exercises 
 
PRFFACK 
 
 IX 
 
 in stylo without well delincd object or known law of devel- 
 oping the tiiought, converted what was a moat repulsive and 
 unprofitable drudgery into an attractive and most beneficial 
 intellectual elVort. 
 
 Li tiie actJial construction of the work, free use has been 
 made of the popidar works on Rhetoric in the English lan- 
 guage, particularly for purposes o*' cxeinplilication and illus* 
 traiion. Valuable suggestions have, also, been derived from 
 diverse German writers, as Schott, Hoffmann, Richter, 
 Ejichenburg, Theremin, Becker and others. 
 
CONTENTS 
 
 INTRODUCTION. 
 
 { 1. Object of the Art of Rhetoric, 
 
 CHAPTER I. 
 
 Province of Rhetoeio. 
 
 2. Founded on the Faculty of Discourse, - " 
 
 8-9. Relations to Ethics, Science of the Emotions, Aesthet- 
 ics, Logic, Grammar, Elocution and Poetry, 
 
 CHAPTER II. 
 Rhktoric a developinq Abt. 
 
 10, 11. Fact and Degree, - - - - 
 
 12-19. Means, ------ 
 
 CHAPTER III. 
 Rhetobio an Aesthetic Aet. 
 
 20. Ground, ..---- 
 
 21. Elements of Beauty, . - - - 
 
 22. Absolute Beauty, _ - - - 
 
 23. Grace, _----- 
 
 24. Rhetorical Propriety, . - - - 
 
 CHAPTER IV. 
 Kinds of Discouusk. 
 
 25-27. Oratory, - - - . , " 
 
 28-31. Derived species.— Epistolary Composition, 
 32-34. Representative Discourse — Pure, Mixed, 
 35-89. Forms of Oratory— Judicial. Deliberative, Sacred, 
 40. Kinds of Discourse, - - - - 
 
 CHAPTER V. 
 Divisions of Ruetoeio. 
 lit Invention, Style, . - • • 
 
 1 
 
 8 
 6 
 
 10 
 18 
 
 19 
 21 
 22 
 23 
 24 
 
 25 
 
 27 
 28 
 30 
 32 
 
 82 
 
n 
 
 zu 
 
 CONTENTS. 
 
 FIRST GENERAL DIVISIOK— INTENTION. 
 
 GExXERAL VIEW. 
 
 CHAPTER I. 
 Parts op Ixv£ntion. 
 5 42-46. Nature and Parts, . - - 
 
 CHAPTER II. 
 
 GENEr.AE TIIKMli; OF DISCOURSE. 
 
 47-52. Principles of selection, . . - 
 
 63. Moral end of Discourse, . - - 
 
 54. Objects of Discourse, - . - . 
 
 65. • Pi'ocesses, - - - - - 
 
 5G-58. Unity, 
 
 59. Departments of Invention, - - - 
 
 CHAPTER III. 
 
 Parts of a Discourse. 
 
 60-G5. Essential Parts — Proposition and Discussion, 
 66-71. Subsidiary P-irLs — Introduction and Peroration, 
 
 PAIH 
 
 iio 
 
 S8 
 
 9 
 
 42 
 
 9 
 
 42 
 
 mt 
 
 42 
 
 ^1 
 
 48 
 
 ^ 
 
 45 
 
 1 
 
 
 1 
 
 46 
 
 IK 
 
 47 
 
 % 
 
 PART I.— EXPLANATION. 
 
 CHAI'TKR I. 
 
 iNTKODircToiry View. 
 
 72-T6. Nature of Explanation, Tlieino, Unity, 
 77, 78. Pr^ccs.ses — Nnn-ittion, DoseripfioTi, Analysis, Ex- 
 emplification, Compari.'-ou and Contrast, 
 
 CHAPTER II. 
 Narration. 
 70. Nature, - - - 
 
 &0. 81. ^>i;npltj Narration, - - - . 
 
 82. 83. Causiil, - . - - - 
 
 84. Abstract, ----.. 
 85-87. Principles and Laws, - - • 
 
 CHAPTER III. 
 Desckiption. 
 88-89. Natui-e, Subjects, - - . « 
 
 &0, 03. Process, Laws, « - • • 
 
 51 
 
 -c^H 
 
 54 
 
 *. i 
 
 
 4 
 
 
 '^ 
 
 
 $ 
 
 
 
 67 
 
 
 67 
 
 M 
 
 68 
 
 '^ 
 
 GO 
 
 ^ia 
 
 61 
 
 
 64 
 
 66 
 
 i 
 
CONTENTS, 
 
 xm 
 
 TION. 
 
 FAQH 
 
 iio 
 
 88 
 42 
 42 
 42 
 48 
 45 
 
 46 
 47 
 
 51 
 54 
 
 67 
 67 
 58 
 GO 
 61 
 
 64 
 
 e6 
 
 CHAPTER rV. 
 
 Analysis. 
 
 i 94-96. Nature, Subjects, Relations, 
 97-99. Speeics— Division, Partition, 
 100-102. Laws of Division, - - - 
 
 103-106. Laws of Partition,. 
 
 CHAPTER V. 
 
 Exemplification. 
 
 107-109. Nature, Subjects, Relations, - 
 110, 111. Laws, - - - " 
 
 CHAPTER VI. 
 
 fC0)^PAIlIS0N AND CONTKAST. 
 
 112, 113. Nature, . . - - 
 
 114. Kinds— simple, analogical, 
 116-117. Laws, Relations, Subjects, 
 
 CHAPTER VIL 
 Introduction and Peeokation. 
 118, 119. Introduction— Explanatory, Conciliatory, 
 120, 121. Peroration— Forms, Order, 
 
 PART II.— CONFIRMATION. 
 
 CHAPTER L 
 
 Inthoductory View. 
 
 122-124. Object, Theme, Process, 
 125-127. Regard to Mind Addressed, 
 
 CHAPTER F 
 
 Theme in Confirmation. 
 
 12fi, 129. Form, Statement, 
 
 CHAPTER in. 
 
 Proof. 
 
 lSO-132. Nature, Kinds, Process, 
 
 133. The Topics, . . - 
 
 CHAPTER IV. 
 The Topics. 
 
 134. Object, 
 
 135. General Division of Proofs, 
 136-138. Analytic Proofs, 
 
 PASB 
 
 70 
 71 
 72 
 76 
 
 78 
 79 
 
 80 
 
 81 
 
 82 
 
 88 
 
 84 
 
 86 
 
 88 
 
 89 
 
 91 
 93 
 
 94 
 
 95 
 96 
 
' ■ v ' 
 
 , 
 
 t 'i 
 
 1 1 « 
 
 i 
 
 XIV 
 
 CONTENTS. 
 
 j 139, 140. Synthetic proofs;—!. Intuitive, 
 
 141. 2. Empirical, 
 
 142. Empirical proofs ; from Experience, 
 143-145. Antecedent Probability, 
 146-149. Signs — Testimony, Authority, 103 
 160-156. Examples, Arguments from induction, from analogy 106 
 
 PAda 
 97 
 99 
 99 
 
 100 
 
 157. Complex arguments, 
 
 168. Validity of empirical proofs, - - - 
 
 169. Applicability of arguments to different subjecta, 
 
 CHAPTER V. 
 
 ABBAIiaEMENT OF ABanV7.KTS. 
 
 160. Importance, - - - • • 
 
 161-164. Principles, - - - • 
 
 CHAPTER VI. 
 
 PaSSUMFTION. 
 
 165. Definition, 
 166-170. Principles, 
 
 CHAPTER VIL 
 Refutation. 
 
 171-173. Definition and nature, 
 
 174. Statement of objections, - - 
 
 175. Principles of repetition, - - 
 
 CHAPTER VIIL 
 Inteoduction and Perobatiom 
 
 176. Introduction Explanatory, 
 177-186. Conciliatory, 
 
 187. Peroration, _ _ - 
 
 PART III.— EXCITATION. 
 
 CHAPTER I. 
 Introddctout View. 
 
 188. Object, 
 
 189. Process, 
 190-194. Laws, 
 
 195, 196. Form, 
 197-200. Statement, 
 
 CHAPTER n. 
 Theuk. 
 
 Ill 
 114 
 115 
 
 116 
 116 
 
 119 
 
 121 
 
 125 
 126 
 126 
 
 127 
 128 
 182 
 
 188 
 
 134 
 185 
 
 188 
 139 
 
97 
 
 99 
 
 99 
 
 100 
 
 ;hority, 103 
 
 analogy 106 
 
 - Ill 
 
 114 
 
 I. - 115 
 
 116 
 - 116 
 
 119 
 121 
 
 125 
 126 
 126 
 
 127 
 128 
 1S2 
 
 188 
 
 134 
 185 
 
 188 
 139 
 
 ■4 
 
 I 
 
 1 
 
 
 
 i 
 
 CONTENTS. 
 
 CHAPTER III. 
 Pathetic Explanation. 
 I 201-206. Principles, 
 
 CHAPTER IV. 
 Sympathy. 
 
 206. Necessity, - " j. .' 
 
 207, 208. Modes— Direct and Indirect, 
 
 209. Degree, - - - • 
 
 CHAPTER V. 
 Introduction and Peroeation. 
 
 210, 211. Kinds admissible, 
 
 ZV 
 
 piaa 
 . 142 
 
 145 
 146 
 148 
 
 . U9 
 
 150 
 153 
 
 154 
 
 PART IV.— PERSUASION. 
 
 CHAPTER I. 
 Introductory View. 
 
 212-214. Objects, _ - - - • 
 
 216-217. Process and Laws, _ - - 
 
 CHAPTER II. 
 Theme. 
 218, 219. Form and Statement, 
 
 CHAPTER III. 
 Persuasive Explanation, Confirmation, and Excitation. 
 220-222. Persuasive Explanation, - - "1(^7 
 
 223. Confirmation, - - " :|^' 
 
 224*. Excitation, - " - lo< 
 
 CHAPTER IV. 
 
 M:>.'VES. 
 
 ifift 
 225. Definition, - - ' " . * 168 
 
 226-230. Classes, - - - - 
 
 CHAPTER V. 
 Specific Acts. 
 281, 232. Persuasion, Dissuasion, Incitement, - - 1"' 
 
 CHAPTER VI. 
 Aeranqement. 
 
 233-238. Principles, 
 
 lei 
 
 \ 
 

 xvi 
 
 CONTENTS. 
 
 CHAPTER VII. 
 
 InTKODUCTION and PER0R.1TI0N. 
 
 { 289, 240. Kinds Admissible, 
 
 16S 
 
 SECOND GENERAL DIVISION— STYLE. 
 
 GENERAL VIEW. 
 
 iiii 
 
 
 CHAPTER I. 
 
 
 
 
 Nature. 
 
 
 riOB 
 
 241. 
 242. 
 
 Definition, . - « 
 Analysis, - - • 
 
 CHAPTER II. 
 General Properties. 
 
 ■ 
 
 - 165 
 166 
 
 243. 
 
 Divisions— Absolute, Relative, 
 
 • 
 
 . - 168 
 
 PART I.— ABSOLUTE PROPERTIES. 
 
 CHAPTER I. 
 
 General View of Language. 
 
 245. Definition, 171 
 
 246-249. Divisions — Oral, Suggestive, Grammatical, 173 
 
 CHAPTER II. 
 
 Oral Properties. 
 
 250-252. Divisions — Euphony, Harmony, - - 176 
 
 252. StJidy, 177 
 
 CHAPTER m. 
 EupnoNT. 
 253-255. Principles of Euphony, _ , . 179 
 
 CHAPTER IV. 
 
 Harmony — Harmony Propku. 
 
 256, 257. Nature — Divisions, Harmony Proper, Rhythm, 
 
 Melody, 181 
 
 258, 259. Hjirmony Proper, defined, principles, - 18* 
 
OUMTKNT>>. 
 
 xvn 
 
 TAn 
 
 16t 
 
 YLE. 
 
 PAOB 
 
 165 
 166 
 
 168 
 
 CHAPTER V. 
 Rhythm. 
 2 2G0-2G3. Definition, principles, 
 
 CHAPTEP VI. 
 Melody. 
 
 264, 265, Definition, kinds, - - - 
 
 2(56. Melody of Proportion— nature, principles, _ - 
 267-271. Melody of Arrangement— nature, principles, 
 
 CHAPTER VII. 
 Suggestive Properties. 
 
 272, 273. Kinds, . - - - 
 
 274-280. Imitative Properties, . - - 
 
 281-283. Symbolical Properties, 
 
 CHAPTER VIII. 
 Grammatical Propertibb. 
 
 284-287. Kinds, standard of purity, 
 
 288, 289. Barbarisms, . - - - 
 
 290. Solecisms, . - - - 
 
 291, 292. Improprieties, . - - - 
 
 187 
 
 192 
 
 193 
 198 
 
 204 
 204 
 209 
 
 212 
 216 
 218 
 221 
 
 3. 
 
 PART II.— SUBJECTIVE PROPERTIES. 
 
 hm, 
 
 171 
 173 
 
 175 
 177 
 
 179 
 
 181 
 18ft 
 
 CHAPTER I. 
 General View. 
 298-295. Definition, divisions, - 
 
 CHAPTER II, 
 
 ISlQNinOANOB. 
 
 296. Reqmsites, . - - 
 
 297. Spurious Oratory, - - - 
 
 298. The Nonsensical, - • 
 
 CHAPTER ra. 
 
 CONTINUOUSNESS. 
 
 299. 800. Definition, modes of expressing, 
 
 CHAPTER IV. 
 
 Naturalness. 
 801-805 Definition, forms. 
 
 225 
 
 927 
 
 227 
 229 
 
 . 280 
 
 288 
 
I i'i 
 
 ill 
 
 m i 1! i ! 
 
 Tsm 
 
 CONTENTS. 
 
 PART III.— OBJECTIVE PROPERTIES. 
 
 CHAPTER I. 
 Geneeal View. 
 I 806-308. Definition, kinds, - - - • 
 
 CHAPTER II. 
 
 Clbarnijss. 
 
 810, 311. Definition, source, . - - 
 
 812. Kinds of Words required, - - - • 
 
 813. Representative Imagery, - - 
 
 814. 316. Structure of the Sentence, brevity, " _ " 
 816-319. Relation of the Parts of the Sentence, Rela- 
 tive Words, Arrangement of Members, Pa 
 rentheses, - - - - 
 
 CHAPTER III. 
 
 Eneeqt. 
 
 820, 821. Definition, kinds, - - - - 
 
 822, 323. Proper Energy, sources, - - - 
 
 324. Brevity, - - ".,,',." o ' 
 
 825-329. Arrangement, Unity, Capital Members, Co-or- 
 dinate Members, _ - - 
 830. Figurative Eneigy, sources, 
 331-333. Tropes, - " , " „ " 
 834-337. Simple Tropes— Synecdoche, Metonymy, 
 338. Metaphors, . - - - - 
 839, 340. Repetition, Ellipsis, . - - - 
 341. Representative Imagery, species, 
 
 842. Vision, Personification, Hyperbole, 
 
 843. Comparison or Contrast, _ - - 
 
 844. Prosopopoeia, Apostrophe, IroL^, Doubt, Interroga- 
 
 tion, _ - - - - - 
 
 845. Inversion, Anacoluthon, Aposiopesis, Sententiousness, 
 850-863. Principles of Figurative Expression, 
 
 CHAPTER IV. 
 Eleqanob. 
 864, 855. Definition, elements, - • - 
 
 856. Propriety, - - - . - 
 
 867. Expression of right Sentiment, . . - 
 
 868. Grace, ------ 
 
 859-862. Culture of Elegance, . • - 
 
 VAOI 
 
 288 
 
 248 
 244 
 
 247 
 249 
 
 - 260 
 
 255 
 
 256 
 257 
 
 268 
 263 
 264 
 266 
 268 
 270 
 271 
 271 
 274 
 
 277 
 279 
 282 
 
 286 
 286 
 287 
 287 
 288 
 
 -I 
 
 1^- 
 
CONTENTS. 
 
 zix 
 
 FAoa 
 
 288 
 
 248 
 244 
 
 247 
 249 
 
 250 
 
 255 
 256 
 257 
 
 258 
 263 
 264 
 266 
 268 
 270 
 271 
 271 
 274 
 
 1 
 
 APPENDIX. 
 
 Themes for Exeecisb in Invention. 
 
 Themes in Simple Narration, - ■ " 
 
 Abstract, 
 
 Causal, - " ■ " 
 
 Description Proper, 
 
 Abstract Description, - - " 
 
 Analysis, 
 
 Exemplification, - " " 
 
 Comparison and Contrast, 
 Confirmation, - - - - 
 
 Excitation, - - - " 
 
 Persuasion, - - - " 
 
 MJMellaneoaB, . . - 
 
 piai 
 
 291 
 
 293 
 
 293 
 
 294 
 
 296 
 
 296 
 
 297 
 
 297 
 
 299 
 
 800 
 
 800 
 
 800 
 
 277 
 279 
 282 
 
i 
 
 I 
 4 
 
 
INTRODUCTION. 
 
 OP THE IDEA AND PROVINCE OP RHETORIC. 
 
 § 1. The object of the Art of Rhetoric Js to de- 
 velop AND GUIDE THE FACULTY OF DISCOURSE. 
 
 An art is essentially distinguished from a science by the cir- 
 cumstance that, while the latter proposes truths and principles 
 only as subjects of knowledge, the former carries them out 
 in application to practice. An art, accordingly, always 
 contemplates the exertion of some power or faculty; and 
 oroposes to point out the means and furnish the occasion of 
 developing and regulating that faculty in the best manner. 
 The art of Music, thus, addresses itself to the faculty of 
 song; and unfolds the principles and affords, in suitable 
 exercises, the means by which that faculty is to be cultivated 
 and regulated. Arithmetic, or the art of computation, 
 teaches the principles by which we must compute, and, also, 
 presents examples for exercise, with a view to render the 
 learner dexterous and accurate in computing. In like man- 
 ner, the Jirt of ihetoric proposes to explain the principles by 
 which we discourse or communicate thought and feeling to 
 other minds, and to furnish the means of acquiring a skill 
 
 auu 
 
 J 
 
 UCAIUIII 
 
 -i. 
 
 -J' 
 
 in itie use o 
 
 f tl 
 
 lis 
 
 puvv 
 
 er. 
 
 1 
 
ii*^ 
 
 
 2 INTRODUCTION. 
 
 Tho more particular determination and -I'V^'oP™!-"' f 
 tMrgenoral notion of rl.ctoric will bo exlub.ted m tho 
 chapters of tho Introduction that immoa.atcly follow^ 
 
 . It will bo observed ttal tho term .'diseourso" i» ""od hero in 
 , .mort of • eommunieation of thought by n>eaua 
 
 '::::i^U n." :, elrUer ..tors to denote the faeult, or 
 
 attribute itself of thought: as 
 
 It adds to my calamity that I havo 
 Diacoum and reason.— Massinffer. 
 Reason is her being, 
 Discursive or 'ntuitivo ; discourse 
 Is oftest yours, the latter most is OMTB.-Mtlton. 
 By a common metonymy the word denoting the attribute ia use^ 
 to express the exercise and also the product of the exerc.se. Thus 
 Dnjden uses the word to denote the exercise ; 
 
 The vanquished party with the victors jomed _ 
 Nor wanted sweet discourse, the banquet of tho mind. 
 It is in this sense the term is used in the definition. 
 
 The ulf the term to signify the product of the .-CTci«. 1. .0 
 ^miliar as to need no iUustration. 
 
 ,''* 
 
 
I 
 
 lopmtnt of 
 itcd in tbo 
 )llow.* 
 
 used hero in 
 jht by means 
 the faculty or 
 
 —Milton. 
 
 tribute ia used 
 Lcrcise. Tliua 
 
 mind. 
 
 I 
 
 PROVINCE OF HUKTOrUC. 3 
 
 CilAPTEll I. 
 
 OP THE LIMITS AND IIKLATION.S OP TJIE ART OP 
 
 RIIETOllIC. 
 
 § 2. As the various arts arc distinguished from each 
 ther by the particular faculty or power which they 
 respectively call into exercise, the art of rhetoric has 
 its nature and essential character determined at once 
 from its Ijeing founded on the faculty of discourse, or 
 the capacity in man of communicating his own men- 
 tal states to other minds, by means of language. 
 
 Various names are in current use for the designation of 
 this art, conveying, however, slightly different sl.ades of 
 meaning. The term eloquence turns the mind on the source, 
 and is eVivalent to the phrase verbal expression, having no 
 direct reference to the object of speaking. Oratory, on the 
 other hand, fixes the attention on the hearer or person ad- 
 dressed, and directly suggests the idea of an elfect on liis 
 mind. Rhetoric, the art of the speaker, expresses the thing 
 itself, speaking, with no such reference either to the source 
 or to the elVect. 
 
 § 3. Inasmuch as Discourse, in its proper and origi- 
 nal import, respects an effect on another mind, and all 
 intentional operations of one mind on another come 
 under the control of moral principles; and, in so far, 
 moreover, as it expresses moral states or aims to excite 
 them, rhetoric Ijears a close affmity to ethics. 
 
 Tlje ancient rhetoricians, as for instance, Aristotle, re- 
 garded rhetoric as but a specific development and applica- 
 tion of ethical science. So, likewise, it is now regarded by 
 some German writers, particularly, by Theremin. This 
 
i ji 
 
 . i 
 
 I 
 
 t' i 
 r t 
 
 
 
 ,nuch, at least, is true. AH proper oratory .s a j.rsonal 
 procedure. It i.npUes a person in the concrete luness ot 
 Ls personal relations addressing other persons in the con™ 
 Crete fullness of their personal relations, bo i ant is a 
 amoral procedure and comes under the supervision of ethics 
 
 Rhetoric is, by no means, however, a part of mora 
 science If it represent moral states, if it imply a moral 
 ;.uu, If, consequently, it must proceed in conformity to 
 ,nural principles, still, it does not follow that it is a de- 
 purtment of ethics. Every systematic procedure on the 
 part of man partakes of this moral relationship. Rhetoric 
 but takes elements or principles given by ethics and weaves 
 them with others, on principles of its own, into a particular 
 science or art. It is no more a department ot ethics than 
 of physiology. 
 
 N 4 III so far as Discourse is a representation ot 
 feelino- or addresses feeling in another mind, it bears 
 an inliniatc relation to the science of the Emo- 
 
 TIOXS AND THE P ASSIGNS. 
 
 Rhetoric thus derives from this science the principles by 
 which discourse is to be regulated both in the expression of 
 feelino- and in the excitement of feeling. It assumes these 
 princblcs, however, as known, and does not properly regard 
 the investigation of them as lying within its own province. 
 It takes the analysis of the feelings, the classification, the 
 description, the relations between them, as furnished by the 
 appropriate science, and uses them for its own peculiar ends. 
 ^ 5 Discourse, as the product of a imnd working 
 freely, and directly abning at an effect in anotiier 
 mind similarly constituted, involves and requires the 
 
 exercise of Taste. 
 
 ll.ieToric. accordin-ly, presupposes the science ot 
 
 .:;* 
 
PUOVIXCE OF UHETORIC. 
 
 5 
 
 s a j)e.rso7ial 
 Le fullness of 
 j in the con- 
 far it is a 
 ion of ethics. 
 ,art of moral 
 Bply a moral 
 conformity to 
 at it is a de- 
 edure on the 
 ip. Rhetoric 
 ;s and weaves 
 to a particular 
 )f ethics thaa 
 
 sentation of 
 lind, it beats 
 P THE Emo- 
 
 principlcs by 
 ! expression of 
 assumes these 
 roperly regard 
 own province, 
 ssification, the 
 rnished by the 
 L peculiar ends. 
 
 lind working 
 
 ;t in anotlior 
 
 requires the 
 
 le science 
 
 of 
 
 Taste or v^ esthetics. It assumes aesthetic prin- 
 ciple, and applies them to the production of discourse. 
 
 The relation of Rhetoric to Aesthetics will be more par- 
 ticularly defined under Chapter III. 
 
 § 6. As the art of communicating thought, rhetoric 
 presupposes Logic, or the science which unfolds the 
 laws of thought, and enumerates and classifies the 
 various conceptions, judgments and conclusions of 
 which the human mind is capable. It, however 
 merely assumes those laws as known, and does not 
 properly embrace a consideration of them within its 
 own province. 
 
 § 7. As the art of commimicating thought by means 
 of language, rhetoric also presupposes Grammar, o' 
 the science of language. It takes the results of gram 
 matical investis^ations and the laws of lanoruafje as 
 settled, and applies them to its own purpose. 
 
 The field of rhetoric is tjius seen to be distinctly defines 
 and separated from both Logic and Grammar. That it ha., 
 ever been suffered to trench on these fields and assume intc 
 itself purely logical or grammatical investigations and dis- 
 cussions, is to be attributed only to vagus and indefinite 
 views of the proper province of rhetoric. It was from the 
 same vague apprehensions in regard to the proper province 
 of rhetoric that the ancient rhetoricians very generally 
 included in their systems the principles of Ethics -^nd the 
 doctrine of the feelings. Even Aristotle devotes a large 
 part of his treatise on Rhetoric to a discussion of the naturt 
 of tilt' di'Vereat passions or affections. 
 
 The distinction between rhetoric on the one hand, and 
 
 logic and grammar on the otiier, may, perhaps, be more 
 
 perfectly apprehended from the following definitions: 
 
 1* 
 
■f 
 
 ! : t: 
 
 g INTIJODUOTION. 
 
 L„.ic, in the more comprehensive view of the science i. 
 the d:ct,ine of ideas, conceptions, and judg.nents In other 
 words, logic enumerates the various possible states of the 
 intelle t, Whether ideas, conceptions, or j„dg,„ents class.hes 
 them, determines their forms, and shows their relations and 
 the occasions or modes of their appearing 
 
 Grammar is the doctrine of words and sentences. In 
 other .vords, grammar unfolds th* laws by which thevar.ou. 
 forms of thought appear in language; by which logical ideas 
 and conceptions, in themselves and in their relations, em- 
 tody themselves in words and logical judgments in sen- 
 
 Rhetoric is the doctrine of discourse. It takes, first, the 
 individual ideas, conceptions and judgments of logic, and 
 unites them into living wholes of thought by penetrating 
 them with a rational aim; and then embodies these concrete 
 wholes into continuous discourse made up of the words and 
 sentences which grammar has furnished. 
 
 Lo-ic and grammar thus supply the lifeless and frag- 
 mentary elements. Rhetoric trfkes them and constructs 
 them into discourse; into a living concrete whole, animated 
 with the proper life of feeling, and the proper moral aim 
 which discourse in its original import ever implies. 
 
 § 8 The art of rhetoric cannot in strictness be re- 
 garded as having accomplished its end until the men- 
 tal states to be communicated are actually conveyed 
 to the mind addressed. It, therefore, may properly 
 comprehend Delivery. 
 
 The mode of communication, however, is not ess( n- 
 
 tial. The thought may be conveyed by the pen or by 
 
 the voice. Elocution, or the vocal expression of 
 
 thought, is not accordingly a necessary part of ihetonc. 
 
 Elocution or vocal dehvery has, indeed, generally been 
 
e science, ia 
 s. In other 
 states of the 
 tits, classifies 
 elations and 
 
 itences. In 
 li the various 
 logical ideas 
 elations, em- 
 lents in sen- 
 
 kes, first, the 
 of logic, and 
 r penetrating 
 hese concrete 
 he words and 
 
 !ss and frag- 
 id constructs 
 ole, animated 
 IX moral aim 
 plies. 
 
 itness be re- 
 itil the men- 
 lly conveyed 
 lay properly 
 
 is not essf n- 
 he pen or by 
 xpression of 
 it of rhetoric. 
 
 renerally been 
 
 PROVINCE OF RHETORIC. 7 
 
 esteemed a constituent part of the art of rhetoric. Diverse 
 considerations, however, justify the propriety of separating 
 
 them. 
 
 First, Elocution is not essential to rhetoric in order to 
 constitute it an art; because, as has been already remarked, 
 there are other ways of communicating thought than by the 
 
 voice. 
 
 Secondly, we have a complete product of art when the 
 thought is embodied in a proper form of language. Short 
 of this, of incorporating into language, the artist cannot 
 stop. For no art is complete till its product is expressed, or 
 embodied. Mere invention does not constitute the whole of 
 artistic power, in any proper sense of that expression. But 
 when the thought is invested in language, a work of art is 
 completed. A farther exertion of artistic power is not 
 necessary in order to give it expression. It requires no 
 skill to dictate, no oratorical dexterity, certainly, to commit 
 to writing. We have then the limits of a complete art be- 
 fore elocution. 
 
 Thirdly, the arts of rhetoric proper, and of elocution, are 
 so distinct that great excellence in either may consist with 
 great deficiency in the other. There have been many orators 
 who could write good orations but were miserable speakers; 
 and many excellent actors, who were utterly unable to con- 
 struct an original discourse. 
 
 Fourthly, the modes of training in these different arts are 
 so unlike, that convenience, both to the instructor and to the 
 pupil, requires that they be separated. 
 
 § 9. In so far as Discourse is the embodiment of 
 thought in language, Rhetoric and the art of Poetry 
 stand on common ground and are subject to common 
 principles. They may be distinguished from each 
 other by the following specific definitions ; viz : 
 
\m 
 
 8 
 
 INTRODL'CTION» 
 
 Rhetoric or the art of Oratory is the embodiment )f 
 thought in language with a view to an effect m 
 another mind ; 
 
 Poetry is the embodiment of aesthetic ideas in 
 language simply for the sake of aesthetic expression. 
 
 Rhetoric and poetry have, thus, much in common. They 
 both express thought. They are so far subject alike to the 
 laws of logical science. 
 
 The medium of expression in both is the same — language. 
 The principles of style, accordingly, apply, to a certain ex- 
 tent, alike to both. 
 
 They are both aesthetic arts; and come alike, conse- 
 quently, under the laws of Taste. 
 
 Many of the principles of rhetoric are, therefore, equally 
 applicable to poetry. They admit illustrations, alike, from 
 both of these arts. 
 
 But thijy differ both iu content and in form. All thought, 
 all at least, which can be serviceable to the moral effect that 
 either directly or remotely belongs to all oratory, is appro- 
 priate to rhetoric, whether purely intellectual, or animated 
 with emotion and fancy. Poetry can properly make use 
 only of aesthetic ideas. 
 
 The language of oratory is not confined, as is that of 
 poetry, to mere aesthetic expression. Poetry has a style as 
 well as a content of its own. 
 
 Rhetoric, moreover, whilo proceeding in accordance with 
 aesthetic laws, admits another end which is foreign to 
 aesthetics; and aesthetic laws in their application to it, fcike 
 direct cognizance of this foreign end, which is possible 
 through the aesthetic element of propriety. See Chao. III. 
 Poetry has no such aim foreign to aesthetic expression. 
 
 Rhetoric and poetry, therefore, are distinct arts; diffijrin^', 
 ifessentially, iu conteut, form fiad law ai' proceecHng. TU» 
 
 iS 
 
odimeni )f 
 n effect m 
 
 ;c ideas in 
 ixpression. 
 
 mon. They 
 : alike to the 
 
 ; — language. 
 a certain ex- 
 
 alike^ conse- 
 
 ifore, equally 
 \, alike^ from 
 
 All thought, 
 -al effect that 
 ry, is appro- 
 or animated 
 y make use 
 
 LS is that of 
 as a style as 
 
 Drdance with 
 3 foreign to 
 m to it, tike 
 1 is possible 
 ie Chao. III. 
 iression. 
 ts; differing, 
 ■e(fing. TU» 
 
 ■m. 
 
 PlJOVL\CE OF HIIETORIC. 9 
 
 ultimate ground of the distinction lies in the aim. The 
 orator seeks an effect in another mind; the poet seeks only 
 to express beautiful ideas in beautiful forms for the sake of 
 the expression itself. 
 
 Poetry, thus, has both an essential nature and a form 
 of its own. The form is the natural- product of the peculiar 
 poetic life or spirit. It is only in partial truth that we can 
 say '^mere verse is poetry/ as we can only in partial truth 
 say ' an idiot is a man/ since reason, which the idiot lacks, 
 is the essential attribute of man. So, on the oth<?r liand, it 
 is only in partial truth that we can say ' the peculiar poetic 
 spirit without the proper poetic form makes discourse poeiry.' 
 It is only as we may cull a disembodied spirit a man; it has 
 the essential nature, not the form. As a human spirit and 
 a luunaa body unite in our conception of a man; so the 
 pueac spirit and the poetic foim must unite in any just 
 conception of j)oetry.'*' 
 
 * In !i review of Hegel's Aesthetics in the British and Foreign 
 I{eview for Feb. 1842, this idea of the npture of poetry is happily 
 developed. "Verse," it is there concluded, "is not synonymous 
 with poelrvt but is the incarnation of it; and prose may be emotive 
 — poetical, but never poetry." 
 
 The following passages, quoted in this article, will serve still 
 further to sanction and elucidate some of the positions given in the 
 text. 
 
 *'A11 emotion which has taken possession of the whole being— 
 which flows irresistibly, and therefore equally — instinctively seeks 
 a language that flows equally like itself, and must either find it, or 
 be conscious of an unsatisfied want, whicii ever impedes and pre- 
 maturely stops the flow of feeling. Hence, ever since man has 
 been man, all deep and sustained feeling has tended to express 
 itself in rhythmical language ; and the deeper the feeling, the more 
 characteristic and decided the rhythm, provided always the feeling 
 be sustained as weU as deep. For a fit of passion has no natural 
 connection with verse or music; a mood of passion the strongest.' 
 Westminster Reiiem April, 1838. The term rhythm, here raual 
 
]n 
 
 1^ 
 
 10 
 
 INTRODUCTION 
 
 CHAPTER II. 
 
 OP RHETORIC AS A DEVELOPING ART. 
 
 ^ 10. As every proper act respects a faculty, (§2,) 
 and as every such faculty is susceptible of develop- 
 ment and invigoiation which the art seeks as its great 
 aim to promote and secure, every true conception of 
 rhetoric must regard it as a developing and invigora" 
 ting art. 
 
 There is a most remarkable opposition between the views 
 of the ancients in this respect and the current opinit)ns of 
 the moderns. With the ancients^ rhetoric was chiefly prized 
 as an art which developed and cidtivated the faculty of 
 speaking. Their written systems and their teachings in 
 schools were designed and fitted to draw out this faculty, 
 and strengthen and improve it by judicious practice. They 
 sought this even, as there is some reason to believe, at the 
 spcrifice of good taste. They loved luxuriance and labored 
 in every way to promote it. The moderns, on the other 
 hand, have too much regarded rhetoric as a merely critical 
 art. They have directed their attention mainly to pruning, 
 
 evidently bo taken in its Lirgost import, to include all tlie various 
 modes in which a recurring uniformity of expression can appear 
 iji discourse, whether rhyme or alliteration. 
 
 *' Poetry and eloquence, are both alike the expression or uttering 
 forth of feeling. * * * Eloquence supposes an audience ; the 
 peculiarity of poetry appears to us to lie in the poet's utter uncon- 
 Roiousness of a listener. Poetry is feeling confessing itself to itself 
 in moments of solitude, and bodying forth itself in symbols, which 
 are the nearest possible representations of the exact shape in which 
 it exists in the poet's mind. Eloquence is feeling pouring itself 
 forth to other minds, courting their sympathy, or endeavoring to in- 
 fluence their belief, or move them to pasdion or to action." — Monthlf 
 Repository, Vol. III. p. 64. 
 
RHKIOinCA Dl'lVI'.LOPIXG ART. 
 
 11 
 
 iRT. 
 
 ;ulty, (§2,) 
 of develop- 
 as its great 
 iception of 
 i invigora- 
 
 3n the views 
 )j)init)ns of 
 hiefly prized 
 ; faculty of 
 cachings in 
 this faculty, 
 ctice. They 
 ilieve, at the 
 and labored 
 )n the other 
 ?rely critical 
 to pruning, 
 
 I tlie various 
 n can appear 
 
 n or utterinff 
 ludience; the 
 utter uncon- 
 itself to itself 
 ymbols, which 
 lape in which 
 jouring itself 
 ;avoring to in- 
 n."— Monthly 
 
 repressing, and guiding; and have almost wholly neglected to 
 apply any stimulus to the faculty of discourse itself. Their 
 iuiluence on the student of oratory has been, accordingly, at 
 best but a negative influence; and any thing but fostering 
 and nourishing. This has been an almost unavoidable 
 result from their eKcluding from their systems the art of 
 invention. For it is here — in invention — that the creative 
 work in discourse mainly lies. Style, considered apart from 
 invention, is lifeless and dead; and can feci no stimulus if 
 applied. It drops, indeed, when thus regarded, from the 
 position of a creative art, to the level of a mere science. It 
 is, thus, not without reason that merely critical systems -of 
 rhetoric are generally regarded as of more injury than benelit 
 to the student of eloquence, at least until the I'aculty of 
 speaking has been considerably developed. 
 
 The commonly received maxim, " he who is learning to 
 speak with accuracy and order is learning also to think with 
 accuracy and order," expresses but a part of the truth. The 
 study of style, and especially, the study of style as an art 
 in the exercise of composing, undoubtedly conduces to accu- 
 rate and methodical habits of thought. But "^to speak with 
 accuracy and order,'' including in the expression not only the 
 selection of language, but also the invention of thought, acts 
 more directly on the intellect in determining its habits. The 
 exercise not only disciplines it to regular and accurate 
 thought; it also directly invigorates and develops the intel- 
 lect itself. Indeed, there is no exercise that more directlj'- 
 and more powerfully tends to mental development and invig- 
 oration, when pursued in conformity with the principles of 
 thought and expression. The mental effort called forth in 
 the invention of thought and the embodiment of it in appro- 
 priate language is, when directed intelligently and correctly, 
 at the sunie tiui'3, the most plea.-^ing and also the most in- 
 
larT' — ir»Tm-rriiini 
 
 ■mmmm 
 
 I! 
 
 ! : 'i 
 
 iii; 
 
 m 
 
 12 
 
 INTKODtHT/O^r. 
 
 vigorating and fostering that is possible to the human 
 mind. Rhetoric, therefore, studied as an art, in connection 
 with a practical application of its principles, may and should 
 be, one of the most pleasing and one of the most profitable 
 of studies. 
 
 § 11. The faculty of discourse or the power to com- 
 municate thought by language is the common attri- 
 bute of men ; and is susceptible of indefinite degrees 
 of improvement and cultivation. 
 
 Speech is the distinctive attribute of humanity. This 
 general truth needs no modification to meet the case of deaf- 
 mutes. While, undoubtedly, individuals differ indefinitely 
 in the degrees to which they possess the power of vigorous 
 thought and of forcible expression, — while there are geniuses 
 here as in every other art, still it remains true that this 
 faculty is subject to the laws which regulate all the various 
 activities of our nature. The degree of excellence to *^ 
 attained in discourse will depend on the training — on ict. 
 mode and the degree to which it is carried. Orator fit — the 
 orator becomes such. There is no such thing as a natural 
 orator in the strict sense of the expression. The most emi- 
 nent orators and writers have ever been those who have 
 submitted themselves to the most thorough training. Pat- 
 rick Henry, the most illustrious example of natural oratory, 
 so far as there is any such, went through a course of training 
 in his daily studies of human nature as drawn out by him- 
 self in his little shop, his every day trials on his lingering 
 customers of the power of words, his deep and enthusiastic 
 investigations into hiatory, and particularly his patient and 
 continued study of the harangues of Livy, which, to say the 
 least, is very uncommon. The orator is the product ut." 
 training. 
 
RIIKTOUU: A UI".VHLOPL\« ART. 
 
 \3 
 
 to the human 
 , in connection 
 my and should 
 most profitable 
 
 )ower to com- 
 ommon attri- 
 finite degrees 
 
 lanity. This 
 le case of deaf- 
 Bfer indefinitely 
 'CT of vigorous 
 re are geniuses 
 true that this 
 all the various 
 cellence to ^' 
 aiuing — on ict, 
 ') rat or fit — the 
 ^ as a natural 
 The most emi- 
 iose who have 
 raining. Pat- 
 atural oratory, 
 irse of training 
 I'n out by him- 
 L his lingering 
 nd enthusiastic 
 his patient and 
 hich, to say tlie 
 :ie pioduci uf 
 
 3 
 
 § 12. The m(3aiis by which every art seeks its de- 
 vebprnent and improvement are twofold : by a study 
 of the nature and principles of the art, and by exer- 
 cise. 
 
 It is obvious that there can be no true skill or excellence 
 in any art unless its nature and the necessary principles 
 which govern it are understood. It is equally obvious that 
 no amount of this knowledge will, without exercise, secure 
 practical skill in the art. 
 
 Obvious and unquestionable as are these remarks, yet the 
 entire force and propriety of each of tliein are assailed, 
 iiulireclly and in application, by difierent classes of njiuds. 
 Que class rejects the study of principles in an art on the 
 ground that the observance of rules at tlie time will inevit- 
 ably impede the execution. They ridicule the notion of a 
 poeVs askinjr himself, at the time of composing, what this 
 rule requires and that rule prohibits; of a musician's refer- 
 ring constantly, while performing, to his gamut, to the rules 
 of time, harmony, force, &c., which he finds laid down in 
 his Musical Grammar. They object to the use of Grammars 
 in acquiring any art, whether of poetry, oratory, or music, 
 because, they say, such study makes only stiff" and awkward 
 Dcrformers. 
 
 This view is extremely superficial and partial. It is so 
 
 iar true, indeed, that a conscious observance of rules in 
 
 composing will impede the free operation of the mind; will 
 
 make the proceeding mechanical, and hence, awkward and 
 
 lifcress. But it by no means follows from this, that when 
 
 the rule has, by study and application, become a principle 
 
 in the mind, ruling it unconsciously, as is the case witli the 
 
 expert artist, in all its free action, the proceeding will be less 
 
 free, living, graceful, than it Avould have been without study,. 
 
 and of cours'', in ignora-ice ">r at hnp huzkid. On tht 
 
 2 
 
If 
 
 
 III 
 
 111 
 
 xssmassamaxmi 
 
 4 
 
 •V 
 
 Iki '|M 
 
 1 M ii 
 
 M 
 
 INTWODUCTION. 
 
 .ontrarv, all proceeding in art is perfect ouly in propornou tb 
 the intelligence of the artist; and it is the law of the human 
 spirit that it learn slowly, by degrees, and from without. 
 Principles of art are not innate. They spring up only on 
 observation or study. How much more rational it is to 
 receive by study the generalized facts of all perfect proceed- 
 ing in art with proper illustrations from models, than to 
 work them out, as does the savage so far as he does it, by 
 unaided observation and reflection, it is not necessary to 
 
 labor in demonstrating. ^ 
 
 The whole matter may be exhibited in few words. All 
 ait, whether poetry, oratory, music, or printing, as a ra- 
 tional procedure, must be in accordance with certain princi- 
 ples. It must proceed, farther, in intelligence; that is, with 
 an intelligent conformity to those principles, either con- 
 sciously or unconsciously apprehended. These principles 
 can better be acquired when reduced to a scientific torm, 
 tliat is, to a form adapted to the understanding, than other- 
 v\ ise. Tims intellectually apprehended, as rules prescribed 
 from without, they become, by continued application or in 
 exercise, directing and animating principles, exerting an 
 unconscious control. What is drudgery at first, mere me- 
 chanical application, thus, becomes eventually the most Iree, 
 the most spirited, the most truly artistic creation. The 
 poetry of Goethe, and of Coleridge, is not less perfect, cer- 
 tainly, because they were intellectual masters of the princi- 
 ples of poetry. 
 
 The other class reject practice in acquiring an art, be- 
 cause, as regulated step by step by a reference to rules, it is 
 necessarily imperfect and awkward; and, because, practice 
 merely for practice must be mechanical and spiritless. They 
 would master, intellectually, the principles perfectly, and 
 then hoMc for a i)er:cct proceeding in compliance with them. 
 
Riir/roiiic A nnvKLopiNu art. 
 
 15 
 
 in proportion to 
 V of the human 
 from without, 
 ing up only on 
 ational it is to 
 perfect proceed- 
 models, than to 
 s he does it, by 
 ,ot necessary to 
 
 3W words. All 
 Lutiug, as a ra- 
 h certain princi- 
 ce; that is, with 
 )les, eitlier con- 
 rhese principles 
 scienliiic form, 
 ling, than other- 
 rules prescribed 
 ipplication or in 
 les, exerting an 
 t first, mere me- 
 ly the most free, 
 ; creation. The 
 less perfect, cer- 
 ers of the princi- 
 
 iring an art, be- 
 iice to rules, it is 
 because, practice 
 I spiritless. They 
 3S perfectly, and 
 liaiice with them. 
 
 While tlie former class made art iadepeudeut of inlelli- 
 jreuro, these make it indepeadeut of all training o*" the 
 creative powers. They occupy, consequently, the opposite 
 
 eAtrtMue. 
 
 The truth lies between. It is a law of the human spirit 
 that its highest degree of free spontaneous action can be at- 
 fnined only bv previuu.s sul)jeclion to rule; and, generally, 
 the severer the labor in the observance of this rule, the freer 
 will be the play of the creating spirit. 
 
 Natura iieret laudabile carmen an arte 
 Quaesitum est. Ego nee studium sine divite vena 
 Nee rude quid posset video ingenium. Allerius sic 
 Altera poscit opem res et conjurat amice. 
 
 Ho rat. Ep. ad Pi son. 
 
 These rules, of old discovered, not devised. 
 Are Nature still, but Nature methodized. 
 
 Pope, Essay on Crit, 
 
 § 13. The knowledge of the nature and principles 
 of the art of rhetoric is attained chiefly in two ways ; 
 viz : by the study of rhetorical systems, and by the 
 study of models in eloquence. 
 
 The great use of systems of rhetoric, as of other arts, is 
 to facilitate the acquisition of the principles of the art by a 
 brief, methodical and particular exposition of them. Such 
 systems present the results of the investigations, the expe- 
 rience and observations of many minds. The utility of 
 grammars of music to all learners of that art is at once 
 perceived and appreciated. A similar utility may be ex- 
 pected from correct systems in all the arts. 
 
 The study of models is equally important. It is hardly 
 practicable for the human mind to obtain a clear and fa- 
 miliar knowledge of any art without illustrations and exem- 
 plifications. This gieat means of training the ancients 
 

 ,,. iMRMDKTION. 
 
 It) 
 
 ,••,,• Tn flip use of this iiieaiis, n.iirn 
 
 de.ioiiiinatfd /m//r//^v^ . I'l "le use 
 
 caution is necessary. , . , 
 
 In the tirst place, discretion and sound ju.lg.Mcnl are 
 renuisite iu the selection of models. An nnn.uture tuste . 
 liable to be pleased with false beauties and excellenaes. A 
 orrupt taste will select a model that abounds in the l.vul 
 which it loves; and thus conhrm rather than correct itsell 
 The ..nly safe guide is the established opinion of men o 
 taste and sound judgment. The world has pronounced ts 
 sentence in regard to many writers and speakers. 1 ns 
 geaeral and united decision it is ever safer to follow than the 
 erratic judgment of an individual. , , , . 
 
 lu the next place, caution is necessary m the actual study 
 of even good models. A perfectly faultless model is no 
 where to be found. The best poets and the best orators 
 have shone only in particular excellencies. As in nature, 
 perfect beauty is to be found in no one thing, but our con- 
 ception of it is to be gained only by sel«ction-by combin- 
 ino- the particular excellencies that arc to be f.^und in dilTer- 
 en" objects of the same class, excluding the imperfections of 
 each in order to obtain a perfect ideal; so in literature and 
 oratory, as in every art, an idea of what is perfect in every 
 feature, is to be gained only by the studj- of various pro- 
 ducts While, accordingly, the best models are to be selected 
 for study, even these should be studied only for their char- 
 acteristic excellencies. Nothing can be more injurious tc 
 the taste or to the creative faculty of invention than servilelj 
 to copy any one model however excellent. Such servik 
 imitation will, ' >r the most part, catch up only the fault, 
 while it will fail to reach the virtues of the model; and at 
 the same time prove fatal to all that originality Avhich is the 
 
 life of every art. 
 
 p i, the proper luiuMluu K^^ a system of rhetoric to pmn 
 
 t 
 h 
 
i iiicnils, n.m-n 
 
 judgiiicnl are 
 mature tudti- ifj 
 iccellencies. A 
 Is in the r.vults 
 n correct itsell'. 
 ion of men of 
 pronounced its 
 ipenkers. Tliis 
 follow than tlie 
 
 he actual study 
 ss model is no 
 he hest orators 
 
 As in nature, 
 rr, but our con- 
 )n — by combin- 
 found in dilTer- 
 iniperfections of 
 in literature and 
 perfect in every 
 of various pro- 
 ire to be selected 
 r for their char- 
 ore injurious t( 
 on than serviklj 
 t. Such servile 
 
 only the faulta 
 ! model; and at 
 lity which is the 
 
 rhetoric to ))uiu 
 
 ^ 
 
 RUUTOItIC A lUiVKLOriNU ART. 17 
 
 out tVe best models iu tiie several properties of gocd (X\*- 
 course. 
 
 § 14. Every art as a developing uit must rely 
 mainly on judicious exercise as tlie means of altanmig 
 its end. 
 
 iNo knowledge of principles, however thorough, no study 
 of models, however extended, will make an artist without 
 exercise. Indeed, there is a possibility of cultivating the 
 judgment and the taste to an excess as compared with the 
 creative power, so as to impede rather than to aid the exer- 
 tion of it. A highly reliued taste will be oil'endcd and dis- 
 gusted with the imperfect products of a feeble inventive and 
 constructive power; and the work of composing may be 
 made thus a constantly disagreeable and repulsive work. 
 This is experienced by nearly all who have neglected the art 
 of writing or speaking till the taste has become considerably 
 developed and cultivated. They Mnd themselves unable, in 
 writing or speaking, to reach the standard that their relined 
 taste requires them to attain, and they are repulsed and dis- 
 heartened. It is only when the creative power is developed 
 in some proportion to the taste, that there can be that in- 
 s[)iration which fires the true artist, and makes the execution 
 of his power his highest pleasure and delight. This devel- 
 opment of the creative faculty depends on exercise. As with 
 the muscles of the body, so with the faculties of the mind, 
 nothing but exercise can impart vigor and strength. Exer- 
 cise is the parent of skill and power every where; and no 
 where more than in writing and speaking. The words ( f 
 Cicero should be printed in capitals on the mind of every 
 student of eloquence; STILUS OPTIMUS ET praestan- 
 
 TiSblMUS DICENDI EFFECTOR AC MAGISTEH. 
 
 § 15. Exercise in 'lic.toric, in older to bo most bene- 
 
i-'iiMii: 
 
 ' M 
 
 iiii 
 
 18 
 
 INTKODLCTION. 
 
 ficial, niusl be inlclU^^cU, systematic, critical, an.., 
 
 abundant. . . 
 
 4 16 Intelligent exercise implies that wntins; 
 and spealdag be pursued in accordance wrtlr ibe 
 known rule, and principles of rhetoric. 
 
 Little will be aoc...>pl.shed by bliad practice in any art 
 A man may shout and cry, n.ay strain Ins voice ever so 
 much and make little prosress towards becoming a good 
 musician or a good speaker. The practice must be pursued 
 with a clear, conscious knowledge oF what the art reii-rires 
 And here is seen the necessity of systems of rhetoric; to set 
 forth in a convenient form to the learner the necessary prin- 
 oiples of the art;-to teach him what he is to do in it. 
 
 ^ 17 Systematic exercise implies a regard to the 
 .specific functions or duties of the writer or speaker 
 taken one by one successively in regular order. 
 
 Every art combines within itself a complication of man, 
 particular acts; of which in the exercise of tlie art there are, 
 at dilferent times, various combinations. The art oi music 
 thus embraces the several functions of pitch, time, lorce; 
 and each of these particular functions may be analysed into 
 various subordinate particulars. A thorough course ol 
 training in this art must proceed by a regular, successive 
 study of each of tl.e>e particulars accompanied by a corre- 
 spending exercise of the voice in them. There are thus a 
 great diversity of acts requisite in the production ol a good 
 discourse. These particular acts may be severally con(en>- 
 nlated by themselves; they may be explained as to their na- 
 ture, and be prepared for exercise singly and successively 
 This systematic exercise on particulars is as requisite and 
 ■IS useful in rlietuiic ns \:, iiiiisic. 
 
 % 
 
critical, an(t 
 
 that writinjij 
 ce with the 
 
 ,ce in any art. 
 
 voice ever so 
 Hiiiug a good 
 list be pursued 
 le art requires, 
 rhetoric; to set 
 necessary prin- 
 do in it. 
 regard to the 
 31- or speaker 
 
 order. 
 
 cation of many 
 le art there are, 
 le art of music 
 ch, time, force; 
 e analyzed into 
 )ugh course of 
 ular, successive 
 ied by a corre- 
 here are thus a 
 action of a good 
 verally conleiii- 
 i as to their ua- 
 nd successively. 
 IS requisite and 
 
 
 llHHroKIC AN AESTHETIC ART. 19 
 
 K IS Exercise, further, in order to be most useful, 
 must be critical ; in other words, must be subjected to 
 th. inspection of a teacher or of the performer him- 
 self, for the purpose of removing faults and retammg 
 quahties that are good. 
 
 The proper time of cridcism is after the performance is 
 finished. To write or to speak with a constant reference to 
 criticism at the time, is to impose on the mind a double 
 labor or occupation, so that neither part of the work can be 
 done well. Such subseciueat criticism is shown to be neces- 
 sary at once by the consideration, that, otherwise, it cannot 
 be known whether the work has proceeded aright or in ac- 
 cordance with the principles that should regulate it. It, also, 
 greatly helps to give the principle exemplified in the exercise 
 a practical, controlling existence in the mind. 
 
 § 19. Once more, skill in rhetoric cannot be attained 
 except by much continued practice. 
 
 No illustration is requisite to show the correctness of this 
 principle. It may be remarked here, however, that the labor 
 of writing should not be pursued so constantly as to make 
 it a drudo-ery, awakening no interest and inspiring no en- 
 thusiasm. 
 
 CHAPTER III. 
 
 OF RHETORIC AS AN AESTHETIC ART. 
 
 § 20. Inasmuch as Discourse proceeds necessarily 
 in conformity with the laws of Taste, (§ 5.), Rhet- 
 oric is properlv regarded as an Aesthetic Art.* 
 
 ~~* Tl>t' term " Aesthetic " is preferred to « Critical " becanse the 
 Uittcr is too exclusively negative in its import. 
 
fi T 
 
 
 iiii 
 
 20 
 
 INTRODUCTION. 
 
 The various a.ts have been aHribu.od iuto Uvc, c.a.es, 
 one of which has been deuunnuated I'lco, Lihe.al, 1 me, 
 EWan, ^c; the other. Mechanical, Usetul, &c Itcc arts 
 are ho" i^ which the expression ol' beanty or the grafhca- 
 Uon f the taste is the controlling end ol t e prodncl.on u, 
 roceeding; Mechanical arts are those in winch son.e other 
 Ld as of utility, controls the production. 
 
 There are two arts, however. Rhetoric and Arch. cc. e, 
 whi t has been found difficult to embrace under this 
 : -fiJation. Authors have dia.red from one aii. er in 
 assi,.ni„.' them their respective places under ,t. Ihey both 
 ::fan°ead foreign to aesthetics. Hence some have chased 
 them among the unaesthetic or mechanical arts. But Oia 
 ; and Architecture certainly of themselves awaken 
 aesthetic emotions, and have accordingly an aesthetic char- 
 a r; othe. writers have, therefore, ranked them among the 
 ah tic or elegant arts. A third class ot authors, to me- 
 dilte the controversy, have given them a middle position 
 
 between the two. 
 
 But the true issue is, have these a.ts essen al y an 
 aesthetic aim, even although jointly with another, that is a 
 useful or mechanical aim? Architecture, certainly, does no 
 exclusively respect a useful end. A Temple, a Dwelling, i 
 not merely a shelter. It is designed to affect the rnmd a 
 well as the body. It is, in this respect, essentially diflerent 
 from a tool, a machine, a mere mechanical instrument. 
 Much more is this aesthetic character essential to eloquence 
 As designed to affect another mind, it must affect it in ac- 
 cordance with its nature, that is, in accordance with it. 
 aesthetic constitution. As expression, moreover, of one mmd 
 to another, it must bear the aesthetic character ot the com- 
 municating mind. It is therefore essentially aesthetic u. its 
 nature, being so distinguished both from its aim aud ir.m 
 
^"^f. 
 
 RHKTORK) AN AKSTIIKTIC ART. 
 
 21 
 
 ,0 two classes. 
 Liberal, Fine, 
 &c. Free arts 
 »r the gratilica- 
 3 production or 
 ich some otlier 
 
 d Architecture, 
 ace under this 
 one another in 
 it. They both 
 me have classed 
 irts. But Ora- 
 iselves awaken 
 aesthetic char- 
 ;hem among the 
 authors, to nie- 
 middle position 
 
 essentially an 
 lother, that is, a 
 rtainly, does not 
 e, a Dwelling, is 
 ect the mind ap 
 entially different 
 ical instrument, 
 tial to eloquence 
 ; affect it in ac- 
 )rdance with its 
 over, of one mind 
 Lcter of the com- 
 ly aesthetic in its 
 its aim and irvui 
 
 its origin. That it has a foreign aim does not, in the least 
 impede the aesthetic procedure. For conformity to end, 
 suitableness, fitness, is itself an aesthetic element. 
 
 Rhetoric, consequently, like architecture, is something 
 more than a merely decorative art, Avhich adds ornament 
 to something that is not of it. If aesthetic or is perfectly 
 adapted to its end without being in taste. It is, of its own 
 nature and essentially, an aesthetic art; as discourse must 
 be in accordance with principles of Taste, or it cannot be 
 perfect even in reference to its end. Oratory must, there- 
 fore, of necessity, express beauty in order to its perfection. 
 i This cannot be said of a tool, a machine, a product of any 
 I mechanical art. 
 M § 21. Discourse, as aestheiic in its nature, freely 
 
 admits all the various elements of Beauty. 
 A These elements are reducible to three, viz : Abso- 
 lute Beaut ij, Grace, and Propriety. 
 
 The various elements of Beauty are either inherent in the 
 object itself or depend on its relations. All inherent beauty 
 is either absolute, that is, permanent and inseparable from 
 the object, or accidental and contingent. The permanent is 
 denominated Absolute Beauty; the accidental or contin- 
 gent, Grace. 
 
 Relative Beauty, or Beauty depending on relations 
 merely, is denominated Propriety. We have thus the fol- 
 lowing definitions. 
 
 Absolute beauty is that element which lies in some 
 
 ; fixed property of a beautiful object. Thus the brightness of 
 
 the rainbow, the clearness and stillness of a meadow stream, 
 
 the fresh verdure of spring, are instances of absolute beauty, 
 
 Grace is that element of beauty which lies in motion, or 
 io repose, the effect of previous motion. The undulations **f 
 
 ■ 
 
:. i 
 
 i'l 
 
 M 
 
 \i 
 
 ■ 
 
 i I 
 
 11' 
 
 I'tl 
 
 HI 
 
 ll 
 
 22 
 
 INTROOI'CTION. 
 
 , , , „ ..Irvfid bv a sentle breeze, ihe easy gambolings 
 :.': :,S it f-' .Cics or sup^le ..fancy, are 
 
 the violet conceived of as nature's penc.lmg, the easy com 
 p„su4 of an infant's Ihnbs in sleep, are .nstances of the 
 
 ::ttirt;2a:trspooi«c elements of B^^^ 
 formity, harmony, symmetry, proportion and the hke. ^ 
 
 5 32. ABS0Lt,TE B..VTV appears in discourse m 
 thesuUject, the form of development of the subject or 
 any suborditiate titought, and also ui the .manner of 
 
 expression. 
 
 1 The subject itself of the discourse may often reveal 
 .esthetic beauty. Thus in Biography, a noble or lovely 
 leer of itse'lf stirs our admiration, and i-P"'3 a- e Uc 
 pleasure. The biographer whose very subject rs a cha^cter 
 ile, corrupt or depraved, labors under a constant d-ffiulty-- 
 so far as the gra.ilication of taste rs an "bj-t "f h.s wo k. 
 In History, such subjects as the Retreat of the fen Thou- 
 sand, the Roman Republic, the German I^f''™'*"^ 
 in themselves admirable. The orations ol Demosthenes 
 against Philip, aiming at the independence and freedom of 
 the Grecian States, possess intrinsic be.uty in their subject. 
 That of Cicero pro Cluentio, admirable as it is, yet has to 
 contend with the ditficulties of a subject in itself repulsive. 
 In fictitious composition, the subject is at the choice of 
 the writer; and in his selection he has the opportunity of 
 displaying the elevation and correctness of his taste. This 
 principle will determine, very justly, the relative character 
 and merits of the fictitious writings of Sir Walter Scott and 
 
 ■■■» 
 
 1 
 ■V. 
 
'"J: 
 
 RHETORIC AN AESTHKTIC ART. 
 
 23 
 
 Y gambolings 
 
 infancy, are 
 
 blending of 
 
 aie easy com- 
 
 tances of the 
 
 ject, and con- 
 ition of these 
 f fitness, con- 
 the like, 
 discourse in 
 he subject or 
 3 manner of 
 
 y often reveal 
 loble or lovely 
 nparts aesthetic 
 t is a cha'-acter 
 ant difficulty— 
 ct of his work. 
 
 the Ten Thou- 
 .eformation, are 
 f Demosthenes 
 md freedom of 
 in their subject, 
 it is, yet has to 
 
 itself repulsive. 
 it the choice of 
 I opportunity of 
 
 his taste. This 
 elative character 
 Walter Scott and 
 
 of those of the late French school. How etherial and pure 
 are some of the writings of the Germans in this department 
 
 of composition ! 
 
 2. The development of the theme in discourse may also 
 contain this element of beauty. There is a singular beauty 
 in the following plan of a discourse by Dr. Sprague,* as 
 thus announced in the partition. '' The Christian does not 
 desire to live alway, because he prefers 
 
 Perfect light to comparative darkness; 
 Immaculate purity to partial sanctification; 
 Immortal strength to earthly weakness; 
 Cloudless serenity to agitating storms; 
 The fellowship of the glorified to the society of the im- 
 perfect; 
 The honors of victory to the perils of warfare.*' 
 
 3. In the manner of expression^ this element of beauty 
 may also very generally be exhibited. In the selection of 
 his images, by the purity of his sentiments, and the refine- 
 ment of his associations as evinced in his style, there is 
 wide room furnished to the writer fo: the exhibition of a 
 cultivated and elegant taste. The orations of Demosthenes, 
 of Chatham, and of Henry, abound thus in expressions of 
 lofty sentiments of patriotism and indignation at oppression 
 which impart a peculiar beauty to their eloquence. 
 
 § 23. Grace may appear in the subject itself, or 
 in the working of the speaker's mind in conceiving 
 and representing the particular thoughts of the dis- 
 course. 
 
 The subject may possess in itself the element of aesthetic 
 grace, so far as it admits of motion or change. Living 
 objects and such as are sub^ ict to the influence of causes of 
 
 • National Preacher, Vol. i3,i3. 129. 
 
tl 
 
 iMiii 
 
 INI'KUKl'C'riON. 
 
 ■iuies witicli adroit 
 
 ,nykiad,pli)siculorsiiiriwul,iW... 
 
 "^ u7o particular thoushts and sentin.ente of the discourse, 
 ako, as well as in the .tvle geuerally, grace appears so for 
 as iL mind of the speaker is exhibited mov.ng ireely ru .ts 
 conceptions and its representations. In the ready apprehen- 
 sion of the subject, the discovery and use ol arguments and 
 illustrations, the easy and natural expression ot sentiments 
 in kind and degree appropriate to the occasion-whenever ■■> 
 these there is exercised freedom, skill, dexterity, grace may 
 appear. For grace is but the expression of power working 
 
 frc6iv» 1 • 1 
 
 The parables of our Savior reveal this element to a high 
 de-^ree in the richness and freeness of the illustrative im- 
 
 '^The sermons of Jeremy Taylor ^ rnish, also, a happy 
 illustration of this species of grace. Macaulay exhibits this 
 element in his style generally. The expression flows with 
 an ease and a finish that exhibits great power and freeness 
 in representation. 
 
 § 24. Rhetorical Propriety appears in the 
 speaker's selection of his subject, as well as also in 
 the development of it and in the style of expression, 
 
 so far as they are conformed to what is required by 
 
 the occasion, the laws of thought and the principles of 
 
 discourse. 
 
 The writings of* Leighton, of Addison, and of Irving, 
 
 pesso&s this element of beauty in a high degree. 
 
 i 
 
 i;li!i!'ilii 
 
I wliich adroit 
 
 the discourse, 
 appears so far 
 g freely in its 
 ady apprelien- 
 Lrguments and 
 of sentiments 
 — whenever in 
 ity, grace may 
 >ower working 
 
 nent to a high 
 Uustrative im- 
 
 also, a happy 
 ly exhibits this 
 iion flows with 
 sr and freeness 
 
 pears in the 
 ill as also in 
 of expression, 
 s required by 
 e principles of 
 
 and of Irving, 
 
 jree. 
 
 KINDS OF DISCOURSE. 
 
 CHAPTER IV. 
 
 25 
 
 OF DISCOURSE AND ITS KINDS. 
 
 § 25. Discourse, as the communication of thought, 
 imphes at once and necessarily, in its primary and 
 complete signification, a speaker and a hearer; — a 
 speaker, who in speaking seeks to produce a certain 
 effect in the mind of the hearer. 
 
 This effect is primarily in the intelligence or under- 
 standing of the hearer ; and secondarily and conse- 
 quentially in the feehngs and the will. 
 
 § 20. Oratory, therefore, or address, is the proper 
 form of discourse in its strictest and fullest import. It 
 constitutes, accordingly, the immediate object of rhet- 
 oric. 
 
 The very nature of discourse, thus, marks out the field of 
 ' rhetoric as the art of discourse; and, determines in what 
 light the art should regard other so called forms of discourse, 
 as history, essay, and the like. These are, strictly speak- 
 ing, abnormal forms of discourse; and want some element 
 '* which is to be found in propftr oratory. Rhetoric, in the 
 . unfolding of its principles, should confine its view to ora- 
 - tory, therefore, not only because oratory is the only pure 
 ■' form of discourse, but, also, because in unfolding the prin- 
 ciples of oratory, it at the same time unfolds the main prin- 
 ciples of the other derived forms of discourse. It is only 
 fro i considerations of expediency and not of philosophical 
 accuracy that general rhetoric embraces any of these abnor- 
 mal species. At least, it has fulfilled its oifice when it has 
 indicated the distinction between pure discourse or oratory, 
 and the several irregular forms, and thereby made known 
 
 I 
 
* 
 
 i ! 
 
 .t^(t.| 
 
 § 27. Tlie primary a.ul tb.u ^^^^ 
 
 '" '" a .d ie ahn on the part of the former to pro- 
 ra— e^ectontUernindoftUelat.. 
 
 Whenever, acco«. this oppo^uon:^^^^^^ 
 
 0. speaker, his diseourse ^^^^^Jlll^ „f discourse 
 
 IS THE lUGiiESi LAW the most part, to Single 
 
 ^''''°t•^:rl:sT:-^^^^^^^ 
 
 out the particular forms e p ^^^^ ^^^^ 
 
 '°r-"^iirtx ".:::« ro;h„:: the —se 
 
 oratorical spirii wui 
 
 and give to the whole a P-"''- ^J ™ ; 3i„„3 that cau 
 
 There are, however, so.ne f^'^'^Jl^,,,,,,^ .•„„ 
 
 ,e na^ed by which or-y J^ ^ ,.^^ „° .,,, ;„ ,„e 
 
 the essay. Oratory, hualway ^^^^^^ ^^^.^^ ^,_^ ^,^^ 
 
 forms of fme and » " ^P J^^,^ ,,,,„, ^as preceded e, 
 
 of the adverbs of pla e to des^ ^^^^^ ^^^^_ 
 
 is to follow, and uses the e o t.me. ^^ ^^^^^ ^^^ 
 
 thus, " what I have sa.d a ov« b„t w ,, ^ 
 
 iefore •" the essayist does the reverse, i ne .- 
 
 J^utt;::: the assembly, and does nt,t^^^^ 
 identify himself _with «■•->--. t,eM^_^ P ^_^^ 
 
 ^ 
 ^ 
 
 ■4 
 
 pronouns, " ivti, 
 
 >} <i 
 
 our, 
 
 &c. 
 
KrSDS OF DlfifOUKiHi:. 
 
 27 
 
 avvs of proper 
 
 ractenstlc of 
 ; of discourse 
 f speaker and 
 former to pro- 
 latter. 
 
 lost sight of hy 
 ,ry. It falls at 
 m of discourse 
 1 oratory or ad- 
 liearer; and re- 
 scourse. Tins 
 
 St part, to single 
 liich proper ora- 
 LY, still the true 
 ,ut the discourse 
 
 ressions that can 
 stinguished from 
 es of itself in the 
 ce avoids the use 
 thas preceded or 
 orator never says, 
 what I have said 
 [le orator says^ "I 
 ler on," &c. 
 of himself as the 
 CCS not, therefore, 
 J use of the plural 
 thervvise in puhl>« 
 
 prayer; i! is otherwise, also, with the essayist. Tht essay- 
 ist merely expresses or utters forth without the distinct idea 
 of a listener, thouglits or sentiments which he regards as 
 common to himself and the reader. The distinct person- 
 ality being dropped, the use of the plural becomes easy and 
 natural. Hence, probably, the ''we'' of editors and critics. 
 They express not personal but common convictions and sen- 
 timents. 
 
 § 28. Of the derived species of Discourse, two kinds 
 are distinguishable ; one which drops from oratory only 
 the idea of o present hearer, as Epistolary Composi- 
 tioii ; the other, which drops also the idea of a direct 
 effect on another mind, as Representative Discourse 
 ■ generally. 
 
 I § 29. Epistolary Composition, as it diflers from 
 i proper Oratory only in the circumstance that it ad- 
 dresses an absent mind, conforms more closely than 
 other derived species to the principles of Rhetoric. Its 
 chief peculiarity lies in its not contemplating vocal 
 delivery. 
 
 It will be remarked that while epistolary composition 
 more frequently respects a single mind, proper oratory re- 
 spects more commonly a multitude. At least, oratory rises 
 to its highest perfection when addressed to a large assembly; 
 for then the moral elevation, which is the proper soul of 
 oratory, is highest. But epistolary composition, when ad-, 
 dressed to multitudes, rises to high degrees of eloquence; as 
 is seen in the epistles of the Apostle PauL 
 
 When the epistolary form is adopted for the form's sake, 
 it then falls into the rank of mere Representative Discourse. 
 
 § 30. Representative Discourse, so far as it 
 
 I 
 
ii, 
 
 QQ INTUOUUCTION. 
 
 ,,iver,e.s from ixropor oratory in dropping tbo opposi 
 Sa of speaker aud hearer, has for its highest law, the 
 representation of its theme for its own sake. 
 
 A'. Representative Discourse, as such, accordn.gly, 
 bas for itl controUing principle, the follown.g, viz: 
 
 That the thought be represented in its utmost clear- 
 ness, accuracy and completeness. 
 
 § 31 We have, thus, the characteristics of the sev- 
 eral divisions of Discourse, includmg Poetry. 
 
 Poetry represents for the sake of the form ; 
 
 Representative Discourse represents for the sake of 
 
 the theme itself; 
 
 Oratory represents for the sake of the effect on an- 
 
 other mind. , • -o 
 
 In Poetry, accordingly, tlu form rules ; m Repre- 
 sentative Discourse, the matter ; in Oratory, tbe ex- 
 
 terior aim. 
 
 The intimacv and relationship between these several 
 forms of represeutatioa in language are iu thi^ view clearly 
 indicated. The intrinsic dependence of the form on the 
 matter, the common attributes of the mind that addresses 
 and of the mind that is addressed, and their common relation- 
 ship to truth as the matter of discourse, shew at once how 
 large a field is common to all these arts. Particul-uly, is it 
 8Pen how slight are the modifications which an art of repre- 
 . senlative discourse requires in the principles of proper ora- 
 tory. Indeed, these modifications are, in the main, such as 
 cannot well be set forth in distinct forms of language. 
 See § 27. 
 
 § 32. Representative Discourse is either Pure or 
 Mixed. 
 
KIN us OF iXSCOrUcTi. 
 
 )i9 
 
 lIjo opposi 
 !St law, the 
 
 • 
 
 ccordingly, 
 ig, viz : 
 
 imost clcar- 
 of the sev- 
 
 m; 
 
 the sake of 
 
 ffect on an- 
 
 ; in Repre- 
 )ry, the ex- 
 
 theso several 
 3 view clearly 
 
 form on the 
 that addresses 
 inion relation- 
 V at once how 
 rticul'irly:, is it 
 u art of repre- 
 of proper ora- 
 main, such as 
 
 of language. 
 
 ler PiTUE or 
 
 
 
 It IS pure when its theme is represented irrespect- 
 ively of personal modifications, and, accordingly, in its 
 own proper character. 
 
 It is mixed, when it is represented as modified by 
 the peculiarities of personal apprehensions and convic- 
 tions. 
 
 The Epicurean by Moore is an exemplification of tht 
 mixed form of representative discourse, in which but on. 
 mind is introduced by whose personal characteristics th. 
 representation is modifi"ed. Ancient life is in it represented 
 through the experience of another, not from the direct per- 
 ceptions of the author. 
 
 Wliere two or more persons are introduced, tlie discourse 
 is called a Dialogue. The Dialogues of Plato, of Fon- 
 teuelle, of Berkeley, are exemplifications of this variety. 
 
 § 33. The highest law of Mixed -Representative 
 Discourse is, that the personal characteristics of the 
 speakers introduced, so far as modifying the theme, be 
 carefully exhibited throughout the representation. 
 
 The Dialogues of Plato are the most perfectly constructed 
 specimens of the Dialogue, perhaps, that exist, so far a» 
 this first law of the discourse is regarded. 
 
 If the representation be for the sake of the form, the dis- 
 course becomes Poetry. We have, then, the Monchgtie 
 when but one person is introduced; and the poetic Dialogue^ 
 when more than one are exhibited. If the representation 
 exhibits an action, it becomet: Dramatic. 
 
 \ 34. Of the Pure Representative Discourse, several 
 varieties are distinguished according to the character 
 of the subjcc*, as 
 
 History, the subject of which is some fact or event, 
 
 3* 
 
 ■ 
 
30 
 
 iNTiiontH^rioN. 
 
 ;., n-it.iro as Natural Hhtonj, 
 sin<He or coiUiimous, lu naiuic, as 
 
 J:of:t^,ap,OS.uui".f-.„fa..cir,cd.a,acCe. 
 
 ., individual experience for its subject^ 
 
 ,),!:rTlT.ON, ,l.e.ul,jec.of wl.iclus«,„.e futl., not 
 
 meic fact as is tlic case in History- 
 
 It is to be remarked re.specling the Pure llepros.ulaUve 
 
 Di urse, tlrat it easily a,l,„i.. the proper .U.t.ngur.lang 
 
 d ncteristic of pure ora.ory-the opposition of speaker aud 
 
 St so "far as it does this, .he full forn. of oratory 
 
 11,- so far, at least, as address to a locally absent „,ind 
 
 '■ hnv It is not rrnnatural, thus, that the h.storrau 
 
 :l:his"ry 03 an addressing n,ind, and uses tl. forms 
 
 "address. As, however, the hlea of represon..„g the acts 
 .istory for their own sake and not lor the sake o e 
 ,„„,.al eireot en other minds begins to rule m h.s m.nd, t^. 
 oratorical forms, as those of the first person, of tnne tn- 
 stead of space, fall away, and the discourse approaches to 
 tlie character of the pure representative. 
 
 ^ 35 Pbopeu Oratorical Discourse may be 
 distributed into different kinds on either of two differ- 
 ent principles, g.ving rise thus to two distinct sets or 
 
 One principle of distribution is found in the specific 
 character of tht^ ultimate end of discourse. 
 
 The other is found in the specific character of the 
 immediate end of discourse 
 
KI>:i»H OF l»»SCOTJUSR. 
 
 31 
 
 al Hlntonj, 
 
 cts ill uuM- 
 
 :\iic clepart- 
 fic character 
 
 e Essay or 
 ,ie truth, not 
 
 leprese Illative 
 listinguisliing 
 )f sjjcaker and 
 nil of oratory 
 y absent mind 
 
 the historian 
 uses the forms 
 :iting the facts 
 le sake of the 
 
 his mind, the 
 a, of time in- 
 approaches to 
 
 RSE may be 
 of two diirer- 
 stinct sets or 
 
 in the specific 
 
 •se. 
 
 aracter of the 
 
 § 3r,. T\w uliiinato end of all proper oratory being 
 nion.l ill iis ch;iract.u- § 3, there may be three diller- 
 ent khids of discourse according as one or another 
 of the three ditferent forms or phases of the moral 
 element, viz: the right, the good, and the beautiful or 
 noble in character, governs in the discourse. 
 
 The tlu-ee forms of oratory thus given arc thk 
 
 JUDICIAL, THE DELIBERATIVE ami THE SACRED. 
 
 These denominations are derived from the fields in which 
 the several kinds of oratory respectively predominate. It 
 nmst not be inferred from the names that the species are con ■ 
 lined to the respective fields from which the name is taken; 
 that the species of oratory, for instance, in which the i(k'a 
 (,r right is the governing idea of the discourse, is confined 
 to the Bar. The name in each class is taken from the prin- 
 cipal species in each. 
 
 § 37. Judicial Oratory has the idea of the right 
 for its governing idea. Its chief province is foimd in 
 the proceedings of Civil Judicature. 
 
 § 3S. Deliberative Oratory has the idea of 
 tht' good for its governing idea. It is chiefly found in 
 Legislative Assemblies. 
 
 Whenever measures, moreover, are urged on the grounds 
 of their expediency or tendency to promote the well being 
 of men, there is found proper deliberative oratory. Parlia- 
 mentary eloquence is but one, though the most common and 
 familiar variety. 
 
 § 39. Sacred Oratory has, for its governing 
 idea, the lovely in character. It seeks to eiTect the 
 perfect in character and is chiefly found in the pulpit. 
 
 Under this class is comprehended the panegyric, eulogis- 
 
 I 
 
3:i 
 
 TNTROULCTION. 
 
 tic or eiMdiclio cliscoufse. Only the lower var.ehcs of th,a 
 dass «1 kuowu to tl,e ancients. The h.gher spec.e, .s 
 given in its perfection only with chlistiamty. 
 
 ^ 40 Discourse, distributed in reference to the spe- 
 cifl character of its immediate end, comprehends he 
 i classes of Explanatory, Argumentattve, Pathefc. 
 and Persuasive. 
 
 The above classification is founded on the several imme- 
 diatc ends of discourse as enumerated, $ 54. 
 
 Ill 
 
 CHAPTER V. 
 
 OF THE DIVISIONS OP RHETORIC. 
 
 N 41 Rhetoric, as the Art of constructing Discourse, 
 Jbraces two processes which are m many respects 
 distinct from each other. The one consists m ho 
 provision of the thought embracing feehng and the 
 moral state in its proper form, and is founded mainly 
 on Logic. The other consists in the provision ot the 
 appropriate language, and rests mainly on Gmmmar 
 as its foundation. 
 
 The two great divisions of the art of Rhetoric, ac- 
 cordingly, are Invention and Style. 
 
 In many of the most popular treatises on Rhetoric in the 
 Eno-lish language, the first of these processes, invention, hus 
 been almost entirely excluded from view. Several caus.a 
 may be assigned for this deviation from the nmUm. 
 Hiethod of the ancient rhetoricians. The mo.t impurtu .. 
 one would seem to be the neglect iato which logic has tulle., 
 
irieties of thia 
 ;her species ia 
 
 ce to the spe- 
 sprehends the 
 ive, Pathetic, 
 
 several imme- 
 
 )RIC. 
 
 ing Discoui-se, 
 naiiy respects 
 ;onsists in the 
 eUng and the 
 lunded mainly 
 rovision of the 
 jr on Grammar 
 
 ii Rhetoric, ac- 
 
 1 Rhetoric in tlie 
 !S, invention^ bus 
 
 Several caust'S 
 m the unifdn!! 
 
 moat iniportu .1 
 \ h<Ac has fulliM. 
 
 DIVISIONS OF RHKTOKIC. 33 
 
 at least, the discordant and unsettled views of English 
 
 writers. , , . , . 
 
 Another cause is the change that has taken place m ogi- 
 cal science since the times of the Grecian and Roman rheto- 
 ricians, which renders their systems of rhetorical invention, 
 founded as they ^vere, to a great extent, on their peculiar 
 logical views, inapplicable to present modes of thought. 
 Their system of topics is, thus, for this and other rea- 
 sons, wholly unsuitcd to our times. 
 
 The art of invention, moreover, is more essentially modi- 
 fied than style by the particular department of oratory or 
 .the kind of discourse to which it is applied. Hence the 
 ancient systems of invention which were constructed in 
 strict reference to the modes of spe'aking then prevalent, are 
 ill-adapted to present use. Tiie systems of Cicero and 
 Quintilian, for example, are for the most part illustrated 
 from the peculiar practice of the Roman bar. Modern 
 writers on rhetoric, in following the great ancient masters m 
 the art, have lience been reduced to this alternative,— either 
 of leaving out entirely this part of the science, or of con- 
 structing an entirely new system. They have, for the most 
 part, in the English language at least, decided on the for- 
 mer branch of the alternative, and have generally excluded 
 almost entirely from their works, the consideration of In- 
 vention. 
 
 The perversion and abuse of ancient systems in the 
 schools of the middle ages have undoubtedly further con- 
 tributed to bring this branch of rhetorical science into dis- 
 repute and neglect. 
 
 It cannot, however, be doubted on a candid consideration 
 of the matter that invention must constitute the very life of 
 an art of rhetoric. It respects the soul and substance of 
 discourse—the thought which is communicated. Quintiliaa 
 
1 
 
 I « fc 
 
 iiiii;, ;J 
 
 INTRO nUGTION. 
 
 justly savs, <'in^.nire primun^ f-^t^^^f^ ^-^^^ 
 LL.i:' It is in invention that the mind of the learner 
 is most easily interested; most capable of sensible improve- 
 ..ent. It is next to impossible to awaken a hearty in erest 
 i. .nere style independeut of the thought; as the tutile 
 attempts to teach the art of composition as a mere thing of 
 verl^al expression have proved. Composing when thus 
 tau..ht must necessarily be regarded as a drudgery and be 
 shunned instinctively with strong aversion. It is otherwise 
 when the thought is the main thing regarded. There as to 
 every mind a pure and elevated pleasure in inventing, 
 -here is a pleasure in expressing thoughts that have sprung 
 intobeino- from one^s own creative intellect; of embodying 
 them in Appropriate forms of language. How dillerent are 
 the feelings with which a school boy contemplates the task 
 of writing a composition which must contain so many 
 words, whatever be true of the ideas, and the work of 
 writing a letter to express some conviction of his own mind, 
 some wish, some intelligence ? It cannot be questioned that 
 it is to the exclusion of invention from our systems of 
 rhetoric that the neglect into which the art has fallen is 
 chielly to be ascribed. The prejudices against it are also 
 mainly to be attributed to this defective and incorrect view 
 of the art.* 
 
 * It is worthy of note tli.it the most popular system of rlietoric 
 now in use in the L.dish language, that of Dr. Whately, owes 
 nearly all its excellence and its reputation as an original work to 
 the circumstance that it embraces, in the First Part, a brici and 
 imperfect view of this branch of the Science. 
 
 ill 
 
IQlJE PKAE- 
 
 of the leiirner 
 lible improve- 
 learty interest 
 as tlie futile 
 mere thing of 
 J- when thus 
 jgery and be 
 [t is otherwise 
 There \is to 
 in inventing. 
 ,t have sprung 
 of embodying 
 V dill'erent are 
 latcs the task 
 lain so many 
 
 the work of 
 his own mind, 
 [uestioned that 
 ir systems of 
 
 has fallen is 
 nst it are also 
 incorrect view 
 
 atem of rlietoric 
 
 Whately, owes 
 
 )riginal work to 
 
 art, a brici and 
 
 •■1 
 
 FIRST GENERAL DIVISION 
 
 INVENTION. 
 
 GENERAL VIEW. 
 CHAPTER I. 
 
 OF THE NATURE AND PARTS OF INVENTION. 
 
 § 42, Rhetorical Invention 13 the art of supplying 
 the requisite thought in kind and form for discourse. 
 
 § 43. It embraces Invmtion Prope?' or the mere 
 supply of the thought, and Arrangemeni or Disposi 
 Hon. 
 
 The propriety of regarding arrangement as a part of the 
 process of invention may be seen from several points of 
 
 view. 
 
 In the first place^ the principle of division that has been 
 adopted, by which rhetoric is regarded as embracing the two 
 principles of in'oention or the supply of thought, and of the 
 exprefiaion of thought in language or style, at once compels 
 
H'll 
 
 [i' 
 
 M 'Hi 
 
 f| I: 
 
 itiiiit 
 
 1« < 
 
 30 
 
 i,NVi:.\Ti<»>i. 
 
 . f nf arraaoeuieut. The two elements of 
 to this treatn^eut of «^^-oe ^^^ ^^^^^^^ 
 
 U.ught and ^^f^l^:^'^^,,. It would be unphi- 
 loscphical to mtrodu disposition or arranges 
 
 t).. nrocess of invention cannot proceed but by 
 
 tfore include a mo« or le»s definite regard to the a. 
 a en.. I. becomes necessary, thus, to treat of arrang^ 
 rr: disposition, so fa, as it can be distinctly treated o. 
 as a subordinate and constituent part of invention. 
 
 The same observations, obviously, are applicable to uietli- 
 
 od in style. . 
 
 ^ 44 The process of invention is applied either to 
 the general theme or topic of the discourse, or to the 
 partLar thoughts by meai. of which that general 
 Theme is presented to the mind addressed for the pur- 
 pose of accomplishing the object of the discourse. 
 
 M5 The general theme or topic of discourse is 
 sometimes given or furnished in a more or less definite 
 form to the spaker or writer; sometimes is wholly 
 left to his free choice, 
 
 In the eloquence of the bar and af the Senate, the topics 
 of discussion are determined beforehand for the most part 
 to the speaker. Even here, however, there is much room 
 for the exercise of invention. The particular theme proposed 
 is to be taken up into the mind of the speaker; it is to be 
 shaped to his habit of thought; it i. to be defined and deter- 
 mined so as best to meet his particular purpose in discussing 
 it- it is to be suited to the particuhir circumstances in which 
 bJ speaks and to the mode iu which he shall deter««ine to 
 
 t 
 
PAKTS OF INVENTION. 
 
 37 
 
 elements of 
 Lial elements, 
 luld be unpbi- 
 ivision, which 
 m or arraugt>- 
 jf rhetoric, 
 •oceed but by 
 thought must 
 rd to the ar- 
 eat of arrange- 
 ;tly treated oi" 
 Qtion. 
 Lcable to meth- 
 
 iied either to 
 rse, or to the 
 that general 
 i for the pur- 
 iscourse. 
 f discourse is 
 )r less definite 
 aes is wholly 
 
 nate, the topics 
 the most part 
 is much room 
 theme proposed 
 ker ; it is to be 
 fined and deter- 
 ise in discussing 
 stances in uhicli 
 dl determine to 
 
 handle it. The same question will thus be stated in very 
 different forms by different speakers; and no small degree 
 of oratorical skill is often displayed in the mode of conceiv- 
 ing and presenting the particular subject of debate. The 
 same observations are applicablje to every species of dis- 
 course or composition where the subject is proposed to the 
 speaker or writer. 
 
 Where the subject is left to the free choice of the speaker, 
 there is room for a still higher display of inventive power.' 
 It is with the orator or writer as with the sculptor or 
 painter. The subject itself shows the genius of the artist. 
 The subject is left thus free to a considerable extent in the 
 eloquence of the pulpit, as well as in most occasional ad- 
 dresses, in essays and other compositions. 
 
 § 46. The particular subordinate thoughts by which 
 the general theme is developed and presented to the 
 mind addressed, while tliey must all lie in the field of 
 the general theme and must likewise consist with the 
 object of the discourse, are, with these limitations, 
 open to the choice of the speaker. 
 
 As a rational discourse necessarily implies a unity, this 
 
 unity must be in the singleness of the theme and of the oh» 
 
 ject of the discourse, ($ 56). Accordingly all thoughts 
 
 1 introduced must stand in a subordinate relation to this single 
 
 *■ theme, and, also, to this single object. Hence the principle, 
 
 , which admits of no exception in rational discourse, that no 
 
 *thouffhts DO introduced that do not both consist with the 
 
 /theme and the object and, also, tend to develop the one and 
 
 I accomplish the other. 
 
 V While, thus, the subordinate and developing thoughts must 
 all be found in the field of ths one general theme, and of 
 : these only such can be taken as consist with the object of 
 *■ 4 
 
; fllj 
 
 !■! ill 
 
 INVENTION. 
 
 .,, . ix,,,e limits there is free range for in- 
 the discourse; withm these subordinate 
 
 vention. Tho ^^^^^^^^^^.^^^^^^^ cental furniture pos- 
 
 thoughts will ^^^:^ ,e has over this stock of 
 sessed by the speaker, tne ^^^^.^^ ^^ .^^^^_ 
 
 tbought, and the « j^^l^^^ exhibit the sound- 
 lion. The selection out o^h st^ ^^^ ,^ ,,, 
 
 ness and promptness of his judgme 
 of steadily pursuing his object. 
 
 CHAPTER n. 
 
 0, .HB OKNK.A. THKMB OP . mSCOUUSB 
 
 R A.7 The piocess of invention as applied to the 
 
 ^ !; time of discourse consists in the selection of 
 
 LltS; the determination of the partrcular 
 
 I ;.i. if i«; to be discussed, 
 form in which it is to 
 
 -. nf the expression "the theme, 
 In the very use ° * J^.^ .^^^^,^^ the necessity 
 angular and not ap - tern, ^^^^^^^^ ^^^^^^^^^ 
 
 of singleness rathe theme ^^^^^^^ ^.^^^^^^^ ^^„ 
 
 to speak of the thmes o. ^^^ _^^^^ ^^^^ 
 
 hardly wrth Fop^'X <;» -« _^ ,.^^„,„3,^ ;„ „hich, 
 one general theme. The umty ^^^ 
 
 :s;«:e^^orhiI» •^^ — «- °^ "- ^ """ 
 
 co-ordinate thoughts. broadest 
 
 rte lroadeT;nityd:t:rn>ined by the singleness of th. 
 t:: ! 1 h tro J by the particular ohiect in the dr. 
 
range for in- 
 subordinate 
 urniture pos- 
 this stock of 
 ties of inven- 
 bit the sound- 
 power he has 
 
 SCOURSE. 
 
 pplied to the 
 e selection of 
 he particular 
 
 he theme,"— a 
 d the necessity 
 \cr on absurdity 
 Discourse can 
 has more than 
 lurse, in which, 
 lere be but one 
 rdinate and sub- 
 )f two or more 
 
 irst and broadest 
 id in the proper 
 i singleness of th« 
 object in the dis- 
 
 THEME OF DISCOTTRSB. 
 
 39 
 
 cussion, and still farther by the process by which the dis- 
 cussion is conducted. 
 
 § 48. The principles which regulate this process 
 regard either the mind of the spealcer* himself, the 
 occasion of speaking, the mind addressed, or the ob- 
 iect of the discourse. 
 
 § 49 In selecting his theme and determining the 
 particular aspect to be taken of it, the writer has need 
 to corsult his own mind chiefly in reference to the 
 capabilities of supplying the particular thoughts and 
 illustrations by means of which his subject is to be 
 presented and developed. 
 
 No one in proper discourse writes merely with a view to 
 an effect on himself. Sometimes, indeed, the pen may be 
 employed in investigation. Such compositions, however, 
 are not proper discourse, which always more or less defi- 
 nitely or directly respects another mind. The writer, there- 
 fore, will need ever to select a theme on which he is com- 
 petent to write; respecting which he has ample information 
 and means of illustration within his power. 
 
 It is nevertheless a great mistake, although a common 
 ;one, to suppose that a subject very familiar and at the same 
 time verv comprehensive, is most favorable to ease of execu- 
 tion. Invention is an originating, creative process in its 
 essential nature. As such it is the most proper and delight- 
 ful work of a rational being; and whenever it is pursued, 
 imparts a pleasure which itself fires anew the energy of the 
 inventive faculty^ This is the inspiration of original 
 
 * In order to avoid all unnecessary multiplication of words, but 
 one of tlie specific terms, "writer" and "speaker," will ordinarily 
 be used liereafter, even wlien the generic notion of the person dis 
 eoursing, whether through the pen or the voice, is meant. 
 
il 
 
 !'■! 
 
 I i 
 
 
 -':ijM 
 
 
 :,.;'|1H 
 
 
 t'li^DH 
 
 
 ■'1lli 
 
 :i 
 
 ^ia-|[^ 
 
 
 'MHi 
 
 INVENTION. 
 
 *" .,, , necessarily attends the production 
 
 g,„i„s-the rapture *»t "";„,■ thought. Whenever a 
 of new Ihouglits and or ^ ^^^^^ ^^^ comprehensive 
 familiar and, at the same . ^_^^ ^^ ^^^ composition 
 
 •heme i» -''-f ' l^t; amiliar views can be taken, and 
 be narrow, only f^''^ ^ ;, , cold, inanimate work 
 
 there is ao life ol nv. • ,^^^^^^ ;^ „„ j^^p,. 
 
 of the memory recalling de^adjh ^^^^ ^^ ^^^^ ^^^ ^.^^^ 
 ration, no salislaction. ^^^ ^^^^ ^^ jovention must 
 
 taken, something ongmai, .^ .^^ ^;^„^ 
 
 necessarily be laborious -^ 'eavy- « J^^ ^ ^^^^^^ 
 
 .,., furnish the occasion « or .„in ^^^^^ ^^^ 
 
 ">' r": T The' me specific and definite, therefore, 
 familiar to all. l"e 't of invention. Cau- 
 
 the theme, the easier wi be ^^ ^.^^ ^^ _^^^ ^^^ 
 
 tion only is necessary tliat ^^^^^^.^^_ ^.__^^ ^^^^ ^^^. 
 
 limited for the -"'" 7;;; „h„ can take the most minute 
 most vigorous and practiced 
 
 and particular vievvs. .^^^ ^^^^j are 
 
 Voung writers shouM be » 1 ur g ^^^^ ^_^^^^^^^^,^ 
 
 called «/«-■■(* "''y™'^- . ' '"? L,lre most difficult to 
 J \.r. in selecting themes, agaiust ijj'^ 
 
 nLn;:::LsofWge- 
 
 -^'"^rtM^roCL^lXlean^nddry..., 
 
 fjr^l belaid that the facili,- ^^";-^::^: " 
 . .• L\]\ nroceed will depend on the richness u 
 rSrelfw^Mrconstitute^he theme, not on the gar. 
 
 it may chance to weai 
 5v 50. A proper reg 
 
 aid to the occasion of speaking 
 
the production 
 Whenever a 
 comprehensive 
 ;he composition 
 . be taken, and 
 uanimate work 
 ere is no inspi- 
 ome nev7 view 
 invention must 
 is specific views 
 ition. In them 
 notions that are 
 finite, therefore, 
 Qvention. Cau- 
 iew be not too 
 .; since only the 
 the most minute 
 
 against what are 
 
 rally unfavorable 
 
 most difficult to 
 
 that only general 
 
 writers on their 
 specious mottoes 
 1 the theme is in- 
 may be rich and 
 ean and dry. It 
 which the work of 
 ,e richness of the 
 ., not on the garb 
 
 sion of speaking 
 
 THI'MI' "f DISCOUUSE. 
 
 41 
 
 will determine the process of invention not only in 
 reference to the character of tlie theme to be selected, 
 but, also, in reference to the latitude as well as partic 
 ular field of view that is taken, and the illustrations 
 that are to be presented. 
 
 ^ 51 There is obviously, Ukewise, a necessity of 
 consulting the character of the audience ; the extent 
 of their information, their peculiar habits of thought, 
 their feelings also, and their relations to the speaker. 
 > There is perhaps no point to which Cicero's fundamental 
 rule in regard to all discourse, that it consist with propriety— 
 «ut deceat"—hvis greater force of application than h^re. 
 It cannot be too earnestly inculcated on every speaker to 
 consult carefully the minds and feelings of those whom he 
 is to address in the selection of his theme and, also, in the 
 development of it. Any offense against propriety or deco- 
 ^ rum here is more fatal to all the ends of speaking than any 
 where else. 
 
 § 52 The character of the theme and the particu- 
 lar view that is taken of it as well as the general 
 mode of developing it will also be affected by the par- 
 ticular object which the writer may wish to accom- 
 I plish in his discourse. 
 
 I It is assumed that all proper discourse has an object. A 
 i speaker does not speak without an end in view. This end 
 or object lies in the mind addressed, and consists lu some 
 change to be effected there by the discourse. 
 
 Dr. Whately, indeed, enumerates some species of what 
 he calls ^^ spurious oratory," as where one speaks merely to 
 seem to say something, when there is in fact nothing to be 
 said; or to occupy time; or for mere display of eloquence 
 
 4* 
 
INVENTION. 
 
 "^ „,P„rious oratory," indicate, that 
 
 The very name, l-oweve , « „^ ^,, .„ be accom- 
 
 ,11 true discourse must have a i ^^ ^^„^,„, , und. 
 
 phshed by the oommumcat o. ^^.J^,,^^,,,, the deter- 
 
 We >nust seek, ^^-^X^ossi^" objeets of discourse. 
 „,ination of the part.cula P ^^^^^_^^ .^^,^^^ „f 
 
 .53. The ultimate cud 0' a ^^^.^jj.ie ob- 
 
 , iral or otl"-^,^^^^^^^^^^^^^ end is reached .nay 
 
 jecls through which to u ^^ ^^ ^^c wtU of 
 
 lie in the understand'ng, the 
 
 the persons addressed. ^j. ^,j 
 
 ^^^•^'':ct;nn:r:-K......."o., 
 
 discourse '''"''";' !;^^^,,.„^, and Persuasion. 
 Conviction, Exc, ,_^ ^^^^ „oderstanding 
 
 A change prod..ced by ,, jion, or n now or 
 
 „ay be either a new^r - ;>fi^^^^^ 
 modified judgment, nmc 
 
 understanding. ^^ conception is 
 
 . 65. The process by whu^h a ^.^.^^ ^ ^^^^ 
 
 piduced,is »>yStrC-« ^^'"^"^^"' 
 the sensibilities per^to^ion. 
 
 «-'-^"^"'':;:!;.erved,arena.^ 
 
 These P'°=^^^''' ',: "d,3i,„aions given embrace as well 
 positive species; and he d«'» ^^._^^^ ^h„,, ,e either pro- 
 them as their oppos>^es. 1^ P ^^ ^^^ ^,„,ay e,„t- 
 
 duee a new conception or co ^^ ^ ^^^^ „p,„. 
 
 ;„,. Oouvietion includes b*P _^^^.„„ „f „„, „. 
 
 ion or judgment ^^,^„, embraces the awaken- 
 
 '»^^:;i^^i2re:;:"i.e- 
 
 ^; aud in persuasion, vv 
 
 iither 
 
 jiuri' 
 
 0U3 
 
 emotion or pas 
 
Til 
 
 KMK OI' UUSCOIIHSR. 
 
 jither 
 
 choice or dissuade from 
 
 aa 
 
 43 
 
 existing inteutioa 
 
 mjve to a new 
 
 or purpose. jjsrourse is more narrowly 
 
 ,3Uisucd ill tho dcvelopiuciit of a subject. 
 
 subject ol discourse, (^ M)- ^ ^^^^t 
 
 To ; t be laaW p«™.ed ti,rou,U„ut t>,e a.cou,.. 
 1 -7 The several proecsses of explanation, conv.c- 
 § .,7. The ^'-"'7 •; . „„ so related to each 
 
 EM^lSl precedes conviction, as the trt.th ntu 
 he nlt"^<« before it can be helievcd; exp a— 
 id conviction naturally precede «— ^aUy te 
 
 bcUeved to exist "^"o ^ , j^,.^^ processes, 
 
 ::it:e:r:tS,rhejudg.nent convinced, arid the 
 uiiderstuiidiag informed. 
 
 R r,Q The work of invention can never proceed 
 steadily and undeviatingly pursued. 
 
 I 
 
i\ 
 
 IjjVBNTl";'- 
 
 . ,• „ i, more fundamental or praci 
 No principle of ^'^f'"''^'" ;„ ,i,n is the very life .- 
 
 cally i-P""""' ,''""!. liect of speaking be distinctly per- 
 invention. Unless the obje>,to p .__^^^_^.^^ ^^^__„^ 
 
 eeived and that object be str t y . ^^^^ ^^^^^.^^^ ^,_^, ^„ 
 ,„3 „„ foothold at aU, or at le ^,^ ^^^^^^__ ^^^ ^.^^^ ^^,^,.^ 
 its operations must be " J^.^ ^ ^^^^^ ^.^^^ „,- ^^e sU„l« 
 
 '" ""f^tlure discussed, and then of the one ob,.t 
 sub ect which IS to ji,„ussion. 
 
 „hich is to be ='"--^_^'^ ''',,,„, else, that young writer. 
 It is here, more than any _^^ j^,,.,,,^^ 
 
 f,i,. They g- '''-t:J:ctZlichthey.vrite,e.. 
 .pprehe..ion of t e s.r^' ^J^ „„as-brilUant if it 
 oept perhaps, .t be o J, a ^^^.__^ ^^ ^^^^^^ 
 
 may be, at aU vents vv> ^^^^ .^ ^,_^ ,^^^^_ ^„, 
 
 view, the mind has no 'f'\ J .^y^at can be more 
 the task is the --f;:r„t;^ri.a because entertain- 
 
 .0 than to ^""'""'f ;,';". ;,, „„e life animates them, 
 i„,noliving.houghtU.t wihit e,^^^^^_^^ ^^ ^^^_^^_ 
 
 •"^ r nils o:;cr a^ 'U gives discourse its iife; 
 „ar? It .3 '" °T ,,„„ two lives in itself, there can 
 and as no one thing an .ve ^^ ,^ ^^^^ .^ ^,_^ 
 
 be but one »™ »*.,,„„, ,„ „i,. Certainly the work 
 "rVntir th Mghes and most proper .ork of man as a 
 :lrn:Uei can!ot proceed happily without an aim dis- 
 
 *1'ir istffirst thing to be done in the construction 
 of a slse, after the selection of '»e theme -^^1-;-;- 
 termine definitely what is the particular object ol the dis. 
 i, the object to explain a subject; to convince of 
 r::.^ et:^ tHe feeling in relation to it; or to move 
 t rdtnuponit? This principle cannot be too earnestly 
 faithfully observed. 
 
 lUV 
 
 V»lvv 
 
PAnry or ih-c;<'Imi«b. 
 
 45 
 
 As these several acts of expltinatio.i, conviction, excita- 
 tion, and persuasion may proceed each by several distinct 
 Bpecilic processes, it will of course facilitate invention to 
 determine, previously to the construction of a discourse, the 
 particular process which the case may require. 
 
 § 59 Inasmuch as the development of the general 
 theme is determined by the particular object of the 
 discourse, the four processes, by one or other of which 
 this object must be accomplished, viz : those of expla- 
 nation, confnmation, excitation, and persuasion, con- 
 stitute the distinct departments of Rhetorical Inven^ 
 
 tion. 
 
 CHAPTER III. 
 
 OF THE PARTS OP A DISCOURSE. 
 
 § 60 The development of a theme of discourse for 
 the purpose of explanation, conviction, excitation, and 
 persuasion, necessarily proceeds by stages, which, m 
 reference to the particular object at the time, may be 
 distinguished from each other. A discourse may 
 thus be conveniently regarded as consistmg of parts r 
 some of which are essential to all discourse and others 
 subsidiary or essential only in particular cases. 
 
 § 61. The essential parts of discourse are the frop- 
 osiTioN and the discussion. 
 
 § 62. The proposition is the particular subject 
 as modified and determined by the object of the tlis- 
 rouvse. 
 
46 
 
 INVKNTION. 
 
 - 
 
 ■r r. » it should be observetl, is here 
 ?^/"'" ''':iCV-lt of the .or„. 'Mhe™^ 
 
 used .0 a .-- " ";^ „^, „, aeter,„ined by >H object or 
 The propos,t.o„ ts lie tl ^j^^_^^^_ .,^^^ ,_^_ 
 
 ^"' frf „;::"''«. evarioLi. discussed i„ re,eren« 
 ,„„tab,htyot truth nK, _^ ^^ ^^^^ ^,^^^^^.^_^ 
 
 n prove the statement that "truth .s .mmutable; or to 
 
 a vLu eonfidence in all truth as being in rts nature .mmu- 
 
 ^Ik- or to n,ove to zealous effort to aequ.re truth because 
 
 l^table. A rhetorical proposition includes thus tl» 
 
 ::: and the particular design for whic >' - — • 
 
 One formal mode of staling the proposition in actual dis 
 
 course would be as follows : "The object of this discourse is 
 
 .0 prove the ^-"'^^■;^ ^ ^ aistinguished 
 
 A rhetorical proposition is careiuuy lu ,„''-. , 
 
 from a logical proposition. The latter may be defined to be 
 <; le erbal —at of a judgment." A log-l propor- 
 tion accordi,i.lv, may constitute the theme of a rhetorical 
 : 'o t on If his theme be stated together with the use 
 to be mlde of it in discourse, it will then become a rhetor- 
 ical proposition. 
 
 & 63 The disccss.on is that part of a discourse 
 in whicli the subject is unfolded and directly presented 
 -to the mind addressed for one of the purposes that 
 have been named. 
 
 The discussion is accordingly the main thing in all dis- 
 course, and constitutes its body. The proposition sets for h 
 the design of the speaker; and the other parts are merely 
 preparatory and subsidiary to this main design which l. 
 directly pursued in the discusdon. 
 
 § 04. Tlie general tonus of the discussion arc tie 
 
PARTS OF DISCOURSr:. 
 
 47 
 
 termined by the object of the discourse, and are four 
 in niinil)er corresponding to the four main objects that 
 may be aimed at in discourse, § 51. 
 
 § 65. The more specific forms of the discussion are 
 determined by the particular processes in which expla- 
 nation, conviction, excitation, and persuasion are 
 respectively carried on. 
 
 § 66. The subsidiary parts of discourse are either 
 preparatory, or applicator y ; and may in general 
 terms be denominated the Introduction and the 
 Peroration. 
 
 § 67 The design and use of the Introduction 
 is to prepare the way in the mind addressed for the 
 more ready and free reception of the proposition and 
 the discussion. 
 
 ^ 68 As it is obvious that the mind addressed may 
 be favorably or unfavorably disposed for the reception 
 of the proposition and the discussion, either in respect 
 to the degree or kind of information it possesses, or its 
 state of opinion, of feeling or of purpose, the intro- 
 duction must, in different cases, be prepared m refer- 
 ence to these diverse states of mind. 
 
 The two more generic kinds of introduction will be, 
 accordingly, the Explanatory and the Conciliatory 
 
 introduction. 
 
 In the former, the object of the introduction will be 
 effected by informing more fully the minds of the 
 hearers; in the latter, by removing prejudice or by cu- 
 Usting directly a favorable interest. 
 
 It is obvious, moreover, that these states of luind mav 
 
p 
 
 48 
 
 INVKNTION. 
 
 respectively regard diflerent objects, as the speaker or the 
 subject itself. Hence will be determined the still more spe- 
 cific forms of the introduction. _ ' 
 
 The consideration of the particular kinds of introduction 
 and the laws of its use has, for obviou? reasons, its appro- 
 priate place under the several general heads of Inventiou. 
 
 § 69. As the Introduction is only a subsidiary and 
 a preparatory part of a discourse, the topics which it 
 must embrace and the form in which it should appear 
 cannot be fully known until the nature and form of 
 the proposition and of the discussion are well ascer- 
 tained by the speaker. Hence, the proper time for the 
 invention and the composition of the Introduction is 
 after the subject has been thoroughly studied out, and 
 the general form of the discussion well settled in the 
 mind. 
 
 It would obviously be as absurd in a writer to construct 
 an Introduction before the plan of the discourse is deter- 
 mined upon, as it would be in an architect to put up a por- 
 tico before he had determined what kind of a house to 
 attach to it. That this absurdity is frequently committed in 
 writing and in architecture, only shows the necessity of call- 
 ing particular attention to it. There is no one feature of the 
 Introduction which may not receive its determinate charac- 
 ter from the proposition and the discussion. The length, 
 the matter, incl ,^ing both the thought and the feeling, and 
 the style cannot be known till the plan of the discussion is 
 fully determined upon. 
 
 By this it is not meant that the discussion should be writ- 
 ten out or reduced to forms of language; but merely that 
 the whole plan of the discussion be distinctly conceived in 
 the mind, before the Introduction is composed. 
 
r.vKTS OF Di.'-:<:oi:iJf?E. 
 
 49 
 
 The necessity ol' tlius first studying' out and accurately 
 determining in the mind the plan of the discussion before 
 the Introduction is commenced^ appears not only from the 
 fact that unless this be the case it is all a matter of mere 
 accident whether there be any correspondence between it 
 and the body of the discourse., but also from the considera- 
 tion that it is only thus that unity, in which lies all the life 
 of invention as well as of discourse, can be secured. The 
 very idea of a discourse, as a product of a rational mind 
 that ever has an aim in its proper workings, involves the 
 necessity of unity; and this unity appears in discourse 
 mainly in the proposition and the discussion as the essential 
 paits. The clear perception of what is needed to be effected 
 in the mind addressed by way of preparation, in order that 
 this aim of the discourse can be attained in it, is abso- 
 lutely indispensable both to guide invention in constructing 
 the Introduction and to stimulate it so that its work shall 
 be easy and successful. 
 
 § 70. The Peroration, as that part of a discourse 
 in which the theme is applied, will vary with the 
 different specific objects aimed at in the application. 
 
 Sometimes the application will be in the form of 
 explanation, either for the purpose of coirecting erro- 
 neous views or for further instruction. This form of 
 the peroration may be denominated the explanatory. 
 
 Sometimes the object of the peroration may be to 
 correct a wrong opinion, or to confirm a particular truth 
 involved in the general theme ; in which case the per- 
 oration will be confirmatory. 
 
 Sometimes the object may be to address the subject 
 more directly to the feehngs, which will give rise to 
 
 the excitatory or pathetic peroration. 
 
 5 
 
m 
 
 IxWiiNTIoN. 
 
 Or, oQce more, some action may be proposed, in the 
 peroration, to the mind addressed, and then the per^ 
 suasive peroration will have place. 
 
 ^ 7\ Tpie Recapitulation is a form of perora- 
 tion common to the various objects mentioned. The 
 respective processes of explanation, conviction, excita- 
 tioii or of persuasion pursued in the discourse are, m 
 this'form, concisely repeated for the purpose of a more 
 full and complete effect. 
 
 I 
 
PART I.— EXPLANATION. 
 
 CHAPTER I. 
 
 GENERAL INTRODUCTORY VIEW. 
 
 § 72. In explanation, the object of discourse is to 
 inform or instruct ; in other and more technical words, 
 to lead -0 a new conception or notion, or to modify 
 one already existing in the mind. 
 
 § 73. The work of explanation is accomplished 
 simply by bringing the object of the conception dis- 
 tinctly and favorably before the mind addressed. 
 
 § 74. Although explanation, properly, is a purely 
 intellectual process, since it aims merely to produce or 
 modify a conception or notion which is a pure intel- 
 lectual state, still as the understanding itself is influ- 
 enced by the feelings and the state of the will, refer- 
 ence to these departments of mind is not wholly ex- 
 cluded from explanatory discourse. The passions are, 
 however, to be employed only in strict subordination 
 to the design of the discourse ; that is, only for ihe 
 purpose of facilitating the process of explnuation. 
 This is done chiefly or wliolly by securing an undis- 
 turbed attention to tiie object presented. 
 
52 
 
 i:Xi'l,ANATl(>N. 
 
 ii ( flip fnste be consulted in all 
 
 :t::::zt::::ai:-M.e.eive„.^ 
 
 ; e d Xe,.oph«n has we.1 observed that .astruct.oa m 
 P „l,,i. IVom one who does not please* 
 
 the eKisteuce of some favorite opinion .vh.ch may be unfa. 
 Ibly aftected by the object presented m the discourse; 
 Zd ar' umentation may be necessary as a preparatory work 
 even fo'r the purpose of explaining a truth. 
 
 So likevvise, the attention may be disturbed by some 
 teellJo- or purpose in the mind addressed, which must be 
 appro;rialely .naaaoed by the speaker who would secure 
 attention to his explaaalion. . , ^ , i , 
 
 These processes, however, are not essential, but merely 
 incidental in explanatory discourse. It is sufficient, there- 
 fore, here merely to indicate generally the relation ot this 
 to the other processes in discourse. 
 
 § 75. The subject or theme of explanatory dis- 
 course is some oi)jcct or truth to be perceived. 
 
 The state of mind to be produced by explanation, as has 
 been before observed, is a conception. The term is used m 
 a strictly technical sense, as distinguished from a judgment. 
 As it is important that the meaning .)f these logical terms 
 should be clearly apprehended, the follo-.ing defmitions vviU 
 not be out of place here. A Conception is that state ot the 
 understanding in which an object or truth is simply per- 
 ceived, without any affirmation or denial respecting it. A 
 jnd,rment, on the other hand, is that intellectual state m 
 which an object or truth is not only perceived^ut some 
 
 ""^em". Lib. I."crn7T39: MS^^c:,6=>.'av ?.vai 
 
 ■Mk,.. 
 
INTliODUCTORV VIEW. 
 
 53 
 
 affirmation or denial is made respecting it. When I per- 
 ceive " a tree/' I have a conception of it. When I aiiirra 
 " it is an aj)ple-tree/' I have a judgment respecting it. 
 
 A logical proposition, in the proper sense, that is, a sen- 
 tence which expresses a judgment may, nevertheless, be 
 viewed simply as an object of conception. As when it is 
 said '^Lavv is a rule of action," although the sentence 
 contains a judgment or affirmation, still the mind may re- 
 gard it merely as a thing to be perceived or understood and 
 not as that on which a judgment is to be formed. Logical 
 propositions, thus, as well as mere names of things, may 
 form proper subjects of explanation; since they may be 
 regarded merely as conceptions. 
 
 It may be further remarked that the object which consti- 
 tutes the theme of explanation is not necessarily any real 
 object or truth; but only one as so regarded by the writer. 
 It may be a purely imaginary object not supposed by him 
 to have any foundation in reality ; or it may be an erroneous 
 conception in his mind of a real object or truth; or, farther, 
 it may be a conception founded on reality but modifiec' 
 throuiih the influences of his peculiar habits of observation. 
 Explanation is, in this respect of its subject or theme, 
 distinguished from conviction. In explanation, the subject 
 is ever an object of a conception. In conviction, it is ever 
 a judgment. 
 
 § 70. The unity of explanatory discourse, so far as 
 it is determined by the theme, requires that the con- 
 ception which forms tlie theme, be one. This one 
 conception, however, may be simple or complex ; may 
 embrace but one individual or a class. 
 
 In order to insure this broader unity the writer should 
 
 ever carefully see? whether the particular topics which he i« 
 
 6* 
 
Ill I 
 
 '■j 
 
 61 
 
 KXIMi.VNATIO.V. 
 
 to treat of can be embraced in one complex conception. H 
 not, he has reason to suspect that unity will be sucrilicod. 
 If he is unable to reduce the sjjecific topics of his discourse 
 under a single class, he will be in danger of violating unity. 
 It nnis^ not be sup])osed, however, that because the proposi- 
 tion as stated includes two or more topics, for that reason 
 alone, unity must necessarily be sacrificed. Thus, the sub- 
 ject of an essay may be " the causes and effects of the 
 Crusades.'' This theme, although, as stated, it embraces 
 more than one topic, may be discussed with a perfect obser- 
 trance of unity. The crusades, as a single class of events, 
 may be presented concretely in their historical relations, that 
 is, in the single relation of time, or abstractly under the 
 sino-le causal relation to antecedent and subsequent events. 
 § 77. The particular processes by which the expla- 
 nation of an object or truth may be effected, are five in 
 number, viz : Narration, Description, Analysis, 
 Exemplification, and Comparison or Contrast. 
 All objects, even such as are purely abstract or spiritual, 
 as represented in discourse, must be contemplated undc • ihe 
 relations either of time or of space. Hence, the original 
 and proper processes of explanation are but two in number; 
 one, in which the object is viewed under the relations 
 of time, the other, in which it is regarded under the relations 
 of space. 
 
 But an object viewed in its relations to time may also be 
 contemplated in its relations to its own parts or to other ob- 
 jects of the same class. And an object existing in space 
 may be represented by a designation of the adjoining parts. 
 Thus, the mammoth, an extinct species of animals, may be 
 represented either under the idea of time, giving rise to 
 classification by the indication of its varieties, or under the 
 
 
 
 .a 
 
INTItODUCTORY VIEW 
 
 indication of i 
 
 55 
 
 component parts, as 
 
 idea of space, by the 
 head, body, limbs, &c. 
 
 Or, again, it may be represented by the exhibition of one 
 of the species taken as an example. The account of the 
 mammoth found entire in a frozen state by a Tungusian, 
 named SchumacholT, in 1799, furnishes thus the best repre- 
 sentation of this extinct species of the Elephant. 
 
 Or, farther, the object may be designated through its rela- 
 tions to other individuals of the same class. We represent, 
 thus, by comparing objects through the points of resemblance 
 or by contrasting them through the points of diversity or op- 
 position. 
 
 We have thus the five different processes of explanation 
 
 enumerated, viz: 
 
 1. Narration, when the object viewed as a whole, is 
 represented in continuous time or as in succession; 
 
 2. Description, when the object, viewed as a whole, is 
 represented in spaci generally; 
 
 3. Analysis, when the object is regarded as consisting of 
 parts related either to time or to space; 
 
 4. Exeniplijlcation, when the object . regarded as 
 generic, including species or individuals under it, and is 
 represented through one of the class; and 
 
 5. Comparison and Contrast, when the object is regarded 
 as belonging to a class, and is represented through its resem- 
 blance or opposition to others of the same class. 
 
 § 78. While these processes may all be combined 
 ill certain cases in the same discourse, they are yet 
 easily distinguishable. They may in some cases, 
 each, constitute the single and only process of expla- 
 nation. They are, also, subject to entirely dillerent 
 principles regulating the use of them in discourso. 
 
i ■' 
 
 K I 
 
 gg EXPLANATION. 
 
 •«Mr Mnrl utilitv of considering them 
 Hence the propriety ana iuiui> 
 
 distinctly. 
 
 As has been before observed, every art embraces diverse 
 
 II nr uhich ill the mure cumphcated 
 particular processes, allot ulntibia 
 
 Lins of tl^ art, are carried on simultaueousl; tc.,elher. la 
 acqnisitioa of the a.t, however, these processes arc 
 LhJd, and studied and ex.u.plided in practice separate y 
 L'siu^lv. An extended arithmetical p.ocess general y 
 otbL^ihe various particular processes of addition, sub- 
 traction, multiplication, and division, if not various other 
 higher processes. In aciuiring the art, however, the atten- 
 tion of the learner is advantageously directed to these pov- 
 ticular processes sing-ly and successively. Each is studied 
 and exercised upon, before the next is taken up. When 
 each several process is thus made familiar by separate and 
 continued study aad eKercisc, the more complicated opera- 
 lions are perfonned with ease and success. It is so ^ith 
 every art. So self-evident, indeed, is this principle that 
 nothing but the fact of the strange neglect and oversight of 
 it in tl^ art of constructing discourse could justify a repeated 
 reference to it in vindication of the course that is here 
 proposed. The learner cannot be too earnestly or too trc- 
 quently reminded of the necessity of studying and exercising 
 upon each particular process in discourse separately; and o 
 continuing his study and practice upon each in order, untU 
 a perfect practical famiharitv with it is acquired. 
 
NAUnATION. 
 
 57 
 
 CHAPTER n. 
 
 OF NARRATION. 
 
 S 70. NAuao-ioN is that process of explanation 
 Jch presents an object iu its relations to contmunus 
 
 time. 
 
 strictly speaUns, narration ,,r„per presents an object on y 
 i„ tl,e several successive forms which .t ussun.es at succe 
 te perio.ls of .in,e. History, i« which only the eluun of 
 evenl is c Jiibitcl, alVor.ls one of the most perfect e.en.pb- 
 ficatioiis of pure narration. 
 
 The Inmuu, nu«.l, howe.er, io its matnrer development, 
 can hardly avoid, ^vhon it onton plates e-nts .ranspumg 
 ia snccession, conceiving o, a can.c winch b.nds th 
 events together. The operation of a cause, n.oreover, we 
 ever rcprtsent to ourselves as taldug place in succession of 
 i,„e Cause is thus the la.- or internal priocple o su^ ces- 
 lu; and succession of events is the outward man.fes.auon 
 
 of the operation of that law. _ 
 
 Tl.: relation of caus. ,o the succession of events rn tnne, 
 
 ,,ows a. onee th. philosophu propriety of -S"^ '"S J 
 
 relation of cause and effect as the true governing pr.naple 
 
 arration. It delermines, at the same time, the prop r 
 
 lubieasof narrative discourse and the laws which regulate 
 
 "'t, will be convenient to exhibit the specific processes of 
 .a-ratiou, according as they include distincnv or not th 
 idea of a cause-in other words, regard mere -t»ard 
 
 - ^r.4^ oonnnff^lv and successively, 
 cession or not — separaitiy aiiv.i o ^ ^ 
 
 ^ Sn. The simplest process in narralion consists m 
 the exhibition of an object in the diirerent fonns wlneh 
 
 
58 
 
 EXPLANATION. 
 
 ill 
 
 it presents in successive periods of time wilhodt dis- 
 tiuct reference to tlie connecting causes. 
 
 § 81. The principle of arrangement in this process 
 it, .simple succession of time. 
 
 In all simple narration, the explanation is eflected by the 
 oxhibiUon of tlie object represented in the successive 
 changes. We cannot exhibit tlie object as literally chung- 
 in-r- we can only assume ditVerent points of time and mark 
 the particular phaseJ the object presents ut those points re- 
 spectivelv, and leave it to the mind of the hearer to till up 
 the intervening period ai d imagine the actual progress of 
 the changR from one aspect or phase to another. 
 
 As it is possible in discourse, thus, only to present (he 
 object at successive sfage.s, passing over the intermediate 
 intervals, judgment is necessary in the selection of those 
 phases of the object which are most important. lu the his- 
 tory of a nation, the most important changes in the direc- 
 tion of its exertions, whether abroad us in v/ars, or towards 
 its internal allairs as in tlie modifications of its government 
 ind the cultivation of the various arts, may, thus, be selected 
 IS the points to be exhibited to view. 
 
 Still the order of time furnishes the law of arrangement. 
 When the continuity of succession is broken, the mind of 
 the reader is liable to be olfended; and his interest is at 
 once weakened. This truth is illustrated in the wearisome 
 effect of those treatises on general history, which take us, 
 in uccessive chapters, to different countries, and thus are 
 ever interrupting the continuous succession of events. 
 
 § 82. The simple process of narration is at once 
 rendered complex by the distinct exhibition of the 
 relation of cause and cllcct in the events described. 
 
 In tins proccs,-; more' npoiiL'.s.s ol' jiidgmcnt, (greater skill 
 
NAUUATION. 
 
 no 
 
 and power of d.scernment, iu short, a lii-hor maturitv and 
 wider reach of intellect are requisite. The chihl, i i iiis 
 narrations, can give only the events as they occurred l,o his 
 view witii hardly any reference to a cause that connects 
 them. The more important he makes no more prominent 
 than the less. Although the circumstance that he is olVended 
 and loses his interest in th.. narration, when the order of 
 time is disregarded, shows that '^le idea of cause secretly 
 inlluenccs him, still the idea is so little developed that it 
 exerts little control over him when he himself narrates to 
 others. The maturer mind takes no interest in a chain ot 
 mere events, but as the connecting cause is seen. The de- 
 tection of this cause and the clear exhibition of it to view, 
 at once, determines the rank of his intellect and the correct- 
 ness of his idea of a praper history, in the historian. 
 
 Iu confirmation of this view, it may be observed here, 
 that the more philosophical idea of a history is the product 
 only of a highly advanced state of society. The early his- 
 torians, beautiful and rich as they are in style, are yet 
 greatly defective in this respect. They confine themselves 
 mainly to the simple exhibition of the secpicnces of events. 
 So far as invention is concerned, they display but little 
 power except in the mere selection of the events. Such are 
 the histories of Herodotus, Livy, and indeed, most of the 
 histories that have been written. Truly philosophical his- 
 tories are the production of the most recent times. 
 
 § 83. The principle of ariangemcnt in this pro- 
 cess of narration is furnished in the relation of >cause 
 and elTect. 
 
 Here the causal relation is every tbing. Even succession 
 in time is freely sacrificed to it when necessary. As vanou 
 causes frequently conspire to produce u single eilect, it b 
 
60 
 
 r,X('i.-''.\.Mlt'.N. 
 
 m 
 
 1 1 
 
 m 
 
 [J 
 
 Gomes necessary often to trao;) ia the order of saccession 
 the operation of one cause after another; going back m 
 time repeatedly to exhibit the dilVerent chains of causes 
 from their origin. In the determination of the place for the 
 introduction of each particular topic or event, the writer 
 should carefully deliberate witli himself, hoAV the causal 
 connection in the events will be most clearly presented to 
 view, since in this is found the sole determining principle of 
 arrrangement and law of (levelopment. 
 
 § 84. The process of narration is applied not only 
 to outward events represented in siniphi succession of 
 time, § 80, or in the light of the causal relation, § 82, 
 but also to all such abstract and spiritual subjects as 
 may he conceived of under the idea of succession or 
 the relation of cause and efTect, 
 
 We have, in this class of narrative subjects, a subdivision 
 corresponding to that which has been pointed out in respect 
 to such as are merely outward or sensible. All abstract 
 thino-s or objects which may be regarded as becoming, 
 changing, growing, and the like, Avhile they, and they only, 
 constitute proper subjects of narrative discourse, may, also, 
 be represented either in their successive stages or changes, 
 or in connection with the cause that connects them. 
 
 In the former case, the principle of arrangement and, 
 indeed, the general law of development of the theme is 
 furnished in the order of succession in time. In the latter 
 case, it is furnished in the relation of cause and effect. 
 
 Instances of this class of subjects are *' the spread of 
 idolatry in the world,'* "the progress of vice in the lieart,^* 
 " the development of taste,'* and the like. 
 
 It is obvious that all such su])jects may bf represented 
 eitlier simply in respect to the successive forms that may bo 
 
NA!{!«Ari()\. 
 
 61 
 
 assumed by the object or thing to be represented, or in uni- 
 son with the cause of those modifications or in dependence 
 upon it. 
 
 In this class of subjects, a still higher tact and skill is 
 requisite in the selection of those particular stages in the 
 progress of the object represeu'.ed which shall most happily 
 exhibit to the reader the actual progress, than is necessary in 
 the narration of merely outward events. It is not with 
 much difficulty that the naturalist seizes upon those stages of 
 vegetable growth which shall give a clear idea of the entire 
 continuous process. Although the tree is ever growing and 
 the eye cannot trace momently the actual change that is 
 going on, still the representation of the seed, the germina- 
 ting state, the woody stage, the condition ol" decay ; or of 
 the periodical changes, the ascent of the sap, the periods of 
 foliage, of flowering, of fruit and the like, i& easy becaiKse 
 tne successive stages or conditions of growth are definitely 
 marked to the eye. In abstract subjects, however, these 
 successive stages are with difficulty discovered; and the 
 mere representation of the successive development of a vice, 
 a virtue, a mental habit of any kind, in respect to time 
 alone, denumds nice discernment and sound judgment. 
 When the causal influence is conjoined with this, the diffi- 
 culty becomes still greater. For the causes that influence 
 here are not only multiform, but are, also, not easy of detec- 
 tion. Their influence is silent and hidden. Hence, histories 
 of the progress of civilization, of the progress of science, 
 of opinion in every field of knowledge, appear only in the 
 more mature developments of mind. Hence., too, moral 
 painting, one variety of this species of narration, indicates 
 at once, when only free from oVvious faults, the hand of a 
 master. 
 
 § 85. The principles of narration ai)ply iu their full 
 
 
62 
 
 EXPLANATIOxV. 
 
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 foi-e only where the object of the discourse is expla- 
 nation under the form of succession or the relation of 
 cause and effect ; they have an application, however, 
 where narrative is introduced in other forms of dis- 
 course, but in subordination to the particular prmciples 
 that govern in them. 
 
 In argumentation, thus, narrative is often necessary. So 
 far as it is narrative, the principles that have been set forth 
 ill this chapter apply. But the narrative is introduced only 
 as subsidiary to another object, viz : conviction. The 
 modification requisite in such particular uses of narrative 
 will, however, be obvious; and needs no distinct illustration 
 
 here. 
 
 It may be farther remarked, here, that narration is often 
 
 mingled with description and other processes of explanation. 
 
 So far as it is narrative, however, it observes its own laws. 
 
 ^ 86. The law of unity in narration becomes 
 more precisely determined and restricted by the par- 
 ticular view that is taken of the theme, whether it is 
 regarded as merely subject to a succession of changes 
 or whether the causal relation is exhibited. 
 
 In the former case, unity is preserved if the one 
 object of the discourse be the only thing presented, 
 and be presented only as subject to a continuous suc- 
 cession of changes. 
 
 In the latter case, the principle of unity may lie in 
 the single cause whose operation is traced out in its 
 successive effects ; or in the development of the single 
 effect from the combined operation of the several 
 causes. 
 
 It will be observed that the simplicity or complexity of 
 
NAURATIOIV. 
 
 63 
 
 If 
 
 Hie theme will not adect the unity. The therne may be the 
 life or the trausactiun of an individual; tlie history of a 
 community or nation through the whole or particular stages 
 of its existence; it may be a cause producing its effects on 
 a single individual, a community )r state or the race gener- 
 allv, through greater or less periods of time; it may be an 
 effect experienced over the world as that of the christianiza- 
 tion of the earth, or of a single continent, as the civilization 
 of Europe, or of an individual, as the moral greatness of 
 Howard. 
 
 Farther, as the highest and ultimate aim in all human 
 action is a moral one, and as all discourse has an ultimate 
 end which is moral in its cha acter, although in narration 
 the commanding end is the information of the understand- 
 ing and thus purely intellectual, still it cannot be regarded 
 AS a violation of unity if incidentally the truths thus brought 
 Oefore the understanding be applied to a moral end. Tlie 
 historian, thus, by no means infringes on the law of unity, 
 when he breaks from the strict course of his narration to 
 apply the moral lessons which his narration teaches. This, 
 however, in all proper narration, must never appear as the 
 immediate and commanding, or even us a co-ordinate aim. 
 If the inculcation of a moral lesson be made the controlling 
 end, the discourse loses its proper character as narration. 
 It then obeys other laws, and narration acts only a subor- 
 dinate part. 
 
 § 87. Completeness, in simple narration, requires 
 that the theme be presented in all those phases or 
 changes of the event which are necessary to give to 
 the mind addressed a full conception of its prog'ress to 
 its termination. 
 
 In complex narration, completeness requires that 
 
> 
 
 64 
 
 EXPLANATION. 
 
 the cause in its entire efficiency be exhibited and la 
 reference to the entire series of events wh.ch it occa- 
 sions. 
 
 CHAPTER III- 
 
 OF DESCRIPTION. 
 
 § 88 Description is that process of explanation 
 in which the object is represented, mediately or imme- 
 diately, under the relations of space. 
 
 ^ 89 The subjects appropriate to this species of dis- 
 course are either external or sensible objects existmg 
 in space, or such abstract and spiritual objects as are 
 conceived of under relations analogous to those of 
 
 space. 
 
 In truth, description embraces all subjects proper to be 
 presented as themes for explanation which are not embraced 
 under narration; in other words, all such as are not regarded 
 under the relations of time, as subject to succession or the 
 
 influence of a cause. 
 
 la description, the subject is, thus, represented not as 
 hecoming,^s beginning to h^, growing, advancing, but 
 only as heing, entirely irrespectively of time. Lven events 
 may be proper subjects of description where the.r relations 
 to time or to a cause are dropped from view. Thus the 
 conflagration of a city may be the proper theme of d..cnp. 
 tion when the aim of the wnter is to set it fortli as an o1)- 
 kct of contemplation ia its several features ol horror; 
 when not the progres. of the flumes and the successive ap. 
 
 I 
 
 .S£ 
 
DHWCICiFTION. 
 
 65 
 
 peavaiices which the burair.g city assumes, but the Fuveral 
 constitueat eieiueuti? of the scene, as the dismay of the iu- 
 habitauts, the tenilic ravages of the flames, the crashing of 
 walls, and the like, are the particular objects of the repre- 
 sentation. 
 
 This illustration w ill serve to show how closely connected 
 are the processes of narration and description. They per- 
 haps more commonly are fcund combined in the same dis- 
 course, just as multiplicatiou and division are often com- 
 bined in the same aritluretical process. Still they are essen- 
 tially distinct processes; and must be governed by very 
 different principles. Even when combined, it is indispen- 
 sable to the perfectness of the representation that one be 
 made tliC pre^ -minant and controlling process, and the 
 other be kept in strict subordination and subserviency ; that 
 the laws of the one or the other be made the directing prin- 
 ciples in the development and arrangement. 
 
 The essential nature of this process of explanation is ex- 
 emplified in the case of tiie description of any particular 
 object that appears to the senses. If a field, thus, were 
 to be described, a point of view would first be selected the 
 most favorable for presenting the whole distinctly and fully; 
 and then from this point of view the various outlines and 
 boundaries, as they might be tracel from some one point 
 easily distinguished and remem;;er -d around the whole cir- 
 cumference to the place of commencement, would be delinea- 
 ted. In this way the exact spacial dimensions and relations 
 of the field would be clearly and exactly pointed cut. 
 
 § 90. The principle of arrangement in this process 
 is simple juxta-position. 
 
 § 91. Hence in d.^sciiption, tlie att<'ntion is first di 
 -ected to some one prominent point in the theme and 
 
? Ij 
 
 gg EXPLANATION. 
 
 then the view is directed successively from point to 
 
 point along the entire line. 
 
 ^ ., „,-ii be sufficient merely to trace the out- 
 
 / ^Uor and vivid representation. In ali 
 hp npressarv to a clear anu ^im^ f 
 be nects.a y ^ conceived of as mapped out 
 
 :;:::Xd " dl descr.,^^^^ 
 
 ac outlines and so mnch of the con..nts as shall be neces- 
 tv to the oh-ect of the explanation. The principle of 
 letliod-juKta-position-forbids any such leaps in the con- 
 "n us representation of the object as would prevent the 
 
 : rfroi perceiving the entire boundary of the survey. 
 Tliis is the great essential thing in description, that the view 
 .iven be continuous. Here, however, as in narration, § 81, 
 only points here and there can be taken which the hearer 
 „.alt connect by running the line, as it were, in his own 
 mind The speaker must take such points as are sufficiently 
 vicinous-near each other to enable him to do this. 
 
 Description, in its strictest use, is confined to the delinea- 
 tion of the theme conceived as a whole. But the simple 
 tracin- of the outlines of an object will seldom answer the 
 uim o'f the discourse. The process by which the filling up 
 of the outline is accomplished, is, however, essentially dis- 
 tinct from that of pure description. It is, indeed, different 
 in different cases; and will be particularly considered under 
 the following chapters. 
 
 The delineation of a sensible object existing in space is 
 sufficiently intelligible witbout further explanation. The 
 delineation of an abstract or spiritual theme is more ob- 
 scure, perhaps, but perfectly analogous. The more proper 
 form uf it is deilnition, of which Bluckstone's dcfinitum uf 
 Municipal law will alVord a happy illustraHou. " I -aw/' he 
 says, "is a rule of civil cuaduct prescribed by the supreme 
 
 
DKSCUIFTION. 
 
 or 
 
 power of a state commanding what is right and prohibiting 
 what is wrong.'* J'hese more general boundaric>s, traced 
 out more fully and completely, make up his explanation of 
 Municipal Law. 
 
 ^ 92. Unily in pure dcsciiption requires not only 
 that one object bo exhibited as the sole thing in the 
 representation, but also that tnc point of view from 
 wliicli the theme is regarded, be maintained tlirough- 
 out the representation ; or at least, that the reader be 
 sulViciently advised of the change in the point of view. 
 Such change can be justilied only when necessary to 
 the completeness of the view. 
 
 It is obvious that sometimes it may be necessary to sur- 
 vey an object from dill'erent points in order to obtain a com- 
 plete view of the whole. In that case, however, care should 
 be taken that the entire survey be one; the outlines all har- 
 moniiiing with one another. Unity thus would have been 
 at once violated, if into the definition of law given above 
 there had been introduced any view of its relations to other 
 tilings, of its particular departments, of its actual forms 
 in dillerent nalions, or the like; as for illustration, if the 
 definition had been constructed thus; ^^ Law is a rule of 
 civil conduct, prescribed by the supreme power of a Stnte 
 commanding what is right and prohibiting -vhat is wrong 
 and is made in the nature of things obligatory on all the 
 subjects of the State/' Another view is now presented 
 which it is impossible Tor the mind to conceive of as forming 
 a constituent part in the same picture with the parts before 
 
 indicated. 
 
 In the case of the desciiption of sensible objects, the 
 learner will experience little difliculty in aciuiring the habit 
 of representing to his own mind the entire outline of the 
 
68 
 
 EXPLANATION. 
 
 :,! 'M 
 
 object to be described. He should carefully accustom him- 
 self to this mode of picturing before his own iniud such 
 objects; and before entering upon the work ol cou>position 
 he should follow round the outline of (he picture till he be- 
 CMrv.es familiar with ils entire contour and sali.ly hnn.sell 
 that every feature to be given is embraced in the view Irom 
 
 a single point. 
 
 In the case of abstract objects and truths, a higher power 
 of abstraction and a higher exertion of the i.nnginatiuu is 
 requisite. Still it lies within the capabilities ot the mmd to 
 acquire the power of picturing before itself even abstract 
 objects- of placing their outlines in proper order of juxta- 
 position in a single menfal picture. This is the actual at- 
 tainment of an accomplished writer. It is the aim which 
 every student of rhetoric should propose to himself and 
 steadily pursue in continued and laborious practice till he is 
 conscious of having fully achieved his object. 
 
 It may assist the full apprehension of what is meant by 
 this men'tal picturing, to present the following illust^ration 
 from Dr. Barrow's description of ^^ contentedness.'' He 
 describes this quality chiefly by its ' acts: In other words, 
 the ''acts" in which the practice of the virtue consists 
 furnish the point of observation from which he views it. 
 And the point of departure in tracing his mental survey is 
 one of the exercises of the understanding. This class of exer- 
 cises constitute one outline of the feature. A second side is 
 then run consisting of the exercises of the will or appetite. 
 And the third side completing the view is the outward de- 
 meanor. The particulars which fill up Ibis general survey 
 are on the first side, or acts of the understanding, 1. a belief 
 that all events are ordered by God; 2. that they are conse- 
 quently good and fit; 3. that they are conducive to our par- 
 ticular welfare; 4. that our present condition, all things 
 
 i\ 
 
DKSCnn'TlON. 
 
 69 
 
 considered, is the best for us. On the second side, or the 
 exercises of the will or inclinalion, are the particulars of 1. 
 submission to the will of God; 2 calmness and composed- 
 ness; 3. cheerfulness in bearing the worst events; 4. hope 
 of the timely removal or alleviation of afOiction; 5. yielding 
 to no faintness or languishing; G. endeavors against be- 
 comin"- weary of our condition; 7. meekness and pliancy 
 of temper; 8. kindness; 9. freedom fr<im solicitude and 
 anxiety. On the third side, or particidars of outward 
 practice and endeavor, are 1. suppression of unseemly ex- 
 pressions; 2. forbearing complaint or murmuring; 3. declara- 
 tions of satisfaction with the allotments of providence; 4. 
 abstaining from improper attempts to remove or remedy our 
 crosses; 5. discharge of our duties with alacrity; 6. fair 
 and kind behavior towards the instruments or abettors of 
 our adversity. This description, it will be remarked, is sus- 
 ceptible of being pictured as a single although complex 
 object before the mind. It has unity; it has method; it has 
 completeness. 
 
 § 93. It is essential to the completeness of the de- 
 scrii)tion that the survey of the object be also complete; 
 that no side, as it were, of the field, be left out of 
 view, or be imperfectly represented. 
 
 In the definition given of Municipal Law from Black- 
 stone, if any part, as for instance, the phrase, '^prescribed 
 by the supreme power of a state," or, '^forbidding what is 
 wrong/' had been omitted, the description would have been 
 incontplete. One side jf the survey would have beea 
 
 omitted. 
 
KXl'liANATlON. 
 
 ClIAPrKil IV. 
 
 1^ 
 
 I 'i 
 
 i 
 
 OF ANALYSIS. 
 
 § 91. The analytic process of explanation 
 consists in the resolving or separating of the theme 
 into its component parts and the successive enumera- 
 tion of these parts. 
 
 § 95. The subjects appropriate to this process rre 
 all themes which can be regarded as composed of 
 parts. Both events and operations of causes, as well 
 as objects conceived of under the relations of space or 
 irrespectively of time. pro\ ided they may be regarded 
 as consisting of parts, arc accordingly embraced in the 
 themes appropriate to this process. 
 
 This process differs essentially from narration and de- 
 scription in this respect, that in the two latter processes, the 
 object whether regarded in time or space, is viewed as one 
 undivided whole; while in analysis it is viewed in its parts. 
 In regard to outward sensible objects the distinction is gen- 
 erally wide and obvious. In the discussion of abstract 
 or spiritual themes, the processes will often be the same 
 vi'hether regulated by the laws of narration or division; of 
 description or partition. 
 
 § 96. Analysis is frequently combined with the pro- 
 cesses of narration and description in the same dis- 
 course. It is, however, distinct from them for the most 
 part, and precedes those processes, observing its own 
 laws. The theme is thus fust analysed ; and then the 
 processes of narration and description are applied to 
 the parts as they are successively presented ; or if it 
 occur in the course of the narration or description, it 
 
 IS applied to some siiborduiai 
 
 which is then, under this an 
 
 scribed. The particular parts 
 
 ed, moreover, in analysis, in 
 
 efl( ot of the representation of t 
 
 and not exactly .is they would 
 
 if represented separately and I 
 
 The explanation of the theme n 
 
 complete even when the process s 
 
 enumeration of the parts. The 
 
 erly regard his work as c »mplet( 
 
 into its constituent parts, and the 
 
 one in order. He may, however 
 
 fartlier. He may describe si 
 
 presented to view in a process 
 
 again, as a physiologist, he may 
 
 and growth of each particular pf 
 
 He must, however, first analy 
 
 narration of each particular part 
 
 in reference to the combi 'mI elTe( 
 
 Otherwise he would not only fal 
 
 repetitions, but his explanation v 
 
 lar and out of proportion. It w 
 
 of independent and unrelated ex; 
 
 ued and entire, although comple: 
 
 § 97. Analysis embraces t 
 
 cesses which rest ultimately ( 
 
 of narration and description. 
 
 partition. 
 
 § 98. In DIVISION the the 
 posed of similar parts ; and 
 era, species, varieties. 
 
ANALYSTS. 71 
 
 IS applied to s;onio stibordmai art of tlie explnnation 
 which is then, iiiulcr this analysis, narrated or de- 
 scribed. The particular parts arc nurrated or dej-rrib- 
 ed, moreover, in analysis, in reference to the entire 
 effect of the representation of the one tb' ne analysed; 
 and not cxactl> .is they would be narrated or described 
 if represented separately and for their own sake. 
 
 The explanation of the theme may be, to a cert dn degree, 
 complete even when the process stops with the anah >! and 
 enumeration of the parts. The anatomist may thus prop- 
 erly regard his work as < .mpleted, if he analyse the body 
 into its constituent parts, and then exhibit the parts one by 
 one in order. He may, however, carry the explanation still 
 farther. He may describe singly each part as it is 
 presented to view in a process of pure de.. nption. Or 
 again, as a physiologist, he may narrate the development 
 and growth of each particular part presented. 
 
 He must, however, first analyse: and his description or 
 narration of each particular part must, obviously, be made 
 in reference to the combi -^d effect of the whole explanation. 
 Otherwise he would not only fall into useless and tedious 
 repetitions, but his explanation would be multiform, irregu- 
 lar and out of proportion. It would rather be a collection 
 of independent and unrelated explanations than one contin- 
 ued and entire, although complex, process of explanation. 
 
 § 97. Analysis embraces two distinct specific pro- 
 cesses which rest ultimately on the distinctive natures 
 of narration and description. They arc division and 
 partition. 
 
 § 98. In DIVISION the theme is regarded as com- 
 posed of simUar parts; and the analysis is into gen- 
 era, species, varieties. 
 
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 72 
 
 EXPLANATION. 
 
 Thus the analytic explanation of the theme "animal" by 
 division would be effected by the successive enumeration of 
 the dififerent genera which it embraces, as fish, fowl, beast, 
 &c., or, if the process vvere carried farther, of the species 
 and varieties under these respective genera or classes. 
 
 The relation of division to narration is seen in this, that 
 
 both involve an ultimate reference to a cause. Since that 
 
 • similarity in different individuals or species which enables 
 
 us to classify them into species or genera, we necessarily 
 
 regard as the effect of the same or a similar cause. 
 
 § 99. Ill PARTITION, the theme is regarded as made 
 up of parts lying in juxta-position merely, without 
 reference to any similarity in their nature. 
 
 In partition, thus, '' animal " would be analysed into 
 head, body, limbs, and the like. In this kind of analysis, 
 no reference is had to the similarity of structure in the 
 analysis; but merely to the juxta-position of the parts. 
 
 The affinity of this process to description is obvious from 
 the very terms which we find it necessary to employ in order 
 to explain it. Both processes regard objects in space. The 
 one, description, regards them as individual wholes, the 
 boundaries or outlines of which are to be marked out in 
 order to explain them. The other, partition, contemplates 
 them as filling a certain extent of space; and enumerates 
 successively the portions that occupy it. We describe "a 
 tree " by delineating its form and shape. In partition, it is 
 represented as composed of trunk and limbs and foliage; its 
 various shades and hues are exhibited. In description, the 
 object is represented by the lines that bound it — by 'te 
 periphery; in partition, by the parts that compose it— Dy 
 its segments. 
 
 § IDO. The unity in division consists in the 
 
ANALYSIS. 
 
 73 
 
 the 
 
 singleness of the class which is to be divided into its 
 species and varieties and in the singleness of the prin- 
 ciple of division. 
 
 That the theme must be but one whole to be divided is 
 too palpable a truth to need any proof or i.'.lustration. There 
 is little danger that this more general unity will be violated 
 bv any one who has any conception whatever of unity in 
 discourse. 
 
 But mere unity in the theme, or in the general process of 
 explaining it is not enough. It is necessaiy in this process 
 of explication that there be but one principle of division; 
 Ihut is, that the species into which the whole is divided all 
 stand in the same generic relation , the whole. Every ge- 
 neric or '^common" term may be distributed into diverse 
 series of species. "Man/* thus, may be distributed into 
 one set of species in reference to color; into another, in 
 reference to place of habitation or to lineage; into a third 
 in reference to sex or condition, &c. Unity forbids the 
 , distribution into different sets of such species. 
 
 This, at least, is the strictest unity in division. If for 
 any purpose, it is necessary to represent the theme in respect 
 to several sets of species, that is, adopt more than one prin- 
 ciple of division, the two divisions should be kept carefully 
 distinct; and the discourse must find its principle of unity 
 in some higher point than the division. 
 
 In abstract subjects, especially in the explication of truths 
 or propositions, there is a peculiar liability to a neglect of 
 unity in division. It becomes necessary in order to avoid 
 this fault to seize firmly the particular principle of division 
 that is adopted in the case and carefully inquire, in the 
 analysis into the several species, whether each one is deter- 
 mined by that principle or belongs to that set of species 
 whjcl" thft adopted principle of division will furnish. 
 
 7 
 
I 
 
 
 74 
 
 EXPLANATION. 
 
 It will be observed that unity does not forbid the applica- 
 tion of different principles to different grades of species. 
 "Duties/* may thus be classed, iirst, in reference to the 
 object to which they are rendered; as to God, to fellow-crea- 
 tures, to one^s self; or religious, social, and personal. These 
 species, further, may be divided in respect to the occasions 
 of their performance or the powers concerned in them. 
 Religious duties may thus be subdivided into private and 
 public. The object to which the duty is to be paid is here 
 the principle of division into the higher species; the occa- 
 sion of its performance, that of division into the lower 
 species. There is in such a division, evidently, no confu- 
 sion, and no violation of unity. 
 
 § 101. Completeness in division lequiies that all 
 the species of varieties which are furnished by the 
 principle of division be distinctly enumerated. 
 
 If thus in the enumeration of the varieties of mixed gov- 
 ernments only those of the monarchical and aristocratic, 
 the monarchical and democratic, and the aristocratic and 
 democratic were enumerated, the Spartan constitution and 
 those like it which embrace the features of all the three pure 
 forms of government would be omitted. The division 
 would not be complete. 
 
 § 102. The principle op arrangement in di- 
 vision hes in the relation of the species or varieties 
 furnished in the division to each other and to the par- 
 ticular object of the discourse. 
 
 As the parts sustain the same relation to the whole, it 
 is clear, that we can find here no guide to arrangement. 
 
 Generally in division there will be found some one specie* 
 oi: part which will rank first in importance, in interest, in 
 obviousness. Around this, in respect to their approxima 
 
ANALYSIS. 
 
 75 
 
 tions to it, the other i>arts should be arranged. In the enu- 
 meration of duties in reference to the object to which they 
 are rendered, those to God, are, thus, evidently of the high- 
 est rank. This class, therefore, will determine the mode of 
 arrangement in reference to the order in which they should 
 be presented. 
 
 The object of the discourse, however, will determine 
 whether the most prominent or important part should be 
 made the first or the last of the series. If the writer wishes 
 to leave the mind of the reader peculiarly interested in one 
 particular part, even although it be the least important con- 
 sidered merely in relation to the parts themselves, it will 
 naturally be exhibited last in the series. In the example 
 given above, for instance, if the object of the speaker were 
 to leave the duties to God impressed most strongly on the 
 mind, he would name this species last. If, on the other 
 hand, the personal duties were those to be more distinctly 
 impressed at the time, this species would occupy the last 
 place. 
 
 The relation of the parts to each other, thus, determines 
 the order of the series; the object of the discourse, whether 
 the «)rder in which they shall be presented be direct or in- 
 verse. 
 
 § 103. The unity in partition consists in the 
 singleness of the object to be analysed, and, more nar- 
 rowly, in the singleness of the point of view from 
 which the object is regarded. 
 
 The same observations apply here as to description. 
 While in order to unity there must be a single object, ther*^ 
 must, at the same time, be one point selected from which 
 the parts shall be exhibited to view. 
 
 The theme, even although abstract or spiritual, is here 
 
re 
 
 r.xin.ANATiov. 
 
 
 U if 'ii 
 
 Hill 
 
 recrarded under the analuoy of the relations of space. It is 
 laid out as a field before the view. The lines of partition 
 need to be run from one point, or there will be contusion 
 
 and perplexity. .,,... a 
 
 If for any purpose different views ot the object be need- 
 ul the first view should be completed, and then advic- be 
 .iv'en of the change of position. Still further, the different 
 views should be complements of one another, so that all 
 taken to^-ether shall constitute one whole. 
 
 If '' prudence " thus be taken as the theme of explana- 
 tion by analysis, unity requires first, that the general view 
 to be oiven of it be determined, whether in reference to its 
 essenttal nature, its rank among the virtues, its importance 
 or some other particular aspect of it: in the next place that 
 for this particular view, one point be chosen from which the 
 survey shall be made. If the nature of prudence be the 
 more 'closely defined theme of the discussion, then it should 
 be viewed either from its constituent properties, as wak'ul- 
 ness obsarvation, deliberation and the lik. ; or from its 
 ori^^in and development, as constitutional temperament, ex- 
 peilnce, discipline; or from its effects on personal happiness 
 
 o«- efficiency. 
 
 R 104 Completeness in partition requires a sur- 
 vey of the entire field which the theme occupies and 
 a distinct representation of every part. 
 
 A partition which should merely enumerate a part of the 
 constituent properties of -prudence" would thus be faulty 
 \n respect of completeness. 
 
 R 105 The principle of arrangement in par- 
 tition, as in division, is to be found in the relations of 
 the parts to each c^her and to the particular object of 
 ihe discourse. 
 
ANALYSIS. 
 
 . 77 
 
 In partition, the relations of the parts • each other will 
 be those of space or, in abstract and spiritual themes, such 
 as are analogous. Thus in the enumeration of the constitu- 
 ent properties of '^prudence,'' the parts will be conceived 
 of as pictured out before the eye and arranged in regaid to 
 position according to the order of dependence, as wakefulness, 
 observation, deliberation, &c. 
 
 Whether the series should be presented directly or in- 
 versely must be determined by the object of the discourse. 
 
 § 106. From the very nature of the two processes 
 of analysis, by division and partition, it will be evi- 
 dent that while only generic or '^ common » terms are 
 appropriate subjects for division, only individual terms 
 belong to partition. If a "term" which may in oi.e 
 aspect be correctly regarded as "common" be rmalysed 
 by partition, it will nevertheless in the analysis be 
 viewed only as individual. This principle will, to a 
 certain extent, determine the boundaries between the 
 two classes of subjects. 
 
 All events, as they are individual although complex, can 
 be analysed only by partition. So, likewise, all individual 
 objects in space, as a tree, a landscape, a city, belong to 
 partition. Words, phrases, generally all exegelzcal themes, 
 as of Scripture texts and propositions to be explained as to 
 their terms and the nature of the judgment expressed id 
 them, likewise belong to this class. 
 
 Other themes may be analysed by division or by parti 
 tion, according as they are viewed generically or not. • 
 
 7* 
 
7P 
 
 EXPLANATIOI*. 
 
 (: 
 
 CHAPTER V. 
 
 i3>il 
 
 OP EXEMPLIFICATION. 
 
 § 107. Exemplification is that process of expla- 
 nation in which the theme regaided as a whole is 
 represented through one of its parts taken as an ex- 
 ample of the whole. 
 
 As this process rests ultimately on our belief that nature 
 works uniformly, or that similar causes are connected with 
 similar effects, it bears a close affinity to narration, and also 
 to analysis by division. Indeed it might, with some pro- 
 priety, be regarded as an imperfect species of division. It 
 dilfers from it in this respect that, while in division all the 
 parts are enumerated, in exemplification only ove is pre- 
 sented. This process, is, however, widely distinguished'^ 
 from proper division in regard ia the principles which gov- 
 ern it and the form which it takes. 
 
 Exemplification is one of the most effective and interest- 
 ing processes of explanation. Almost all our knowledge 
 comes in this way. It corresponds to the process of induc- 
 tion in conviction. From observing the manner in which 
 one particular seed germinates and grows and matures its 
 fruii, we learn how vegetation proceeds generally. Under- 
 standing how one process in mathematical science is per- 
 formed, we understand how al' processes governed by the 
 same principle may be performed. We learn from the 
 exercise of a virtue in one set of circumstances what its 
 nature and power and beauty must be in other circumstan- 
 ces. As thus the most familiar process and the best adapted 
 to the human mind, it is most readily apprehended. 
 
 § 108. From the nature of this process it is evident 
 that THE SUBJECTS appropriate to it must be g'oiieral 
 
EXEMPLIFICATION. 
 
 79 
 
 or "common" which are to be explained by more 
 specific or individual truths or facts. 
 
 In exemplification, thus, a general principle of conduct is 
 explained by the exhibition of a particular act in which it 
 was manifested. The principle of patriotism is exemplified 
 in tlie self-devotion of a Spartan hero; of justice lu the 
 stern decision of a Brutus; of christian heroism in the mar- 
 tyr at the stake. 
 
 General truths, also, are exemplified by some particular 
 truth which they comprehend. That virtue is its own re- 
 ward is exemplified, thus, in the elevated peace and happi- 
 ness which follow a particular deed of self-denying benev- 
 olence. General facts, likewise, are exemplified in some 
 particular instance. The circulation of the sap in vegetation 
 is explained by an exhibition of it in a single plant. 
 
 ■§ 109. Exemplification readily combines with other 
 processes in explanation without involving much lia- 
 bility to a loss of unity. 
 
 Perhaps the only liabiUties to a violation of unity lie in 
 the possibility of selecting an example which does not prop, 
 erlv fall within the general truth to be explained; or in the 
 multiplication of examples to such a degree as to hide from 
 view the real truth to be explained. 
 
 ^ 110 In the selection of examples, such as are 
 most striking, most intelligible, most interesting to the 
 hearer are ever to be preferred; since by such the 
 object of speaking is best accomplished, which is to 
 secure the clear and full understanding of the heme 
 by the hearer. 
 
 ^ 111. When the example has been selected and 
 the general form in which it may be l)est introduced 
 
80 EX PL A NATION, 
 
 to accomplish the object of the speaker has been do 
 termined, the actual exhibition of the examplo will be 
 effected by some other process of explanation, as of 
 narration, description w analysis. It will accordingly 
 conform to the principles that control those processes. 
 
 m 
 
 CHAPTER VL 
 
 OP COMPARISON AND CONTRAST. 
 
 § 112. While in exemplification, a more ^enenc 
 truth or fact is explained by a more specific or an in- 
 dividual truth or fact embraced under it, in compari- 
 son AND contrast a truth or fact is explained by 
 another of the same class. 
 
 If this process be investigated in its fundamental princ'- 
 ples, it will be found that it necessarily rests on the idea of 
 a similarity in things which may furnish a foundation for 
 arranging them into classes. It presupposes, indeed, a classr 
 to which the themes compared or contrasted alike belong 
 In comparison these points of resemblance are directly pre 
 sjented. In contrast, there must be a resemblance or simi 
 larity in some respect or there can be no ground on which 
 the contrast can rest. We cannot contrast an eruption of 
 Vesuvius with the proposition that the angle* of a triangle 
 are equivalent to two right angles, because they cannot bw 
 arranged together under any class or any similarity between 
 them of which use can be made in discourse. 
 
 This process differs, thus, from exemplification in the cir* 
 <}amstance that while in the latter, the relation of the genus 
 to the species or individual is involved, in the formn there 
 
coMPAinaox and contuast. 
 
 81 
 
 U invo 
 
 Ived the relation of one individual or species ♦o an- 
 other through the claas to which they both belong. The 
 relation in the one case is single; in the other it is double.^ 
 
 Skill in the use of this process will, accordingly, depem'/ 
 chiefly on a clear and firm apprehension of the coniinou 
 class to which the things compared or contrasted alike be» 
 long 
 
 § 113. In comparison ihc theme is represented in 
 the exhibition of those particulars in anotlier of the 
 same class which are common to the two ; and the 
 attention is directed to the points of resemblance. 
 
 In contrast the two objects of the same class are 
 represented in the light of the opposition which in 
 some respect they bear to each other. 
 
 The chief magistracy of a republic may be explained in 
 co7nparison by an exhibition of the functions, relations and 
 influences of the Kingly office in unlimited monarchy, so far 
 as they are common to both. It represents the nation; is 
 the center of unity to them; is first among them; lead"^ 
 them; administers law for them, and the like. It may be 
 explained in contrast by the points of opposition. The 
 king in a pure monarchy is the end, and the state the means; 
 the^president in a republic is the means, the state the end. 
 The one absorbs the state in himself; the other is absorbed 
 in it. The one uses all the energies of the state for his own 
 pleasure; the other uses his for the state. 
 
 Thus, also, truth and error may be compared as states of 
 mind, occasioned and determined by similar causes, &c. 
 They may be contrasted in their opposite natures and influ- 
 ences. 
 
 § 114. In comparison and contrast, the resemblance 
 in the one case and the opposition in the other, may 
 
82 
 
 FXrii A NATION. 
 
 i 
 
 lie in the constituent natures or properties of the 
 objects compared or contrasted, or in tiie relations 
 which they sustain. In tlie former case the process is 
 denominated dirkct or simple comparison or 
 CONTRAST ; in tlie latter case, it is denominated 
 ANALOGICAL COMPARISON or CONTRAST, or generally, 
 
 ANALOGY. 
 
 Virtue and vice are compared or contrasted directly when 
 represented as moral states i-esembling or diirering from 
 each otlier in respect of their essential character or ])roper- 
 ties. As virtue, thus, implies intelligence and free choice, 
 so also does vice. But as virtue consists in a regard paid 
 to the principles of rectitude; vice consists in a disregard 
 of them. "^ 
 
 They are analogically compared or contrasted when ex- 
 hibited in their relations to some third thing. Virtue is 
 related to happiness as its appropriate and natural conse- 
 quence; vice to misery. 
 
 § 115. In the selection of the objects of comparison 
 or of contrast, the same principles apply as in the case 
 of exemplification, § 110. They should be striking, 
 familiar, interesting. 
 
 Farther, in comparison, those objects of the same 
 class should be selected which are most unlike the 
 theme to be explained ; while in contrast, it is condu- 
 cive to clearness and effect to select those most resem- 
 bling it. 
 
 The \ ciple in the latter directions of this section is the 
 same in the two cases. The mind, when there are but few 
 points of resemblance, in comparison, or of opposition in 
 contrast, is not disturbed and perplexed by many features 
 ctowding on the view. 
 
INTRODUCTION AND PERORATION. 
 
 83 
 
 § 116. This process readily mingles in the same 
 discourse with the other processes. It is commended 
 by the same advantages generally that attend exem- 
 plification. It is sometimes the only convenient pro- 
 cess of explanation. 
 
 § 117. The subjects appropriate to this pfi'ocess are 
 either generic or individual. The exhibition of the 
 object with which the theme is compared or contrasted 
 is efTo^ted by the processes before described. 
 
 CHAPTER VII. 
 
 OF THE INTRODUCTION AND PERORATION IN EX- 
 planatory discourse. 
 
 § 118. The explanatory introduction § 68, 
 will often be useful in this species of discourse for the 
 purpose of bringing the theme more directly before 
 the mind ; or for facihcating the ready apprehension 
 of the discussion itself. 
 
 In a history of Greece, it may be necessary in order to 
 exhibit more distinctly to the reader of what people the 
 history is to treat, to describe the country itself geographi- 
 cally, which the people inhabit. Such a geographical de- 
 scription, may, also, help the reader to understand the nar- 
 rative itself. It may, moreover, explain the mode of con- 
 structing the history. 
 
 In a description of the virtue of -discretion,'' an explan- 
 atory introduction may usefully indicate the relation of this 
 to other virtues, or exhibit an occasion of its exercise lor 
 
ti i'l ■' 
 
 84 
 
 EXFuANATlOxV. 
 
 the purpose of a more explicit statement of the theme. It 
 may appropriately, also, so far exhibit the light in which 
 the theme is to. be contemplated, or explain the particular 
 mode of discharging it, as that the whole description shall 
 be more fully and correctly understood. 
 
 & 119. The introduction conciliatory will 
 respect the occasion of the discourse, the theme itself, 
 the mode of discussing it, or the speaker personally ; as 
 it is evident that from these various sources either a 
 favorable or an unfavorable disposition may arise in 
 the minds of the hearers. 
 
 It Js less often the case in explanatory than in any othei 
 species of discourse that this kind of introduction is neces- 
 sary. Still it will be well ever to inquire whether from 
 any of the sources enumerated there can arise any feeling 
 or opinion unfavorable to the full understanding of the dis' 
 cussion. or any interest to be awakened from any one of 
 them that shall secure a more earnest attention, 
 
 § 120. The peroration in explanatory discourse 
 may be in any of the particular forms enumerated in 
 
 §70. 
 
 The peroration explanatory will apply the repre- 
 sentation either to some particular theme contained in 
 the more general one that has been discussed, or to 
 some kindred subject. 
 
 The peroration confirmatory will be in the form 
 of an inference reaaily deduced from the view that 
 has been given. 
 
 Tlie peroration excitatory will apply the general 
 theme or some view taken of it to the excitement of 
 4he a.ppropriate feelings. 
 
INTRODUCTION AND r'ERORATION. 85 
 
 Tlie peroration persuasive will address the theme 
 or some view taken of it to the will as an inducement 
 to some act. 
 
 § 121. If various forms of the peroration be em- 
 ployed, the principle laid down in § 57, requires that 
 the respective forms employed succeed each other in 
 the order in which they are stated in the preceding 
 section. 
 
' li 
 
 PART II.— CONFIRMATION. 
 
 CHAPTER 1. 
 
 GENERAL INTRODUCTORY VIEW. 
 
 § 122. In coNFiRM.vrroN, the object of discourse 
 is to convince ; in other words, to lead to a new behef 
 or judgment, or to modify one aheady existing in the 
 mind. 
 
 Here Ues the essential distinction between explanation and 
 coniirmation. While both processes address the under- 
 standing, the former seeks to produce a new or different 
 perceptfon, the latter, a new or different belief or judgment. 
 
 § 123. As a judgment is ever expressed in a logical 
 proposition, the theme in confirmation must ever be in 
 the form of a logical proposition; the truth of which 
 is to be established in the mind of the hearer. 
 
 In this respect confirmatory discourse differs from all 
 other kinds; as in those the theme is always a conception. 
 
 It may be observed here that while the theme in confir- 
 mation must always admit of being expressed in the form 
 of a logical proposition, having subject, predicate and copula, 
 aud so far as stated must imply this, it is not necessary 
 always that it be actually expressed in discourse in the strict 
 technical form of such a proposition. Thus (he tlieme of a 
 
INTRODUCTORY VIEW. 
 
 discourse, the object of which is to prove that "the soul is 
 immortal/' may be stated in the form of "the immortality 
 of the soul/' 
 
 § 124. Confirmation in rhetorical invention agrees 
 with the process of investigation in the circumstances 
 that both processes properly respect a judgment, and 
 that both are controlled by the same logical princi- 
 ples. It differs from investigation in the respect that 
 the judgment is already known in confirmation both 
 in its matter and in its truth, while in investigation 
 either the truth or both the matter and tlie truth of 
 the judgment are unknown. 
 
 In undertaking the work of confirmation or convincing, 
 the speaker must -J course know the matter of the judg- 
 ment which he is to establish. He must be regarded, also, 
 as believing it himself and of course of knowing the evi- 
 dence on which it rests. He professes this in undertaking 
 to convince. He must know, thus, both the matter of the 
 proposition and its truth. 
 
 In investigation, on the other hand, it may be wholly un- 
 known whether there is such a truth as the process of in- 
 vestigation may lead to as its proper result. Known truth 
 may be taken, and by the application to them of variou 
 principles of reasoning, entirely new truths may be ascer- 
 tained and proved in the very process of investigation. 
 The mathematical analyst, thus, applies to an assumed for- 
 mula certain processes by which its members are changed 
 in their form and comes thus to new truths— to truths, per- 
 haps, of which he had never dreamed until they stood out 
 proved before his eye. 
 
 More commonly, however, in investigation the truth is at 
 least guessed at, or conceived as possible. The matter oi 
 
3S 
 
 CONFIRMATION. 
 
 the judgment is before the mind, and the process of investi- 
 gation consists in the discovery of the proof on which the 
 truth of it rests. 
 
 Confirmation employs the results of this discovery for the 
 conviction of another mind. This latter species of investi- 
 gation, therefore, which respects the proof on which an 
 assumed or conjectural truth rests, coincides to a certain 
 degree with invention in confirmation. For it is the proper 
 office of invention here to furnish the proof for a given 
 asserted judgment. It differs from this process of investi- 
 gation only in the circumstance that it directs all its opera- 
 tions with a view to an effect on another mind. Investiga- 
 tion might rest satisfied with any adequate proof; invention 
 seeks the best. Invention explores the whole field of proof 
 and then selects; investigation is content to take what is at 
 hand provided it be sufficient to establish the truth proposed. 
 Investigation implies a candid mind ready to be convinced 
 by the proof discovered; invention in rhetoric regards a 
 mind possibly prejudiced against the truth, and struggling 
 against every fresh charge of proof. 
 
 § 125. The mind addressed in confirmation may be 
 regarded as in any one of three different states ; either 
 without any belief in regard to the proposition to be 
 confirmed, or in weak faith, or in positive disbelief. 
 The processes in confirmation, although in the main 
 alike, will yet vary in some slight respects in the 
 different cases. 
 
 The speaker will need ever to have a distinct regard to 
 this diversity of mental state in his hearers, and always to 
 know whether he is to produce an entirely new convic- 
 tion, or to stengthen or remove one already existing. Differ 
 ent kinds of arguments often, or a dilferent arrangement 
 
TllK.Mi: IN CONIMKMA'I'ION. 
 
 89 
 
 of them even when the same in kind, will be requisite in 
 .he different cases. 
 
 § 126. Belief admits of degrees ; and may vary 
 from a faint probability to absolute certainty. The de- 
 gree of belief in regard to a given proposition will be 
 affected both by the character of the evidence on 
 which it is perceived to rest ; and by the state of the 
 mind in which it is entertained, both as it respects its 
 feelings, and its opinions on other related subjects. 
 
 The distribution of proofs in regard to their respective 
 power in commanding belief will be exhibited in Chap. IV. 
 
 § 127. As in explanation, so still more in confirma- 
 tion it is requisite that the speaker regard the taste, the 
 opinions and the feelings of his hearers ; not merely 
 in the exordium and the peroration, but also in the 
 general conduct of the discourse. 
 
 CHAPTER II. 
 
 OP THE THEME IN CONFIRMATION. 
 
 § 128. As the theme in this species of discourse is 
 ever a judgment, it will ^--.ays admit of being ex- 
 pressed in a logical proposition, § 123. 
 
 The ancient rhetoricians carefully distinj^-nished between 
 the general subject or theme of the discourse, the particular 
 question discussed arising out of the theme; and the point 
 on which the question turned. Quintilian, thus, in his 
 work de Instilutiom Oratoria, Book Third, distinguishes 
 the thesis or causa from the qnaestio and both from Uie 
 
90 
 
 CONFIUMATION. 
 
 Status causae. Common language recognizes a like dis. 
 tinction. We speak of the subject of discussion, the ques- 
 tion raised, and the poht at issue. The subject of a given 
 discussion, we might thus say, was Uhe right of suf rage.' 
 The question raised was, 'ovgh: suffrage to be umversair 
 The point at issue, on which the question was made to turn, 
 was, 'ought property to be made a test in the extension of 
 this privilege? ' These terms are not, however, used with 
 great precision. Notwithstanding this looseness, it may be 
 correct to say that the subject indicates nothing in regard to 
 the object of the discourse, whether it be to explain, con- 
 firm, excite or persuade; the question, while it indicates 
 this, does not determine on what mode of proof the decis- 
 ion shall rest; the point at issue determines all these. 
 
 Confirmation, so far as it is concerned in the exhibition 
 of proof, looks directly at the point at issue. And this may 
 always be expressed in a logical proposition with its subject, 
 copula and predicate. As 'property ought, or ought not <o 
 be made a test in the extension of the right of suffrage.* 
 
 § 129. While the proposition to be proved should 
 always be formally stated at the outset, in the mind 
 of the speaker himself, it will depend on several differ- 
 ent principles, whether and how it should be stated to 
 
 the hearer. 
 
 If no reason appear to the contrary, both facihty 
 of apprehension and the increase of interest felt in 
 knowing exactly what is under discussion require that 
 the proposition be stated to the hearers at the outset. 
 
 When, however, the proposition is complex, em 
 bracing several parts, both clearness and i crest may 
 be promoted by the successive statement of the several 
 parts. 
 
If theie be a repugnance to any discussion of the 
 subject on the part of the hearers, the statement of 
 the general subject may, in some cases, be postj)oncd, 
 till an interest is awakened by such consideratiors as 
 may bear on the proposition but are general in theii* 
 nature. 
 
 If there be a prejudice against the truth to be estab- 
 lished, likewise, it is sometimes better to postpone the 
 direct formal statement of the proposition, and merely 
 indicate at first the subject, or propose the question for 
 investigation. 
 
 CHAPTER IK. 
 
 OP PROOF. 
 
 ^ 130. Confirmation effects its object— conviction— 
 by the exhibition of those conceptions of judgments 
 on which the proposition to be confirmed depends ;— - 
 in other words, by the exhibition of proof. 
 
 Proof consists, sometimes, of mere conceptions. All that 
 is necessary in such a case is to exhibit those conceptions 
 distinctly to view, and the work of conviction is completed, 
 so far as the mere proof is concerned. When I am to prove 
 that 'the setting fire to an outhouse in a given case is arson/ 
 I have only to resolve the term " arson " into li:^ constituent 
 conceptions, and exhibit them in order. If arson be defined 
 to be the 'malicious setting fire to any thing combustible 
 whereby human life is endangered/ then, if in the case sup- 
 posed, the setting fire be admitted to be malicious, and a 
 
J' -•'■! 
 
 92 
 
 CONFIRMATION. 
 
 H'^i 
 
 I ill' 
 
 dwelling was cousuined in consequence^ the proof is made 
 out on exhibiting the essential constituents of arson. So in 
 provino- faith to be a virtue, I have only to analyse faith and 
 exhibit its component parts-as a moral exercise pui forth in 
 accordance with an intellectual assent to truth. The term.«< 
 of the proposition 'faith' and 'virtue' being understood, 
 the mind instantly passes into a belief of the proposition. 
 This process, according to the universally admitted use of 
 language, is rightly denominated "proof;" although this term 
 may have been by some writers and in some cases restricted 
 in its application to that species of reasoning in which tlie 
 conclusion depends on judgments. The importance of this 
 distinction in regard tc the means of proof will be seen in 
 the classification of arguments. 
 
 It follows from the view of confirmation presented in this 
 section that invention in this part of discourse will consis'" 
 mainly in finding proof. 
 
 It should be remarked that while the distinctive work of 
 confirmation consists in exhibiting proof, the mere exhibition 
 of proof is not to be regarded as all that enters into this 
 process, as will be seen more specifically in a following 
 section. 
 
 In confirmatory discourse, accordingly, proof constitutes 
 the body of discussion, § 63. 
 
 § 131. Proof is either direct or indirect. It is 
 direct, when it is applied immediately to the establish- 
 ment of the proposition. 
 
 It is indirect, when it is applied to the overthrow of 
 objections. In the latter case it is called refuta- 
 tion. 
 
 § 132. A complex proposition, embracing several 
 constituent propositions, may be proved by the sei,)a- 
 
THE TOPICS. 
 
 93 
 
 rate and successive proof of each constituent part. 
 
 Although sometimes a complex proposition may best be 
 proved without such analysis and separate proof of the 
 paits, as, for instance, when the proofs are applicable alike 
 to every part, still generally it will prevent confusion and 
 conduce to clearness and force in the reasoning to analyse 
 the proposition and establish each part separately. In order 
 to secure this advantage the proposition should be carefully 
 studied at the outset, to see whether it be complex or not, 
 and if complex, whether the proof can be best applied to 
 the whole or to each part separately. 
 
 § 133. The work of proving a particular simple 
 proposition or a complex proposition regarded as sim- 
 ple so far as invention is concerned, consists in the se- 
 lection and arrangement of the proofs on which assent 
 to the proposition depends. This part of rhetorical 
 invention was denominated by the ancients "The 
 Topical Art," or "The Topics." 
 
 This department of the art of rhetoric was regarded by 
 the ancient rhetoricians and orators as one of the most 
 important in the whole province of rhetoric. Aristotle and 
 Cicero wrote separate treatises upon it. It entered largely 
 into every regular treatise on the art, and into every sys- 
 tem of instruction. That it has fallen so much into disuse 
 is to be explained from the causes which have led to the 
 neglect of the department of invention generally. It forms 
 a necessary, constituent part of this branch of rhetoric. A 
 distihtjt view of the Topics will accordingly be presented in 
 the fallowing chapter. 
 
94 
 
 CON 1' I HM AT ION. 
 
 h V 
 
 CHAPTER IV. 
 
 ■;■'!; 
 
 n 
 
 B'' 
 
 OF THE TOPICS. 
 
 § 134. It is the object of the Topical art to facilitata 
 and guide rhetorical invention in confirmation by a 
 distribution of the different kinds of proof into gen- 
 eral classes. 
 
 The name originally signifies "places/' toVoj; the Latin 
 of wliich was *' loci." The whole field of proofs was 
 divided off into several parts, to which the invention was 
 directed as the *' seats " or places of arguments. They were 
 hence called sometimes "sedes argnmentorum.'* The 
 topics proper constituted a species of the " loci commiintSy* 
 whicli included not only arguments but truths used for illus- 
 tration^ embellishment^ or other purposes in discourse, and 
 are generally by the ancient writers thus distinguished from 
 the topics proper. 
 
 The specific practical utility of a system of topics consists 
 chiefly in the following particulars, viz: 
 
 1. It I'acilitates the search for proof generally; inasmuch 
 as it exhibits in systematic arrHiigement the itwf general 
 classes into which all possible prool's may be reduced. The 
 search is thus rendered direct, definite, and intelligent. 
 
 2. By the distribution of proofs into classes according to 
 the intrinsic nature of the proofs, the topics show at once 
 the comparative weight and value of the different arguments 
 that bear upon the same question. The selection is thus 
 made easy; certain kinds of sophistry, and those of the 
 most dangerous kind, are at once detected; and the numlier 
 of arguments necessary ic. a given case is evinced. As will 
 appear more clearly hereafter, some propositions can be 
 proved only by a certain class of urguments. The argu- 
 
TIIK loricb. 
 
 95 
 
 meats of one class, moreover, are intrinsically more weighty 
 tnua those of anulher. Some compel belief irresistibly, 
 others only es^.ablish a degree of probululity greater or loss. 
 It is one of the most common and at the same time most 
 successful arts of sopljistry to put off the less for the more 
 weighty ; the merely probable for the absolutely demonstra- 
 tive proof. 
 
 3. The topics furnish at once the main principles of ar- 
 rangement. 
 
 4. By directing the attention of the learner to definite 
 parts of the whole field of arguments successively, they fur- 
 nish the means of a more thorough and familiar acquain- 
 tance with their respective nature and use. 
 
 § 135. The first general division of proofs is into 
 tliose which are given in the very terms of tlie propo- 
 sition to be proved; and those which are to be sought 
 
 out of it. 
 
 The former class may be denominated analytic ; 
 the latter synthetic proofs. 
 
 All propositions, susceptible of proof, contain the proof 
 within themselves, or depend on some truth or conception 
 out of themselves. The former class are denominated by 
 logicians, analytic; the latter, synthetic propositions. The 
 proposition "all trees are organic'* is analytic; since from 
 the very analysis of the terms "trees" and " organic," the 
 conceptions are given on which the truth of the proposition 
 rests. So likewise, the proposition "dueling is murder " is 
 analytic; as an analysis of the terms furnishes the proof. 
 
 On the other hand, the proposition "dueling is a relic of 
 barbarism" is svnthetic; since here no analysis of terms 
 would furnish the proof of the truth affirmed. Something 
 is added to the subject in the predicate and the ground for 
 
9!) 
 
 fOXFIUMATION. 
 
 m 
 
 ;! .i 
 
 this aflirined additinn in list be sought out ol" the pruposi* 
 tiuQ. 
 
 Analytic proofs correspond very nearly, but not exactly, 
 to those denoniinaled by Aristotle and Cicero "intrinsic/' 
 They iuchide, thus, the species of arguments enumerated by 
 th, n Mrom delimtion/ Mrom the relation of species and 
 genus;' 'from partition or enumeration of parts/ Tiiey do 
 not embrace, however, all those which are derived from 
 ' things bearing some affinity to the matter of the proposi- 
 tion/ Indeed, they take in but a part of one variety of this 
 species, viz: that from conjugates or words derived from 
 the same root.*^ 
 
 § 130. Analytic proofs, be.ng derived from the very 
 terms of the proposition, need not, for any practical 
 purpose of invention be farther subdivided ; the search 
 being at once definitely directed and the weight and 
 relation of all arguments of this class being indicated 
 in the very nature of analytic proofs as such. 
 
 The terms of the proposition may be analysed by j aiii- 
 tion or by division, § 97, and the character of th', proof 
 will vary in a certain respect with the nature of the propo- 
 sition. But it is obviously of no injportance how the 
 analysis k made or what is the form of the proof thus ob- 
 tained so iur -s it respects any purpose of invention. 
 
 § 13?'. ;';jr, y" proofs carry with them the highest 
 validity aini force in all confirmation. 
 
 There can cieariy be no higher or stronger proof than 
 that which is contained in the very statement of the propo- 
 sition. In this case, the proposition is only to be placed 
 before the mind and assent is necessary. There may be 
 
 * See Cic. Top. 2— 4- " 
 
Tin: roi»ics. 
 
 97 
 
 need of proof ol" other kinds to show that the terms of the 
 proposition actually contain tiie conceptions or truths oa 
 which the truth of the proposition depends. But these con- 
 ceptions being admitted to be there, the exhibition of thera 
 conipt'ls assent. In proving that the malicious setting fire 
 to an outhouse whereby a dwelling is accidentally consumed 
 is arson, it may be necessary to prove, by testimony or 
 otherwise, that arson necessarily includes the idea of malice, 
 the overt act of setting lire, the endangering of human life. 
 But if these are admitted to be constituent ideas of the com- 
 pb^ notion — arson — the proof is conclusive. 
 
 § i38. The principle of this most j^eneiic division 
 of proofs into analytic and synthetic indicates the first 
 step to be taken in the invention of arguments. It is, 
 study carefully the terms of the proposition itself. 
 
 This is a fundamental and all-important rule in all con- 
 firmation. Many questions, not to say most that are con- 
 troverted, are resolved at once by the explication of the 
 meaning of the terms employed to express them. They are 
 controverted only because the parties see them in different 
 aspects. But even where the question is viewed in the same 
 light, the explication of the meaning of the terms is often 
 the effectual method of deciding the controversy. And 
 where not, where synthetic proofs are requisite, the mind is, 
 by the thorough examination of the question in all possible 
 lights, furnished with the best helps and guides to invention. 
 
 § 139. Synthetic proofs, being derived from without 
 the proposition, are either such fjs are given by the 
 mind itself acting under the necessary laws of its 
 being, or such as arc derived from without the mind. 
 
 The former species may he denominated intui- 
 tive ; the latter empirical proofs. 
 
 9 
 
I 
 
 r. ■:■, ! 
 
 m-. 
 
 I ■:!! 
 
 .! I 
 
 n 
 
 ii*L 
 
 I m-i 
 
 Qf3 
 
 COMIUMATION. 
 
 In dmonstrating the proof of a matliemalical proposition 
 we can trace out the steps from the premise to the conclusion 
 without aid from exterual proof. The dingranis and nu- 
 merical tigures or alphabetical symbols which we often or 
 geaenilly make use of in mathematical reasoning, merely 
 facilitate our mental operations. A Newton or a Pascal 
 could reason out the theorem independently of such aids. 
 In other words, the mind in this case intuitively perceives 
 thu connection between the subject and the predicate. And 
 it matters not whether the reasoning be more or less simple 
 or brief. No mere analysis of the terms of the proposition, 
 however, can give the proof. The mind intuitively, neces- 
 sarily, adds the predicate to the subject. The quotient of 
 a h divided by a is seen unavoidably by every one so soon 
 as he understands what is meant by the statement. Yet nc 
 mere analysis could give the proof. While they are there- 
 fore in their very nature distinguishable froni analytic proofs 
 being perceived at once by the mind, they may be denomi- 
 nated intuitive. 
 
 Empirical proofs being derived from without the mind 
 come to it only through experience, and hence obtain their 
 
 name. 
 
 Intuitive, like analytic proofs, need no subdivision. They 
 are chiefly employed in mathematical reasoning. 
 
 § 140. Analytic and intuitive proofs possess apodictic 
 or demonstrative certainty. 
 
 Unless there be inaccuracy in the application of them, 
 they must always compel assent. Hence, it would bs en- 
 tirely unnecessary for conviction to advance any other argu- 
 ments, were it not that, in the first place, there may be 
 Buepicion of inaccuracy in the application of the proof; and, 
 secondly, that the human mind has passions as well as in 
 
en- 
 
 THK TOPICS. 
 
 9i 
 
 tellectual powers and in respect to both is subjected to the 
 laws of habit, and hence 
 
 " convinced against its will 
 Is of the same opinion still." 
 
 Hence the necessity of superadding other proofs; mainly that 
 the native love of truth may have opportunity of risio"- by 
 the contemplation of proof and triumphing over prejudice 
 and aversion. 
 
 § 141. Empirical proofs are divided into the follow- 
 ing varieties : 
 
 First, Experience ; 
 
 Second, Antecedent Probability ; 
 
 Third, Signs ; 
 
 Fourth, Examples. 
 
 § 142. Of Empirical proofs, those from experience 
 are the most weighty and decisive ; but the use of 
 them in reasoning is very limited. 
 
 The principal uses of this variety of proofs are 1. 
 as materials for other varieties of proofs ; 
 
 2. In rare cases to prove the particular facts to which 
 they relate. 
 
 It will sometimes be the case that a speaker will need to 
 prove a fact which has come within the personal experience 
 of liis hearers. In regard to intellectual and moral exercises 
 as distinguished from mere sensations this appc >• to such 
 personal experience will ordinarily consist in a reference to 
 the occasion on which the exercise was experienced; as ihe 
 occasion may be remembered while the exercise itself may 
 have escaped the notice of consciousness. Demosthenes 
 thus p.-avL's to the Atheaians that tlie policy which had in 
 fact occasioned their disasters in the contest with. Philip was 
 
100 
 
 COXFIKMATION. 
 
 riiH',, 
 
 l"ti„ 
 
 Still a noble, just, v/orlliy policy, by referring to ibe occa- 
 sioris on wiiich the tfelinss of the citizens actuu.iy burst out 
 in generous iadigaatiou at the supposed treachery and arliul 
 
 ambition of Philip. 
 
 This variety of proofs is more commonly used as mate- 
 rials for other varieties of proof. They are thus used in 
 two different ways; first, as distinct and independent proofs; 
 secondly, as component parts of a complex body of proof. 
 Tims tlie necessity of religion to the civil welfare and se- 
 curity of a ration might be forcibly proved to those in 
 France who had lived through the terrific scenes of the 
 Revolution by appeals to their own personal experience. 
 One instance of such experience, perhaps, might not suffice 
 for the proof. The repetition of those instances day after 
 day for years would atTord proof almost irresistible. An- 
 other illustration may be taken from Dr. SoutVs argument 
 to prove that other forms of government insensibly partake 
 of monarchy and slide into it. He says, " For look upon 
 any aristocracy or democracy, and still you shall find some 
 one ruling active person among the rest who does every 
 thing and carries all before him. Was not De Witt 
 amongst our neighbors a kind of king in a commonwealth? 
 And was not that usurper here amongst ourselves a monarch 
 in realitv of fact, before he wore the title or assumed the 
 oflice ? » * 
 
 § 143. Proofs from antecedent probability 
 are founded on the relations of a cause to its effect or 
 of a general law to its particular results. 
 
 From the rise of the sap in the tree, thus, we infer, that 
 there will be foliage, bloom, fruit and other particulars of 
 vegetable growth. The circulation of the sap is, in thia 
 
 * Di^oo'i'-sf nil Ps. 14i, 10. 
 
THE TOPICS. 
 
 101 
 
 case, the cause which, unless something interfere to hinder 
 its operation, will produce those eiTects. So observed dili- 
 gence and integrity excite the confident expectation of thrift 
 and success. These are known causes of such a result. 
 
 Again, we believe from our knowledge of the laws of 
 gravitation, that a heavy body unsuj)ported will lall to the 
 earth. Here we have no diatinct perception of the particu- 
 lar cause of gravitation j we refer the phenomenon only to 
 a law ; and from . our knowledge of the existence of the 
 law, we affirm with unhesitating confidence that when the 
 fit occasion is presented the proper operation of the law will 
 be witnessed. 
 
 Whether the cause in operation or the law regulating it 
 is more prominent in view, in this kind of proof, the nature 
 of the proof is the same. There is, in both cases, ever im- 
 plied a cause operating and a law^ governing its operations. 
 Reference is generally made to the cause when it is known; 
 to the law when the cause is unknown. 
 
 The validity of this proof rests on our conviction of the 
 uniformity of the course of nature. 
 
 This variety of proof is frequently employed with great 
 effect in questions of fact. It is the main reliance of Mr. 
 Curran in his argument in defense of Finney. He employs 
 with much force the perjured and corrupt character of the 
 informer in the case as antecedent probability proof that the 
 charge was groundless. 
 
 § 144. The proof is of the nature of an antecedent 
 probabilily proof when the absence of a sufficient 
 operative cause is urged against the belief of a sup- 
 posed event. 
 
 While from the laws of the mind we necessarily antici- 
 pate the appropriate etTect from the observed operation of 
 
 9* 
 
mn 
 
 [Mill Jii 
 
 102 
 
 CONFIRMATION. 
 
 a cause, so likewise, on the otlier hand, we rojeci the 
 supposition of an event iiaving occurred, il' there be no 
 proper cause to produce it. The absence of all motive to 
 conunit an imputed crime is thus esteemed a strong proof 
 against the fact oi' its having been committed. 
 
 Tiiere is, properly speaking, no cause exisling of a sup- 
 posed event, when there is no opportunity alTorded for its 
 operation. In such a case, the cause is virtually wanting. 
 If thus, there be a known ground for ihe pri)bability of the 
 commission of the crime in the character of the accused, yet 
 if there be no possible opportunity for committing it, there 
 is no operating cause; and the proof is as valid in this form 
 as in the other where the non-existence of the cause itself is 
 presented. 
 
 Criminal trials abound with instances of this species of 
 prooi' in both of its forms. A single exempliHcation will 
 suffice to illustrate its nature and application. In the 
 " Goodridge • ase " so called, Mr. Webster urges the want 
 of all possibility of previous arrangement and concert, 
 which the circumstances of the alleged crime presupposed, 
 in proof of the innocence of the accused; while, on the other 
 bond, he feels himself called to rebut the proof arising from 
 the want of motive on the part of tjie prosecuting witness 
 to feign a robbery.* 
 
 § 145. The force of any given antecedent proba- 
 bility proof will depend on the degree of certainty La 
 the connection between tke cause and the efrect. 
 
 If the cause be adequate to the efiect and actually 
 
 * Webster's Speoclies, Vol. II. In this case two men were tried 
 on .1 charge of robbery committed on the person of Goodridge who 
 was the prosecuting witness. The main reliance of the defense 
 vvai that the robbery was a pretense. 
 
THE TOPICS. 
 
 103 
 
 operate, or no hindrance intervene, the proof is con- 
 chisivo. If, on the other hand, there be uncertainty 
 whether the cause actually operate, or whether it 
 operate free from hindrance or interruption, the force 
 of the proof will be so far impaired. 
 
 Where the proof lies in the absence of all cause for 
 the supposed effect, the conclusion will be more or less 
 certain according to the degree in which all causes or 
 occasions possible in the case are excluded. 
 
 An important distinction is to be made between those an- 
 tecedent probability proofs which are purely physical and 
 such as are moral. A physical cause must operate when 
 the occasion is presented. We infer with absolute certainty 
 that water exposed will freeze when the temperature is be- 
 low the freezing point. We cannot so certainly infer that a 
 covetous man will steal or defraud when an opportunity is 
 afforded; or that a threat of vindictive passion was actually 
 followed by murder when occasion of executing it was pre- 
 sented. 
 
 § 146. Signs are proofs which derive their force 
 from the necessary def 'ndence of one thing upon an- 
 other. This dependence n»ay be that of an event on 
 its cause, or on the occasion or condition which is nec- 
 essary in order to the operation of the cause to pro- 
 duce the supposed effect. 
 
 The sign is thus the dependent event or effect ; the 
 thing to be proved is the cause or occasion on which 
 it depends. 
 
 The validity of this species of proof rests ultimately on 
 the principle, received unhesitatingly by every mind, that 
 every elTect presupposes a cause and an occasion of its 
 
ill'i 
 
 04 
 
 CONFMIMA IXON. 
 
 m ... 
 
 operating. In the former species — antecede-nt probability 
 proofs, the argument is from the cause to the effect; in this, 
 it is from the efiect to the cause. 
 
 We infer from the freezing of water that the temperature 
 
 has fallen below the freezing point. This is a certain sign. 
 
 The discovery of a bloody dagger in the possession of a man 
 
 after a murder known to have been committed by such an in- 
 
 atrument, is a strong sign or proof against him. Here we infer 
 
 a cause from an effect. We find it difficult or impossible 
 
 to admit the eflect and at the same time to reject the cause. 
 
 In the same way we infer that if a dwelling, which had 
 
 been carefully secured, has been entered without violence 
 
 and robbed, there must have been concert with some one 
 
 from within. The cause could not have operated without 
 
 such an occasion. 
 
 Signs include a number of varieties which it is unneces- 
 sary to consider in order separately. There are several of 
 these varieties, however, for reasons in part common, in 
 part peculiar to each variety, which seem to warrant a 
 distinct notice. 
 
 § 147. Testimony is a variety of signs ; the va- 
 lidity of which as proof consists in this — that the 
 testimony presupposes the fact testified to as the con- 
 dition without which it would not have been given. 
 
 The credibility of a witness does not always depend on 
 kis character for veracity. The testimony of u notorious 
 liar and perjurer is sometimes conclusive; and on this prin- 
 ciple, that we cannot believe he should so testify, unless the 
 events testified to were facts. 
 
 The degree of weight to be attributed to testimony is 
 always to be estimated by this view of the nature of testi- 
 mony — that it is a sign, implying the facts to which it tes* 
 
THE TOPICS. 
 
 105 
 
 I 
 
 1 
 
 tifics as more or less necessary conditions of its having been 
 given. Whenever, therefore, occasions or motives exist in 
 the case for giving the testimony other than the truth, the 
 credibility of the u itness will be so far impaired. We are 
 thus to judge the credibility of historians. The historian of a 
 sect or of a party must be received as a credible witness 
 only so far as it may appear that truth was the condition of 
 his speaking as he does. All admissions against his own 
 sect or i)arty, unless made as baits and lures, will be re- 
 ceived as honest testimony. 
 
 It is from this view of the nature of testimony as proof, 
 that we see why opportunity and capahilitij of observing 
 come in to alVect the credibility of a witness. If these 
 qualilications are wanting, the connection between the testi- 
 mony as a sign, and the facts testitied to as conditions, 
 which constitutes the very nature of this proof, is destroyed 
 and there is nothing on which the testimony can rest. 
 
 § 148. Authority is a variety of signs; and is 
 distinguished from testimony by the circmnstance that 
 authority respects matters of opinion, while testimony 
 res])ects matters of fact. 
 
 The opinions of competent men weigh as proof inasmuch 
 as we cannot conceive how such men should entertain 
 those oi)ini()ns unless they were founded on truth. If, 
 however, we can discover the influence of other causes to 
 determine their opinions, their authority weighs less with 
 us. The opinions of legal tribunals, pronounced after the 
 fullest discussions on both sides by interested and able men, 
 under the solemnities of a judicial trial,are weighty author- 
 ity; because it is not conceivable that such opinions can rest 
 on any other foundation than truth. 
 
 The validity of legal precedents may properly be subjected 
 
['I t 
 
 l! I 
 
 'I ' 
 
 5 ! 
 
 i i 
 
 )0' 
 
 CONFIK.MATION. 
 
 idepenc]( 
 
 if, iudoe will sci 
 
 Ins test. An indepencleat and infelligenf, judge 
 aside a precedent en proof that the decision was detennined 
 by other motives than love of truth or rociitiide. 
 
 § 149. CoNCUtiiiRNT TivsriMONV and concur- 
 rent AUTHOR [TY boloilg rIsO tO tll'lS Spccics of 
 
 proofs. The mere conciirreiico of witnesses or jiuliies, 
 apart from all consideration of their personal claims 
 to credibility, is a sign, often conclusive, that tlie fact 
 or opinion is truly as represented. 
 
 Previous concert, or common interest at once impairs the 
 force of this proof. For then anotiier cause or occasion is 
 furnished to account for the fact of the testimony than the 
 actual truth. 
 
 § 150. Examples are proofs which rest on the re- 
 semblance or common property or relation that exists 
 between individuals of the same class. One is taken, 
 and from something found to be true of that, an in- 
 ference is drawn to one or all of the others. 
 
 The naturalist, thus, having discovered by analysis the 
 inorganic constituents of a particular plant, infers from this 
 example that any other of the same species will contain the 
 same constituents. Mr. Burke, in his Speech on the East 
 India Bill, sustains his charge of hypocrisy against the East 
 India Company by adducing as examples their treatment of 
 Mr. Hastings, on the one hand, whom they reprehended 
 with unparalleled asperity, and yet continued to trust with 
 the entire control of their affairs in India; and of Col. 
 Munson, Gen. Clavering, and Mr. Francis, on the other, 
 whom they '' ruined by their praises." 
 
 The fierce of the example, as a proof, rests ultimately 
 jpon the principle that like causes produce like effects; for. 
 
 I 
 
 i 
 
 i 
 
5 
 
 I 
 
 i 
 
 THE TOPICS. 1Q7 
 
 as has before been obaervtd, $ 98, the notior of a cause lies 
 at the fouudfitior. of jill classilication. The force of this 
 proof is, coiise(iiieiilly, im^xiired precisely in the degree that 
 more than oii€ cause may possibly have operated in the case. 
 In nature, the proof is generally conclusive; for we can 
 conceive of but one general cause. In conduct, hou ever, 
 we cannot si' dy take the actions of one man as exen)piili- 
 calions of U-j actions of another; for we cannot determine 
 that the same motives have influenced in tJie two cases. 
 
 It is important carefully to distinguish the diilerent pur- 
 poses ior which an example may be introduced into dis- 
 course. It is used not only as proof in argumentation, but, 
 also, as mere illustration, and likewise for ornament. It 
 may subserve, moreover, any two of all these purposes at 
 the sfime time. An argument consequently may be dis- 
 guised under what dpj>ears to be a mere illustration or em- 
 bellishnicnt, and may thuh have force as proof which it 
 could not have received if exhibited in its own dress and 
 form, as tiien its weakness or unsoundness would have been 
 detectetl So, likewise, a solid argument may be taken for 
 a mere ornament or illustration, 
 
 $ 15 L We argue from example either to the whole 
 class or to other individuals of tiie class. The former 
 species aie, for the salie of distinction, denominated 
 Arguments from Induction. 
 
 From observing that heavy bodies fall to the earth, we 
 infer, by induction, the general principle of gravitation. 
 Whether one or more examples, or, generally, how many 
 exanjples are neces.sary in order to warrant the inference, 
 depends on the question, how many are necessary in order 
 to show that but one cause has produced the result. The 
 philologist might safely infer from observing in a given 
 
108 
 
 CO\rjl{M.\TIt>N. 
 
 1 * -ill 
 
 language a single iuslaiice of a second future tense, that 
 this tense-form was a general feature of the language, since 
 the single cause thaf could have originated the use of it lies 
 in the primitive nature of the language. He could not, 
 however, infer from observing that in a particular case this 
 species of time was expressed by auxiliaries, that the lan- 
 guage contained no proper tense-form for this lime; for ac- 
 cidental causes may have produced exceptions to a general 
 law. 
 
 So one observed instance of a particular raetai sinking ia 
 water, might authorize the conclusion that the specific gravity 
 of the metal generally, was greater than that of water; that 
 all pieces of the same metal would sink in the same fluid. 
 For but one cause can here be supposed to act in determin- 
 ing the metal to sink. But one could not prouerly infer 
 that all ores of the metal would be of a greyish color, from 
 observing a single specimen of that color. Since, in this 
 case, a diversity of causes may exist in different localities 
 to determine the color of an ore. 
 
 § 152. Examples are founded either on resemblance 
 of properties or on resemblance of relations. Those 
 of the latter kind are denominated arguments from 
 
 ANALOGY. 
 
 While an argument from analogy differs thus from other 
 examples in the circumstance that the former is founded on 
 a resemblance of relations, while the others rest on a 
 resemblance of properties, yet the same principle gives 
 alike, to both varieties, all their force as pi oofs, viz: our 
 conviction of the uniformity of nature. 
 
 § 153. Analog-ical reasoning is simple when tho 
 
 two thin^ compared bear a similar relati(»n to a thii-d. 
 
 As when from the relation of the earth to its uses, it is 
 
TIIK TOI'ICS. 
 
 109 
 
 irjfoned that other planets, from the ianie relation, may be 
 iahabited. Or, when it is inferred, from the fact that virtue 
 alTects our well-being, tiiat vice must likewise; virtue and 
 vice being both moral iiabits or dispositions, and the rela- 
 tion being tlie same— both alike aiVecting condition. 
 
 ^ 15 1. Analogical reasoning is coaiplkx when two 
 dilVerent relations are introduced. 
 
 Thus it may be argued from the fact that virtue tends to 
 happiness, that vice must tend to misery. In this case, the 
 whole analogical proof rests on the s-iniilarity of relation 
 between both virtue and vice, and welfare. This is the 
 generic relation. Another specific relation is introduced as 
 belonging to each of the terms — that of virtue to liai)piness, 
 and of vice to misery. These are dissimilar relations. It 
 is by another principle of proof that the tendency to aflect 
 welfare common to virtue and vice is believed to be in the 
 one case salutary, in the other pernicions. This is an in- 
 stance of Aristotle's argument from contiaries — s| evamuv 
 
 In a complex analogical argument, however, it is not 
 nece -jary that the second relations should be to opposite^. 
 As from the relation of a seed to the plant we may argue 
 in respect to the relation of an egg to the fowl. The rela- 
 tions of a germ to the parent and to the living product are 
 common to tlie seed and to the egg. These are the generic 
 relatiojis. The specific relations of the egg to the fowl and 
 of the seed to the plant are dissimilar, but are not proper 
 opposites. Tlie force ol the analogy readies only to the 
 similarity or resemblance of the relations. 
 
 § 155. Examples may be real or invented. 
 
 Real examples, or such as are taken from actual 
 
 observation or exiierience, carry with them their owa 
 
 evidence. 
 
 10 
 
110 
 
 CONFIRMATION. 
 
 ,..*'! 
 
 ^ liSj' . ' 
 
 n 
 
 Invented examples must possess intrinsic probability 
 or be credil'le in tlieniselves ; otherwise they evidently 
 can have no weight as arguments. 
 
 Aristotle instances as an invented example that employed 
 by Socrates, of tlie mariners choosing their steersman by 
 lot. The case, probably, never in fact occurred; but it 
 'clearly might occur, and it well illustrates the possibility of 
 the lot I'alliiJg upon an unskillful person; and, therefore, waa 
 A valid argument as used by Socrates against the practice, 
 then common, of appointing magistrates by lut. 
 
 Dr. VVhately has well observed that while a fictitious 
 case which has not this intrinsic probability has absolutely 
 no weight whatever, any matter of fact, on the other hand, 
 however unaccountable it may seem, has some degree of 
 weight in reference to a parallel case. " No satisfactory 
 reason," he proceeds to remark, " has yet been assigned for 
 a connection between the absence of upper cutting teeth, or 
 of the presence of horns, and rumination; but the instances 
 are so numerous and constant of this connection, that no 
 Naturalist would hesitate, if on examination of a new spe-* 
 cies he found those teeth absent and the head horned, to 
 pronoi ace the animal a ruminant.*' 
 
 $ 156. As the points of resemblance between difTer- 
 ent objects are diverse, and things most unlike may 
 yet have some resemblance to each other, and there- 
 fore be embraced under the same class, it becomes im- 
 portant in the use of this kind of argument, on the 
 one hand, carefully to set forth the particular point of 
 resemblance on whic the argument rests ; and, on 
 the other, in estimating the weight of the argument 
 to reject from the estimate those points in which there 
 is no resemblance 
 
 
 I 
 
THK TOPTCS. 
 
 Ill 
 
 Wliile tliose tirgiinients which rest on resombliinoos in 
 obj 'cts most, titilike are genernlly in fheinselvcs more slrik- 
 Uiir and forcible, they are yet often sophisticnlly invaii(hitcd 
 und rejected, because in most respects they are so dissimilar. 
 On the other hand, no sophistry, perhaps, is more common 
 than that of assuming a resemblance in all points where 
 there is such resemblance in many. In the use of this 
 species of aronment, it becomes, then, of the utmost impor- 
 tance to bear in mind both that the most similar things 
 dilTer in some respects, and perhaps in that very point on 
 which the argument in a given case depends; and, also, that 
 ^he most dissimilar things may have some propertied or 
 relations in common, and may therefore furnisli louudations 
 for valid reasoning. 
 
 The decisive test of the soundness of all arguments 
 founded on resemblance, is furnished in the inquiry: do the 
 particulars of resemblance owe their existence to the same 
 cause' or, where the cause is not known, to the same law? 
 A.S the whole force of examples as arguments rests on the 
 hameness of the cause, or of the law which has given origin 
 to the resemblances on which the classification depends, the 
 detection of this cause or law, where possible, will ever dis- 
 cover the validity or invalidity of the example as an argu- 
 ment. Just so far as there remains a doubt of the same- 
 ness of the cause or law, so far must there be weakness in 
 the argument. 
 
 § 157. Wliile all simple arguments may be referred 
 to some one of the foregoing classes, many complex 
 ari^iiments partake of the nature of two or more ; 
 their force in reasoning is consequently modified in 
 reference to the icspective character of the classes oi 
 arguments of the nature of which they partake. 
 
% 
 
 112 
 
 COMIK'.MATION. 
 
 u 
 
 What is often called a prion reasoning not unfrequenllv 
 includes in itself not only an antecedent probability argu- 
 ment, but also a sign_, or an example. Fronn the falling of 
 the barometer, we infer a priori that there will be a change 
 of the weather; not because we suppose the fall of the mer- 
 cury to be the cause of the change, but because it is the sijrn 
 of the existence of the cause. We in this case, in truth, 
 first argue by a sign, to the existence of a cause, and then 
 by an antecedent probability argument, to its effect, viz: a 
 change of fhe weather. In the argument in "the Goodridge 
 case," before referred to, § 144, several circumstances are 
 advanced as signs in proof of a cause or motive to feign a 
 robbery; from which cause, thus proved, the inference was 
 that the prosecution was groundless. 
 
 Lord Chatham in his speech '^on removing the troops 
 from Boston,*' argues the continued and determined resis- 
 tance of the Americans to an arbitrary system of taxation 
 from the spirit of liberty which animated them in common 
 with all Englishmen; and the existence of this spirit is 
 proved by an example — the proceedings of the General 
 Congress at Philadelphia. This would ordinarily be called 
 an a priori argument, inasmuch as the force of it rests 
 mainly on the existing cause to produce the continued resist- 
 ance. But an "example," which is of the nature of an a pos' 
 teriori argument, is introduced to prove the existence of the 
 cause, and the intermediate step of the argument, the cause 
 itself, is not expressed but only implied. 
 
 In the same speech we have another form of the combi- 
 nation of the antecedent probability argument with tlie ex- 
 ample. The example is introduced, not as in the other case, 
 to orove the antecedent probability argument itself, but to 
 confirm it as proof of the main proposition. The speaker 
 exemplifies the working of that spirit of liberty in the eflec* 
 
THE TOPICS. 
 
 113 
 
 tual opposition to '' loans, benevolences, and ship-money in 
 England/* in the procuring of '' the bill of rights/' &c. 
 The reasoning, as a whole, is a priori; but is complex, con- 
 sisting of an antecedent probability argument and examples. 
 
 By an a priori argument, the faci of a revelation from 
 heaven is inferred from the genet al corruption of the human 
 race. The argument consists of an antecedent probability 
 argument — tlie determination of God to do all that is neces- 
 sary to effect the rt^covery of the race; and of a sign — the 
 corruption of the race, to prove the necessity of such an 
 interposition by revelation. 
 
 A posteriori reasoning, also, often includes arguments of 
 different classes. From the migration of birds to the north, 
 we infer that some of the various effects of spring have ap- 
 peared in the place of their hibernation. From the migra- 
 tion of birds, as a sign, we infer the return of warm weather 
 as its cause; and from this we infer again, by an antecedent 
 probability argument, the usual effects of the return of 
 spring. 
 
 While both a priori and a postei'iori res^soning thus often 
 contain arguments of two or more classes, there is yet an 
 obvious distinction between them. In the former, the ante- 
 cedent probability argument is the one on which the force 
 of the reasoning mainly depends; in the latter, the sign or 
 the example is the prominent argument. 
 
 The analysis of complex arguments will often discover 
 the precise amount of validity due to them. It will disclose 
 also the point where the sophistry of a suspected proof en- 
 ters. 
 
 Testimony and authority, also, often combine arguments 
 
 of different species, and are themselves frequently combined 
 
 together in the same process of reasoning. 
 
 What is often called ri>fiso7iing from experience, is (^is- 
 
 1(1* 
 
'^:/' :i 
 
 ■ ;j 
 
 ■II 
 
 •;! 
 
 '1/ 
 
 
 114 
 
 CONFIRMATION. 
 
 tinguislied from otlier species of reasoning only by the 
 source from which the arguments are derived. It compre- 
 hends mainly those arguments which are in § 139 denomi- 
 nated empirical. 
 
 The argument from progressive approach, so called, is 
 but a species of induction, in which we argue from the in- 
 crease or diminution in the efifect according as a particular 
 cause is increased or diminished in several examples, to the 
 perfect completeness, or the entire removal of the effect 
 when the cause is perfectly operative or wholly removed. 
 E. g. If we put a ball in motion on a rough surface, its 
 motion soon ceases; on a smoother surface, its motion is 
 proportionally prolonged: hence, we infer that if there were 
 no resistance at all, the motion would be perpetual. A 
 sophistical use of this argument has been made by some 
 enthusiastic advocates of Temperance. They have assumed 
 that disease and death are the consequence e.xlusively of a 
 corrupt constitution inherited from parents who have viola- 
 ted the laws of health, or of a transgression of those laws 
 by the individual himself. They then urge the facts that 
 temperance and correct regimen promote health and long 
 life, just in proportion as the constitution is free from origi- 
 nal corruption and the laws of health are observed. They 
 hence infer that a perfect and universal observance of the 
 laws of health will in time purify the stock itself; the hu- 
 man constitution will be restored to its perfect state, and 
 disease and death will disappear. 
 
 § 158. Empirical proofs never carry with them- 
 selves necessary certainty ; although they possess all 
 degrees of probability, from mere probability to full 
 but not necessary certainty. 
 
 Proofs derived from our own experience we can never 
 
J by the 
 
 t compre- 
 
 denomi- 
 
 calledj is 
 Ti the in- 
 particular 
 Bs, to the 
 the effect 
 removed, 
 irface, its 
 notion is 
 iiere were 
 tual. A 
 by some 
 assumed 
 ^ely of a 
 Lve viola- 
 lose laws 
 acts that 
 and long 
 am origi- 
 1. They 
 ;e of the 
 the hu- 
 tate^ and 
 
 h them- 
 
 isess all 
 
 to full 
 
 m never 
 
 THE TOPICS. 
 
 115 
 
 i 
 
 ■I 
 
 question. They are decisive so far as they go; but the cer- 
 tainty which they produce is very dirrereiit from that v» hich 
 is produced by analytic and intuitive reasoning. 
 
 Antecedent probability arguments sometimes produce lull 
 certainty. If the cause certainly exists and no hindrance 
 can arise, the effect is certain; and the proof is decisive of 
 belief. Just so far as doul may arise in regard to the 
 sufficiency of the cause or the opportunity of its operating, 
 just so far will the reasoning from this class of proofs be 
 invalidated. 
 
 Signs possess full certainty, or higher or lower degrees of 
 probability, according as the cause or occasion to be proved 
 bv them is more or less necessary to their existence. 
 
 ' The conclusiveness of examples as proofs depends on the 
 question whether they are determined, in the particular 
 character in which they are presented as proofs, by the same 
 cause which is supposed to produce the thing to be proved, 
 $ 156. From observing the organic structure in one plant, 
 the naturalist will safely conclude in regard to any ot)>er 
 plant of the same species. He cannot, however, so conclude 
 in regard to the color. But one cause can be supposed to 
 operate in the former case; in the latter, various causes may 
 have influence. 
 
 § 159. Fi-om the diverse nature of the different 
 kinds of arguments enumerated it will appear at once 
 that while some are apphcal)le to all subjects, others 
 are adapted only to particular kinds of subjects. 
 
 Analytical proofs are applicable to every kind of 
 subject, as is obvious from their nature. 
 
 Of Synthetkal proofs, the intuitive class belong to 
 mathematical reasoning or pure science. 
 Empirical proofs are employed in all reasoning 
 
116 
 
 CONFIllxMATlON. 
 
 that respects matters of experience, whether the 
 reasoning terminates on facts or on general truths. 
 
 CHAPTER V. 
 
 OP THE ARRANGEMENT OF ARGUMENTS. 
 
 § 160. The importance of attention to arrangement 
 in confirmation depends mainly on two principles. 
 
 The first respects the state of the mind addressed. 
 The method suited to a mind favorably disposed, will 
 generally be unsuitable to a mind opposed to convic- 
 tion, and vice versa. 
 
 The second principle respects the dependence of the 
 proofs on one another. Some proofs are explained by 
 others, which must be previously exhibited in order to 
 the full effect of the reasoning. Some proofs presup- 
 pose others. Some, once more, have great weiglit if 
 preceded by certain others, and are of little moment 
 unless preceded by them. 
 
 The force and effect of reasoning depends, indeed, hardly 
 less on the order than on the mit' ;r of .the proofs. Perfectly 
 conclusive arguments when presented in the proper order 
 may lose all their force if advanced in a different order. 
 
 § 161. If the proof advanced be single but suscepti- 
 ble of analysis, the principle which regidates the ar- 
 rangement of the parts will obviously be tlie same as 
 tha in analytic explanation, §S 94 — 106. 
 
 For illustration. Dr. Barrow, in his discourse on the 
 Divine Impartiality, presents in the a priori part of his 
 reasoning the following arguments from the divine attributes 
 as analysed by division, viz: 1. From God's wisdom; 2 
 
ther the 
 ruths. 
 
 ITS. 
 
 ngement 
 ciples. 
 ddressed. 
 Dsed, will 
 convic- 
 
 ice of the 
 aiued by 
 
 order to 
 5 presiip- 
 veiglit if 
 
 moment 
 
 ;d, hardly 
 Perfectly 
 
 per order 
 order. 
 
 suscepti- 
 
 is the ar- 
 
 same as 
 
 5 on the 
 lit of his 
 attributes 
 sdom; 2 
 
 ARRANGKMENT OF ARGUAU.NTS. 
 
 117 
 
 his righteousness; 3. his pouei; 4. his guodaess. Tliese 
 arguments from God's attributes, together with those from 
 iiis relations^ form the heads of his a priori reasoning. 
 
 His a posteriori argument is analysed by partition. The 
 parts given are 1. God has proposed the same terms to all 
 of obtaining his favor; 2. He has furnished the same means 
 and aids to all; 3. He has provided the same encouragements; 
 4. He watches over all alike in his providence; 5. He has 
 conferred on Christians the same privileges; G. He holds all 
 alike subject to the same fmal retribution. 
 
 § 102. If the reasoning embrace arguments of dis- 
 tinct classes, the principle of arrangement is to be 
 sou"-ht, first, in the state of the mind addressed. 
 
 If there be already a state of belief, and the object 
 of the discourse is to confirm and strengthen it, 
 then the weaker arguments will generally need to be 
 placed first and the stronger ones last. In this way 
 the deepest and strongest hnpression will be the last. 
 
 If there be an opposing belief to be set aside, it will 
 1 e better to advance the stronger first, in order to over- 
 throw opposition at once. The weaker may follow 
 which will serve to confirm when they would be 
 of no avail in the first assauU. In order tc leave, 
 however, a strong impression, some of the stronger 
 should be reserved to the close ; or. what is equivalent, 
 the arguments may be recapitulated in the reverse 
 
 order. 
 
 Although this principle of arrangement, derived from a 
 consideration of the state of the mind addressed, is not the 
 higher and more controlling one, but must generally give 
 way to the next to be named, still the state of the mind 
 
'W, 
 
 i'ii 
 
 w 
 
 l; ' li 
 
 118 
 
 COMIUMATION. 
 
 that will often 
 ' employed as 
 
 addressed must be first consulted, ^f 
 determine what kind of aiguments aiv- 
 well as the order of arrangement. 
 
 This principle, it will be observed, respects only the com- 
 parative strength of the arguments. 
 
 § 163. The second principle to be regarded in the 
 arrangement of proofs respects the dependence of the 
 arguments on one another. 
 
 This princi])le requires, in the first place, that the 
 analytic proofs precede all others. 
 
 The reason of this rule is obvious. As in exhibiting a 
 proof of this class, the proposition itself must necessarily be 
 explained, the relevance and force oi every other proof will 
 be more clearly seen after such an explanation. In a judicial 
 question, for example, whether certain specified acts consti- 
 tute legal murder, after the definition of under has been 
 given, the arguments from authority or ** legal precedents" 
 will obviously be more intelligible and also of more force 
 as confirmatorv. 
 
 § 164. This principle requires, in the second place, 
 that antecedent probahility argiiments precede eX' 
 amples and signs. 
 
 The example, introduced after the antecedent probability 
 argument, will serve both to illustrate and also toconfiim 
 it. Indeed, in this order, they reflect light on each other. 
 Mr. Burke, in his speech on the Nabob of Arcot^s debts, in 
 endeavoring to prove that India had been reduced to a con- 
 dition of extreme want and wretchedness, first presents the 
 causes in operation to produce it; then, examples of the 
 operation of those causes; and finally particular signs of the 
 fact. The mind very readily receives the whole statement. 
 
TIIK HUllOKN OF J»JlOOF. 
 
 119 
 
 because, from the view of the cause, tlie effects are naturally 
 anticipated. 
 
 In Dr. Barrow's discourse on the Divine Impartiality, 
 the a priori arguments are with obvious propriety presented 
 first* and then the a posteriori arguments. If the order had 
 been reversed the force of the reasoning would have been 
 greatly weakened. 
 
 A charge of fraud against a man generally reputed to bo 
 of upright character would need a strong array of proof 
 from signs, as testimony and the like, to substaritiate it. 
 But let a spirit of covetousness be hrst proved in him, and 
 especially if a single example be adduced in which that 
 spirit has led aside from what was upright and manly, and 
 a very small amount of proof will suffice to establish the 
 charge. 
 
 In like manner the proof of the divine authenticity of the 
 Bible is conclusive wht .» sufficient cause is first shown foi 
 such an interposition from God, and then the arguments from 
 testimony, and the internal evidence, are presented. But 
 without such cause being first shown, scarcely any amount 
 of testimony will be sufficient to overcome the repugnance 
 of the mind to believe that a miracle has been wrought. 
 
 ■if 
 
 CHAPTER yi. 
 
 OF PRESUMPTION, OR THE BURDEN OP PROOF. 
 
 § 165. It is of great importance in argumentation 
 to determine at the outset both in reference to t!i<j 
 main proposition, and also in reference to the particii- 
 lar facts or truths assumed as proofs, whether they 
 
120 
 
 COM-iKMATlON. 
 
 may be fairly presumed or taken for granted until 
 disproved. Tliis is called determining on which side 
 the PRESUMPTION is, or on which the burden of 
 PROOF — onus probandi — Hes. 
 
 The importance of determining this poiut consists not 
 merely in the fact that thereby the labor of proof may often 
 be saved, but still more in the fact, that the mere under- 
 taking to prove what ought to be presu?ned, will often throw 
 doubt upon what was clear and unquestionable. The ve- 
 racity of a witness is ever to be taken for granted until it is 
 impeached. If one were to volunteer a defence of the char- 
 acter of a witness before it had been questioned, the very 
 attempt would excite a suspicion that the character needed 
 some bolstering, and that the advocate was influenced by 
 his own distrust to make the attempt. So, likewise, if a 
 man, who had been slandered, were to undertake a defeuce 
 against the slander, instead of throwing the whole burden 
 of proof on the slanderer, and putting him to the task of 
 making out a case, even perfect innocence, and that which 
 otherwise would appear so to all, might be blackened by 
 suspicion. 
 
 The great advantage that the side on which the presump- 
 tion lies has over the opposite, consists in this, that it must 
 triumph unless a decisive case is made out against it: — it 
 has all the benefit of a doubtful result. If the course of 
 procedure were now reversed, and the criminal were required 
 to prove his innocence instead of the government being re- 
 quired to establish his guilt, few that are accused would 
 probably escape condemnation. As it is, a slight shade of 
 doubt as to the guilt, even although the probability is alto- 
 gether against' him, results for the benefit of the accused. 
 The discussions that have arisen on the laws providing for 
 
THE ULllDHN OK PHOOP. X^l 
 
 the imprisomnent of cKbtf.is, have exhibited most forcibly 
 of how great advantage it is to bo relieved from the onus 
 probandi. It has been strenuously insisted by some that the 
 creditor should take all the burden of proof on himself, and 
 make out a clear case of fraud, before compulsory process 
 against the person of the debtor shall be issued. The ex- 
 treme difficulty of proving fraud in many cases has led 
 others to take the ground that a failure to pay an honest 
 debt raises a presumption of fraud which the debtor may 
 reasonably be held to remove by oath or evidence. It is 
 obvious that the adoption of the one or the other of these 
 principles, would greatly affect the facility of enforcing the 
 payment of debts. Here not only will the creditor or the 
 debtor have the advantage of a doubtful case according as 
 the presumption is on one side or the other, but the decision 
 of this point will determine to a great extent on what kind 
 of evidence the question of fraud shall turn — upon that 
 which is in the possession of the creditor, or upon that in 
 possession of the debtor. It will not unfrequently occur 
 thus that the decision of the question will go one way or the 
 other according as the evidence or proof is derived from this 
 side or from that side; and this is determined by the ques- 
 tion, where lies the presumption in the case? 
 
 Although it will generally be easy to determine on which 
 side the burden of proof lies, it may be of service to lay 
 down some general principles which regulate the determin- 
 ation of this matter, 
 
 § 166. The first general principle in regard to the 
 burden of proof is, that the affirmative of every issue 
 is to he proved. 
 
 This is a princip e in English jurisprudence derived from 
 
 a 
 

 '/I' ' ' 'il 
 
 i'li .:,:'i, 
 
 I 
 
 ll')-?' i 
 
 122 
 
 CONIIUMATION. 
 
 the maxim of the civil law: ' Ei incumhit prohatia p^S 
 dicit, noil qui negat.' 
 
 Tliis is not, however, a principle of universAl appjication, 
 and must often give way to some others to be named in the 
 fullowiiig sections. 
 
 In tlie interpretation of this principle it should be borne 
 in mind that the stress is to be laid on the fact of alleging or 
 allirming, not on the form of the proposition itself as affir- 
 mative or negative. The principle is, he who alleges ?mtst 
 prove. If the allegation be in the negative form, it does 
 not shift the burden of proof. The fundamental ground on 
 which the principle rests is, that whatever is new shall be 
 accounted for. He who makes an allegution puts into being 
 a statement that did not exist before. He is properly call- 
 ed upon to account for it — prove it and thus make it a truth. 
 
 § 1(37. The presumption, farther, is generally in 
 favor of what already exivSts and against a change, 
 whether the cpiestion be one of truth, of right, or ex- 
 pediency. 
 
 There is a presumption, thus, in favor of prevailing 
 opinions and sentiments. They are not to be rejected until 
 evidence has been advanced against them. Even such as 
 seem at first sight absurd or ridiculous are sometimes found 
 afterwards to be founded in truth. The Indians living in the 
 vicinity of the North American Lakes, generally entertained 
 the opinion that these lakes were subject to a periodical rise 
 and fall. This was ridiculed at one time as an absurd 
 superstition ; subsequent observations, however, seem to 
 countenance the Indian tradition. 
 
 On the other hand, tlie proposer of new opinions may be 
 justly called upon to present evidence in their favor; and 
 may be properly regarded as unworthy of credit until such 
 
lay 
 
 be 
 
 and 
 
 THK BiKDKN OK I^IIOOF. 
 
 123 
 
 evidence be produced. He cannot even claim (liat the public 
 mind should be in a slate ol' impartial e(juilibriuni. His 
 opinions must be rejected until positive evidence be adduced. 
 So, likewise, there is a presumption in favor of existing- 
 institutions;— that they are founded in truth and reason, and 
 are for the public benefit. The fact that they exist, creates 
 a claim in tiieir favor which cannot be overbalanced by evi- 
 dence against them, that would suffice in a case exactly 
 poised in the opinions of men. The reformer is required to 
 make out a clear positive case, before he can expect to be 
 credited. 
 
 § 1G3. The presumption, moreover, is in favor of 
 rectitude ; in other words, should be charitable. 
 
 It is a reasonable principle in law, thus, that a man be 
 accounted innocent of crime until he be proved guilty. A 
 witness is to be believed, unless evidence is furnished of 
 falsehood. A man^s integrity, generally, may not be ques- 
 tioned until proof appears against him. His motives, also, 
 are to be regarded as pure until impeached by positive evi- 
 dence. 
 
 This is a principle, not only supported by considerations 
 of expediency, since the charitable man generally succeeds 
 best in avoiding the ills and securing the enjoyments of life, 
 but founded in abstract truth and reason. 
 
 § 169. Once more, the presumption is on the side 
 of whatever promotes the well-being of men, and 
 against whatever is restrictive or injurious. 
 
 There is a presumption, thus, in favor of Christianity, 
 because it is favorable, as is admitted ev»n by its enemies, 
 to the best interests of human society. The presumption, 
 on the other hand, lies against whatever retards the progress 
 
mm 
 
 i 
 
 JM 
 
 124 
 
 COiVKHlMATlON. 
 
 of society, restricts or ccrifines the energies of men, or inju* 
 riouslv atVects their best interests. 
 
 The ultimate general principle ou which ull these par- 
 ticular maxims of presumption rest, seems to be this: that 
 the world is governed by infinite intelligence controlled by 
 perfect rectitude and goodness. In respect to this, the sen- 
 timent is true, that " whatever is, is right"; and the proper 
 and the genuine results of goodness and truth harmonize 
 Avith each other, and also with what, for the most part, 
 transpires in providence. In all cases of presumption, con- 
 setpiently, whatever accords with the natural laws of provi- 
 dence is to be presumed to be true, right, or expedient, as 
 the case may be. 
 
 § 170. One piesunipt ion may sometimes be opposed 
 by another : when the circumstances of the case must 
 determine which shall outweigh the other. 
 
 Mahonimedanism, thus, exists; and so far a presumption 
 lies in its favor. With those who know of nothing exist- 
 ing in incompatibility with it, and who are not informed 
 or convinced in regard to its evil effects, perhaps, this fact 
 of its existence would furnish a strong presumption in favor 
 of continuing it. But its allowance of violence, and its evil 
 effects generally, are to those who are convinced of this, a 
 sufficient rebutter against the presumption drawn from the 
 fact of its existence. 
 
REFUTATION. 
 
 126 
 
 ase must 
 
 CHAPTER VII. 
 
 OP REFUTATION. 
 
 § 171. By REPUTATION, in its more limited sense, 
 is meant the overthrow of opposing arguments. 
 
 Refutation is sometimes taken in the sense of defense 
 generally. Thus the argument of the defendant in a judi- 
 cial trial, has been denominated a refutation. But in the 
 more proper use of the word, refutation has been restricted 
 to objections or opposing arguments. 
 
 § 172. Refutation proper consists in tho overthrow 
 either of one of the premises on which an objection 
 rests, or of the conclusiveness of the reasoning. 
 
 While refutation is governed by the same general prin- 
 ciples that apply to all argumentation, and has to do with 
 the same arguments or kinds of proof, it possesses the pecu- 
 liarity, that it is applied to the overthrow of opposing argu- 
 ments. Hence, a more direct call is made in it on the lo- 
 gical principles for the detection of sophistical reasoning. 
 The overthrow of a premise falsely or incorrectly assumed 
 in an objection, may, indeed, be accomplished in other 
 methods common to all reasoning; but the detection oi" error 
 in the course of the reasoning is to be effected in accordance 
 with the principles of logic, which expose the possible modes 
 of sophistical argumentation. 
 
 § 173. As all evidence does not possess the charac- 
 ter of absolute certainty, it is possible, in some cases, 
 that there may be real evidence, or valid arguments, 
 on both sides of the question. In such cases, it is not 
 indispensably necessary to refute the opposing argu- 
 ments ; but it may be sufficient, while allowing it its 
 
&h 
 
 126 
 
 CONFIRMATION. 
 
 proper weight, to overbalance it with arguments of 
 greater weiglit. 
 
 This is a principle ever to be borne in mind th<at, in cases 
 of prol)able rewsoaing generally, really valid arguments may 
 be advanced on both sides. The cxisteiice of such unan- 
 swerable arguments should not confound or disconcert. The 
 opposite side may still be that of truth. In such case, it 
 seems important to apply the principles of the Topics; to 
 determine carefully the degree of weight to be allowed the 
 objection, and to oppose to it an argument of a higher rank, 
 or an accumulation of arguments of the same class. 
 
 § 174. Jt is always somici policy to state objections 
 fairly, and to allow them all the force to which they 
 are entitled. 
 
 Nothing is more opposed to persuasiveness in reasoning, 
 than the appearance of unfairness. Sound principle was 
 accordingly r.nkoned by the ancients among the three essen- 
 tial requisites in the characttT of (he orator. Where the 
 speaker is to appear before the same audience frequently, 
 or to address one acquainted with his character as a 
 candid and honest reasoner, the necessity of observing 
 this principle is manifest. And even where the general 
 character of the speaker can have no influence in favorably 
 disposing the minds of the hearers, still, as unfairness is with 
 difficulty disguised, and even suspicion of it is exceedingly 
 prejudicial; as, moreover, the consciousness of candor and 
 fairness will give the speaker himself a tone of confidence 
 and authority, itself most favorable to eHect, it is ever safest, 
 as a matter of policy, to conduct the argumentation in per- 
 fect fairness. 
 
 § 175. The principles of arrangement in regard to 
 
lents of 
 
 in cases 
 jnts may 
 li unan- 
 ert. The 
 1 case, it 
 opics; to 
 )wed the 
 her rank, 
 
 ejections 
 ich they 
 
 easoning, 
 iiple was 
 ree essen- 
 Hiere the 
 equently, 
 iter as a 
 observing 
 i general 
 favorably 
 !ss is with 
 ceedingly 
 ndur and 
 ;onfidence 
 ver safest, 
 on in per- 
 
 cgard to 
 
 INTRODUCTION AND PEBORA.TION. 127 
 
 refutation, are substantially the same as those which 
 apply to direct confirmation, Chap. V. As subordinate 
 and incidental to confirmation, however, the applica- 
 tion of those principles to refutation becomes slightly 
 modified. 
 
 In the first place, if the arguments to be refuted are 
 sufficiently met in the main direct arguments, the 
 pro})cr place to refute them is in the course of presen- 
 tation of those direct arguments. 
 
 In the next place, if the objections are independent 
 of the direct chain of reasoning, they should be an- 
 swered at the commencement, if already weighing in 
 f he minds of the audience ; and at the close, if they 
 are anticipated as about to arise in the mind, or are to 
 be presented by an adversary. 
 
 i 
 
 I 
 
 CHAPTER VIII. 
 
 OP THE INTRODUCTION AND PERORATION IN CON- 
 FIRMATION. 
 
 § 176. The Introduction Explanatory in confirma- 
 tion may respect the proposition itself, the particular 
 mode of discussion to be pursued, or some circumstan- 
 ces connected with the occasion of speaking. 
 
 It is unnecessary to particularize the several topics proper 
 for an introduction explanatory in confirmation. It is suf- 
 ficient to turn the attention of the speaker to those general 
 fields of view which it may be important for him to sur- 
 vey, that he may ascertain what points will require elucida- 
 
128 
 
 CONFlR3IATIOr«. 
 
 ;ui'^; 
 
 tion in order to prepare the way for the ready apprehensioo 
 of his discourse. 
 
 § 177. The Introduction Conciliatory in confirma- 
 tion will respect the person of the speaker, the char- 
 acter of the proposition, the mode of discussion or the 
 circumstances of speaking. 
 
 § 178. The several points in reference to the per- 
 son of the speaker, to which attention may need to 
 be directed in conciliation, are the relation of the 
 speaker to ihe audience; to his opponent; to the 
 question to be discussed, and to the occasion of speak- 
 ing. 
 
 § ira The three qualities requisite in the speaker 
 in reference to the audience, as piescribed by the an- 
 cients, are good sense, good principle, and good 
 
 WILL. 
 
 Good sease is requisite, because an audience will deem 
 itself insulted if a speaker presumes to come before it but ill- 
 informed in regard to the matter to be discussed. The 
 speaker, from his very office, professes his ability to enlighten 
 and inform his audience. Negligence to obtain a proper 
 understanding of the subject, shows at once aVant of ca- 
 pacity to speak, or a high contempt of the audience. 
 
 A character for integrity is necessary, inasmuch as just 
 
 so far as tlie speaker shows himself unworthy of confidence, 
 .will every thing he says be received with misgivings and 
 ^'suspicions; while the bare assertions of a reputedly honest 
 
 man will often be received with the submission which is due 
 
 to actual demonstration. 
 
 If, further, the audience be convinced that the speaker b 
 
 •ctuated by good will to them, all the influence of the fcelr 
 
INTRODUCTION AND PKllORATION. 
 
 129 
 
 ings over the movements of the intellect will be favorable 
 to his designs. 
 
 While general reputation or character in regard to these 
 qualities will be most serviceable in effecting conciliation so 
 far as it depends on them, the speaker may do much in 
 removing an unfavorable impression from the minds of his 
 hearers, or in producing one that is favorable, by his manner 
 at the time. The characte. of his discourse, as marked by 
 the particular features of intelligence, familiarity with the 
 subject; gravity, modesty, pure moral sentiment; by kind 
 ness, deference, and respect for his hearers, will conduce 
 greatly to awaken a favorable disposition in them towards 
 himself. At the same time, indirect professions together 
 with allusions to facts in his history which may present his 
 character favorably in these respects, may be often benefi 
 cially employed. 
 
 It is obvious that the same general means are to be made 
 ■ use of as well when an unfavorable disposition is to be set 
 aside as when a favorable sentiment is to be awakened. 
 
 § 180. The speaker's relation to his opponent will 
 need to be regarded by him, whenever the character 
 of his opponent in respect to the three points, before 
 named, may influence the mind of the hearer; and 
 also, wnenever the personal relation existing between 
 them may favorably or unfavorably aflfect the disposi- 
 tion of the hearer. 
 
 Advantage, thus, may be taken of the character of the 
 adversary as being ill-informed in the case, wanting in prin- 
 ciple, or unkindly disposed to the hearers. Or the advan- 
 tage which an opposite character may give an opponent will 
 need to be set aside or lessened by counter considerations. 
 The personal relations subsisting between the speaker and 
 
130 
 
 CONFJRIMAT ON. 
 
 
 his opponent will frequently affect the disposition of the 
 hearers in reference to the discourse. To speal: in opposition 
 to one closely allied in any of the social relations of life, will 
 create a favorable or unfavorable disposition in the minds of 
 the hearer, according as it may appear lo them to have been 
 prompted by principle, or by selfishness or malice. 
 
 § 181. Ti)e speaker's relations to the subject of dis- 
 cussion or to the side of the question which he main- 
 tains may, also, obviously favorably present him to 
 the audience or otherwise; in either case, they will 
 demand his attention. 
 
 Exemplifications of this kind of introduction are to be 
 found in Demosthenes* Oration on the Crown where he 
 maintains his right to be heard as one equally interested 
 with Ctesiphon in the issue of the trial; in Cicero's Oration 
 for Cluentius, against whom he had previously spoken with 
 great severity; and in Erskine's speech on the trial of Thomas 
 Paine. 
 
 § 182. Once more, the occasion of speaking will often 
 in some relation which the speaker may bear to it, 
 afTect the minds of the hearers and render necessary 
 suitable means of conciliation. 
 
 Cicero thus in his oration against Csecilius commences 
 with an exposition of the reasons which induced him who 
 had never before appeared except in defence^ now to become 
 a prosecutor against Verres. 
 
 § 183. The character of the proposition will de- 
 mand a conciliatory introduction when either the sub- 
 ject generally or the particular view taken of it by the 
 speaker at the time is likely to be offensive to the 
 hearers. 
 
 4 
 
 S 
 
INTRODUCTrON AND PERORATION. 
 
 131 
 
 i 
 
 The advantage whicli a speaker addressing those of his 
 own party or sect or generally those of the same principles 
 with himself on a lopic of common interest to them, over his 
 opponents, must obviously be great; and while it becomes him 
 to turn this advantage to good account, it is still more neces- 
 sary to his opponent to lessen, so far as practicable by any 
 of the various means of conciliation, this prepossession against 
 himself. In the famous orations on the crown, Demosthenes 
 had to encounter the natural repugnance which men {'^el 
 against hearing a man commend his own actions; v/hile 
 Aeschines labored under the conviction that the judges were 
 of the party of his adversary. Each orator, accordingly, in 
 his introduction, endeavored to lessen the difficulty which he 
 had in this respect to encounter. 
 
 § 184. The mode of discussioQ imposed on the 
 speaker may be such as to call for some effort at con- 
 ciliation in the Introduction when it requires him to 
 treat of topics offensive to the audience or to make 
 use of terms or a course of reasoning not easily intelli- 
 gible to them. 
 
 In /udicial Eloquence, thus, arguments embodying pure 
 legal principles are generally uninviting and with diliiculty 
 intelJ'giblu (o a jury; and the advocate, who would secure a 
 favoTable hearing, will need to use much address and art. 
 So [ Mr*ly metaphysical discussions on religious subjects be- 
 fore a popular audience generally repel and offend. INIen, 
 moreover, are loath to hear of their own faults or weak- 
 ncwes; and the speaker who is obliged to recur to them has 
 rfiison to fear that, unless due precaution is taken, their un- 
 williiigacss to hear will entirely prevent the intended ell'ect 
 of his discourse. 
 
 § 185. In the same way, tlie circumstances m which 
 
 *'• 
 
 I 
 
13> 
 
 CONFIRMATION. 
 
 ill: 
 
 ii;"! 
 
 the speaker appears before his audience may render 
 them indisposed ta a favorable hearing, when the arts 
 of conciliation suitable to the case will be needful. 
 
 Th« military array which Pompey had thrown around the 
 tribunal on the trial of Milo so influenced the minds of the 
 judges that Cicero felt it necessary, at the commencement of 
 his oration, to allay their fears and turn to his own account 
 the influence of Pompey, which at first seemed to the judges 
 to be arrayed against him. 
 
 § 186. Several of these varieties of conciliatory In- 
 troduction, it may often happen, must be combined in 
 the same action. 
 
 The speeches of Demosthenes on the Crown, and of Cicero 
 in the case of Milo, alluded to above, are examples of th« 
 various combinations of these different kinds of IntroductioxL 
 
 $ 187. Confirmation admits all the various kinds of 
 peroration enumerated in $ 70. Recapitulation, mor^ 
 over, will here be especially useful. 
 
PART III.— EXCITATION. 
 
 CHAPTER I. 
 
 GENERAL INTRODUCTORY VIEW. 
 
 § 188. In Excitation the object of discourse is to 
 move the feelings, either by awakening some new 
 affection, or by strengthening or allaying one already 
 existing. 
 
 The propriety of ranking excitation among the several 
 objects of discourse, and of founding upon this object a dis^ 
 tinct species governed by its own laws, and characterised by 
 peculiar features, will hardly be questioned by any who re- 
 cognize the feelings or affections as a distinct class of mental 
 phenomena. In fact, we find a class of discourses con- 
 structed in particular reference to this object, and distin- 
 guished from all others by peculiar characteristics. To this 
 class belong most of what have been denominated demonstra- 
 tive discourses, particularly those pronounced on funeral and 
 triumphal occasions, in which the object is to awaken ad- 
 miration, joy, grief, or other emotion. Here belongs, like- 
 wise, a considerable part of pulpit oratory, viz: that part,, 
 the object of which is to awaken or cherish some christian 
 affection or grace, or to allay or remove some improper 
 passion iu actual indulgence. 
 
 That this object has not been distinctly recognised in sya^ 
 
 12 
 
n. 
 
 li .hi 
 
 134 
 
 EXCITATION. 
 
 terns of general rhetoric as one of those which give spccififl 
 character to discourse and furnish the grounds of classilica- 
 tion, is to be attributed mainly to the fact that iu deliberative 
 and judicial eloquence this can seldom if ever be proposed as 
 a leading object, and such systems have been constructed 
 chiefly in reference to those departments of oratory. 
 
 In forensic speaking, however, excitation often enters in 
 a subordinate office; and there continues subject to its own 
 regulating principles, although modified somewhat by the 
 controlling aim of such discourse. Indeed, as has been ol>- 
 served elsewhere, the various forms of oratory, as explana- 
 tion, confirmation, excitation, and persuasion, often mingle 
 together, each retaining its characteristic features in the same 
 discourse; while, still, it remains true that one or the other 
 must in every case predominate and give character to the 
 whole discourse, and the others be only subservient to this 
 main design. 
 
 § 189. The work of excitation is accomplished 
 either by the appropriate presentation of the object of 
 feeling merely, or by this combined with the power of 
 sympathy. 
 
 The two departments of excitation are, accordingly, 
 Pathetic Explanation and the Employment op 
 (Sympathy. 
 
 The feelings, like the intellect, belong to the spontaneities 
 of the mind; and are only indirectly controlled by the will. 
 They move necessarily more or less on the presentation of 
 their appropriate objects. They are, nevertheless, as pheno- 
 mena of the same mind, subject to an influence from the 
 will and the understanding, as well as from the general 
 tone and habits of the mind. 
 
 It will sometimes be necessary in excitation to prove a 
 
 
 ivi'Miii* 
 
INTRODUCTORY VIEW. 
 
 186 
 
 fact or truth. But this process is only incidental; whcrea* 
 (explanation is the direct means oC awakening iVeling. 
 
 § 190. The more general unity of the discourse in 
 excitation will consist in the singleness of the therne ; 
 the narrower unity, in the singleness of the feeling or 
 afTection to be addressed. 
 
 It will be observed that the theuie as well as the feeling 
 addressed, may be individual or generic; may embrace a 
 single object or a class of objects. Generally, where the 
 feelitig to be excited is made the germ of development, the 
 theme will embrace the several particulars addressed to the 
 feeling. 
 
 It is of importance to distinguish carefully between the 
 theme and the feeli.ig addressed in excitation. They are 
 not unfrequently confounded in popular discourse. We 
 say, thus, in loose language, that the subject or theme of 
 a discourse, the design of which is to awaken "hope,' 
 is the affection itself — hope. Properly speaking, this is the 
 object of the discourse, while the theme embraces the con- 
 siderations presented for the purpose of awakening the 
 affection. 
 
 $ 191. The form of the discourse in excitation will 
 vary according as the theme or the feeling addressed, 
 is made the germ of the development. If the feel- 
 ing addressed furnish the germ, the discourse will be 
 more purely excitatory in its character ; if the theme, 
 the discourse will have more of an explanatory form. 
 
 In a pulpit dircourse, thus, the passion of Jesus Christ 
 might be exhibited as a single fact fitted to excite various 
 emotions, as of gratitude, love, confidence. In this case the 
 development of the discourse would more naturally spring 
 
136 
 
 EXCITATION. 
 
 P' 
 
 "~— -±i~ — 
 
 fe-i 
 
 
 p;.-; 
 
 ' ' ■' i 
 
 P 
 
 •'.vil; 
 
 T- 
 
 
 from the particular feelings addressed. They would consti- 
 tute accordingly the leading heads of the discourse. 
 
 On the other hand, the same fact might be exhibited as 
 bearing, in several distinct aspects, on a single emotion or 
 grace of character. Then these several aspects of the fact 
 would more naturally furnish the ground of distribution and 
 arranoement in the discourse. 
 
 D 
 
 So in Panegyrics, sometimes, the character as one com- 
 plex whole or a single feature is presented with the 
 design of moving the affections generally; and sometimes 
 a single affection is addressed by the exhibition of such traits 
 as are adapted to awaken it. 
 
 § 192. In excitation it is more necessary than in 
 explanatory or argumentative discourse to have re- 
 gard to the feelings of those addressed ; since igno- 
 rance or mistake here may occasion an entire failure 
 in the very object of the discourse. 
 
 § 193. The mine addressed may be either favorable 
 or unfavorable or indifferent in respect to the object 
 of the speaker. 
 
 If the mind be favorable or indifferent, the object 
 may be directly presented vv^ith exhibitions of feeling 
 corresponding in degree to the state of feeling in the 
 hearer. 
 
 $ 194. If the mind addressed be influenced by a 
 feeling opposed to that which the speaker desires to 
 awaken, great caution is necessary in undertaking to 
 remove it. as a direct opposition will generally only 
 iiTitate or inflame it the more. 
 
 The allaying of such unfavorable feeling may be 
 accomplished indirectlv by first exhibiting such views 
 
INTRODUCTORY VIEW. 
 
 137 
 
 object 
 
 feeling 
 
 in the 
 
 of the object as will not so directly oppose the exist- 
 ing state of feeling and then, as interest shall be 
 awakened, by passing gradually to other views more 
 favorable to the object of the speaker. 
 
 Or other feelings, in their nature incompatible with 
 those to be allayed, and yet not directly opposed to 
 them, may be awakened and thus the unfavorable 
 feelings be displaced. 
 
 The speeches of Anthuny in the Julius Ciesar of Shakspeara 
 furnish fine exemplifications of the first of these methods of 
 allaying an unfavorable state of feeling. Antliony finds 
 the populace triumphing over the death of Ctesar and cheer- 
 ing tlie conspirators. He does not at once present himself 
 in opposition. He appears, at first, as the friend of Brutus. 
 He disclaims all intentions of praising Ccxsar. He thus gets 
 their attention; fixes it on Caesar and then proceeding to 
 speak of his faults gradually passes to defend his character, 
 at the same time, miiigling in high professions of respect for 
 the conspirators, till finally, the rage of the hearers at Cuesar's 
 usurpations and tyranny having been allayed, he presents 
 the proper matter for turning tr.eir feelings in the opposite 
 direction, and leaves them clamoring furiously for the de- 
 struction of all Caesar's enemies. 
 
 In Brutus' speech just preceding, the second of the methods 
 indicated is exemplified, and the love of the populace for 
 Caesar is artfully displaced by their love to their country; a 
 gentiraent. as here exhibited, incompatible with attachment 
 to Csesar 
 
 12» 
 
138 
 
 EXCITATION. 
 
 CHAPTER TI. 
 
 iM* 
 
 ■ 
 
 OF THE TUKME IN EXCITATION. 
 
 $ 195. As the theme in excitation is a conception, 
 $ 123, it must ever appear under that form. 
 
 If, consequently, a judgment or truth be presented 
 as the object in reference to which the feelings are to 
 be viewed, it will appear in the form of a dependent 
 and not of a principal clause. 
 
 Generally language will allow the expression of a fact oi 
 truth, when used as a thetne, in discourse, either in the form 
 of a verb or of a noun. We may equally represent the 
 theme, " the death of Christ," under this form or under 
 the form, '^ That Christ died." The latter form turns the 
 mind more directly and unequivocally on the fact as an ac- 
 tual occurrence; and, when this is desired, this form is pre- 
 ferable to the other. 
 
 It is of advantage to represent the theme in its appropri- 
 ate form; as, otherwise, the mind might unconsciously be 
 drawn off to a proof of the fact or truth instead of a simple 
 exhibition of it for the purpose of exciting feeling. 
 
 § 196. The theme, in excitation, farther, must em- 
 brace the object of the feeling addressed. 
 
 AUhough men may, possibly, be excited to a blind passion, 
 so to speak, that is, be aroused by sympathy or otherwise 
 in reference to no distinctly apprehended object, it can yet 
 never be regarded as a proper aim of rational discourse to 
 produce such unintelligent excitement. It is true, indeed, 
 that the passions never move, except as addressed through 
 the intellect., and even in the ravings of a mob there is 
 some iatellectual perception, still ralionul discourse will not 
 
THK Til KM E. 
 
 139 
 
 be contented with this; but will ever aim to present di». 
 tiuctly the particular object in reference to which the feel- 
 ings are to be moved. 
 
 § 197. Tiie general piiiiciple that governs in regard 
 to the statement of the proposition in excitation is 
 tliis: that clearness of apprehension and inipressive- 
 ness require the statement, unless reasons are seen to 
 
 exist wiiich forl)iil. 
 
 The question has been much agitated, whether it be pro- 
 per at all to avow before hand addresses to the feelings. 
 Some ivriters have disapproved of all such avowals altogether. 
 "The first and most important point to be observed in every 
 address to any passion, sentiment, feeling, &c.," says Dr. 
 VVluitely, "is that it should not be introduced as such, and 
 plainly avowed ; otherwise the etVect will be, in great measure 
 if not' entirely, lost. * * When engaged in reasoning, pro- 
 perly so called, our purpose not only need not be concealed, 
 but may, without prejudice to the effect, be distinctly de- 
 clared; on the other hand, even when the feelings we wish 
 to excite are such as ought to operate, so that there is no 
 reason to be ashamed of the endeavor thus to influence the 
 hearers, still, our purpose and drift should be. if not abso- 
 lutely concealed, ^et not openly declared, and made promi- 
 nent'" Even when the sentiments to be awakened are re- 
 cognized as proper and right, he thinks "men are not likely 
 to be pleased with the idea that they are not already suffi- 
 ciently under the influence of such sentiments," and « cannot 
 but feel a decree of mortification in making the confession, 
 and a kind of jealousv of the apparent assumption ot superi- 
 ority, in a speaker, who seems to say, * now I will exhort 
 you to \eel as you ought on this occasion; "I will endeavor 
 to inspire you .vith such noble and generous and amiable 
 Bcntim^nts as you ought to entertain/ ' 
 
140 
 
 EXCITATION. 
 
 Ibi 
 
 It must be auir>itted that such avowals of intention ar i 
 be rejected on every principle of correct taste. But i is 
 difficult to see in what respect they are more faulty t (an 
 precisely similar avowals oi intention in pure argumentative 
 or explanatory discourse; as " I will instruct you to think 
 in accordance with truth on this subject"; " I will endeavor 
 to convince you of the truth on this question." The whole 
 force of the objection lies not against the thing itself-" 
 the statement of the theme and object of the discourse — 
 but against an improper /or;;j of stating it. 
 
 It certainly cannot be laid down as a universal rule that, 
 in an address to the feelings, it must ever be wrong to state 
 the subject in respect to which the feelings are to be moved. 
 That in pronouncing a eulogy it should be improper for the 
 speaker to inform the audience, at the outset, of the subject 
 of the eulogy in referf^nce to which their feelings of admira- 
 tion are to be excited; that in endeavoring to inspire senti- 
 ments of confidence and courage it should be improper for 
 a statesman to mention before hand those circumstances 
 and facts which war.-ant confidence and tend to awaken 
 courage; tliat in seeking to strengthen the sentiment of 
 christian gratitude for the blessings of the gospel, it should 
 be improper for the preacher distinctly to propose the subject, 
 as the richness or the freeness of those blessings in reference 
 to which the sentiments of gratitude are to be called forth, 
 no one surely can maintain. 
 
 How can it appear more improper to add, also, that the 
 particular subject is to be presented with a view to awaken 
 suitable feelings of admiration, confidence^ or gratitude, &c. 
 — in other words, to state the design of the discourse? What 
 impropriety can there be in a christian preacher^s distinctly 
 stating that he proposes the gift of Jesus Chri:?' ^.o men as a 
 ground and reason of gratitude to CJod? Who will ventur* 
 
THE TJIEMF. 
 
 f 
 
 141 
 
 on ar i 
 
 [3ut i is 
 ilty t (aa 
 lentative 
 to think 
 endeavor 
 he whole 
 itself-' - 
 course — 
 
 •ule that, 
 J to state 
 3 moved, 
 jr for flic 
 e subject 
 
 adniira- 
 re senti- 
 roper for 
 instances 
 
 awaken 
 nent of 
 it should 
 ; subject, 
 reference 
 sd forth, 
 
 that the 
 I awaken 
 tude, &c. 
 ? What 
 Hstinctly 
 nen as a 
 I ventur* 
 
 I 
 
 to reprehend the following statement of Demosthenes in his 
 second Philippic: *^ First, then, Athenians, if there be a 
 man who feels no apprehension at the view of Philip's 
 power, and the extent of his conquests, who imagines that 
 these portend no design to the state, or that his designs are 
 not all aimed against you, I am amazed ! and must entreat 
 the attention of you ail while I explain those reasons briefly 
 which induce me to entertain different ex -ec^itions." 
 
 It is difficult to perceive on what different ground ad- 
 dresses to the feelings stand in this respect from addresses 
 to the understanding or reason. While in both kinds of 
 address, in some cases, it may be unadvisable to state before- 
 hand the subject or the object, and while propriety is ever 
 to be observed in the manner of statement, it cannot, any more 
 in one kind than in the other, be laid down as a universal 
 principle that such statements should be avoided. In both 
 kinds, the speaker must consult the relation of the subject 
 or object to the supposed state of feeling in his audience, 
 and by that determine as to the expediency of distinctly 
 pre3enting or w^ithholding the subject or object of the dis- 
 course. 
 
 § 198. If, however, the subject itself is likely to give 
 offense, then it may, in part or in whole, be kept back 
 till interest is awakened and a favorable disposition on 
 the part of the hearers secured. 
 
 $ 199. If the subject be not likely to give offense 
 but the feelings already entertained by the hearers in 
 regard to it are opposed to the speaker's aim. the sub- 
 ject may be stated but the particular object suppressed. 
 
 This rule is exemplified in the speech of Anthony before 
 alluded to, § 194. 
 
 $ 200. It may be well, moreover, for the sake of 
 

 
 
 142 
 
 EXCITATION. 
 
 securing variety, especially in a speaker who is called 
 frequently to address the same audience, occasionally 
 to deviate from the general rule. 
 
 CHAPTER III. 
 
 OP PATHETIC EXPLANATION. 
 
 § 201. The exhibition of feeling in excitation is 
 governed by the general principles of explanatory dis- 
 course, but is modified by the particular design in this 
 species of discourse of moving the feelings. It is effected 
 hy any of the various processes of explanation, viz: 
 Narration, Description, Analysis, Exemplification, or 
 Comparison and Contrast. 
 
 As the ultimate aim ia excitation is not to enlighten or in- 
 form the understanding, but to do this only for the sake of 
 exciting the feelings, the process of explanation will need 
 here to be carried on in a somewhat dilferent manner from 
 that appropriate to purely explanatory discourse. The prin- 
 cipal modifications, which this difference in the ultimate aim 
 of the discourse will require, will be specified in the follow- 
 ing sections. 
 
 § 202. As an accmate acquaintance with the object 
 is not the particular aim in excitation, the first mo- 
 dification of the general principles of explanation de- 
 manded here is, that only those points or features in 
 the object be selected which are adapted to the feelings 
 or sentiments to be awakened. 
 
 Some regard must be had, in applying this principle of 
 
PATHETIC EXPLANATION. 
 
 143 
 
 1011, viz: 
 
 pathetic explanatioa, to the design of the discourse, whether 
 it be to produce an immediate and temporary effect; or to 
 excite and contirui a permanent and controlling sentiment. 
 If the latter, then care mu^t be taken to communicate such 
 a view of the object as will be retained in the memory, and 
 thus be long present to influence the feelings. In other words, 
 the explanation must be more full and complete, and con- 
 form more closely to the general principles of explanatory 
 discourse. Thus, that kind of preaching which gives clear, 
 full and rational exhibitions of religious truth, will be better 
 adapted to secure a permanent high degree of christian feel- 
 ing than that which, by selecting only the more striking 
 views, aims at the highest degree of excitement at the mo- 
 ment. 
 
 The speech of Anthony may be again cited here as afford- 
 ing a happy exemplification of this principle in producing a 
 high immediate excitement. In exhibiting the character of 
 Cfjesar, he only selects those features which were adapted 
 to stir up a strong passionate regret for his death, and a 
 stormy indignation against the conspirators. He artfully 
 alludes to his public largesses, his sympathy with the poor, 
 his rejection of the proffered diadem, and especially to his 
 love of the people as shown in his will. 
 
 $ 203. A second rule ia pathetic explanation is, 
 that particular rather than general views be taken of 
 the object. 
 
 As vivid rather than correct impressions are aimed at in 
 excitation, the process of explanation will need to be modi- 
 fied so far as to secure those strong and lively apprehensions 
 which are necessary to deep emotion. 
 
 $ 204. Thirdly, pathetic explanation requires iudiihe 
 more prominent and striking features and outlinoa be 
 
,!*h ' 
 
 ]44 
 
 EXCnW TliJX. 
 
 presented ; while such as are less easily apprehended, 
 however important in an accurate representation to 
 the understanding merely, are dropped from view. 
 
 The following extract from Sheridan's Invective against 
 Warren Hastings will serve to exemplify this rule. The 
 orator, instead of going through an orderly detail' of the 
 sufferings of the oppressed nations of India, merely presents 
 one or two of the most prominent features in the scene of 
 desolation and horror. " When we hear the description of 
 the paroxysm, fever and delirium into which despair had 
 thrown the natives, when on the banks of the polluted 
 Ganges, panting for death, they tore more widely open the 
 lips of their gaping wounds, to accelerate their dissolution, 
 and, while their blood was issuing, presented their ghastly 
 eyes to heaven, breathing their last and fervent prayer, that 
 the dry earth might not be suffered to drink their blood, but 
 that it might rise up to the throne of God, and rouse the 
 eternal Providence to avenge the wrongs of their country, 
 will it be said that this was brought about by the incanta- 
 tions of these Begums in their secluded Zenana?" 
 
 § 205. Fourthly, instead of the clear and distinct 
 exhibitions which are proper in mere addresses to the 
 understanding, it is often conducive to passionate im- 
 pressiveness to leave something to the imagination of 
 the hearers, by only obscure and imperfect delinea- 
 tions. 
 
 Anthony, instead of at once telling the citizens how 
 much Cresar in his will had ordered to be distributed among 
 the people, set their imaginations all on fire by only vague 
 and obscure intimations of the richness of the legacy. 
 
 The aid of the imagination in heightening the effect of 
 passionate representation is likewise employed when, instead 
 
il 
 
 ehended 
 tation to 
 dew. 
 
 e against 
 ule. The 
 drof the 
 Y presents 
 
 scene of 
 ription of 
 spair had 
 
 polluted 
 
 open the 
 issolution, 
 ir ghastly 
 ayer_, that 
 blood, but 
 rouse the 
 
 country, 
 5 incanta- 
 
 distinct 
 es to the 
 mate im- 
 ation of 
 
 delinea- 
 
 sens how 
 ed among 
 nly vague 
 jacy. 
 
 ! effect of 
 in, instead 
 
 SYMPATHY. 
 
 145 
 
 I 
 
 of the object of feeling itself, something connected ^ith it 
 
 as causes, effects, results and the like — is presented, and 
 
 from that the hearers are left to conjecture the real character 
 of the object. It should be observed here, that there is com- 
 bined with this appeal to the imagination to aid the effect, 
 a figure of speech. The speaker seems to shrink, as feeling 
 himself inadequate to the task, from the direct exhibition of 
 the object. The terrors of the desolation caused by the 
 irruption of Hyder Ali could hardly be more vividly repre- 
 sented than they were by Burke in simply pointing to a single 
 result. " When," he says, " the British armies traversed as 
 they did, the Carnatic for hundreds of miles in all directions, 
 through the whole line of their march they did not see on« 
 man, not one woman, not one child, not one four-footed 
 beast of any description whatever." 
 
 CHAPTER IV. 
 
 OP THE EMPLOYMENT OF SYMPATHY IN EXCITA- 
 TION. 
 
 $ 206. It is indispensable in excitation that the 
 speaker himself appear to be affected in the same way 
 in which he wishes his audience to be affected, and, 
 likewise, to a degree, at least, as high. 
 
 This is a principle every where recognized. The lines of 
 Horace are familiar to all: 
 
 Ut ridentibus "arrident, ita flentibus adflent 
 Humaui vultus. Si vis me flere, dolendum est 
 Primum ipsi tibi. 
 JSmotion is necessary in the speaker not only beoftuse the 
 
Vi,m\ 
 
 146 
 
 EXCITATION. 
 
 *»u 
 
 I ' ) 
 
 absence of it would render all efforts to excite feeling in the 
 audience futile; but because, from the law of sympathy, 
 emotion is communicated directly from one bosom to another. 
 Shaksjjeare had a just conception of human nature when he 
 put tlie following words into the lips of Anthony : 
 
 Passion, I see, is catching; for mine eyes. 
 Seeing those beads of sorrow stand in thine. 
 Began to water. 
 
 In all pathetic discourse, the speaker must manifest the 
 suitable kind and degree of feeling in all the possible modes 
 of expressing it; in the form of the tholight, the language, 
 the voice, countenance, and gesture. To secure this, he 
 must feel himself. Hypocritical expressions of feeling will 
 seldom escape detection. The human breast instinctively 
 discerns between true and false emotion. Even trained 
 stage-actors, when they succeed perfectly in their art, are 
 infected themselves by the passion, the contagion of which 
 they wish to extend to the spectators. For the time they 
 feel as if they were, in reality, the characters they personate. 
 They accomplish this, perhaps, the most difficult attainment 
 of their art, by a close and thorough study of the causes of 
 feeling supposed to operate in the scene whicii they represent 
 Mere natural sensibility, although not indispensable, is not 
 enough. The heart, by close contemplation, must be 
 brought into contact with the object of feeling. The speaker 
 and the writer need equally to kindle the fire of feeling in 
 themselves by long and close contemplation of the (ruth to 
 be expressed in the discourse. 
 
 § 207. The modes of expressing passion in discourse 
 are direct or indirect. 
 In the direct exhibition of feeling the speaker al« 
 
aVMPATIIY. 
 
 147 
 
 lows the passion to appear in its own natural form and 
 way. 
 
 § 208. In the indirect expression of passion, the 
 speaker, instead of giving vent to his emotions in the 
 natural ways of expression, and making a free exhi- 
 bition of them, veils them in part and only suffers oc- 
 casional glimpses of them to be seen. 
 
 In this indirect expression of feeling, the power of imagin- 
 ation is called in aid, see $ 205. The hearers observe, by 
 the gleams through the disguise here and there, a fire of 
 passion in glow; but obtaining no definite determination of 
 the extent and degree, it appears to them the more deep and 
 strong; as the outlines of objects seen in the mist, being in- 
 determinate, the imagination easily swells them into mon- 
 sters. Such partial eruptions of passion are common in real 
 life, and often impress more deeply than the pure and unsup- 
 pressed overflow of feeling. The mourner in public, observ- 
 ing the proprieties of conduct, who only allows a broken sob 
 to escape her, moves the heart of sympathy more deeply 
 than do even continued and unchecked wailings and loud 
 lamentations. The maniac duelist, who would break sud- 
 denly away from any pursuit he was engaged in, as if forced 
 by some demon of passion, and, pacing off a certain dis- 
 tance on the floor, repeat the significant words, " one, two, 
 three, fire; he's dead ;" then, wring his hands and turn 
 abruptly to his former pursuits, gave a more touching exhibi- 
 tion of the deep agony which was ever preying on his 
 spirit, than if he had vented it in constant bowlings of re- 
 morse. It is with that admirable insight into nature and 
 conformity to truth which has before been noticed, that 
 Shakspeare thus makes Anthony give but occa nal signs 
 of grief for Ceesar's death. While generally the passion if 
 
148 
 
 EXl ITA riON. 
 
 suppressed, now and then it seems to force itself out; and 
 this very circumstance, that it seems forced, makes it appear 
 stronger and deeper. Thus he apologizes for any escape 
 of sorrow, and tells the citizens that he cannot properly 
 allow the true and adequate expression of his feelings. 
 
 Bear with me; 
 
 My heart is in the coffin there with Caesar; 
 
 And I must pause till it come back to me. 
 
 masters ! if I were disposed to stir 
 Your hearts and minds to mutiny and rage, 
 
 1 should do Brutus wrong, and Cassius wrong. 
 Who, you all know, are honorable men: 
 
 I will not do them wrong; I rather choose 
 To wrong the dead, to wrong myself and you. 
 Than I will wrong such honorable men. 
 This partial disguising of passion on the part of the speaker 
 has this further advantage, that the determination being left 
 to the imagination of the hearer, it can never seem to the 
 latter disproportionate — either too weak or too strong. 
 
 $ 209. The degree of feeling expressed by the 
 speaker must ever be moderated in reference to the 
 supposed feelings of the hearer. 
 
 Unless there may appear to the audience a probable cause 
 of strong feeling, as was the case in the first oration of 
 Cicero against Cataline, the speaker should commence with 
 only a moderate degree of passion; and should suffer it to 
 increase only in proportion as it may seem natural to the 
 audience. He must of course ever keep in advance of them • 
 but must take care never to get beyond the reach of their 
 sympathy. The effect of this will be not only to annihilate 
 the whole power of sympathy; but also to occasion dissatia- 
 faction and disgust. 
 
 >:?*4ilii 
 
INTRODUCTION AND PERORATION. 
 
 149 
 
 CHAPTER V. 
 
 OP THE INTRODUCTION AND PERORATION IN EX- 
 CITATION. 
 
 § 210. Excitation admits both kinds of Introduc- 
 tion ; the Explanatory and the Conciliatory. 
 
 In reference to the management of the Introduction Ex- 
 planatory see §§ 118, 176. 
 
 The Introduction Conciliatory will require in pathetic 
 discourse peculiar attention and care; as it is more import- 
 ant here than in explanation or confirmation to secure a fa- 
 vorable disposition towards the speaker on the part of the 
 hearers. Where, especially, either the speaker is himself per- 
 sonally repulsive to them, or his subject offensive, or the 
 sentiment which he would awaken incompatible with their 
 present feelings and views, he has need to make the best 
 use of his power and skill. 
 
 The laws which govern pathetic discourse generally will 
 come in also to regulate and modify the Introduction, and 
 especially when it is of the n. 3nciliatory kind. 
 
 $ 211. Excitation admits only the excitatory or 
 pathetic, and the persuasive forms of peroration, with 
 the recapitulation. 
 
 The explanatory and confirmatory forms of peroration are 
 inadmissible here, because addresses to the pure intellect 
 can never properly come after an address to the feelings. 
 Certainly, to close a discourse, the object and aim of which 
 is to awaken a certain kind or degree of feeling with cold 
 intellectual inferences or remarks is to defeat the very design 
 of the discourse. Even the form of recapitulation, when 
 introduced, must conform to the peculiar principles of 
 
 13* 
 
. I 
 
 IbO 
 
 EXCITATION. 
 
 pathetic di.eo«™; and will diner somewh. Irom th. ap. 
 Lpriato to explanation or confir,„atu.„. .he am. o. the 
 perLtion hero must be to make a more d.reo, or spec.fic 
 application of the subject to the ieelinss addressed; or to 
 make the exciiement of feelings effected m Ihe d.sco»rse a, 
 it> main object conducive to some action of the wilL 
 
PART tV.— PERSUASION. 
 
 CHAPTER I. 
 
 GENERAL INTRODUCTOttY VIEW. 
 
 « 212 In per>--jasion, the object of discourse is \o 
 move the will; either by leading it to a n""/'^; ™ 
 purpose, or by dissuadiug it from one already adopted. 
 Persuaaive di»co„r,e is, in this, clearly and definitely 
 distiaguialied from the species already considered. Explana- 
 ' ,Usoourse respects as its end a ne. concept,.n, Con- 
 filatory, a ne>v conviction; Paretic, a ne ^ feehng, Per- 
 e, a new action or purpose. This cl. .sifieatron, ev.- 
 ently. covers the field. If there are any other speoes of 
 d«ourse, fo.. >ded on the immediate object '» ^e accompl.sh- 
 ed i. ,',e miud ad^' essed, it must be a subdivision of one 
 „r those enumerated; unless, indeed, mental science ro ,eal 
 l„ classes of phenomena in the mind of -»-'-'"''""» 
 i„ those of the Intellect, the Sensibilities and the Wdl. 
 
 5 213. As the mind addressed may be in either one 
 of three different stated-may be already decided .n 
 purpose, bnt may need confirm., tion, or although dm- 
 ded^ in^y be dedded in the oppo. te direction, or wtth- 
 out any choice, or voluntary preference m vc^rd to 
 the subject; the siKcilic objects of the d'-"'"^;!;! 
 varv i« dl'T.rcnt c.e.. u„d the discourse be modified 
 
152 
 
 PERSUASIOPt. 
 
 \'U' \ 
 
 V I 
 
 Si, 
 
 Persuasion, thus, differs specifically from dissuasion, ta 
 well as from encouragement or animation; talthough the 
 general means to be employed are the same in the different 
 cases. The difference in the specific process will consist 
 mainly in the arrangement and means of conciliating and 
 explaining. 
 
 § 214. The specific objects of persuasive discourse 
 admit of a still further division iu reference to the char- 
 acter of the action proposed ; whether an individual 
 act or a controlling purpose — a determination to do a 
 particular thing or the adoption of a principle of con- 
 duct having respect to a series of acts or a course of 
 life. 
 
 Hence will arise another specific diversity in the conduct 
 of the discourse. When a permanent state of will is aimed 
 at, it is evident, those considerations are to have the pre- 
 eminence which will remain in the mind, — in other words, 
 truths addressed to the understanding or reason. Where, 
 on the other hand, the object of the discourse is to produce 
 a merely temporary effect, as that of a general exhorting his 
 soldiers on the eve of a battle, those motives which respect 
 more directly the feelings as the immediate incentives to 
 action, will have the preference. 
 
 It will often be the case that both objects will be com- 
 bined; that the speaker will aim to bring his hearers not 
 only to adopt a general course of conduct or pursuit, but 
 als(5 to commit themselves to it at the moment by some par- 
 ticular act. The Temperance reformers, thus, in seeking to 
 induce and secure a permanent reform, press the inebriate 
 to an immediate committal by some particular act, as sign- 
 ing a pledge or the like. In this case, the principles of coa* 
 iduct will need to be unfolded clearly and convincingly ta 
 the understanding, and, also, to the feelings. 
 
INTIlODUCTOllY VIEW. 
 
 103 
 
 tston, aa 
 ugh the 
 ditTerent 
 1 consist 
 ting and 
 
 iscourse 
 lie char- 
 dividual 
 to do a 
 of con- 
 >uise of 
 
 conduct 
 is aimed 
 
 the pre« 
 jr words, 
 
 Where, 
 
 produce 
 )rting his 
 h respect 
 tttivesi to 
 
 be com- 
 arers not 
 suit, but 
 tome par* 
 eeking to 
 inebriate 
 as sign- 
 
 »S of CODi* 
 
 icingly to 
 
 « 215. The work of persuasion is cflTccted by the 
 
 EXHIBITION OP THE ACTION OR COURSE tO be cho- 
 
 sen, and the presentation op motives fitted to 
 incite to the determination proposed. 
 
 The work of persuasion, thus, admits all the processes be- 
 fore described of explanation, conviction, and excitation. 
 
 The act to be done will often need to be explained. The 
 christian preachi- will need, thus, in order to make his ex- 
 hortation effectual, to explain the nature of the duty proposed, 
 as faith, repentance, and the like. The statesman will like- 
 wise need to unfold the course of policy he desires to be 
 adopted to the clear apprehension of his hearers; as a failure 
 to understand what is to be done must so far be an insuper- 
 able obstacle to decision. The process of explanation will 
 also often be requisite in the presentation of motives. 
 
 It may be necessary, moreover, to convince the judgment 
 in persuasion. The action proposed must be shown to be 
 practicable; or the motives presented to be true and real 
 
 and pertinent. 
 
 Excitation, once more, is often requisite in persuasion, aa 
 the passions are the more immediate springs of action. 
 
 All these processes, however, receive a slight modification 
 in reference to the ultimate end of persuasion; and must be 
 introduced only in entire subserviency to that end— the 
 moving of the will. 
 
 § 216. The theme in persuasion is ever a concep- 
 tion which embraces the motive or motives addressed 
 to the activity to be awakened. 
 
 $ 217. The more general unity of persuasive dis- 
 course consists in the singleness of the motive or class 
 of motives addressed to the various activities of the 
 
J.| '.;. Ml 
 
 fe'iit 
 
 154 
 
 PERSUASION. 
 
 hearer ; the narrower unity, m the singleness of the ac- 
 tion itself. 
 
 According as the motive or the action to be prompted by 
 rt is adopted as affording the principle of development and 
 arrangement, tne discourse will be modified specifically in 
 its form and be more or less strictly persuasive in its char- 
 acter. If the theme, which here embraces the motives pre- 
 sented, furnish the principle of development, the discourse 
 will be more explanatory in its character. If the action pro- 
 posed be made the germ of development, the discourse will 
 be of a more strictly persuasive nature. 
 
 CHAPTER II. 
 
 OP THE THEME IN PERSUASION. 
 
 § 218. The theme in persuasive discourse being ever 
 a conception, $ 123, must always appear under that 
 form. 
 
 As the discourse will vary specifically in its form accord- 
 ing as the motive or the action' be made the germ of devel- 
 opment, it becomes important that the speaker settle de- 
 ijnitely in his own mind before hand which shall preside 
 over the arrangement and development, and govern him- 
 self by the decision in the whole conduct of the discourse. 
 
 § 219. ^he question, whether the proposition should 
 be stated, is to be determined by the same general 
 principles which govern in the other species of dis- 
 couise. 
 
 The general rule is that it should be stated unless 
 
PERSUASIVE EXPLANATION. 
 
 155 
 
 positive reasons be seen to exist against it. If the 
 general subject of the discourse be supposed lilcely to 
 give offense, the definite statement of both the subject 
 and the action may be deferred to the end, or be grad- 
 ually unfolded in the progress of the discourse, as the 
 minds of the hearers may be prepared for it. 
 
 If the subject be not offensive but the action pro- 
 posed be likely to be repugnant to the feelings of the 
 hearers, the subject may be stated and the action upon 
 it proposed be for a while concealed from view. 
 
 A variation from the usual method of proceeding in 
 this case, may be justified sometimes, moreover, for the 
 sake of variety, or on other similar grounds. 
 
 It is unnecessary to detail at any further length the diverse 
 applications of these general principles according as the mo- 
 tive or the action itself is made the principle of development 
 in the discourse. 
 
 CHAPTER III. 
 
 OF PERSUASIVE EXPLANATION, CONFIRMATION AND 
 
 EXCITATION. 
 
 § 220. In Persuasive discourse, the various processes 
 of explanation may be requisite either to set forth the 
 proper subject of the discourse or the action proposed 
 to be effected by it, § 215. 
 
 § 221. In the explanation of the subject, the appli- 
 cation of the principles of explanation proper, must 
 be modified so far as may be necessary in older to ex* 
 
156 
 
 PERSUASION. 
 
 H^ 
 
 hihit it merely as a ground or reason, or motive of ac- 
 tion. 
 
 Hence the subject will not necessarily be surveyed in its 
 whole extent. Only those aspects will be taken of it which 
 bear directly on the action proposed ; and of these, while at 
 the same time false impressions in regard to the state of the 
 case are to be guarded against, only such should be present- 
 ed as are favorable to the speaker's object. Great art and 
 practiced judgment are often requisite here. 
 
 Exemplifications of these methods of modifying the princi- 
 ples of explanation proper, are furnished in the orations of 
 Demostiienes against Philip. The orator in them with great 
 skill seizes hold of those particulars in the relations of the 
 Athenians to the Macedonian power, and in the condition of 
 Athens, which were fitted to inspire the Athenians with con- 
 fidence in tlieir own strength, and with contempt and resent- 
 i»ent towards Philip, tlxat he might thus incite them to a 
 vigorous and etficient maintenance of hostilities. The ex- 
 planations that are given, whether narrations of events or 
 descriptions of places, of resources, &c., are all made froio 
 this out point of view ; and are colored throughout by th> 
 one persuasive character. Nothing is said that does nc^ 
 bear directly on this single end; nothing is omitted tha^ 
 could promote it. The processes of explanation, it is how 
 ever pertinent to observe here, are all very different fron 
 what w^ould be proper in a purely explanatory discourse 
 rery different, for example, from what are found in t\u 
 bistories of those times. 
 
 It should be remarked, in this connection, that it will fre 
 quently be necessary to construct the explanation in persua 
 give discourse in reference both to the Biotives »nd the uo 
 ti«n; as possibly the nature of the action may best be Uft» 
 4eistood from a clear view of the motives* 
 
 ii|i'£. 
 
PERSUASIVE EXPLANATION. 
 
 157 
 
 § 222. The explanation of the pavticulav action 
 urged in the discourse will conform more closely to 
 the general principles of explanation. Since, gene 
 ally it will be needful to give a clear idea of the na- 
 ture of the ac on proposed. 
 
 $ 223. Confirmation entei-s into persuasive discourse 
 whenever it is necessary to prove any allegation in 
 reference to the theme , the practicability of the action 
 proposed, or the connection between the motives and 
 the action. Like explanation, in persuasive discourse, 
 confirmation suffers important modifications. 
 
 It is not necessary to point out in particular detail the 
 modifications^ which confirmation proper receives in persua- 
 It is sufficient to remark generally that the whole 
 
 sion. 
 
 work of confirmation here is regulated by a strict regard to 
 the great object of the discourse, which is to move the will. 
 Fine exeniplifications of persuasive confirmation may be 
 found in many of the political orations of Demosthenes; the 
 speeches of Lord Chatham, Burke, Sheridan and Patrick 
 Henry. 
 
 § 224. Excitation is necessary in persuasive dis- 
 course so far as the excitement of the feelings is relied 
 upon for influencing the will. Like explanation and 
 confirmation, however, it is modified ui important fea- 
 tures in respect to the particular end of persuasion. 
 Only such feelings are to be awakened, and those to 
 such degrees only, as are fitted to lead to the action 
 desired. 
 
 It is important to be borne in mind in persuasive excita- 
 tion, that the same object may awaken two or more difTerent 
 kinds of feelings, some of wiiich niay be favorable to the 
 
 14 
 
 ie .igsn 
 

 !™ 
 
 i»"^g) 
 
 \^ 
 
 158 
 
 PCRoUA.UON. 
 
 end proposed, and others adverse. Thus the increase of the 
 Macedonian power, the multiplicitv of its conquests and alli- 
 ances, were fitted to excite the fear as well as the resentment 
 of the Athenians. It was necessary, therefore, that the ora- 
 tor, whose design was to arouse the Athenians to a bold and 
 vigorous prosecution of the war against Philip, should give 
 only such a view of Philip's successes as would excite indig- 
 nation and not desponding alarm. The orator is careful 
 accordingly, to attribute all these successes to fortune and 
 to the supineness of the Athenians, artfully keeping back 
 those causes of his prosperity which might awaken terror 
 and thereby dispose the Athenians to an inglorious peace. 
 
 CHAPTER IV. 
 
 OP MOTIVES. 
 
 $ 225. By a motive is meant whatever occasions or 
 induces free action in man. 
 
 In strictness, motives are conditions on which the free 
 self-activity is called forth in some one or other of its various 
 specific forms. 
 
 § 226. Motives may be distributed into several 
 classes in reference to the department of mind in wliich 
 they respectively have their seat. 
 
 There are thus, First, Those seated in the intellect, 
 mere conceptions or convictions ; 
 
 Secondly, Those which are seated in ths suscepti- 
 bilities of the mind ; 
 Thirdly, Tho^e whicn arise from voluntary states. 
 
MOTIVES. 
 
 159 
 
 of the 
 id alli- 
 atment 
 he ora- 
 )ld and 
 Id give 
 ! indig* 
 sareful 
 ae and 
 s: back 
 I terror 
 eace. 
 
 jions or 
 
 the freo 
 s various 
 
 several 
 II wliich 
 
 ntellect, 
 
 mscepti- 
 states. 
 
 $ 227. Actions are often inducec' by mere views of 
 truth. Here are to be found convictions of duty, of 
 interest, of fitness and congruity, and tlie like. 
 
 The work of persuasion thus often consists merely in pro^ 
 ducing these states in the understanding or practical reason. 
 
 § 228. The seer nd class of motives includes those 
 which lie in the senses, as appetites and pleasures of 
 sense generally ; the affections or sentiments, whether 
 personal or social, as joy, grief, love, hatred, disgust, 
 and the like ; and the emotions proper, or those states 
 of soul which are awakened by views of what is true, 
 beautiful, right and good. 
 
 To this class belongs, also, that common and prin- 
 cipal motive which lies in sympathy 
 
 $ 229. The third class consists of permanent generic 
 states of the will. 
 
 The nature of this class of motives as distinguished from 
 the others, may be thus illustrated. If a miser in passing 
 should observe a person in extreme suffering, and at the 
 sight should thrust his hand into his pocket and hand out a 
 shilling, we should not hesitate to ascribe the act to the 
 natural affection of pity or compassion as the motive cause. 
 If, again, in passinjT np, he should observe a customer whose 
 patronage it wouH ht ior his interest to secure, and should 
 tender him an invitation to dinner, we should attribute this 
 act to his purpose of accumulating money as the motive 
 cause. His governing purpose to acquire wealth rules him 
 in this step; and while the former act of charity possesses 
 necessarily no moral character, — proves him neither a good 
 nor a bad man, but merely a man — the latter act is an indi- 
 cation oi rhar^cter inasmuch as it shows a governing pui- 
 pose. 
 

 mH 
 
 160 PERSUASION. 
 
 The last class of motives are the only ones which can be de- 
 nomiaated morally right or wrong. The others have no such 
 moral character, and, consequently, impart none to the act 
 which they prompt. 
 
 The motives of this class include all those which are em- 
 braced under the general term, consistency, so far as it ap- 
 plies to action. We appeal to a man to adopt a certain 
 course or perform a certain act on the ground of consistency, 
 when we urge it Ciiher because it is necessarily involved in 
 a more generic purpose or course already adopted by him, 
 as when we urge him to vote for a measure necessary to 
 carry out the principles he has maintained, or because to 
 decline it would be incompatible with another specific 
 course or policy he is already pursuing. In the former case, 
 the motive is obviously one of the class under consideration. 
 In the latter case, it is really, if not so apparently, of this 
 class: since there is an implication of a principle in the 
 course adopted which is common to it and the action urged; 
 otherwise, there would be no inconsistency between the two. 
 § 230. It is to be remarked respecting these different 
 classes of motives, that while the first may influence 
 the will independently of the others, the second and 
 third classes always presuppose the first ; since there 
 can be no feeling or state except upon some truUi per- 
 ceived. Moreover, a voluntary motive may inf.lv«W 9 
 feeling and also a perception or judgment. 
 
ACTS OF PE HSU AS ION. 
 
 161 
 
 mn be de> 
 re no such 
 to the act 
 
 ;h are eni- 
 r as it ap- 
 a certain 
 nsistency, 
 ivolved in 
 d by him, 
 xessary to 
 )ecause to 
 ;r specific 
 irmer case, 
 sideration. 
 ly, of this 
 pie in the 
 ion urged; 
 ;n the two. 
 
 3 different 
 influence 
 cond and 
 ince there 
 trutli per- 
 
 CHAPTER V. 
 
 OP SPECIFIC ACTS OP PERSUASION. 
 
 § 231. While the term, persuasion, is applied in its 
 more general import to all those kinds of discourse the 
 obiect of which is to move the will, in its narrower 
 sense it is distinj^uishcd from both dissuasion and m- 
 citement. 
 
 As thus distinguished, persuasion, in its more re- 
 stricted sense, will regard the production of a new pur- 
 pose or act. ; 
 
 Dissuasion, the removal of a purpose or act already 
 determined upon ; 
 
 Incitement, confimiation of a purpose or course 
 already adopted. 
 
 § 232. Although these several acts of persuasion are 
 effected by the general processes K-.entioned, cf exhibi- 
 tion of the act or course to be adopted and the presen- 
 tation of suitable motives, yet these processes will be 
 considerably modified in reference to thes. several more 
 specific ends. 
 
 CHAPTER VI. 
 
 OP arrangement in persuasion. 
 $ 233. The principles of arrangement in persuasion 
 will vaiy according as the motives or the action pro- 
 posetl is made the leading principle in the development 
 
 of the discourse. $ 217. 
 
 14* 
 
 ill 
 
162 
 
 PERSUASION. 
 
 ■ ^^'; ..ri 
 
 ' v'l 
 
 »^ "'V II 
 
 , * ' l'. 
 
 It is obvious that a speaker in persuasion may make the 
 action to which he wishes to incite his hearers the proper 
 germ of development in liis discourse, which he may exhibit 
 either in its various parts or its relations. In tliis case, 
 the arrangement will be for the most part conformed to the 
 principles of explanatory arrangement. The action will be 
 exhibited in its parts, and the motives applied to each in 
 succession. 
 
 On the other hand, it may be better in some cases, and 
 perhaps generally, to make the motives the principle of de- 
 velopment and arrangement. When this is done, the rules 
 stated in tlio following sections are to guide. 
 
 $ 234. Tn the presentation of motives in persuasive 
 discourse, three things, are to be regarded : 
 
 First, the specific object of the discourse, whether 
 persuasion in its strict sense, dissuasion, or incitement ; 
 Secondly, the comparative strength of the motives 
 estimated in reference to the mind addressed ; 
 
 Thirdly, the relation of the motives to one another. 
 § 235. If the specific object of the discourse be per- 
 suasion proper, it is evident that those motives which 
 lie in perceptions and convictions of the intellect should 
 precede ; and when the understanding is properly en- 
 lightened and convinced, the way will be open for the 
 addresses to the feelings. In case the action proposed 
 is embraced within the general course or purpose 
 already adopted by the mind addressed, it will often 
 at the outset be sufficient to prove this. If, however, 
 it be an act repulsive in itself, although conducive to a 
 chosen end, it will be advisable to animate that 
 general purpose in reference to this specific application 
 
INTRODUCTION AND FKUOllATION. 
 
 163 
 
 of it at the close, in order to give it eflTicicncy in the 
 direction desired. 
 
 In persuasion proper, moreover, tlie stronger motives 
 sliould be presented lirst. 
 
 $ 236. On similar grounds, the same rules of ar- 
 rano-ement are to be observed in dissuasion as in per- 
 suasion proper. 
 
 In this case, more caution is necessary, as, instead of in- 
 difference merely, direct opposition is to be encountered. 
 
 § 237. In Incitement, tlie weaker motives should 
 generally be presented first, and the discourse be closed 
 with such as are fitted to incite to the highest degree 
 of determination. 
 
 § 238. The principle which respects the relation of 
 the motives to one another is to be observed for the 
 most part only in subordination to the other two. 
 
 In as much as every thing unnatural is adverse to the 
 highest end of persuasion, motives that are closely connected 
 \v\t\\ each other should not be. disconnected, even when the 
 second principle named, that which respects the strength of 
 the motive, may in itself require it. Much less should ar- 
 guments that are presupposed in others be postponed, even 
 although the other principles may demand it. 
 
 CHAPTER VII. 
 
 OF THE INTRODUCTION AND PERORATION IN PER- 
 SUASION. 
 
 $ 239. Both kinds of Introduction, the Preparatory 
 and the Conciliatory, in their several varieties, are ad- 
 missible in Persuasive Discourse. 
 
mB 
 
 164 
 
 PKIIHUASION. 
 
 I. I 
 
 The same cautions and suggestions are needful here as 
 were presented in the corresponding chapter on Exci ation. 
 Part III. chap. v. 
 
 $ 2 10. Only the Persuasive Peror;* ion with the 
 Recapitulation is admissible in this kind of discourse. 
 
 Persuasive Discourse should ever leave the mind addressed 
 ready for the action proposed and urged in it. Where the 
 body of the discourse has consisted of the exhibition of the 
 motives, and, for any reason, the particular iction has been 
 suppressed, it will of course be necessary to state the 
 action at the close. This, for a single example, was done 
 by Demosthenes in his oration generally denominated the 
 Third Philippic. In the main discussion, he unfolds fhe 
 considerations which should influence the Athenians— the 
 existing state of affairs; and at the close briefly suggests 
 what he thinks ought to be done. 
 
 If the action has constituted the body of the discusnion, 
 the peroration will generally consist of a strong and vivid 
 exhibition of -he motives. 
 
 If the action has been stated, but the motives that ur{.e it 
 have filled up the body of the discourse, the peroration v«uy 
 be by direct appeal or address, or more close applicaticr of 
 
 the motives. 
 
 Recapitulation is admissible in either Cft«e. 
 
 SECOND GE 
 
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SECOND GENERAL DIVISION. 
 
 STYLE. 
 
 GENERA^ VIEW. 
 
 CHAPTER 1. 
 
 OP THE NATURE OP STYLE. 
 
 $ 241. Style is that part of Rhetoric which treats of 
 the expression of thought in language. 
 
 No process of art is complete until its product appear ia 
 a sensible form, § 8; and language is the form in which 
 the art of discourse embodies itself, as sound furnishes the 
 body of music and color that of the art of painting. Style 
 is, therefore, a necessary part of the art of rhetoric. "In?eii- 
 tio sine elocutione noa est oratio." It is not, however, all 
 of the art, just as the laws of sound do not cover the entire 
 province of music, or the principles of coloring exhaust the 
 art of the painter. 
 
 While it presupposes Invention as a distinct branch of 
 
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 IGO STYLE. 
 
 the art, it is yet involved even in that; £*s the exercises of 
 invention cannot proceed without the use of Umguage. The 
 two branches of the art of Rhetoric, accordingly, while they 
 rnay easily be conceived of as distinct, und in practice pre- 
 dominant attention may be given to either at will, are nev- 
 ertheless bound together by an essential bond of life. 
 
 This second division of Rhetoric has been variously de- 
 nominated; and the terms employed to designate it have been 
 used, sometimes in a wider, sometimes in a more restricted 
 sense. The term ''elocution" was formerly more commonly 
 used by English writers. It was suggested by the use of 
 the Roman rhetoricians, and w; sanctioned and supported 
 by its etymology. It has, however, in later times become 
 more commonly appropriated to denote oral delivery. The 
 term "" style,'" although not strictly a technical word, was 
 used by Latin writers as synonymous with "elocution," and 
 has been, both among English and continental writers, more 
 generally of late applied to this use. It has been employed, 
 however, with more or less latitude of meaning. But the 
 prevailing use of the best writers authorises the appropria- 
 tion of the term to denote the entire art of verbal expression. 
 Cicero and others of the ancient rhetoricians made here, 
 also, two divisions; the one of elocution or style proper, or 
 the choice of words in the expression of thought; the other 
 of the arrangement of words, or composition. As in inven- 
 tion, however, so perhaps still more obviously in style, there 
 appears to be no good reason for making this division. 
 See § 43. 
 
 $ 242. The analysis of style, for the purpose of sys- 
 tematic 'study, must respect the various classes of pro- 
 perties which by necessity or possibility belong to it. 
 We cannot consider style, as we have considered invetv 
 
 n 
 
NATURE OF STYLE. 
 
 167 
 
 tion, in reference to the different processes concerned in its 
 production. For some of the properties cf style, or modes 
 of expression are common and necessary in all kindt> of dis- 
 course and every expression of thought, ivhile others are 
 determined by the nature of the thought itself. If we except 
 the application of some of the rules of mere grammar, the 
 only proper method of pursuing the culture of style, must 
 be by the study of the varieties of forms which thought may 
 assume when expressed in language, in order that whatever 
 may secure beauty and force to the expression may be in- 
 telligently communicated to it, and whatever may mar or 
 weaken the expression may be avoided. 
 
 Practice, therefore, in this branch of the art, is to be con- 
 ducted only in reference to the known properties of style 
 generally, and not by exercises on the specific properties. 
 It would be ridiculous to undertake a course of exercises w ith 
 the single view of acquiring command of a class of figures; 
 or of avoiding a barbariam or a solecism. 
 
 At the same time, it may be a very useful exercise to 
 detect the faults in ill-constructed sentences or compositions 
 designedly prepared or selected for this purpose. Such ex- 
 ercises in grammar are common and beneficial. In regard 
 to some properties of style, however, as especially those of 
 naturalness, dignity, and the like, Mhile the fault may 
 easily be detected, the correction will be difficult. For in 
 good style the thoughts of the individual appear in the dis- 
 course, tinctured by all his peculiarities and habits; and the 
 critic who would correct or improve must throw himself 
 into the speaker's train of thoughts and associations and 
 feelings. 
 
Ill '11 
 
 m 
 
 . «l ' 
 
 kti!^ 
 
 i I 
 
 .J 
 
 ^r 
 
 8TYLE. 
 
 CHAPTER II. 
 
 OP THE GENERAL PROPERTIES OP STYLE. 
 
 $ 243. The first generic distinction of the properties 
 of style is into the Absolute and the Relative. 
 
 § 244. The Absolute properties of style are 
 founded in the nature and laws of language itself. 
 
 The Relative properties are those which are de- 
 termined by the state of the spe^^ i er's mind or by that 
 of the mind addressed. 
 
 There are these three things which come in to determine 
 the character of the expression; the thought to be expressed; 
 the object tor which it is expressed; and the medium of ex- 
 pression. 
 
 The last of these, language, has laws and properties of 
 its own which are fixed and invariable, and, as such, inde- 
 pendent of the individual speaker who uses it. The proper- 
 ties thus determined to style may be denominated the abso» 
 lute properties of style. They correspond for the most part 
 to what Dr. Campbell calls " the essential properties of elo- 
 cution." 
 
 Again, language, as the body of thought, is affected by 
 the state of the speaker's mind. It is not merely the ex- 
 pression of thought, but of his thought. It partakes of his 
 individuality, and is, as it were, an expression of his life. 
 We recognize, thus, at once, as a beauty in style, natural- 
 ness in expression. The class of properties thus determined 
 to style, may be denominated the relative subjective, or, 
 more briefly, the subjective properties. 
 
 Farther, the speaker in pure discourse, speaks to effect 
 an (bject in the miud of another. He must necessarily, 
 therefore, have respect to that mind; and modify his style 
 
GF.NEHAL PROPERTIES. 
 
 169 
 
 accordingly. The mere embodying in language of his own 
 thoughts will not of course accomplish his object in the mind 
 addressed. It may be necessary to labor more at perspicuity 
 in the expression than would be requisite for the mere utter- 
 ance of thought. He may be under the necessity of consulting 
 force, or energy in the exp ssion, or of adorning it. Hence 
 we have another distinct class of properties. They may b(» 
 denominated the relative-objective, or more briefly, the ob' 
 jective properties. The last class corresponds nearly with 
 Dr. Campbell's " discriminating properties of elocution." 
 It is the only class which Dr. Whately takes into view in 
 his treatise on style. 
 
 10 
 
 iraPHfr 
 
PART I.-ABSOLUTE IROPERTIES. 
 
 CHAPTER I. 
 
 GENERAL VIEW OP LANGUAGE AND ITS PROPERTIES. 
 
 § 245. Language may be defined to be the ver- 
 bal BODY OP THOUGHT. 
 
 Language is not, as sometimes represented in loose ex- 
 pression, the mere dress of tliought. It has a vital conneo 
 tiou with thought; and is tar more truly and appropriately 
 conceived of as the living, organic body erf thought, inter- 
 penetrated throughout with the vitality of the thought, as 
 the natural body with the life of the spirit, having living 
 connections between its parts, giving it unity and making 
 it a whole, than as a mere dress having no relation to 
 thought and no organic dependence in its parts.* 
 
 » Tlio production of speech proceeds by an internal necessity out 
 of the organic life of man ; for man spealvs because he thinks; 
 and with the production of thought is given at the same t.i.ie 
 the production of speech. It is a general law of living nature 
 Ihate.ch activity in it c.n.es forth into appearance in a material, 
 each spiritual in a bodily; and in the bodily appearance have their 
 lunitation and form. In accordance with this law, the thoucht 
 nec^.sar.ly come, forth also in the appearance, and becomes em- 
 bodied in Speech.-C. F. Becker's Organism of Speech, pp. 1,2. 
 
 The origin of speech, says Solger to the same effect, is one with 
 the origin of thought, which is not po^ible in reality without spt^ch. 
 
GKNKllAL Vl'r.W OF LAxNGUAQE. 
 
 in 
 
 The embodying of thought into language, must necessarily 
 be affected by three difierent things: 
 
 First, the matericd of the body which it takes. Vocal 
 language difters, in many respects, from a language of signs. 
 A language, even, formed more directly under the influence 
 of the ear, as 'for instance the ancient Greek, possesses pe- 
 culiar features which distinguish it clearly from a language 
 formed more or less under the influence of the pen. Some of 
 the characteristics of the English language may be traced to 
 the fact that the language was developed and formed by 
 writers as well as by speakers; by those who were influenced 
 more by the form of the word as presented to the eye than by 
 its en\'ct on the ear as a sound. And generally the nature of 
 the material out of which the body is formed must evidently 
 affect the process of embodying. The marble gives a difl'er- 
 ent form to the embodiment of the same sentiment or char- 
 acter from that given by color as in painting, or by sound 
 and language as in poetry and music. 
 
 Secondly, the character of the thought to be e?nbodied. 
 The thought must never lose its distinctive character and 
 life. On the other hand, as the human spirit in its fleshly 
 body, and the life of a plant in its vegetable structure, it 
 enters its material, disposes it, shapes it, animates it, and 
 altogether determines its outward form and character. 
 Thought, in other words, is the organizing element. It, con- 
 sequently, Avhen the process of embodying is perfect, mani- 
 fests itself in every part. This is true, more emphatically, 
 of each particular thought expressed by the individual 
 speaker in the form of oral language. That thought, as a 
 
 Thought is subjective speech, as speech is objoctive thought — the 
 outward appearance of thought itself. Neitlier is possible without 
 the other; and both reciprocally condition each other. — AesthetieSf 
 p. 2oS. 
 
172 
 
 ABSOI.UTK PIIUPKIITIKS. 
 
 li f ' 
 
 
 
 life-criving aiul disposlug element, enters the body of s.mnds 
 which is lurnished to the individual speaker in the language 
 that he uses, and imposes its own character upon it. But lan- 
 euaoe generallv, or the hxed language of a people is organ- 
 Tzed^so to speak. Its properties are determined by the char- 
 acter of the thought that has, in being expressed, given it 
 existence. Hence the languages of dilTercnt nations are dif- 
 ferent, because the thought that has characterised the nation 
 at the formation of the language, has been different. 
 
 Thirdly, the natural relationship between thought and 
 articnlcde sound. Certain sounds are the natural expres- 
 sion of certain sensations; other sounds bear a more or less 
 direct analogy to certain other states of mind. 
 
 Farther than this, in the original construction of language, 
 outward sensible events or objects are taken to represent 
 mental states. For the most part, indeed, language is thus 
 symbolical in its very nature ;-it represents thought through 
 some external object or event either naturally or by accident 
 associated with it. And although, in the progress of scien- 
 tific culture, it becomes more and more abstract,— that is, 
 words having no obvious connection with the thoughts are 
 used to represent them more and more arbitrarily, just as 
 numerical or algebraical signs represent numbers or mathe- 
 matical relations, still language never loses entirely its ori- 
 ginal symbolical character. It will ever be regarded, ac- 
 cordinglv, as a great excellence of style that the thought is 
 represented bv means of pictures or images of sensible 
 scenes or events. The sound, then, points to the external 
 object or event, or some sensible property or characteristic 
 of it- and this, again, to the mental state or thought which 
 it is taken to represent. So far, now, as this object or event 
 is fitted in \U own nature to suggest the thought, the ind,- 
 
GENERAL VIEW OP LANGUAGE. 
 
 173 
 
 cation of the thought is more easy; the language is more 
 perfectly adapted to its end. 
 
 This two-fold relationship between thought and the means 
 of representing it, viz: between the thought and the sijund 
 on the one hand, and between the thought and the sensible 
 object indicated by t\ie sound on the other, we should ex- 
 pect beforehand, would determine to some extent the con- 
 struction of language; and in point of fact we find it does 
 so control it to such a degree as to give rise to a class of pro- 
 parties which are considered necessary or highly auxiliary 
 to the great ends of language. 
 
 This general view of the nature of language furnishes the 
 ground for the classification of the properties of language 
 or the absolute properties of style. 
 
 $ 246. The absolute proprirties of style may be dis- 
 tributed into three classes, as they respect more directly 
 the nature of the material of language or articulate 
 sounds ; the relation of that material to the content 
 of language or the relr.tion of articulate sounds to 
 thought; or the laws of thought itself. 
 
 These several classes may be denominated the 
 ORAL, the SUGGESTIVE and the grammatical pro- 
 perties of style. 
 
 Language, as the verbal body of thought, consists of arti- 
 culate sounds. These form the material of which it is 
 made. It is obvious, hence, that a proper regard to the 
 essential nature of articulate sounds is essential in the for- 
 mation of style. 
 
 Again, it is plain that articulate sounds are not taken at 
 random for use in speech. All are not equally adapted for 
 this use; and the selection is not a matter of pure accident 
 or caprice. On the other hand, through the closer affinity 
 
 13* 
 
wbich some souuds have, either directly oi through the ob- 
 ject tliey are taken to represent, to certaia thoughts, or 
 thruu"-li the more intimate association which experience has 
 creatod between them and such thoughts, the selection is 
 found, on a nice inspection of language as it is, to have 
 been made on certain natural and easily detined principles. 
 These principles, derived either from the iiherent relation- 
 ship of ihe sound to the thought, or of the object taken to 
 represent the thought to the thought itself, thus come in to 
 give shape and form to language. 
 
 Once more, thought itself has its own \avts. It has its 
 own relations which must ever be observed in the construc- 
 tion of lano-uao-e and ever be correctly represented in it. 
 So far as these laws and relations belong to thought as 
 thought, the> furnish the foundation for the science of wnz- 
 verscd grammar or grammar in the abstract. So iar as the 
 thought to be expressed is modified by the condition and 
 c-rcumstances of the people that frame a language, these 
 accidental relations and forms of thought furnish the Inunda- 
 tion for a grammar of a particular language, or, as it may be 
 called to distinguish it from abstract grammar, historical 
 or inductive grammar. 
 
 We have thus the definitions that are contained in the 
 following sections. 
 
 § 247. The Oral properties of style are those 
 which are determined from the nature of language as 
 consisting of articulate sounds. 
 
 § 248. The Suggestive properties of style are 
 those whicU are determined from the relations of ar- 
 ticulate sounds, or of the symbols of thought to the 
 thought to be represented by them. 
 
 Dr. Whately has applied the term " suggestive" to that 
 
ORAL PROPERTIES, 
 
 175 
 
 lo-h the ob- 
 louglits, or 
 erieuce has 
 selection is 
 is, to have 
 principles, 
 nt relation- 
 ct taken to 
 come in to 
 
 It has its 
 
 le construc- 
 nted in it. 
 
 thought as 
 ;nce of uni- 
 30 i'ar as the 
 ndition and 
 ;uage, these 
 
 the founda- 
 is it mav be 
 r, historical 
 
 ined in the 
 
 e are those 
 mguage as 
 
 of style are 
 tions of ar- 
 mght to the 
 
 ive" to that 
 
 kind of style which " without making a distinct, though 
 brief, mention of a multitude of particulars, shall put the 
 hearer's miud into the same train of thought as the speaker's, 
 and sucrgest to him more than is actually expressed." Of 
 course, what are here called Mhe suggestive properties 'of 
 style are to be widely distinguished from Dr. Whately's 
 'suggestive style.' 
 
 § 249. The Grammatical properties of style 
 are those which are determined by the necessary or 
 accidental forms and relations of the thought to be ex- 
 
 These properties are comprehensively embraced by Dr. 
 Campbell under the head of ''grammatical purity " 
 
 CHAPTER II. 
 
 OP THE ORAL PROPERTIES OP STYLE. 
 
 § 250. The oral properties of style mclude those of 
 Euphony and Harmony. 
 
 The ultimate distinction between euphony and harmony 
 as properties of language consists in this;— that euphony re- 
 gpects the sound or the phonetic side of language exclusively, 
 while harmony regards the sound only in relation to the 
 thought or to the logical side. Euphony has respect to the 
 sounds of words as they affect the ear and are regarded 
 merely as sounds and independently of any signification 
 they may have. In harmony, sounds are regarded in rela- 
 tion to the thought which they express. Hence the effect of 
 juphony is a mere sensation on the outward ear; while that 
 
176 
 
 ADSOLUTK FROl'EirilliS. 
 
 L! HI 
 
 'i 
 
 ! , 
 
 1-^ 
 
 \:iu 
 
 of harmony is an emotion and springs directly from an intej. 
 
 lectual perception. 
 
 Another distinction, growing out of the one already 
 named, is this;-that euphony respects chiefly single words, 
 while harmony respects only a succession ot words. In 
 some cases, indeed, euphony is violated in the combin.uon 
 of words, when the effect of the enunciation is disagreeable 
 merely because of the succession of particular sounds. Thus 
 the sentence, "The hosts stood still/' is in violation rather 
 of euphony than of harmony:— the offensiveness to the ear 
 arising out of the difficulty of enunciating the elemental 
 sounds here brought into proximity. The expression of 
 thoucrht, on the other hand, being ever continuous, harmony 
 appears only in a succession of words. The sentence, " He 
 behaved himself exceedingly discreetly," is faulty in har- 
 mony, not in euphony; for while it is offensive to the ear, 
 it is not as mere sounds. The enunciation of the sentence 
 is easy and the sounds themselves rather pleasant than 
 otherwise. But in the communication of thought, we de- 
 mand variety and distinctness in the expression of all its 
 various relations. In this sentence, the similarity of sound 
 in the last two words indicates a similarity of relation; and 
 we are disappointed and so far offended in not finding the 
 sense answering to the sound in this respect. 
 
 Hence it may sometimes happen that euphony must be 
 sacrificed in order to the most perfect harmony. As in 
 music the fullest harmonious effect of a whole strain re- 
 quires sometimes the introduction of discords, so in speech, 
 the most perfect expression of the sentiment may demand 
 the selection of words that in comparison with others are 
 more harsh and difficult of utterance. 
 
 Practically, whether the fault in a sentence offensive to 
 Ihe ear be one against euphony or one against "harmony 
 
 
ORAL PUOPHIITIKS. 
 
 177 
 
 may be determined by the circurnstatice that a sentence de* 
 licient iu euphony is always difficult of enunciation; an in^ 
 harmoniois sentence is not necessarily difficult of utterance. 
 It should be observed, moreover, that euphony is some- 
 times a constituent of harmony. 
 
 $ 251. The oral T^iopcrtics of style,, being founded 
 on the nature of language as consisting of sounds, 
 strictly belong only to spokcii discourse. Yet as in 
 the silent perusal of written discourse the mind trans- 
 lates the characters into the sounds which they repre- 
 sent, even such discourse must be pronounced defective 
 unless these properties appear in it. 
 
 As the practiced musician instantly detects any defect in 
 the harmony while his eye runs silently over the pa<5es of 
 written music, so even in silent reading- we are unpleasantly 
 affected by any violation of the oral properties of style. Lan- 
 guage never entirely conceals this peculiarity of its natt^re as 
 made up of sounds, or as oral, even when it appears in the 
 form of a visible symbol addressed to the eye alone. 
 
 § 252.. The oral properties of style can be best 
 acquired only under the influence of the ear while 
 listening to the audible pronunciation of discourse. 
 
 It is difficult to comprehend how a deaf-mute can ever be 
 sensible of the euphony or harmony of discourse; although 
 experience shows that even he may wr noetry, which, 
 more than any other form of discourse as involving at least 
 rhythm and rhyme, seems to require the superintendence 
 and guidance of the ear. It is safe, notwithstanding, to as- 
 sume that the writer who neglects to cultivate the ear in 
 reference to the construction of his sentences, must be liable 
 to fail in these properties of style. The importance of them. 
 
1 "I ^ r L 
 
 ..111., . I . ! .! 
 
 Ir'Sivi'^'i 
 
 #..%t 
 
 
 178 
 
 ABSOLUTE PPOPERTIES. 
 
 even to written discourse, may b^ seen in tlie fact that the 
 writings of Addison owe no small part of their attractiveness 
 to the musical structure of his style. The public speaker 
 tspecially needs to subject himself to much traioing of the 
 ear, in order to give it such a control over his style of ex- 
 pression that his sentences without conscious design, shall, 
 as it were, form themselves in accordance with the princi- 
 ples of euphony and harmony. 
 
 Next to the study of discourse as pronounced by living 
 orators, may be recommended recitation from the best poets 
 and orators. Every student of oratory should devote a por- 
 tion of time daily to this exercise or to that of reading 
 aloud composition excelling in musical properties. The 
 speeches of eminent orators generally possess these excel- 
 lencies in a higher degree than other classes of prose composi- 
 tion. The various writings of Burke, of Milton and Addi- 
 son furnish, however, excellent studies for the acquisition of 
 these properties. The Greek and Latin languages, also, 
 havino- been formed, in a pre-eminent degree, under the in- 
 fluence of the ear inasmuch as poetry and oratory were the 
 earlier forms in which they developed themselves, may be 
 profitably studied for this purpose. 
 
 As studies of this kind respect immediately the culture of 
 the ear alone, it should ever be remembered that they can 
 be prosecuted to best advantage only by audible pronun- 
 ciation. 
 
EUPHONY. 
 
 179 
 
 CHAPTER III. 
 
 DP EUPHONY. 
 
 $ 253. EuPHONif in style respects the character of 
 the sounds of words regarded merely as sounds, and 
 requires that they be such as will affect the ear in oral 
 pronunciation agreeably. § 250. 
 
 The sounds of words vary only in four different ways, 
 viz: in respect to pitch, force, time, and quality. But it is 
 obvious euphony has nothing to do with variations of pitch, 
 any .^urther at least than this; that it requires the successions 
 of pitch to be not monotonously uniform. This part of the 
 field, however, is so entirely included within the province 
 of hlrmony that it may here with propriety be wholly pass- 
 ed over. 
 
 Neither has euphony any thing to do with the time of 
 sounds, or quantity, except so far as quantity is a constitu- 
 ent of accent 
 
 The only points to be considered here, therefore, are force 
 as it appears in accent, and quality of sound. 
 
 § 254. Euphony requires the avoidance of such 
 words and expressions as are difficult of utterance on 
 account of the succession of unaccented syllables. 
 
 There are many words in our language which it is diffi- 
 cult to enounce on account of the number of unaccented syl- 
 lables occurring in immediate succession, as for instance, 
 meteorological, desultoriness, imprecatory. Such words, 
 80 far as practicable, should be avoided in all elevated dis- 
 course. They are, for the most part, of Greek or Latin 
 
 origin. 
 
 Not only words but phrases having a number of unaccent- 
 
'is 
 
 180 
 
 ABSOLUTE PROPERTIES. 
 
 I' i' 
 
 |%ji 
 
 it!!'i! 
 
 ed syllables may be objecfionable on this account. The 
 phrase^ " The obstinacy of his undutiful son/' contains six 
 unaccented syllables in succession, and cannot well be pro- 
 nounced without interposing a pause where the sense forbids. 
 The following sentence from Tillotson is liable to the same 
 censure: 
 
 " When a man hath once forfeited the reputation of his 
 integrity, nothing will then serve his turn.*' 
 
 In reading it the voice labors, and seeks to relieve itself 
 by pausing slightly after '' forfeited,'' and also after **■ repa- 
 tation." The pause supplies the accent that is missed. 
 
 § 255. Euphony requires, in the second place, that 
 those words and phrases be avoided which are harsh 
 and disagieeable in respect of quahty of sound. 
 
 The words of a language are faulty in euphony in respect 
 of quality only by reason of derivation or composition. Eu- 
 phony presides over the formation and development of lan- 
 guage, and watchfully guards against the introduction of 
 offensive combinations either in roots or general forms of de- 
 rivation and inflection. The radical words of all languages 
 are hence euphonious. But it will sometimes happen that 
 the general laws of derivation md composition will bring 
 together vocal elements which, taken together, are harsh and 
 diflficult to utter. So, likewise, foreign words, containing 
 elements not belonging to the indigenous tongue, may be 
 diflScult to pronounce, and, therefore, to a native ear be 
 wanting in euphony. 
 
 Farther, individual habits or physical defects may render 
 certain combinations difficult which are not so to others of 
 the Stime country . 
 
 While occasionally such offenses against euphony may 
 
HARMON V PROPER. 
 
 181 
 
 be suffered for the sake of force or clearness, the excessive 
 repetition of them gives to style a forbidding character. 
 The following sentences are exceptionable in this respect: 
 
 Thou formM'st me poor at first and keep'st me so. 
 
 The hosts stood still in silent wonder tixM. 
 
 After the most straitest sect of our religion I lived a 
 Pharisee. 
 
 As far as respects the affairs of this world. 
 
 For the peace and good of the church is not terminated in 
 the schismJess estate of one or two kingdoms. 
 
 CHAPTER IV. 
 
 OP HARMONY HARMONY PROPER. 
 
 $ 256. Harmony in style respects the character 
 of the sounds of words as expressions of thought ; and 
 requires that they be such as, in the audible pronun- 
 ciation of discourse, will awaken agreeable emotions. 
 $250. 
 
 Harmony, as a property of style, lies between euphony, 
 which regards sounds as sounds merely, on the one side, 
 and the suggestive properties of style, w^hich regard the 
 image presented to the mind by the word, on the other, as 
 in a painting we readily discriminate between the pleasing 
 nature of the colors as they affect the eye of a child, and 
 such a disposition of them as will express real objects; and 
 again between this and the representation of character, which 
 is fully appreciated only by a matured taste; or as, in 
 
 16 
 
m- 
 
 182 
 
 ABSOLUTE PROPERTIES. 
 
 m 
 
 I 
 
 ::i 
 
 music, we distinguish between the sounds that a child elicits 
 as he runs his fingers at random over the keys of a piano- 
 forte and those which a master produces while, without 
 designing to express a particular sentiment, he yot instinct- 
 lively obeys the lixed principles of melody and harmony, 
 and again between these and the sounds which he elicits 
 when intently bent on the expression of a sentiment, so we 
 may distinguish between euphony and harmony, and again 
 between harmony and those properties which are more 
 directly founded on the thought to be expressed. We have 
 in these several processes of art, first, the mere outward 
 matci-ial,— the color or the sound; secondly, the body as the 
 organized expression of an internal and spiritual principle, 
 but regarded still as body addressed to the senses; and, 
 thirdly, the sentiment or thought revealed in the body. The 
 fuller development of these diflerent classes of properties will 
 indicate not only the fundamental grounds of distinction 
 between them, but also the practical utility of discrimina- 
 ting between them in the study of style. 
 
 § 257. Harmony, in the wider sense, includes Har- 
 mony proper^ Rythm^ and Melody. 
 
 This subdivision of harmony is founded on the distinc- 
 tion of vocal utterances into those belonging to the four dif- 
 ferent functions of voice, viz: pitch, force, time, and quality 
 of voice. Pitch is the constituent of melody ; force and 
 lime give accent— the c(. istituent of rhythm; and quality 
 of voice lies at the foundation of harmony proper. 
 
 $ 258. Harmony Proper is founded on the quality 
 of sounds, and requires that the succession of words in 
 a sentence, in union with the thought which is ex- 
 pressed, fall smoothly and gratefully on the ear. 
 The quarity of sounds can be regarded in style only fio far 
 
 iiiit«Ml 
 
HARMONY PROPER. IQS 
 
 as the elemental sounds, of which words are comoosed 
 
 comj 
 
 le 
 
 are 
 
 concerned. In this respect, — the character of the elemental 
 sounds which enter into their structure, dilFerent languages 
 differ greatly, as well as the styles of different writers in 
 the same language. While the Italian language, thus, has 
 in its alphabet fewer vowels than the English, yet the vowel 
 sounds have a great relative predominance in the actual 
 structure of the language as compared with the English. 
 There are in English discourse but about three-fourths as 
 many vowels as in Italian; that is, while in an Em^lish 
 sentence of eight hundred letters there are not i'ar from three 
 hundred vowels, in an Italian sentence of as many letters 
 there are nearly four hundred. The Italian language, in 
 harmonious effect, differs from the English in this particular: 
 that a^. composed of a larger portion of vowels, it is more 
 open, smooth and flowing; while the English has the pecu- 
 liar strength and expressiveness v/hich a highly consonantal 
 character imparts. 
 
 There is, moreover, a wide difference in the character of 
 different consonants. Some have vocality, others are mere 
 aspirations. In some languages, also, the same consonant 
 has less, in others more, of a proper consonantal character. 
 The lower Germans are more open in their pronunciation, 
 -•that is, compress with less force the articulating organs 
 in forming consonants, than the English. 
 
 If it be borne in mind, now, that harmony never loses 
 sight of the character of the thought to be expressed, it will 
 at once be perceived that in respect to certain kinds of 
 thought the peculiar alphabetic structure of our language 
 will bo more favorable to harmony, while in respect to 
 others, it will be less so. The following lines from Cole- 
 ridge's " Hymn before Sunrise in the vale of Chamouni,'* 
 
184 
 
 ABSOLUTE PllOPEilTlES. 
 
 r I 
 
 I I 
 
 strike the ear pleasantly and excite the emotion of harmony 
 And you, ye five wild torrents, fiercely glad! 
 Who called you forth from night and utter death. 
 From dark and icy cavorns called you torth, 
 Bowa those precipitous, black, jagged rocks. 
 Forever shattered, and the same forevei ! 
 The sounds, however, particularly in the last two verses, 
 are far diflerent in quality from those in the following 
 which are equally harmonious: 
 
 «God'" sincr, ye meadow streams, with gladsome voice! 
 Ye pine gropes, with your soft and soul-like sounds. 
 0^- a still different character are the following remark- 
 ably harmonious lines from Gray's Elegy in a country 
 Church-yard: 
 
 The breezy call of incense-breathing morn. 
 The swallow twittering from the straw-built shed. 
 The cock's shrill clarion or the echoing horn 
 No more shall rouse them from their lowly bed. 
 The English language is peculiarly favorable to that 
 species of harmony which may appear in union with 
 strenc^th and energy: the Italian to that which is combined 
 with°calm elevation and dignity as well as grace and 
 
 elegance. r . i • 
 
 Thfc following are illustrations of this property of style m 
 
 prose discourse: 
 
 Truth, indeed, came once into the world with her divine 
 master and was a perfect shape, most glorious to look on 
 but when he ascended, and his apostles after him were laid 
 asleerthen straight arose a wicked race ot deceivers, who, 
 a that story goes of the Egyptian Typhon with his con- 
 :;irators how fhey dealt witlUhe good Osiris, took he virgin 
 Truth, hewed he? lovely form into ^ thousand pieces, and 
 scatte ed them to the four winds l^rom that time eve 
 since, the sad frie.d.of Truth, such a. durst appear imta- 
 ting he careful search that Isis made tor the mangled body 
 
 
HARMONY PROPER. 
 
 185 
 
 of harmony 
 
 id! 
 death. 
 
 t two verses, 
 he following 
 
 idsome voice! 
 ; sounds. 
 
 ,ving remark- 
 n a country 
 
 t shed, 
 
 u 
 
 bed. 
 
 rable to that 
 I union with 
 h is combined 
 as grace and 
 
 ;rty of style in 
 
 ath her divine 
 us to look on, 
 him were laid 
 leceivers, who, 
 vyith his con- 
 took the virgin 
 ,nd pieces, and 
 that time ever 
 'I appear, imita- 
 mangled body 
 
 of Osiris, went up and down gathering up limb by limb 
 still as they could find them. We have not yet found them 
 all, nor ever shall do, till her master^s second coming: he 
 shall bring together every joint and member, and shall 
 mould them into an immortal feature of loveliness and per- 
 fection. — Milton. 
 
 But so have I seen a harmless dove made dark with an 
 artillcial ligiit, and her eyes sealed and locked up with a 
 little quill, soaring upward and flying with amazement, fear, 
 and an uadiscerni:ig wing: she made towards heaven, but 
 knew not that she was nuide a train and an instrument, to 
 teach her enemy to prevail on her and all her defenceless 
 kindred. So is a superstitious man; zealous and blind, 
 forward and mistaken, he runs towards heaven, as he thinks, 
 but he chooses foolish paths; and out of fear takes any 
 thing that he is told. — Jeremy Taylor. 
 
 § 259. Harmony proper may be violated either by 
 rough and harsh combinations of sounds in words ; 
 or by an imperfect adaptation of the sounds to the 
 particular character of the thought. 
 
 Language, as the body of thought, should ever evince the 
 presence of the organising principle generally, by assuming 
 a form pleasing to the sense. There is beauty in a clear 
 complexion, smooth skin, and nicely rounded features, as the 
 proper expression of a sound mental condition. 
 
 There is a beauty, too, entirely distinct from this, in the 
 flashing eye of excited hope, the crimson flush of offended 
 modesty, the languor and paleness of pining grief, as the 
 expressions of the inward spirit. If they have a beauty in 
 themselves, it is entirely lost in the greater and more absorb- 
 ing beauty which they possess as mental expressions. So 
 there is a harmony in the adaptation of language, as con 
 sisting of diverse sounds, to the particular thought to be ex- 
 pressed; to be distinguished from mere euphony, or the 
 
 beauty of the sounds regarded as mere sounds, on the one 
 
 16* 
 
J 'I 
 
 I? 
 
 l1«it 
 
 I' ll' < 
 
 fe .ii 
 
 I ' 
 
 'fl 
 
 ■nil 
 
 » 
 
 m ^ 
 
 ^D 
 
 ^H^^tf^K' 
 
 Mh 
 
 ■Ha! 
 
 ^^H 
 
 HHH| 
 
 I9H 
 
 ^^^^B 
 
 !iiHB 
 
 IH^ 
 
 186 
 
 ABSOLUTI-: PROPERTIES. 
 
 hand, and from the general beauty which a perfect expre* 
 sion of thought in language imparts, on the other. 
 
 The style of Barrow with all its excellencies is often faulty 
 in respect to harmony. The following extracts are deficient 
 in general smoothness. We feel in reading them that the 
 expression dues not flow in easy utterance of the thought. 
 
 When sarcastical twitches are needful to pierce the thick 
 skins of men, to conceal their lethargic stupidity, to rouse 
 them out of their drowsy negligence, then may they well be 
 applied: when plain declarations will not enlighten people 
 to discern the truth and weight of things, and blunt argu- 
 ments will not penetrate to convince them or persuade them 
 to their duty; then doth reason freely resign its place to wit, 
 allowing It to undertake its work of instruction and reproof. 
 
 Their eminency of state, their aflluence of wealth, thejr 
 uncontrollable power, their exemption from common re- 
 straints, their continual distractions and encumbrances by 
 varieties of care and business, their multitude of obsequious 
 followers, and scarcity of faithful friends to advise or reprove 
 them, their having no obstacles before them to check their 
 wills, to cross their humors, to curb their lusts and passions, 
 are so many snares unto them: wherefore they do need 
 plentiful measures of grace, and mighty assistances m 
 God, to preserve them from the worst errors and sins; into 
 which otherwise it is almost a miracle if they are not 
 plunged. 
 
 Archbishop Tillotson's style is also exceedingly defective 
 in respect to harmony. The following is an extract: 
 
 One might be apt to think at first view, that this parable 
 was overdone, and wanted something of a due decorum ; it 
 being hardly credible, that a man, after he had been so mer- 
 cifully dealt withal, as, upon his humble request, to have so 
 huge a debt so freely forgi^-en, should, whilst the memory 
 of so much mercy was fr. upon him, even in the very 
 next moipent, handle his fellow-servant, who had made the 
 same humble request to him which he had done to his lord, 
 with so much roughness and cruelty, for so inconsiderable 
 a sum. 
 
RHYTHM. 
 
 187 
 
 'feet exprea* 
 ler. 
 
 1 often faulty 
 
 are deficient 
 
 lein that the 
 
 le thought. 
 
 rce the thick 
 ity, to rouse 
 they well be 
 ^hten people 
 blunt argu- 
 jrsuade them 
 place to wit, 
 and reproof, 
 wealth, thejr 
 common re- 
 mbrances by 
 if obsequious 
 ise or reprove 
 ) check their 
 md passions, 
 ley do need 
 istances m 
 nd sins; into 
 they are not 
 
 igly defective 
 tract: 
 
 ; this parable 
 
 decorum; it 
 
 been so mer- 
 
 st, to have so 
 
 the memory 
 
 in the very 
 
 jad made the 
 
 le to his lord, 
 
 nconsiderable 
 
 CHAPTER V. 
 
 HARMONY — RHYTHM. 
 
 $ 260. Rhythm in style is foutided on accent ; and 
 requires that the succession of accented and unaccent- 
 ed syllables be such as will produce an agreeable ef- 
 fect on the ear in the pronunciation of the discourse. 
 
 Among the ancients rhythm was regarded as the promi- 
 nent thing in harmony of style; and much attention was 
 criven to it in the study of oratory. The structure of the 
 Greek and Latin languages admitted, to a much greater de- 
 gree than our own, tne application of the principles of 
 rhythm to the formation of style. Yet in the English 
 lani'uaoe rhvthm plays an important part; and in no point 
 are the writings- f dilferent men more easily distinguishable 
 from one another than in respect to rhythm, nor is there 
 scarcely any other property more missed in oratory, when 
 wanting. 
 
 Tlie ancient rhetoricians endeavored earnestly to ascertain 
 and settle tlie laws of rliythm; that is, determine iu what 
 particular successions of accent, or in what feet oratorical 
 rhythm consists. The endeavor seems to have been fruitless; 
 as the results of their investigations were widely variant. 
 Indeed, from .the very nature of oratory as distinguished 
 from poetry, and yet proceeding from a mind formed ia 
 feeling and taste as well as in intelligence, aside from the 
 nature of harmony as representing the form of expression 
 yet as not independent of the thought expressed, we might 
 have anticipated a failure in such an elfLrt. The rugged 
 oak, with its heavy, abrupt and open arms and its scanty 
 spray and foliage has a harmony, so to speak, of its own; 
 and there is, too, a harmony peculiar to the willow with ita 
 
188 
 
 ABSOLUTE i'llOPERTII^IS. 
 
 i 
 
 ih I 
 
 t%M 
 
 long and slender branches and pendent foliage. The divers* 
 character of the thought gives a diverse character to the 
 rhythm. Strength and vehemence delights in the frequent 
 concurrence of heavy accents; tenderness and familiarity 
 avoid them. Yet the oak is not all heavy, jagged bougha; 
 nor the willow all twig and leaf. There are extremes in 
 both directions; and against these the following rules are 
 given as the only ones which the nature of the case allows. 
 It should be ever borne in mind that while there is such 
 a thing as rhythm, it is ever determined by the character of 
 the thought; else rhythm would be mere euphony. The 
 rhythm of Djmostheaes would not be rhythm in Cicero. 
 
 $ 261. Rhythm forbids the excessive recurrence both 
 of accented and also unaccented syllables. 
 
 This rule is founded in the very nature of rhythm which 
 is constituted of an intermixture of accented and unaccented 
 syllables. A style that otfends against this rule must be 
 pronounced to be so far wanting in rhythm. The writings 
 of Tillotson, generally characterized for want of harmony, 
 furnish abundant exemplifications of this fault in style. It 
 will be remarked in the following extracts from this, in , 
 many respects, excellent writer, that the ear demands a 
 heavy accent on the italicised words so much that such an 
 accent is thrown on a word which should not regularly re- 
 ceive it. In this we find a proof that harmony ever re- 
 spects the thought, and not the sound merely in which it is 
 embodied. 
 
 Consider that religion is a great and a long work ; and 
 asks so much time, that there is none left for the delaying 
 of it. 
 
 But then I say withal, that if these principles were banish- 
 ed out of the world, Government would be far more diffi- 
 cult than now it is, because it would want its firmest basis 
 
RHYTHM. 
 
 189 
 
 The diverstt 
 racter to the 
 
 the frecjueat 
 I i'auiiliurity 
 •ged bougha; 
 
 extremes in 
 ng; rules are 
 case allows, 
 there is such 
 character of 
 phony. The 
 ia Cicero. 
 
 iircncc both 
 
 • 
 
 lythm which 
 d uuaccented 
 ule must be 
 The writings 
 of harmony, 
 in style. It 
 from this, in 
 r demands a 
 that such aa 
 regularly re- 
 lony ever re- 
 n which it is 
 
 EC work : and 
 the delaying 
 
 were bauisb- 
 
 \T more diffi- 
 
 firmest basis 
 
 tad foundation; there would be iulinitely more disorders in 
 the world, if men were restrained from injustice and violence 
 ouly by humane laws, and not by principles of conscience 
 and the dread of another world. 
 
 If the word humane in this last extract be pronounced 
 as it is here spelt, the ear will instantly detect the want of 
 rhythm in the sentence. The olTense is indeed so great 
 that we cannot doubt the word was pronounced in the time 
 of Tillotson as it is now with the accent on the first syllable, 
 and that we have only conformed the orthography to the 
 pronunciation. 
 
 In striking contrast with the style of Tillotson in respect to 
 all the oral properties, and particularly that of rhythm, is the 
 style of Milton, of which the following are beautiful exem- 
 plifications. 
 
 I shall detain you now no longer in the demonstration of 
 what we should not do, but straight conduct you to a hill- 
 side, where I will point you out the right path of a virtuous 
 and noble education, laborious indeed at the first ascent, but 
 else so smooth, so green, so full of goodly prospects and melo- 
 dious sounds on every side, that the harp of Orpheus was 
 not more charming. 
 
 By a slight change in the rhythm without afl'ecting the 
 sense, this sentence may lose all its beauty. By substituting, 
 for instance, in the last part of it " at first" for "at the first 
 ascent"; "on all sides" for "on every side"; and "sweet" 
 for "charming," the rhythm is greatly marred; as will be 
 seen from a mere perusal of it as thus altered: 
 
 I will point you out the right path of a virtuous and noble 
 education, laborious indeed at first, but else so smooth, so 
 green, so full of goodly prospects and melodious sounds on 
 both sides, that the harp of Orpheus Avas not more sweet. 
 
 When a man hath been laborinij the hardest labor in the 
 deep mines of knowledge, hath furnished out his findings in 
 all their equipage, drawn forth his reasons as it were a battle 
 
'%•*#. 
 
 r 1 1 
 
 .Ui. 
 
 •^ ;^N-: ;; i 
 
 Ky' ISii 
 
 • i?'i 
 
 190 
 
 Ans!or,i' r,. i'kdpi.h tiks. 
 
 rano-edj scattered and defented all objections in his way, 
 calls out Ills adversary into the plain, otVers hiui the advan- 
 ta'i-e. of wind and sun, if he please, only that he uuiy try the 
 matter by dint of argument; for his o|)ponents then to skulk, 
 to lay ambushments, to keep a narrow bridge of licen-siiig 
 where the challenger should pass, though it be valor enough 
 in soldiership, is but weakness and cowardice in the wars 
 of truth. For who knows not that truth is strong, next to 
 the Almighty? She needs no policies, nor stratagenia, nor 
 licensings, to make her victorious. Those are the shifts and 
 the defences that error uses against her power. — Of [/n- 
 licetised Printing. 
 
 § 262. Rliytlim also forliids an excessive recuiTence 
 of metrical feet which shall suggest the t^uspicioii that 
 the speaker has become poet. 
 
 This is a fault in style into which immature writers are 
 liable to fall; especially if accustomed much to the exclusive 
 recitation of poetical compositions. While it implies a mu- 
 sical car, it is yet a fault of excess; and in pure oratory is 
 inadmissible. The fault more commonly appears in the 
 njore elevated parts of discourse, when the speaker, as it 
 were, absorbs the audience into liimself, and imagines him- 
 self no longer an orator, in address to others, but their 
 mouth-piece in the mere utterance or pouring out of their 
 common thoughts and feelings. As words of i'oreign origin 
 do not readily fall in with those of native stock in rhythmi- 
 cal harmony,* writers who are liable to this fault of excess 
 in rhythm are generally characterised for their preference of 
 Anirlo-Saxon words. 
 
 The following passage, from a popular author in the 
 
 * In the last extract from Milton, it will be seen at once that 
 '•ainhiishinenfs " mirs the rhytlim. And in the next quotation, 
 nnder this section, the phrase " assurances of iinmortahty " Is /Jaioat 
 the only one that interrupts the poetical structure. 
 
n his way, 
 I the adviiQ- 
 iiiiiy try the 
 en ti) skulk, 
 of licensing 
 alur cuou<^h 
 in the wars 
 ung, next to 
 tagenis, nor 
 le shilts and 
 r.— 0/ Utu 
 
 recurrence 
 ;picion that 
 
 writers are 
 lie exclusive 
 iiplies a nui- 
 re oratory is 
 pears in the 
 leaker, as it 
 lagines him- 
 rs, but their 
 
 out of their 
 )reign origin 
 
 in rhythmi- 
 ult of excess 
 preference of 
 
 ithor in the 
 
 I at once that 
 lext quotation, 
 lity " Is '-Jflioat 
 
 HIIYTllM. 191 
 
 lighter (lej)artrneats of Mterature might be reduced to the 
 form <»f regular blank verse. 
 
 Then when the dusk of evening liad come on, and not a 
 sound disturbed the sacred stjlluoss of the |)lace — when the 
 bright moon poured in her light on toml) and monument, on 
 pillar, wall, and arch, and most of all, it seemed to ihem, 
 upon her (jiiiet grave -in that calm time, when all outward 
 tilings and inward thoughts teem with assurances of immor- 
 tality, and worldly hopes and fears are humbled in the dust 
 before them— then, with tranquil and submissive hearts they 
 turned away and left the child with God. Oh! it is hard 
 to take to heart the lesson that such deaths will teach, but 
 let no man reject it, for it is one that all must learn, and is 
 a mighty, universal truth. When death strikes down the 
 innocent and young, for every fragile lorm from which he 
 lets the panting spirit free, a hundred virtues rise in shapes 
 of mercy, charity, and love, to walk the world and bless it. 
 Of every tear that sorrowing mortals shed on such green 
 graves, some good is burn, some gentler nature comes, in 
 the destroyer^s steps there spring up bright creations that 
 defy his power, and his dark path becomes a way oi' light 
 to heaven. 
 
 $ 2(33. A correct oi- faulty rliythm appears most con- 
 spicuou.s at the tcnuiiiation of sentences or phrases, as 
 the character of a strain of music is most alRxted by 
 the cadence. 
 
 In the cadence of a sentence, or member of a sentence, is 
 concentrated its entire musical elTect. Hence, in the study 
 of rh\ thm, the chief attention has been given to the con- 
 struction! of the cadence. 
 
 The style of Addison owes its easy flow in a great 
 measure to the fact that, while trochaic cadences, or such 
 as end with an unaccented syllable, predominate, the heavy 
 eflect of an invariable sameness is avoided by a due inter- 
 spetsion of iambic endings. A spondaic cadence rarely 
 occurs in the comoositions of this author. 
 
*itE^ 
 
 W' 
 
 192 
 
 ABSOLUTE PROPERTIES. 
 
 U) 
 
 I'! 
 
 mi 
 
 CHAPTER VI. 
 
 HARMONY MELODY. 
 
 $ 264. Melody is founded on pitch ; and requires 
 that the phrases or members of a sentence be so con- 
 structed and disposed tliat, in the pronunciation, the 
 successions of pitch be pleasing to the ear. 
 
 The term '*" melody/' as applied both to style in compo- 
 sition and to elocution, has, for the most part, been used ia 
 a vague and indeterminate sense. Its v.se in musiu is, 
 however, fixed; and there is obviously every reason for pre* 
 serving to it the same radical import in all its various appli- 
 cations. In song, it denotes pitch in succession^, and is clearly 
 distinguished from rhythm, which respects accent in success- 
 ion. In elocution, we perceive the necessity of maintaining 
 the same distinction, and need, for this purpose, the same 
 precision in the distinct use of the terms. The same neces- 
 sity, likewise, exists in style. 
 
 The exact relations of pitch to style are indicated in the 
 fact that, in the oral delivery of discourse, the mutual de- 
 pendence and connection of the particular constituents of the 
 complex thought are expressed chiefly, although not exclu- 
 sively, through the variations of pitch. While it belongs 
 to elocution to define precisely what these variations are, it 
 is the appropriate province of rhetoric to prescribe how the 
 sentence shall be constructed so as to meet these qualities of 
 an easy and agreeable elocution. 
 
 More particularly, every constituent part of a complex 
 thought, or the expression of it in a particular phrase, has, 
 in a correct elocution, a pitch of its own by which it ia dis- 
 tinguished from the other constituent parts. In passing 
 from one phrase to another, the vaicc changes its pitch for 
 
1 musiG IS, 
 
 MELODY. 193 
 
 tfte purposf often simply of making the transition, and with 
 no rclerence to any emphatic distinction. These successive 
 ranges of pitch, given respectively to the several phrases, 
 may obviously be such as to be offensive to a musical ear. 
 So far, therefore, as they are determined by the structure of 
 fho sentence, they need to be regarded in style. 
 
 But, farther than this, the relations between the constitu- 
 ent thoughts are indicated, in delivery, chiefly, by the pitch 
 of the voice. If, accordingly, the sentence be so constituted 
 that these relations cannot appropriately be expressed with 
 ease and agreeable etFect under the limitations of the laws 
 of vocal sounds, it is so far faulty; and the prevention or 
 correction of the fault comes within the proper purview of 
 rhetorical style. 
 
 How far, and in what particular respects, the principles 
 of melody in elocution may thus affect the style of discourse, 
 will be exhibited in the sections which follow. 
 
 $ 265. Melody in style may be distinguished into 
 two kinds ; the melody of proportion, and the melo- 
 dy of arrangement, 
 
 A fault in melody may be either in the time of the varia- 
 tions of pitch, — the variations being too rapid or the con- 
 trary,- or in the character of the variations themselves, being 
 in tiieir own nature unmusical. 
 
 That species of melody which is founded on the time of 
 the variations, or what amounts to the same thing, on the 
 length of the phrases, is denominated the melody of propor- 
 tion. The melody of arrangement respects the character of 
 the variations themselves, as judged by a musical standard. 
 
 $ 266. The melody of proportion is founded on 
 the relative lenarfh of (he phrases or parts of a sen- 
 tence ; and re(|niro< ilmf fl-.- di r-nurs*^ be neither frag- 
 
}^n 
 
 194 
 
 ABSOLUTE PROPERTIES. 
 
 Pf^-' I 
 
 ■jiili 
 
 mentaiy and abrupt, on the one hand ; nor on the 
 otlier, be made up of phrases too extended for easy 
 
 elocution. 
 
 The abrupt and fragmentary style is more tolerable in 
 essays- and is more frequent in this department of writing. 
 The' lullowing extract from Lord Bacoi>, however excellent 
 ia uther respects, is deiicient in melody. 
 
 Studies serve for delight, for ornament, and for ability. 
 Their chief use for delight is in privateness and retiring 
 for ornament, is in discourse; and for ability is in the 
 judgment and disposition of business; ior expert men can 
 execute, and perhaps judge of particulars one by one but 
 he general counsels, 'and the plots and ^-^-^^^^^ ;^'^' 
 fairs come best from tho.e that are learned. 1 o spend too 
 much time in studies is sloth; to use them too "-chloi- or- 
 nament, is atVectation; to make judgn.ent whoh> bv heir 
 rules is the humor of a sdiolar: they pertect nature and ai^ 
 perfected bv experience: for natural abilities are 1 ke nat nal 
 plants, that need pruning by study; and studies themselves 
 do crive forth directions too much at large, except they be 
 bomided in by experience. Crafty men contemn studies 
 simple men admire, and wise men use them; lur they teach 
 not their own use; but that is a wisdom without them, and 
 above them, won by observation. 
 
 The opening sentence in Hooker^s Ecclesiastical Polity, 
 as well as the succeeding extract from Middleton, labor 
 from being broken up by numerous qualifying clauses. 
 
 Thou.rh for no other cause, yet for this; that posteritv 
 may knSw we have not loosely, through silence, permitted 
 things to pass away as in a dream, there shall be tor men s 
 information extant thus much concerning the present state ot 
 the Church of God established amongst us, and their carelul 
 endeavor which would have upheld the same. 
 
 And that it was not peculiar to the gift of language or 
 tonsues only, to be given at the moment of its exertion, but 
 common likewise to all the rest, will be shown, probably, 
 on some other occasion, more at lurge in a particular trea 
 
.\ii:i.()i)V. 
 
 IL6 
 
 r on the 
 
 for easy 
 
 ilerabie in 
 )f writing. 
 
 :r excelleut 
 
 or ability, 
 d retiring; 
 
 is in the 
 •t men can 
 y one, but 
 ling of af- 
 ) spend too 
 luch for or- 
 ly by their 
 ne, and are 
 like natural 
 
 themselves 
 ept they be 
 liu studies, 
 r they teach 
 ,t them, and 
 
 ical Polity, 
 leton, labor 
 clauses. 
 
 lat posterity 
 ;e, permitted 
 be lor men's 
 3sent state of 
 their careful 
 
 language or 
 exertion, but 
 
 n, probably, 
 .rticular trea 
 
 Use, which is already prepared by me, on that subject. 
 
 Mid(lle,to)i. 
 
 The style of Ossian and of Young in his Night Thought* 
 is also deficient in this species of melody. 
 
 Leave, blue-eyed Clatho, leave thy hall. Behold that 
 early beam of thine. The host is withered in its course. 
 No further look — it is dark. Light trembling from the 
 harp, strike, virgins, strike the sound. No hunter he de- 
 scends, from the dewy haunt of the bounding roe. He 
 bends not "his bow on the wind; or sends his gray arrow 
 abroad. — Temora, B. v. 
 
 Sense! take the rein; blind passion! drive us on; 
 And Ignorance! befriend us on our way; 
 Ye new, but truest patrons of our peace! 
 Yes, give the pulse full empire; live the brute. 
 Since as the brute we die: the sum of man, 
 Of Godlike man! to revel and to rot. 
 
 Night Thoughts, 
 
 The opposite fault of this kind may be exemplified in the 
 following extracts irom John Howe: 
 
 If we can suppose an offence of that kind may be of so 
 heinous a nature and so circumstanced as tb .t it cannot be 
 congruous it should be remitted without some reparation to 
 the prince and compensation for the scandal done to gov- 
 ernment; it is easy to suppose it much more incongruous it 
 should be so in the present case. — Living Temple. 
 
 And no doubt so large and capacious intellects may well 
 be supposed to penetrate far into the reasoi and wisdom of 
 his dispensations; and so not only to exercise submission in 
 an implicit acquiescence in the unseen and only believed 
 fitness of them, but also to take an inexpressible compla- 
 cency and satisfaction in what they manifestly discern 
 thereof, and to be able to resolve their delectation in the 
 works and ways of God into a hioher cause and reason than 
 the mere general belief that he doth all things well; viz: 
 their immediate delightful view of the congruity and titneaa 
 of what he does. — Ibid. 
 

 Liiiii-'l 
 
 ? t 
 
 ^'•i i 
 
 A BSOL U r K P KO P K RTI E». 
 
 In tliis class of faults— those against meloHy of propor- 
 tion, may be included, also, the joining togetlfr u\' dispro- 
 portionatelv long and short niemhers. The ear deuianda 
 not only variety, but, also, a harmonized varieiv t r propor- 
 tion between the members of a sentence. Tiie fallowing 
 sentence from Sterne is in this respect highly melodious: 
 
 The accusing spirit which flew up to Heaven's Chancery 
 with the oath, blushed as he gave it in; and the recording 
 angel, as he wrote it down, dropped a tear upon the word 
 and blotted it out forever. 
 
 By simply altering the length of one or two of the clauses, 
 the melody may be entirely destroyed through a mere change 
 of proportion between the parts. This may be done by leav- 
 ing out in the last clause the phrase "^ upon the word," and 
 also the word "forever"; thus, "and the recording angel, 
 as he wrote it, dropped a tear and blotted it out." 
 
 $ 2G7. The Melody op Arrangement is founded 
 on the variations of pitch which are requisite for ex- 
 pressinij the ])ropcr relations between the constituent 
 parts of a complex sentence, or more directly on those 
 relations themselves , and requires that the sentence be 
 so constituted that those relations may be easily ex- 
 pressed by the voice. 
 
 It has been remarked, under § 264, that the vocal ex- 
 pression of the relations between the different parts or 
 phrases of a complex sentence, or the grouping of speech, 
 as it is called, is mainly effected by the function of pitch. In 
 a melodious style, accordingly, the sentence must be so con- 
 structed that these relations may be easily expressed; in 
 other words, so that there may be no confusion in the indi- 
 cation of the relations on the one hand, and no laborious 
 effort be imposed on the voice in effecting this, on the other 
 
MELODY. 
 
 w 
 
 )f propor* 
 
 lit' (lispro- 
 
 deinands 
 
 1 r propor- 
 
 fiillowing 
 
 )dious: 
 
 Chancery 
 
 recording 
 
 the word 
 
 be clauses, 
 ere change 
 le by leav- 
 
 ora 
 
 :i » 
 
 ana 
 
 ing angel, 
 
 n 
 
 s founded 
 Le for ex- 
 Diistituent 
 r on those 
 ntence be 
 easily ex- 
 
 ! vocal ex- 
 t parts or 
 01 speech, 
 t" pitch. In 
 ; be so con- 
 pressed; in 
 in the indi" 
 1) laborious 
 1 the other 
 
 In the following selections, although the sentences are 
 more or less cuinpk they are yet so arranged that the re- 
 liitjnna between the parts are easily indicated by the voice; 
 and the elVect on the ear is consequently pleasing in a high 
 degree. 
 
 The first are from Dugald Stuart, whose style in this, re- 
 spect is highly finished. 
 
 The most trifling accident of scenery, it is evident, at 
 least the most trilling to an unskilled eye, may thus possess 
 in his estimation, a value superior to that which he ascribes 
 to beauties of a lar higher order. 
 
 By simply transposing the second and third clauses of this 
 
 sentence, the melodious flow is broken up and its music is 
 
 lost. 
 
 The most trifling accident of scenery, at least the most 
 trifling to an unskilled eye, it is evident, may thus possess, 
 in his estimation, a value superior to that which he ascribes 
 to beauties of a far higher order. 
 
 If the one party should observe, for instance, to his com- 
 panion that the minute parts of the tree, which the latter 
 affirms to be the most remote; — that its smaller ramiflca- 
 tions, its foliage and the texture of its bark are seen much 
 more distinctly than the corresponding parts of the other; 
 he could not fail in immediately convincing him of the in- 
 accuracy of his estimate. 
 
 In this sentence the leading thought is placed last. The 
 voice, accordingly, in pronouncing it, naturally rises to a 
 higher pitch and swells into a larger volume; and thus 
 leaves upon the ear at the close an agreeable fulness and 
 force of sound. At the same time, the less important ex- 
 planatory and modifying clauses are so thrown in, as both 
 to break up the monotonousness of a direct assertion, and 
 also to furnish the proper occasion of a pleasing variety iq 
 the successions of pitch. Change the order of almost any 
 
 17* 
 
ii*' '■ 
 
 Ml 
 
 
 i'Vi 
 
 !if 
 
 
 ia'i 
 
 1' 'i 
 
 lyo 
 
 ABSOLUTE PllOr'KRTIK«. 
 
 two numbers of the sentence and the melody will be de- 
 stroyed. 
 
 The st\le of Addison is more direci and less diversit* d 
 with depejideat modilung clauses. It exhilnts this species 
 of uielody, — tliat of arran^-ement iu the disposition of the 
 leading thought in the sentenci;; wliich is generally so placed 
 as, in a reading correctly adapted to the sense, to leave the 
 ear impressed with an agreeable elevation and body of 
 sound. 
 
 We are obliged to devotion for the noblest buildings that 
 have adorned the several countries of the world. It is this 
 which has set men at work on temples and public places of 
 worship, not only that they might, by the magniiicence of 
 the building, invite the Deity to reside within it, but that 
 such stupendous works might, at thj same time, open the 
 mind to vast conceptions, and fit it to converse with the 
 divinity of the place. — Spectator, 
 
 It seeks not to bereave or destroy the body ; it seeks to 
 save tile soul by humbling tiie body, not by imprisonment 
 or pecuniary mulct, much less by stripes or bonds or disin- 
 heritance, but by fatherly admonishment and christian re- 
 buke, to cast it into godly sorrow whose end is joy and in- 
 genuous bashfulness to sin. if tliat cannot be wrought, 
 then as a tender mother takes her child and holds it over the 
 pit with scaring words, that it may learn to fear where 
 danger is; so doth excommunication as dearly and as freely, 
 without money, use her wholesome and saving terrors. 
 She is instant; she beseeches; by all the dear and sweet 
 promises of salvation she entices and woos: by all the 
 threatenings and thunders of the law and rejected gospel, 
 she charges and adjures: this is all her armory, her muni- 
 tion, her artillery : then she awaits with long-sufferance and 
 yet ardent zeal, — Milton. 
 
 Of Law there can be no less acknowledged, than that her 
 Beat is the bosom of God, her voice the harmony of the 
 world; all things in heaven and earth do her homage, the 
 very least as feeling her care, and the greatest as not ex- 
 empted from her power; both angels and luea and creatures 
 
MELODY. 
 
 199 
 
 ill be de- 
 
 diversif* d 
 bis sj)ecies 
 ioti of the 
 so placed 
 leave the 
 [ body of 
 
 dings that 
 It IS this 
 places of 
 licence of 
 , but that 
 , open the 
 ; with the 
 
 t seeks to 
 risonment 
 s or disin- 
 listian re- 
 >y and in- 
 wrought, 
 it over the 
 ear where 
 as freely, 
 g terrors, 
 md sweet 
 y all the 
 id gospel, 
 her muni- 
 rance and 
 
 n that her 
 ny of the 
 mage, the 
 Ls not ex- 
 . creatures 
 
 of what condition soever, though each in different sort and 
 manner, yet all with uniiurra consent, admiring her as the 
 niutiier of their peace and ]oy.- -Hooker. 
 
 § 2'38. Faults in respect to the melody of arrange 
 nient are cither in the adoption of the loose, in prefer- 
 ence to the periodic structure of a sentence, or of the 
 parenthetical as opposed to the compact structure. 
 
 The periodic and the compact structure is as favorable to 
 clearness and to energy, as to melody; and hence it will be 
 again treated of in the chapters on those properties of st} le. 
 It has a more intimate, and vital connection, however, with 
 melody; since a sentence may be perspicuous or energetic 
 which is not periodic in its structure, whereas this structure 
 is indispensable to melody. 
 
 § 209. A PERIODIC STRUCTURE is one in which 
 the leading thought of the sentence is presented in the 
 closing member. 
 
 A LOOSE STRUCTURE, as opposed to the periodic, 
 is one in which the sentence terminates with one or 
 more dependent clauses. 
 
 This definition is gi"en in preference to that adopted by 
 Dr. Camjjbell and after him by Dr. Whately, which is as 
 follows: "A period is a complex sentence in which the 
 meaning remains suspended till the whole is finished." It 
 is easy to construct a sentence which shall be exceedingly 
 loose while it yet accords precisely with this definition. 
 For example: "One party had given their whole attention, 
 during several years, to the project not only of enriching 
 themselves and impoverishing the rest of the nation; but, 
 also, by these and other means, establishing their dominion 
 under the government and with the favor of a family who 
 were foreigners that they might easily believe they were 
 
11 »,i 
 
 -II 
 
 % 
 
 200 
 
 ABSOI.L I K l'A\n'i.iil li'.ri. 
 
 established on the throne by the good-uill nnd strengih of 
 this party alone." This sentence n)ust be denominated ex- 
 ceeding loose, and yet, to apply Dr. Campbell's criterion, 
 there is no " place before the end, at which, if you make a 
 stop, the construction of the preceding part will render it a 
 complete sentence." 
 
 Why the periodic structure is favorable to melody may be 
 seen in the fact, that the leading thought being presented in 
 whole or in part in the closing member, that member must 
 receive vocal distinction in the enunciation, which is indi- 
 cated by the pitch; and consequently the sentence closes 
 with a full and strong impression on the ear. In a loose 
 sentence, on the contrary, ending with a dependent clause, 
 the voice is abated upon it, and the effect is analogous to 
 that of ending a strain of music on some other than the key- 
 note. 
 
 Examples of a periodic structure are given under $326. 
 The following are instances of a loose structure: 
 
 And here it was often found of absolute necessity to in- 
 fluence or cool the passions of the audience, especially at 
 Rome, where Tully spoke; and with whose writings young 
 divines, I mean those among them who read old authors, 
 are more conversant than with those ol Demosthenes; who, 
 by many degrees, excelled the other, at least as an author. — 
 Swift. 
 
 It would be difficult, perhaps, to find in the writings of a 
 reputable author, a sentence more loosely constructed than 
 this. The leading thought terminates with the first mem- 
 ber; and there are five modifying clauses appended, at each 
 of which the voice seems ready to rest, but is called up 
 anew by another connective bringing in a new member. 
 While it is not destitute of clearness or strength, it is ex- 
 ceedingly difficult to express the relations between the mem- 
 bers by any pleasing management of the voice 
 
 I 
 
mf:lody. 
 
 201 
 
 The following stanza from Byron, whose poetry is not 
 remarkable for this kind of properties, is also exceedingly 
 loose, while not wanting in other qualities of an elegant 
 diction: 
 
 And Ardennes waves above them her green leaves. 
 Dewy with nature's tear-drops, as they pass. 
 Grieving— if aught inanimate e'er grieves — 
 Over the unretiiruing brave, — alas! 
 Ere evening to be trodden like the grass 
 Which now beneath them, but above shall grow 
 la its next verdure, when this hery mass 
 Of living valor rolling on the foe. 
 And burning with high hope, shall moulder cold and low. 
 
 To this succeeded that licentiousness which entered with 
 the Restoration; and, from infecting our religion and morals, 
 fell to corrupt our langunge: which last was not like to be 
 much improved by those who at that time made up the court 
 of King Charles the Second; either such who had lullowed 
 him in his banishment, or who had been altogether conver- 
 sant in the dialect of those fanatic times; or young men, 
 who had been educated in the same company ; so that the 
 court, which used to be the standard of propriety and cor- 
 rectness of speech, was then, and I think hath ever smce 
 continued, the worst school in England lor that accomplish- 
 ment- and so will remain till better care be taken in the 
 education of our young nobility, that they may set out into 
 the world with some foundation of literature, in order to 
 qualify them for patterns of politeness. -Swift. 
 
 The liist could not end his learned treatise w^ithout a 
 panegyric of modern learning and knowledge in comparison 
 the ancient; and the other falls sc grossly into the cen- 
 sure of the old poetry and preference of the new, that 1 
 could not road either of these strains without indignation, 
 which no quality among men is so apt ^o raise in one as 
 self-sufficiency, the worst composition out of the pride ana 
 ignorance of mankind. — Temple. 
 
 § 270. An antithetic structure, so far as it is peri- 
 odic, is peculiarly favorable to this kind of melody. 
 
m f 
 
 V, I' I 
 
 «< I 
 
 203 
 
 ABSOLUTE 1'R0PI:RTIES. 
 
 Where the main member of the antithesis, or that to 
 which the writer wishes to give peculiar prominence, is 
 placed last, the antithesis is periodic, and so lar melodious. 
 Where this order is reversed, the melody is marred or de- 
 stroyed. The I'oUowinjr extract has this quality in u high 
 degrt'e, although llie members are too uniformly short to 
 give it the highest n)elodious elVect. 
 
 If Ihey wore unacquainted with the works of philosophers 
 and poets, they were deeply read in the oracles of God. If 
 thoir names were not found in the registers of heralds, they 
 felt assured they were recorded in the Book of Life. U their 
 steps were not accompanied by a sjjlendid train of menials, 
 legions of ministering angels had charge vwev them. — • 
 Macaiday. 
 
 § 271. Parenthetical sentences are opposed to 
 melody, when the parentheses arc of excessive length, 
 or when parentheses are included within other paien- 
 theses. 
 
 The reason of this is that when the parenthetical part is 
 long, a great part of the sentence must be pronounced with 
 an abatement of the voice; and when parentheses are inclu- 
 ded within parentheses, the voice, in the endeavor fo express 
 the relations correctly, sinks too far for melodious effect. 
 
 The following sentences are faulty in this respect. 
 
 For we here see, that before God took any people to bo 
 peculiar to him, from the rest of men, the reason which he 
 gives, why his spirit should not always strive with man, in 
 common (after an intimation of his contemptible meanness, 
 and his own indulgence towards him notwithstanding, and 
 instance given of his abounding wickedness in those days) 
 was, because " all the imaginations of the thoughts of his 
 heart were only evil continudly." — John Howe; Living 
 Te7nple. 
 
 Yet because it may be grateful when we are persuaded 
 that tilings are so, to fortify (as much as we can) that per- 
 
MELODY. 
 
 aa^ 
 
 or that to 
 tiineiice, is 
 melodious, 
 ned or de- 
 
 in u iugh 
 ,ly short to 
 
 iliilosophers 
 f God. If 
 iiralds, they 
 e. ii their 
 of menials, 
 cr them. — ■ 
 
 pposcd to 
 ive length, 
 her paieii- 
 
 fical part is 
 )unced uith 
 !s are inclu- 
 r to express 
 effect, 
 pect. 
 
 joople to bo 
 a which he 
 ith man, in 
 e meanness, 
 anding, and 
 those days) 
 Lights of his 
 ve; Living 
 
 Buasion, and" because our persuasion concerning those attri- 
 butes of (»od will be still liable to assault unless we ack now- 
 led "-c him every where present; ^noi* ca" '^ ^^^^^ ^'^ con- 
 ceivable otherwise, how the influence of his knowledjve, 
 power and goodness can be so universal as will be tlmiiglit 
 necessary to infer a universal obligation to religion;) it will 
 be therefore requisite to add somewhat concerning his omni- 
 presence, or because some, that love to be v»ry strictly crili- 
 cal, will be apt to think tha^ lerm restrictive of his presence 
 to the universe, ^as supposing to be present is relative to 
 somewhat one may be said present unto, whereas they w^. 
 say without the universe is nothing,) we will rather choose 
 to call it immensity. — Id. 
 
 A very common variety of faults of this class occurs 
 where, by the interposition of a long parenthetical clause, 
 a just reading must throw an excessive stress on a portion 
 
 of the sentence. 
 
 Thus in the following sentence, the subject "they" being 
 separated from its verb, requires a heavy accent followed by 
 a pause which destroys the melody. 
 
 They, going about to work a righteousness of their own, 
 are not wise. 
 
 Which, as it standeth with christian duty in some cases, 
 80 in common all'airs to require it were most unfit. 
 
 Who, aiming only at the height of greatness and sensu- 
 ality, hath in tract of time reduced so great and goodly a 
 rart of the world to that lamentable distress and servitude, 
 ■mder which, to the astonishment of the understanding be- 
 holders, it now faints and groans. 
 
 e persuaded 
 n) that per- 
 
204 
 
 §by4'^ \ 
 
 ABSOLUTi: IMtOl'KUTIEa. 
 
 CHAl^TEli Vll. 
 
 OP THE SUOOESTiVE PROPERTIES OP STYLE. 
 
 § 272. The sugcjestive properties of style in- 
 clude those that are founded on the relationship be- 
 tween the sound and the thought, and those that are 
 founded on the relationship between the object that 
 represents the thought and tlie thought. The former 
 may l>e denominated the imitative ; the latter, the sym- 
 bolical properties of style. 
 
 It was observed, in treating of tlie nature of language, 
 $ 245, that language is representative or suggestive in its 
 nature in a two-fold respect. In the lirst place, a sensible 
 object is taken to represent the thought, if abstract, and in 
 the second place, a sound or word is applied as indicative of 
 that object, or of the mental state itself. Hence the ground 
 of distinguishing these two varieties of suggestive properties. 
 
 § 273. The properties of voice on which the sugges- 
 tive qualities of style are founded, are those of quality 
 and time ; pitch and force, except as the latter is con 
 nected with accent, not admitting any consideration it 
 this department of style. 
 
 § 274. Words regarded as sounds are imitative of 
 three different classes of thoughts : 1. sensations ol 
 sounds; 2. other sensations analogous to those of 
 sound ; 3. mental states analogous to these sensations. 
 
 $ 275. All languages contain words which, in their 
 very structure as composite sounds, more or less per 
 fectly resemble in quality, as soft or hai-sh, <fec,, the 
 sounds which tht i ^iesignate. Such uie. in our owr« 
 language, hiss^ bur-^) micrtmer, guvi^le^ dash^ rattle. 
 
SUOGKSTlVi; PIIOPKIITIKS. 
 
 205 
 
 The following- extracts are t'amilinr exemplifications of the 
 beauty and force iinpuited to style by the adaptation o( tha 
 sounds to the objects represented : 
 
 The pilgrim oft 
 At dead of night 'mid his uraison hears 
 Aglifist the voice of lime-disparting towers, 
 . Tumbling all precipitate down-dashed 
 
 Rattling around, loud thundering to the moon.— Dyer. 
 
 Loud sounds the air, redoubling strokes on strokes; 
 On all sides round the forest hurls her oaks 
 Headlong. Deep echoing groan the thickets brown, 
 Tiieu rustling, crackling, crushing, thunder down. 
 
 Pope's Iliad. 
 
 § 376. Not only single words but the eniire struc- 
 ture of the sentence may bear a resemblance to the 
 sound represented. 
 
 Soft is the strain wiien Zei)hyr 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. 
 
 Pope: Essay on Criticism, 
 
 What! like Sir Richard, rumbling, rough, and iitrce. 
 With arms, and George, and Brunswick crowd the verse. 
 Rend with tremendous sounds your ears asur,djr. 
 With gun, drum, trumpet, blunderbuss and thunder? 
 Then all your muse's softer art display. 
 Let Carolina smooth the tuneful lay. 
 Lull with Amelia's liquid name the Nine, 
 And sweetly flow through all the rny«l line. — Id : Sat. I. 
 
 § 277. In so far as the sensations of Found resemble 
 in their effects on the mind, or in other relations, those 
 of the other senses, words, regarded merely as sounds, 
 may be imitative of them also. 
 
 In this case, the imitation is not direct., as in the use of 
 
 •ounds: but only iiidirecl, us it is not I'uunded immediately 
 
 IS 
 
M 
 
 r 
 
 206 
 
 ABSOLUTE PROPERTIES. 
 
 on the qualities of the sensation; but on the relations. This 
 analogy between tlie sound and the object represented greatly 
 assists' the impression to be made in the representation. 
 • Of the sensations susceptible of this analogous imitation 
 in style, those of sight are the most common; and of the 
 latter class, those of motion. 
 
 Here the imitation is more frequently effected by connec- 
 ted than by single words. The following will serve as ex- 
 eniplifications: 
 
 Deep in those woods the black-cap and thrush still hooted 
 and clang unweariedly : she heard also the cawing of crows, 
 and the scream of the loon; the tinkle of bells, the lowing 
 of cows and the bleating of sheep were distinctly audible. 
 Her own Robin, on the Butternut below, began his long, 
 sweet, many-toned carol; the tree-toad chimed in with its 
 loud trilling chirrup; and frogs from the Pond and Mill 
 Brook, crooled, chubbed and croaked.— il/flr^'-are^. 
 
 While the cock, with lively din. 
 Scatters the rear of darkness thin. 
 And to the stack or the barn-door, 
 Stovthf stmts his dames hehre. 
 
 Milton; U Allegro, 
 
 Oft on a plat of rising ground, 
 I hear the far-oif curfew sound. 
 Over some wide watered shore, 
 Swinoins slow xoith sullen roar, 
 
 "^ '' Id.; 11 Penseroso. 
 
 With easy course 
 The vessels glide; unless their spesd be stopped 
 By dead calms, that oft lie on these smooth seas. 
 When every zephyr sleeps. 
 
 $ 278. Mental states, in so far as they may be con- 
 ceived of as analogous to the sensations of sound, may 
 also be imitated in language. 
 
 The range of ^his species of imitation is very wide; aV 
 
sufjcfiib n , i: nioi^iJiTiKS. 
 
 2G7 
 
 enseroso. 
 
 thoU""^ the imitation is less direct and obvious than in the 
 other species. As all those words in lano uage which denote 
 uieutal states as well as all abstract terms were, origi:.all> , 
 expressive only of objects of sense, and could be transferred 
 to tiiis abstract use only on condition of a correspondence 
 between the world of thought and the world of sense, we 
 iiiii'ht rationally expect that language would furnish fie- 
 qiient instances of this species of imitation. In point of fact, 
 we lind that in able writers the style is ever colored by the 
 mental state. Auger, kindness, vehemence, gentleness, anr 
 the like, have, each, a language, a style of expression pecu 
 liar to themselves. And this peculiarity of expression is to 
 be traced in the character of the language regarded as a 
 complication of sound merely. The following will serve as 
 illustrations of this correspondence in the sound to the sense: 
 
 In those deep solitudes and awful cells. 
 Where heavenly pensive contemplation dwells, 
 And ever-musing Melancholy reigns. 
 
 Pope: Eloise to Abelard, 
 
 With eyes upraised, as one inspired. 
 Pale melancholy sat retired, 
 And from her mild sequestered seat 
 In notes by distance made more sweet. 
 Poured through the mellow horn her pensive tone. 
 Collins: Ode to the Passions, 
 
 But O, how altered was its sprightlier tone. 
 
 When cheerfulness, a nymph of healthiest hue. 
 
 Her bow across her shoulders flung, 
 
 Her buskins gemmed with morning devy. 
 
 Blew an inspiring air, that dale and thicket rung. 
 
 The hunter's call, to Faun and Dryad known. — Ibid, 
 
 Haste thee. Nymph, and bring with thee 
 Jest and youthful Jollity, 
 Quips and cranks and wanton wdles. 
 Nods and becks and wreathed smiles. 
 
208 
 
 ABSOLUTE PROPERTIES. 
 
 f'l V, 
 
 ■,,|ilSi 
 
 H«* 
 
 '''H.jit 
 
 Such as hang on Hebe's cheek. 
 And love to live in dimple sleek; 
 Sport that wrinkled care derides. 
 And Laughter holding both his sides. 
 Come, and trip it as you go. 
 On the light fantastic toe; 
 And ip thy right hand lead with thee 
 The mo.intain-nvmph, sweet Liberty. 
 
 Milton: U Allegro. 
 
 Nor shall the wisdom, the moderation, the christian piety, 
 the constancy of our nobility and commons ot England be 
 ever forgotten, whose calm and temperate connivance could 
 sit still and smile out the stormv bluster ot "-" «^«[f ^^^^^^^^ 
 cious and precipitant than ot solid and deep reach, till th r 
 o.vn fury had run itself out of breath, assailing by rash and 
 heady approaches the impregnable situation ot our liberty 
 and safety, that laughed such weak enginery to ^corn such 
 poor drifts to make a national war oj a surphce J^abhh, a 
 tippet souJ}le.--Milton: Reformation tn England. 
 
 To this class of properties may be referred the grammati- 
 cal figures of paronomasia and alliteration. These figures 
 owe their peculiar beauty to the fact that in u.ing them the 
 speaker indicates a controlling reference to the nature of Ian- 
 guage as consisting of sounds,-the sound of the word 
 suggesting the use of them. 
 
 §279. The Paronomasia is the use of words 
 which diirer in sense but are similar in sound ; as, 
 
 Amantes sunt amenics.— Terence. 
 
 The PUN is sometimes regarded as a species of paronon.h* 
 
 sia. It differs from it in this respect; that it is the use of 
 
 a word in a two-fold sense, as, 
 
 "A second Thomas, or, at once, ^ 
 To name them all, another Dunce; 
 
 where allusion is made to two celebrated schokstic metaphy* 
 iicians, Thomas Afpiihas and John Duns Scotus. 
 
SUGGESTIVE PllOPEllTIES. 
 
 209 
 
 U Allegro, 
 
 iristian piety, 
 ' England be 
 livance could 
 n more auda- 
 ach^ till their 
 nr by rash and 
 3f our liberty 
 to scorn, such 
 ice f rabble, a 
 gland. 
 
 he grammati- 
 These figures 
 ijing them the 
 nature of lan- 
 of the word 
 
 56 of words 
 n sound ; as, 
 
 3 of parononih* 
 ; is the use of 
 
 ince 
 
 .»» 
 
 lastic metaphy* 
 
 tus. 
 
 Lastly, he has resolved ' that neither person nor cause 
 jjhall inaproper him/ I may mistake his naeaning, for tiie 
 word ye hear is ^improper.' But whether, if not a person, 
 yet a good parsonage or impropriation, brought out for him, 
 would not 'improper' him, because there may be a quirk 
 in the word, I leave it for a canonist to resolve. — Milton^ 
 
 And thus ends this section, or rather dissection of him- 
 self, short ye will say, both in breath and extent, as in our 
 own praises it ought to be. — /rf. 
 
 § 280. Alliteration is the use of several words 
 in succession beginning with tlie same letter ; as, O 
 Tite, tuta Tati, tibi tanta, tyranne, tuliste. — Ennius. 
 
 Then while the honor thou hast got 
 
 Is spick-and-span new, piping hot. — Hudibras. 
 
 Already doubled is the cape, the bay 
 Receives the prow, that proudly spurns the spray. 
 
 Byron. 
 
 Anglo-Saxon poetry w^as mainly distinguished from prose 
 by a regular alliteration. Hence alliteration contmued to 
 be a prominent characteristic in early English poetry. It 
 abounds in Spencer. 
 
 But direful deadly black both leaf acd bloom. 
 Fit to adorn the dead and deck the dreary tomb. 
 
 She, of naught afraid. 
 Through woods and w'steness wide him daily sought. 
 
 " The lion, lord of every beast in field," 
 
 Quoth he, '' his princely puissance doth abate,*'' &c. 
 
 $ 281. Words are symbolical when they desig-- 
 nate. sensible objects or scenes which symbolize or 
 image forth the sense. 
 
 Words generally, as before observed, are originally sym- 
 bolical, when used to denirte abstract notions. The sensible 
 
 object or scene is taken as ihe mirror of the thought to b« 
 
 18* 
 
I 'l 
 
 m-y;- 
 
 il'Hi ! 
 
 210 
 
 ABSOLin E PROPKRTIKS. 
 
 conveyed. How the mind is enabled to discern the thought 
 in this reflection, whether by some analogy of the scene or 
 object to the thought, as, for instance, a similarity in the 
 effect upon the mind, or by association or otherwise, it is 
 not necessary hare to explain. It is sufficient to note the 
 fact that sensible scenes and objects do reflect abstract 
 thoughts; and especially when, as in language, the attention 
 is set to discern the thought revealed in the symbol. 
 
 The peculiar force and beauty imparted to style by this 
 use of words may be accounted for, in part at least, by 
 several distinct considerations. First, this use of words is in 
 accordance with the proper nature of language. Language, 
 originally and properly, is not a mere collection of arbitrary 
 si<'-ns, like those of algebra, which in themselves import 
 nothing. Words are more like the diagrams of geometry, 
 in which, without previous explanation, may be perceived 
 the truth of the proposition which they severally exemplify. 
 Although, in the process of language, it becomes more and 
 more like algebraic signs and less and less symbolical and 
 picture-like, it yet retains to a greater or less extent this 
 original characteristic; and so far as language is used in 
 accordance with its primitive and uncorrupted nature, it 
 pleases and impresses. 
 
 Secondly, in this use of language, the imagination is 
 directly addressed and put in play. The hearer fixes his eye 
 on the sensible object or scene, and his imagination forms 
 the picture of the thought. He thus becomes himself a 
 creative artist; and the forms, to which his own inijigina- 
 tion gives birth, gratify at once the instinctive dotings of 
 paternity and the love of originating, inherent in our nature. 
 Interpreting a mere language of signs, where words only 
 stand for ideas and do not represent them through sensible 
 obiects, is, on the other hand, a dull exercise of memory 
 
1 the thought 
 the scene or 
 ilarity in the 
 her wise, it is 
 t to note the 
 fleet abstract 
 the attention 
 nibol. 
 
 style by this 
 
 at least, by 
 
 of words is in 
 
 Language, 
 
 n of arbitrary 
 
 selves import 
 
 ; of geometry, 
 
 be perceived 
 
 Uy exemplify. 
 
 lies more and 
 
 'mbolical and 
 
 ss extent this 
 
 sre is used in 
 
 ted nature, it 
 
 m agination is 
 ?r fixes his eye 
 ,ination forms 
 les himself a 
 own inijigina- 
 ive dotings of 
 in our nature, 
 re words only 
 rough sensible 
 se of memory 
 
 SUGCiKSTIV K PilUlM-HTIES. 
 
 211 
 
 If the lano-unge of modern civilization, in which science pre* 
 vails over poetry, is more precise, more exact and uuambigu- 
 ous it is yet less pleasing and less iuipK sive than the rich 
 imagery and life of earlier dialects. It is the high preroga- 
 tive of an accou\plished speaker to unite the precision of the 
 modern with the vivid beauty and force of the primitive 
 diction. 
 
 § 282. Ill the selection of words with a view to this 
 beauty of style, the more specific arc to be preferred to 
 the more generic. 
 
 In the following extract from Mr. Sheridan's Speech 
 aoainst Hastings, it will be ap[)arent that, instead of the spe- 
 cific or individual objects which are so forcibly presented to 
 the mind in it, and by which the sentiment is so vividly 
 coniniunicated, the whole thought might be as fully and 
 accurately exhibited in more generic language, but the torce 
 and richness of the ex[)ression would be lost. 
 
 It is true he did not direct the guards, the famine, and the 
 bhulgeons; he did not weigh the fetters, nor number the 
 lashes to be inflicted on his\'ictims: but 3 et he is equally 
 cuiltv as if he had borne an active and personal share in 
 each transaction. 
 
 The Ihoujiht would have been as fuUv conveyed if he had 
 simply said, " It is true he did not give out the orders for the 
 arrest and the torture of his victims; nor himself carry 
 these orders into execution: but yet," &c. 
 
 § 283. It is necess'iiy, further, in securing this 
 property to style, that truth to the actual object or 
 scene used to symbolize the thought, be strictly ob- 
 served. 
 
 This implies exactness in the particular delineatioix? 
 and congruousncss in the parts of a complex object. 
 
♦♦IB if '*» 
 
 ftt' '.'111 iiiii 
 
 212 
 
 ABSOLUTE PROPEKTIF.9. 
 
 In the following extract the mind labors to conceive the 
 representation in consequence of being unable to unite the 
 incongruous features of the heterogeneous objects presented. 
 
 Thou<^h in their corrupt notions of divine worship, they 
 are aptio multiply their gods, yet this earthly devotion is 
 seldom paid to above one idol at a time, whose ear they 
 please with less murmuring and much more skill than ^\ hen 
 they share the lading or even hold the helm. 
 
 The following are examples of an opposite character ia 
 
 this respect, in which the sensible representation is exact 
 
 and congruous throughout; 
 
 For truth, I know not how, hath this unhappiness fatal 
 to her, ere she can come to the trial and inspection of the 
 understanding: being to pass through many little wards and 
 limits of the several affections and desires, she cannot shift 
 it, but must put on such colors and attire as those pathetic 
 handmaids of the soul please to lead her in to their queen; 
 and if s) -) find so much favor with them, they let her pas3 
 in her own likeness; if not, they bring iicr into the presence 
 habited and colored like a notorious falsehood. And con- 
 trary, when any falsehood comes that way, if they like the 
 errand she brings, thev arc so artful to counterfeit the very 
 shape and visage of truth, that the understanding, not being 
 able to discern the fucus which these enchantresses with 
 such cunning have laid upon the features sometimes of truth, 
 sometimes of falsehood interchangeably, sentences for the 
 most part one for the other at the iirst blush, according to 
 the subtle imposture of these sensual mistresses that keep the 
 ports and passages between her and the object.— Mil ton. 
 
 So is the imperfect, unfinished spirit of a man. It lays 
 the foundation of a holy resolution, and strengthens it Mith 
 vows and arts of persecution; it raises up the walls,— 
 sacraments, and prayers, reading and holy ordinances. 
 And hulv actions begin uith a slow motion, and the builcl- 
 iug stavs, and the spirit is weury, and the soul is naked and 
 exposed to temptation, .-jud in tiie days of storm takes in 
 every thing that ..an do ii [r.i..chiri ; nnd it is faint and sick, 
 
GRAM.MAllCAL PRi)Hl, KTl KS. 
 
 213 
 
 to conceive the 
 )le to unite the 
 ijects presented. 
 
 e worship, they 
 :lily devt)ti()n is 
 ^vhose ear ihey 
 skill than when 
 
 ite character ia 
 itation is exact 
 
 ihappiness fatal 
 nspection of the 
 little wards and 
 she cannot shift 
 s those pathetic 
 
 to their queen; 
 hey let her pass 
 ato the presence 
 jod. And cou" 
 
 if they like the 
 iterfeit the very 
 Kling, not being 
 ■hantresses with 
 letimes of truth, 
 jntences for the 
 sh, according to 
 ses that keep the 
 ect. — Milfoil. 
 
 a man. It lays 
 engthens it M-ith 
 jp the walls,— 
 loly ordinances. 
 I, and the build- 
 aul is naked and 
 storm takes in 
 is faint and sick, 
 
 listless and tired, and it stands till its own weight wearies 
 the foundation^ and then declines to death and sad disorder. 
 
 ./. Taylor. 
 
 Nor in our prosperity, our affluence of good things, our 
 possession of common, should we be unmindful of him w ho 
 relieved us in our straits, who supplied our wants, sustained 
 our adversity, who redeemed us from Egypt, and led us 
 through the wilderness. A succession of new and fresh be- 
 neiits should not, as among some savages the manner is for 
 the young to make away the old, supplant and expunge 
 ancient ones, but make them rather more dear and venerable 
 to us. Time should not weaken or diminish, but rather 
 confirm and radicate in us the remembrance of God's good- 
 ness; to render it, as it doth gold and silver, more precious 
 and more strong. — Barrow^s Sermons. 
 
 CHAPTER VIIT. 
 
 OF THE GRAMMATICAL PROPERTIES OP STYLE. 
 
 § 284. The grammatical properties of style may be 
 distributed into three species, according as they respect 
 the forms of tvords, their connection, or their mean' 
 
 The departments of grammar which respectively treat of 
 these several species are Etymology, Syntax, and Lexico- 
 graphy. Etymology presides over the words introduced 
 into the language and the forms which they take; syntax, 
 over the arrangement and relations of words; and lexico- 
 graphy assigns to tl'irr their meaning. The several species 
 of the grammatical pr'^psrties of style are founded, accord- 
 ingly, on these departments of grammar, and derive from 
 ^^c:e their regulative nrinciples. 
 
>.W*'l \ t I 
 
 
 ,f :|ii' 
 
 rm 
 
 „lt1 
 
 J?l' 
 
 ABsoi I ri; i'iU)Pi:.rrii:a. 
 
 fixed and 
 
 Inasnuc^. as I'lese pTPionuitical » rincipli-s are 
 imperative, the cibservaine if them in st\ le is indispensable. 
 Hence it is mor^ convenient lo consider these properties iu 
 fheir negativ3 aspect; and to exhibit them not in the I'orms 
 in which, as observed, they impart beauty to discourse, but 
 ill \vhich, as they are disregarded, the discourse becomes 
 
 thereby I'aulty. 
 
 Before illustrating the several faults against grammatical 
 purity in style, it becomes necessary to ascertain the stau- 
 dard of purity. Numerous and weighty authorities deter- 
 mine this to be good use. The language of Horace is: 
 
 Usus 
 
 Quem penes arbitrium est et jus et norma loquendi. 
 
 Quintilian only says use is the most certain rule: Cer 
 tissima regula in consuetudine. 
 
 Dr. Campbell is earnest in maintaining that use is neces- 
 sarily the sole criterion. 
 
 It has been before observed, § 246, that grammatical 
 science is either abstract or historical. The laws of thought, 
 on the one hand, and the laws of articulate sounds, on the 
 other, impose certain necessary conditions on the formation 
 of language. These laws being given, it may be detemiiu. 
 ed beforehand, to a certain extent, what must be the pro- 
 parties of language, or, in other words, the principles of 
 grammar. No use can be characterised as good that vio- 
 lates these universal principles of language. 
 
 But, again, there is such a thing as grammatical science, 
 regarded as historical, and founded on inductive grounds. 
 There are in every language certain general laws which 
 control and regulate its development. There are general 
 principles of etymology and syntax; violations of which 
 must be regarded as faults. It is true that sometime! 
 the difl'erent principles that preside over the formation o' 
 
GRAMMATICAr. FUOf KItTIES. 
 
 215 
 
 that use is neces- 
 
 language come in collision with one another, and thaa 
 grammatical rules frequently iiave exceptions. The prin- 
 ciples of euphony, thus, frecjuenlly, occasion deviations from 
 the common laws of derivation. So, likewise, more pur'^ly 
 rhetorical or logical principles modify the operation of pro- 
 per grammatical rules. Such exceptions are not, hewtver^ 
 properly violations of the laws of language. Now no "use" 
 can be allowed to transgress these general principles. If 
 grammatical monstrosities by any mishap exist, a correct 
 taste will shu'i them, as it does physical deformities in the 
 arts of design. 
 
 Back then of use we have both the abstract principles of 
 universal language, and also the inductive principles of par- 
 ticular languages, as guides and criteria of grammatical 
 purity. By tliese principles use itself must be tried. 
 
 Good use is, therefore, only a proximate and presump- 
 tive test oi" purity. While generally its decisions are authori- 
 tative, they admit, in their nature, of being questioned, and 
 must themselves submit to higher authority. The expres- 
 . sions " nowadays " and " had have gone " have all the pre^ 
 scribed characteristics of good use; "reputable, national, 
 and present." No one can rationally deny, however, that 
 in elevated discourse at least one is a barbarism and the 
 other a solecism. We may accordingly lay down the prin- 
 ciple which regulates this matter as it is expressed in the 
 following section. 
 
 § 285. The standard ©f grammatical purity 
 is to be found proximately in good use ; but ultimately 
 in the fixed principles of grammatical science, that is. 
 in the principles of etymology, syntrx, and lexicog- 
 raphy. 
 
 § 286. That use alone is to be regarded as good 
 

 i; ; , 
 
 l!:^rj;:34'*-r3'r k!-' MB 
 
 ' I 
 
 21G 
 
 AnsOLlITK PROFKIiriKS. 
 
 which possesses (he foUowinq- characteristics, viz: that 
 it is national, as opposed to provincial and technical ; 
 reputable, or sanctioned by the best authors; and 
 present, as opposed to what is obsolete. 
 
 $ 287. Oflenses against grammatical purity may be 
 distributed in reference to their occasions into the fol- 
 lowing species, viz : 
 
 1. Archaism, or obsolete use ; 
 
 2. Provincialism, or the use of what is not national, 
 or confined to a district or province ; 
 
 2. Idiotism, or the use whicli is confined to an indi- 
 /idual ; 
 
 4. Technicality, or use peculiar to a sect or trade ; 
 
 5. Alienism, or use derived from a foreign language. 
 It is to be remarked that eacli of these species includes 
 
 .ffenses against all the departments of grammar, whether 
 sitymology, syntax, or lexicography. An archaism, thus, 
 may either be a barbarism, solecism, or impropriety. 
 
 $ 288. A fault in respect to the settled forms of 
 words, that is, ?n offense against the etymology of a 
 language, is denominated a Barbarism. 
 
 $ 289. A barbarism may lie in the use of a radical 
 word not sanctioned by the etymology of a language ; 
 or in an unauthorized mode of deriving, infiecting, or 
 compounding words. 
 
 Tlie English language admits more freely the introduc- 
 tion of new radical words than most other languages. 
 Words of Latin or Greek origin it receives without hesi- 
 tancy,* and subjects them in the process of naturalizing to 
 but trifling modifications. So common has this adulteration 
 of the language been, that a barbarism of this species h 
 
 
GRAMMATICAL PR0PEIITIE3. 
 
 217 
 
 hardly reckoned a fault, and the preservation of a pure 
 Ang u^axon style has consequently become a positive 
 excellence. f "»o 
 
 The follo^ving are barbarisms in respect to the use of 
 words not authorized: approbate, eventuate, heft, jeopar- 
 dize, missionate, preventative, reluctate, repetitious, peek 
 for peep, numcrositj, effluxion, inchoation, anon, behove, 
 erewhile, whenas, peradventure, obligate, memorize, bating, 
 pending, hearken. 
 
 Barbarisms in inflection : Stricken* for struck, Let for 
 heated, pled for pleaded, lit for lighted, provenf for proved, 
 had nt ought for ought not, had rather have gone for would 
 rather have gone, have drank for have drunk, have began 
 
 Barbarisms in derivation : Deputize, happifv, firstly for 
 first, illy for ill. '' 
 
 Barbarisms in comj>ound words: SidehiUJ for hill-side 
 sundown t for sunset, feUow-countiymen for countrymen! 
 selfsame. ' 
 
 MISCELLANEOUS EXAMPLES. 
 
 U^^'-) '?"l* Pliilosophers, not considering so well as I 
 ha e mistook to be different in their oauses.-is««/r ' 
 
 J ^«««<^ "^ Many words are admiasible in poetry which mJt 
 be prononnced barbarisms in prose. ^ 
 
 f Technical use. 
 
 I CoUoqqi.'.i nse. 
 
 19 
 

 1 
 
 1 
 
 ! 
 1 
 
 1 1 
 i 
 
 1 
 
 w 
 
 I' I' 
 
 'I' ' I 
 
 I I I 
 
 ' I 
 
 
 '^9 
 
 m 
 
 ! 
 
 --'H 
 
 m^^ 
 
 tmi ': 
 
 ^i^^^i 
 
 Hli 
 
 m'' ' 
 
 fl 
 
 ^B 
 
 iMi 
 
 I^^^H 
 
 ■■ 
 
 mi 
 
 ' ^I^^^H 
 
 P 
 
 
 
 ■ 
 
 
 218 
 
 ABSOLUTF. PROPERTIES. 
 
 The l>«»te«r of Florin w., very dingraciou,, «ml .li»g«.t. 
 ed bolh liis friends and strangers. 
 
 « o,)„ V fault in rcsp=ct to the settle.! urrangemeRl 
 or ccltmction of words in a sentence or an olense 
 r^aLt tUe syntax of a langtutge is deuomtnated a 
 
 Solecism. 
 
 It is obvious from the definition that a solecism may be 
 con n itted in respect to any one of the various principl 
 of syntax. The following will suffice as exemphhcations 
 under the more generic heads: p^treme » 
 
 1. In the ^<se of adjectives:^ « the most extreme, 
 « most straitest," "more preferable." 
 
 2. In the use of nouns and pronouns: 
 
 a. In concord; "Each will observe their turn for b 
 turn"; "If any one transgresses, let them be, &c., 
 Smith's the bookseller/' ^^ 
 
 i. In government; " I supposed it to be he, for to be 
 
 him." 
 
 3. In the tise of verbs: 
 
 a. In concord; "The amount of all the expoauures^and 
 disbursements far exceed," &c.; "He dare no do .t, 
 « dares •" " Would to God," for " Would God. 
 
 4. /,; the «»e of conjuncHr,s. including conjuncUon. 
 nroper and relatives. 
 
 ^ <<Be told the same story as you," for <Uhat you j 
 « Equally as," for " equally u)ith "; ^^ 
 "Neither flatter or contemn the rich,'' for nor , 
 ^No more is meant but that," for « than"^ 
 
 improper imitation of the French expression . ^^^^ J^^^. 
 « Would God," as equivalent to « I wish, or pray, tliat God woulO, 
 u tVie nreferable form. 
 
C, R A M M AT I ( • M, P It O F LI III' 1 1: S. 
 
 219 
 
 "Persons will not believe but ivhat" for "but that*'} 
 
 "Solomon, the son of David, who built the temple." 
 
 «J it^ the use of p rep os it io n s : * 
 
 '' £]ie is free «/pain/' for "from pain"; 
 
 *' In pursuance io the**; 
 
 « By the observing these precepts," for "o/ these precepts.' 
 
 6, lit the use of adverbs: 
 
 Second, tiiird, &c., for secondly, thirdly, &c. 
 
 MISCELLANEOUS EXAMPLES. 
 
 Removinjr the term from Westminster, sitting the Par- 
 liament, was illegal. — Macau la i/. 
 
 We need not, nor do not, confine the purposes of God. 
 
 Bently. 
 
 I shall endeavor to live hereafter suitable to a man in my 
 station. — Addison, 
 
 He behaved himself conformable to that blessed example. 
 
 Sprat. 
 
 I can never think so very mean of him. — Bently. 
 
 The chiefest of which w as known by the name of Archon 
 among the Grecians — Drijdcn. 
 
 The author is informed, that the bookseller has prevailed 
 on several gentlemen to write some explanatory notes, for 
 the goodness of whirh he is not to answer, having never 
 seen any of them, nor intends it, till thev appear in print. 
 
 Swift. 
 
 Nor is it then a w^elcome guest, afTording only an uneasy 
 sensation, and brings always with it a mixture of concern 
 and compassion. — Fielding. 
 
 Base, ungrateful boy! miserable as I am, yet I cannot 
 cease to love thee. My love even now speaks in my resent- 
 ment. I am still your father, nor can your usage form my 
 heart anew. — Goldsmith, 
 
 * i'or other examples, see under improprieliea. Reuurded in one 
 light these faulta are Bolocisms ; in other words, one view of language 
 would place them in the s/ncy-a of eyntax; another, in the sphere of 
 lexicography. 
 
220 
 
 ABSOLUTK PllOPERTIKS. 
 
 But the temper, as well as knowledge, of a modern Insto- 
 rian e guire aL..-e sober and ten^perate language.-6.W.o.. 
 "Nele death uor turtu.e u ere sufficient to subdue the 
 minds of CargiU and his intrepid tullovvers.-i'(>x. 
 
 Each of th^se words imply some pursuit or object relm- 
 
 ^""ixif 'observable that every one of the letters bear date 
 after his banishment.— i^««f/y- • •,. 
 
 Magnus, with four thousand of his supposed accomplices, 
 
 ivpre uut to death. — Gibbon. ^ ^ • • i 
 
 The^s" feasts were celebrated to the honor of Osiris, whom 
 the Greeks called Dionysius, and is the same with Bacchus. 
 
 Whether one person or more was concerned in the bus- 
 iness was not ascertained. ^ ,^ ^ ,,.„pnnnrfl 
 Those sort of favors do real injury under the appearance 
 
 °^ fii-ery 'pmon, whatever be their station, is bound by the 
 duties of morality and religion. 
 
 He dare not do it at present, and he need not. 
 
 Whether he will or no, I care not. 
 
 We do those things frequently that we rci)ent ot alter- 
 
 "" Many persons will not believe but what they are free 
 from prejudices. . , 
 
 One of his clients, who was more merry than wise, stole 
 it from him one day in the midst of his pleading; but he 
 had better have let it alone, for he lost his ^^^^^^J^jj^^^^f ^• 
 
 T am equally an enemy to a female dunce or a female 
 nedant. — Ooldsmith. , , 
 
 Kin- Charles, and more than hiin, the duke and the 
 Popisl? faction, were at liberty to form new schemes.— «o- 
 
 linabroke. . ^ ,. ^ 
 
 The drift of all his sermons was, to piepare the Jews tor 
 the reception of a propiiet, mightier than him, and whose 
 shoes he was not worthy to hear.-Atterbury. 
 
 He whom ve pretend reigns in heaven, is so far tron 
 nrotecting the' miserable sons of men, that he perpetually 
 Seliffhts to blast the sweetest Howers in the garden of Hope. 
 
GRAMMATICAL PROPERTIES. 
 
 221 
 
 Neither of them are remarkable for precision. — Blair, 
 
 In proportion as either of these two qualities are wanting, 
 the language is imperfect. — Addison, 
 
 I had no sooner drank than I found a pimple rising in my 
 iorehead.— Tatlpr. 
 
 In this respect, the seeds of future divisions were sowed 
 abundantly. — Lyttleton. 
 
 A free constitution, when it has been shook by the ini-« 
 quity of former administrations. — Bolingbroke. 
 
 A large part of the meadows and cornfields was over- 
 flown. 
 
 He was early charged by Asinius Pollio as neither faith- 
 ful or exact. — Ledwick. 
 
 He was persuaded to strenuously prosecute the great en- 
 terprises ol the company. 
 
 § 201. A fault in regai'd to the settled meaning of 
 words, that is, an offense against the lexicography of 
 a language, is denominated an Impropriety. 
 
 $ 292. Improprieties are either in single words or in 
 phrases. 
 
 I. Improprieties in Single Words. 
 
 1. Adjectives. 
 
 " The alone principle/' for " the sole principle.** 
 
 ** A likely boy," for " promising." 
 
 ** This wilderness world." 
 
 " He did not injure him any," for " at all." 
 
 " The work was incident to decay," for " liable.* 
 
 *^ He is considerable hQiier.^^ 
 
 ** He is considerable of a man." 
 
 " Such words were derogatory,'" for " degrading.* 
 
 " Obnoxious doctrines," for " hurtful doctrines.* 
 
 2. Nouns and Pronouns^ 
 
 ■Mean" for "means." 
 
 •The observation of the rule," for "the observance,* 
 • He was in a tem-ptr,'" for " bad temper " or " passion.' 
 " The balance of them," for " remainder " 
 
 19* 
 
I"i 
 
 (* 
 
 222 
 
 ABSOLUTE PROPERTIES. 
 
 « At a wide remove-,'' for « distance." ^ 
 « In community," lor « <Ae community 
 « The works of Deity," lor" of ^Ae Deity. 
 
 3. Verbs. 
 « I «rfm/re to liear," for « I like to hear." 
 «I arf/n/re that he should do it," "J wonder, &c. 
 « T gr»e6'/ he did it," for " suspect. „ , , ^ ,, , . 
 « HeXes iot /.llo^iship with him " for "hold fellowship. 
 « I /.ar«e;(i him the lesson," for "I taught. ^ 
 « He was raised in Cirina," for " brought up. ^ 
 «Mr. L. sMpp^^'erf at Kingston," lor ^preached. 
 « They calculate to go," for "^ uitend. 
 « There let him lay,'' for "lie.' ^ 
 
 « The council was setting," Joy sitting. 
 ** To fall trees, for " to lell." 
 « I rec^07t he did." 
 
 « He condticts well," for « conducts himselt. 
 " It was predicated on other grounds. 
 " The work progresses rapidly." 
 
 « Such doctrines revolt us." „ 
 
 "The proceedings of the cabinet have not transptreU, 
 for "been made public." ^ 
 
 « Property appreciates," for " rises in value. 
 
 4. Conjunctiotis and Adverbs. 
 
 ''Like he did," for "as he did." „ ^ „ , 
 
 ^Directly they came, I went away," for as soon U. 
 "He was quite sick," for "very." 
 "I feel as though," for " if." 
 "Equally aj well," for "equally^ well. 
 ^As old or older than tradition." 
 
 6. Prepositions, 
 
 ** Averse from," instead of "averse to.* 
 "In comparison to," for "with.J 
 "In accordance to," for "with.^ 
 "Militate with," for "against." 
 "Confide on," for "in." 
 "Independent on," for "of." 
 ** Worthy," for "worthy of." 
 *Diffei with" for "from." 
 
GRAMMATICAL PROPERTIES. 
 
 223 
 
 II. Improprieties in Phrases. 
 
 Celebrates the church of England as the most perfect of 
 all others. 
 
 I had like to have gotten one or two broken heads. 
 
 miscellaneous examples. 
 
 The only actions to which we have always seen^, and still 
 see all of them intent, are such as tend to the destruction of 
 one another. — Burke. 
 
 To which, as Bishop Burnet tells us, the Prince of Orange 
 was willing to comply. — Bolingbroke. 
 
 The discovery he made and communicated with his 
 lends. — Swift. 
 
 The people being only convoked upon such occasions, 
 us, by this institution of Romulus, fell into their cogniz- 
 ance. — Id. 
 
 The wisest princes need not think it any diminution to 
 tlieir greatness or derogation to their sufficiency to rely 
 upon counsel. — Bacon's Essays. 
 
 The esteem which Philip had conceived of the embassa- 
 dor. — Hume. 
 
 The christians were driven out of all their Asatic posess- 
 ions, in acquiring of which incredible numbers of men had 
 perished. — Robertson. 
 
 I d ( likewise dissent with the Examiner. — Addison. 
 
 Ur. Johiison, with whom I am sorry to differ in opinion, 
 has treated it as a work of merit. — Scott. 
 
 The memory of Lord Peter's injuries produced a degree 
 of hatred and spite, which had a much greater share of iu- 
 citiag- him, than regards after his father-'s commands. — Siuift. 
 
 Von stand to liim in the relation of a son; of conse- 
 (jue iCe \ ou should obey him. 
 
 It is no more but his due. 
 
 Tlie ship la}s in tlie harbor. 
 
 He will become enamored for virtus and patriotism, and 
 acquire a detestation ot" vice, cruelty, and corruption. — Gold' 
 smith. 
 
 Having been for a fortnight together, they at© then 
 mi^Hy good company to be sure. — Id, 
 
224 
 
 ABSOLUTE PRCVPEUTIES. 
 
 Now the difference between one audience and anothsr is 
 very ereat, not only in intellectual, but in moral attainments. 
 It may be clearly intelligible to a House of Connnons, which 
 would appear as if spoken in an unknown tongue to a con- 
 venticle of enthusiasts. It may kindle fury in the la tor, 
 what would create no emotion in the former, but laughtei 
 and contempt. — Campbell, ,^ - i j 1 1 
 
 This effect, we may safely say, no one beforehand could 
 have promised upon. — Hume. 
 
PART II.-SUBJECTIVE PROPERTIES, 
 
 CHAPTER I. 
 
 GENERAL VIEW. 
 
 § 293. The subjective properties of style are those 
 which are determined to discourse by the mental con- 
 dition of the speaker. § 244. 
 
 Speech is the expression of thought, not as abstract and, 
 so to speak, separate from the thinking mind, not of mere 
 truth or of ideas, but rather of the thinking states of the 
 living speaker. Just so far as it becomes the mere repre- 
 sentative of abstract propositions, it sinks from its proper 
 character and elevation. Ca the other hand, jul^ so far as 
 it is an expression of the thinking mind itself, partaking of 
 its individual life and glow, it fulfils more perfectly its 
 proper object, and consequently is more pleasing and more 
 impressive. 
 
 § 294. The mental condition of the speaker is de- 
 termined by the natural and acquired characteristics 
 of his own mind, whether common to all mmd or pe- 
 culiar to individuals ; 
 
 By his physical structure and habits; 
 
 By the relations which he sustains to those whom 
 he addresses ; and, 
 
226 
 
 SUDJECTIVP: PROPERTIES. 
 
 ¥*>'ki'l 
 
 ■>8,.- 
 
 By the particular subject and occasion of his dis- 
 course. 
 
 Mind has properties as mind ; and discourse as *he ex* 
 pression of mind must exhibit, more or less, these properties. 
 There are only two, however, which demand particular con- 
 sideration here. They are these; — that mind is a thinking 
 substance; and that it thinks continuously. 
 
 The analogies of external nature, ever multifarious and 
 diverse, lead us at once to the conjecture that there are also 
 native idiosyncracies of mind; that each thinking, hke each 
 material existence, has peculiarities of its own. At all 
 events, in the development of mind under diverse influences, 
 there arises a great diversity of mental habits. 
 
 The physical structure has its influence, not only in 
 determining the mental habits and modes of thought 
 generally, but, also, particularly in the framing of thought 
 for expression. A narrow chest and weak lungs reject long 
 periods and vehement harangue. 
 
 Farther, the professional standing and official charac- 
 ter of the speaker should be regarded in style. There is a 
 proper dimity belonging to the pulpit; and the elevated 
 and commanding tones of the general would be ludicrous 
 in the familiar discourse of colloquial equality. 
 
 The subject, likewise, and the occasion generally of the 
 discourse naturally impress themselves on the mind of the 
 speaker and leave on it their own peculiar characters. The 
 style, consequently, ever shaping itself by the state of the 
 speaker's mind, at the time, is modified by these outward 
 circumstances. 
 
 § 295. The subjective properties of style include 
 those of Significance, Continuousness, and Nat- 
 uralness. 
 
SfGNIKICANCE. 
 
 227 
 
 The two first of these properties are founded on the na- 
 ture of mind itself. Su far as discourse is au expression of 
 mind, it must be si^n,ilicant or expressive of thought. 
 
 Thought, moreover, is continuous. Tije mind,\nd more 
 especially wh.-n cultivated and disciplined, does not act by 
 sudden impulses in irregular, disconnected thoughts: the 
 unity of its aim imposes on its movements the character of 
 progressiveness and consecutiveness. 
 
 The property of naturalness is founded on the individuality 
 of thought as the product of one distinct mind peculiar in 
 its native structure and its acquired habits, and influenced 
 in its action by peculiar circumstances of place and time. 
 
 CHAPTER II. 
 
 SIGNIFICANCE IN STYLE. 
 
 § 296. Significance in style implies two things : 
 Fiist, Tliat the speaker have some thought to com- 
 municate ; and 
 
 Seconilly, That the words employed actually ex- 
 press some moaning. 
 
 Sometimes a speaker has no desire to communicate any 
 thought; but speaks for some other object, as to occupy time, 
 or amuse or astonish his audience. This kind of discourse 
 has been denominated ^spurious oratory,^'' 
 
 It sometimes happens, moreover, that through mere vaffue- 
 ness or vacuity of thought a speaker or writer will use the 
 forms of speech Avith no thought or sentiment expressed in 
 them. This kind of style is termed "M<? nonsensical. 
 
 $ 297. Si'uitioirs OiiATORy or JUo-nse in wliicli the 
 

 1. 1^ 
 
 U.3. 
 
 228 
 
 SUBJECTIVE PROPERTIES. 
 
 Speaker does not design to communicate any thought, 
 is, either, 
 
 For the purpose of appearing to say something : 
 
 For occupying time ; or 
 
 For entertaining his audience with words of lofty 
 pretensions, but of no significancy. 
 
 The first species named is a kind of verbal or rhetorical 
 flophistry, in which want of argument is disguised under the 
 mere dress of words. 
 
 The second is very common in deliberative bodies where, 
 to prevent immediate action and delay a decision, a speaker 
 occupies the attention of the vc'sembly with the show of di»< 
 cussion. 
 
 The third is a species of rhetorical jugglery, and some- 
 times appears even in parts of grave and serious discourse, 
 when vanity and love of applause, or perhaps a worse prin- 
 ciple, lead to a sacrifice of the high end of speaking to the 
 gratiiication of a low pei^onal feeling. 
 
 $ 298. The nonsensica:, in style proceeds from 
 vacuity of thought. The various species of it are the 
 puerile, the learned, the profound, and the marvsloits. 
 
 Dr. Campbell, in his Philosophy of Rhetoric, has ably 
 treated of this part of style; and has indicated at length the 
 causes of it. The species enumerated are those describe(' 
 in his work. The followii>g extracts will exemplify them 
 
 1. The Puerile. If 'tis asked whence arises this hai 
 mony or beauty of language? The answer is obvious 
 Whatever renders a period sweet and pleasant makes it als< 
 graceful: a good ear is the gift of nature; it may be mucb 
 improved but not acquired by art. Whoever is possesseo 
 of it will scarcely need dry critical precepts to enable hiro 
 to judge of a true rhythmus, and melody of composition 
 Just numbers, accurate proportions, a musical symphony 
 
SKiMFICAN'CE. 
 
 229 
 
 magnificent figures, and tliat decorum which is the result 
 of all these, are «W2.von to the human mind; we are so 
 framed by nature, tliat their charm is irresistible. Hence 
 all ages and nations have been smit with the love of the 
 muses. — Geddes on the Compositioti of the Ancients, 
 
 The cadence comprehends that poetical style which ani- 
 mates every line, that propriety which gives strength and 
 expression, that uumerosity which renders the verse smooth, 
 flowing and harmonious, that significancy which marks the 
 passions, and in many cases makes the sound an echo to the 
 sense. — Goldsmith. 
 
 2. The Learned. Although we read of several properties 
 attributed to God in Scripture, as wisdom, goodness, justice, 
 &c., we must not apprehend them to be several powers, 
 habits, or qualities, as they are iu us; for as they are in 
 God, they are neither distinguished from one another, nor 
 from his nature or essence in whom they are said to be. 
 In whom they are said to be; for, to speak properly, they 
 are not in him, but are his very essence or nature itself; 
 which acting severally upon several objects, seems to us to 
 act from several properties or perfections in him; whereas, 
 all the difference is only in our different apprehensions of 
 »he same thing God in himself is a most simple and pure 
 act, and therefore cannot have any thing in him, but what 
 is that most simple and pure act itself. — Beveridge's Ser- 
 mons. 
 
 3. The Profound. 'Tis agreed that in all governments 
 there is an absolute and unlimited power, which naturally 
 and originally seems to be placed in the whole body wher- 
 ever the executive part of it lies. This holds in the body 
 natural; for wherever we place the begining of motion^ 
 whether from the head, or the heart, or the animal spirits in 
 general, the body moves and acts by a consent of all its 
 parts. — Swift. 
 
 4. The Marvelous. Nature in herself is unseemly, and 
 he who copies her servilely and without artifice, will 
 always produce something poor and of a mean taste. What 
 is called loads in colors and lights can only proceed from a 
 profound kuovvledg in the values of colors, and from an 
 
 20 
 
) ' I. ! ! 
 
 230 
 
 SUBJECTIVE PROPERTIES. 
 
 . . H 1 I i 11 
 
 bcinKii ) 
 
 
 ftdmirable industry which makes the painted objects appeal 
 more true, if J may say so, than the real ones. In this 
 sense it may be asserted, that in Reubens' pieces, art is 
 above nature, and nature only a copy of that great master's 
 works. — Dr, Piles. 
 
 The nonsensical appears not unfrequently in translations 
 in which the words and grammatical construction of the 
 original are followed only in respect to the form; and t he- 
 particular thought of the author escapes attention. 
 
 The following will serve for illustration: 
 
 Let Rhetoric therefore be a power or faculty to consider 
 in every subject what is therein contained proper to persuade. 
 
 This sentence extracted from a translation of Aristotle's 
 Rhetoric by the translators of the Art of Thinking, conveys 
 no meaning. Rhetoric is not a power or faculty to consider 
 in any sense that can be attached to the expression; and we 
 can form no notion of what it is to ** consider in a subject 
 what is contained in it." 
 
 The following, is another extract from the same work 
 which is liable to the same censure: 
 
 Wherefore also Rhetoric seems to personate politics; and 
 they who challenge the knowledge of if, claim that know- 
 ledge partly through ignorance, partly through arrogance, 
 and partly upon other human reasons; for it is a kind 
 of particle and similitude of logic, as we have said in the 
 beginning. 
 
 CHAPTER III. 
 
 OP CONTINUOUSNESS IN STYLE. 
 
 § 299. CoNTiNuousNESs is that property of style 
 
 which represents the thought as connected and flowing 
 
 All thought in a cultivated and disciplined mind is con- 
 
CONTINUOUSNESS. 
 
 231 
 
 tinuoiis, § 269; and cnseqiiently should be so represented 
 iiulisc..ur.se so far as im.guu-e will allow. There are liujiis 
 indeed, to the degree in which this property can be secured 
 to shle. When the mind is roused to a high pitch of 
 passion, and the thoughts come strong and quick, languaoe 
 hecon.es too inllexible and awkward to serve as its ready 
 expression. Then the thought bursis out, as it best can, iu 
 dissevered IVagmcnts of speech, ft leaps, like the electric 
 fluid from cloud to cloud, manifesting itself hero and there 
 at Hide intervals of space. And yet even then it properly 
 maintains something of the appearance of conlinuousness 
 and does not offend the hearer by its violent leaps; but by 
 the very velocity of its movement prevents the notice of its 
 successive radiations, and, like the lightning, ^ives to its 
 separate flashes (he effect of a continuous sheet of light. 
 
 Although, thus, strong impassioned thought leads to a 
 sententious style, and, therefore, such a style becomes highly 
 beautiful, as natural and proper to it, the affectation of such 
 a sfj le when the thought is of the opposite character is ex- 
 tremely disgusting. 
 
 The speeches of Lord Chatham and Patrick Henry fur- 
 nish copious examples of a sententious expression which, as 
 warranted by the character of the thought, are fine illustra- 
 tions of its nature and its proper fuoclion. 
 
 The following are examples of a style faulty in this 
 respect. The first is an extract from the Euphues of John 
 Lyly; from which romance the name of Euphuism has been 
 derived to this species of style. This kind of writing is not 
 uncommonly combined with labored antithesis and affected 
 quaintness of expression. 
 
 A burnt child dreadeth the fire. He that stumbleth twice 
 at one stone is worthy to break his shins. Thou mayest 
 happily forswear thyself, but thou shalt never delude me 
 
232 
 
 SUBJECTIVE PROPKRTIKS. 
 
 I know thee now as readily by thy visard as by thy visage. 
 It is a blind goose that knoweth not a fox from a fern-bush' 
 and a foolisli fellow that cannot discern craft from con- 
 science, being once cozened. 
 
 $ 300. For expressing this continuity in the thought 
 language provides, 
 
 In the fust place, a great variety of words designed 
 for this very purpose ; 
 
 Secondly, it allows the use of many forms for this 
 object that are also employed for other purposes of 
 speech; and 
 
 Thirdly, It admits of a peculiar structure of the 
 sentence which is adapted to this sole end. 
 
 How great an excellence this is in speech is shown at 
 once in the fact that the human reason in the framing of 
 speech has contrived and furnished so many expedients for 
 binding discourse together, which without them is justly 
 compared to « sand without lime." * It is one of the pecu- 
 liar excellencies of the Greek tongue that it abounds in such 
 connectives which, while they show the relations of the 
 thought, at the same time give to the expression of it cohe- 
 sion and compactness. 
 
 Of proper connectives we have in language— 
 
 1. Conjunctions of all species, both copulative, adversa- 
 live, conditional, illative, &c.; 
 
 2. Relatives of all kinds, whether pronouns or such ad- 
 verbs as accordinghj, thus, therefore, &c., and adjectives 
 of order and others; 
 
 3. Forms of expression appropriated to this object, as 
 « to contin UP,, " '^ to add, " &c. 
 
 In the general structure of the sente nce, also, the property 
 
 * Arena sine Cdlce.—Srncca. " 
 
N\TUU ALNESS. 
 
 233 
 
 of confinuousness or its opposite may be represented to a 
 great deoree. The length, the implication 
 dence ol the parts, the arranf ; .^nt of the several members, 
 the imagery, whether derive i. re from individual objects 
 or extendi-d scenes, Irom partic.ilar features or connected 
 parts— all these various aspects of the sentence may exhibit, 
 more or less, the continuous or the fragmentary character of 
 the thought. 
 
 It should be observed, in this connection, that much will 
 depend on the particular habits of the individual speaker 
 whether his style will more naturally be continuous or sen- 
 tentious and abrupt. Simplicity, earnestness, and directness 
 incline more to short, disconnected expressions. Expanded 
 views, fulness of thought, cautiousness and wariness lead 
 to a more extended, connected and continuous style. Con- 
 tinuousness is an excellence only when it is natural. A 
 broken, abrupt, saltatory style, unless obviously determined 
 by the character of the thought, never pleases long. Even 
 iiie pithy sententiousness of Lord Bacon's style wearies. 
 Strong thought may save such a style; it is not commended 
 by it. 
 
 CHAPTER IV. 
 
 OF NATURALNESS IN STYLE. 
 
 $ 301. Naturalness is a property which appears 
 m style so far as it represents the particular state of 
 the speaker's mind at the time of speaking. 
 
 The other two subjective properties of style are general, 
 wing founded on the nature of ihnucrU \rofMr«i-,„-_ :, 
 
 4bU 
 
234 
 
 SUBJECTIVE PROPERTIES. 
 
 •I I 
 
 '!i"t'i^i 
 
 m - J 
 
 n \- 
 
 m H. 
 
 ft « > 
 
 I i. 
 
 ! I. 
 
 fouiuled on the peculiar mental condition of the individual 
 
 speaker. 
 
 Every one has his own modes of thinking. He has his 
 own modes of viewing truth. His feelings have their own 
 peculiar characteristics. The same ideas, even, passing 
 through two different minds, or through the same mind at 
 different times and in diflerent circumstances, become to a 
 considerable degree modified in their character. 
 
 Every one has, also, his own manner of expression. His 
 range of words is peculiar. The structure of his sentences 
 is peculiar. His forms of illustration, his images are 
 
 peculiar. 
 
 Every writer and every speaker, thus, has his own man- 
 ner. One is more ditfuse, another more concise; one more 
 lean and jejune, another more copious and luxuriant; one 
 is more florid, another more plain; one more dry, another 
 more rich and succulent; one more nervous or vehement, 
 another more feeble or tame; one more neat and elegant, 
 another more careless and loose; one more elevated and 
 stately, another more familiar and free. The speaker's own 
 manner best becomes him. While he is careful to avoid 
 positive faults, and particularly those of excess, to vary and 
 enrich with all the various excellencies that can be admitted 
 into his style, he should still preserve his own manner, as 
 scarcely any thing is more offensive than a strained, affected, 
 unnatural style of expression. For the purpose oi forming 
 a style, it may be safe to select a model and strive to 
 imitate. This may, indeed, be recommended within certain 
 limits and in strict subjection to certain principles. Even 
 here, however, the better course is to study the diflerent 
 elemrnts of expression or properties of style, and exercise on 
 thor - especially in which there is consciousness of deficiency, 
 m' g other writers or speakers remarkable for those proper- 
 
NATURALNESS. 
 
 235 
 
 ties rather as exeinplilications than as models for imitation. 
 But when actually eiigaging in the work of conveying 
 thought and feeling to others, the speaker or writer should 
 banish from his mind all thought of this or that style or man- 
 ner, and allow a free spontaneous expression to his thoughts. 
 Reason must, indeed, preside over all discourse. But its 
 influence in securing rational discourse should be exerted 
 rather in determining and shaping the mental habits, and 
 thus impressing its high ciiaracter on every exertion of the 
 mind while the life and beauty of spontaneous action is still 
 preserved. This is, indeed, the end and object of all true 
 intellectual discipline. Excessive care, at the time of con- 
 structing discourse, to preserve from every thing faulty, 
 may be injurious. In writing, at least, it is better to write 
 fre«lv and correct afterwards. 
 
 § 302. Naturalness in style respects the person, the 
 official character and standing of the speaker, and the 
 subject and occasion of liis discourse. 
 
 § 303. The personal characteristics of style are 
 determined either more directly by the habits of 
 thought, however formed, peculiar to the individual 
 speaker, or more indirectly by his physical habits. 
 
 There is a singular beauty in that style which is the free 
 and unforced expression of the speaker's own thoughts w^ith 
 all their peculiar characteristics. It must yet be ever borne 
 in mind that low tiiuughts and low imagery, even although 
 expressed naturally, must necessarily be oiTensive. It can- 
 not therefore be too earnestly enjoined on the mind that is 
 formino- its habits and character to shun with the utmost 
 care every thing that can vitiate its taste, debase its senti- 
 ments, or corrupt the verbal and sensible material in which 
 its thoughts are to embody themselves; and to cultivate 
 
 I 
 
i. >! 
 
 kV ^-% 
 
 236 
 
 SUBJECTIVE PKOPERTIEa. 
 
 assiduously, on the other haud, familiarity with all that > 
 pure and ennobling in thought and sentiment, and all thu. 
 is lovely and beautiful in language and in the various kinds 
 of sensible imagery emploj ed in expression. Both uf these 
 objects should be kept distinctly in view, viz: the puiiiy 
 and elevation of the thought itself, and the material which 
 is used for embodying thought. Every man has, in an im- 
 portant sense, a language of his own. Both the range of 
 words, and the sensible objects and scenes, as well as all 
 the various mi.ans of communicating and illustrating 
 thought, are peculiar, within certain limits, to the individnul. 
 Hence arises the imperious necessity of care and labor in 
 providing for a pure and elegant as well as a natural 
 expression of thought by avoiding all low associations both 
 of words and images. 
 
 The physical condition and habits of the speaker have 
 much to do with his style. Speech is, materially, a physi- 
 cal effort; and must, conse<piently, be vitally affected by 
 the condition of the body. Especially do the more proper 
 vocal organs, or those parts of the body which are more 
 directly concerned in speaking, exert an influence on style. 
 The culture of the voice in elocution is, therefore, important 
 to the highest skill in constructing discourse for delivery. 
 In preparing such discourse the writer will ever, even if 
 unconsciously to himself, consult his powers of utterance. 
 Observation abundantly shows how a naturally imaginative 
 and highly impassioned style may be gradually changed into 
 one that is dry and tame by the continued influence of the 
 conviction of an inability appropriately to deliver strongly 
 impassioned discourse. A conscious power and skill to 
 express with eflect the most highly wrought <. loourse will, 
 on the other hand, ever be stimulating to the production of 
 
th all thai > 
 
 , and all thu. 
 v^arious kinds 
 Both of these 
 z: the puiiiv 
 alerial which 
 las, in an ini- 
 the range of 
 IS well as all 
 I illustrating 
 he individnal. 
 and labor in 
 as a natural 
 jciations both 
 
 speaker have 
 ally, a phvsi- 
 r affected by 
 
 more proper 
 ich are more 
 ence on stvle. 
 are, important 
 
 for delivery. 
 
 ever, even if 
 
 of utterance, 
 y imaginative 
 ■ changed into 
 Quence of the 
 il) ver strongly 
 
 and skill to 
 . loourse will, 
 production of 
 
 NATURALNK.S3. 
 
 237 
 
 it. Indeed, the imagined effect of his writings as pronoun- 
 ced by himself will ever control the writer in preparing 
 thought for communication to others. He will not write 
 sentences that he cannot pronounce, on the one hand; and, 
 on the other, he will be secretly prompted to write in such 
 a manner as best to display his skill in delivery. 
 
 While naturalness requires that discourse be a free repre- 
 sentation of the speaker's own mind and character, it forbids 
 all direct reference to himself. This fault, denominated 
 egotism, is always exceedingly offensive. 
 
 $ 304. The official character and standing of the 
 speaker should ever so control style as that while it is 
 not suffered to predominate in his attention at all over 
 his subject or the design of his discourse, it yet shall 
 prevent every thing incompatible with such oflBcial 
 standing. 
 
 The regard which the speaker must pay to his official 
 standing and relations must be a controlling one; and yet 
 only in subordination to that which he is to pay to other 
 things. Offic.dl propriety is only one, and a subordinate 
 one, of those species of propriety which must appear in dis- 
 course. 
 
 $ 305. The subject and the occasion of the dis- 
 course, as they must affect strongly the mind of the 
 speaker, v/ill also leave their impressions on his style, 
 in rendering it more earnest and elevated, more stately 
 and dignified ; or more light and familiar. 
 
 The distinction of the high, tJie low, and the middle 
 styles of oratory recognized by the ancients was founded 
 mainly on the subject and the occasion of the discourse. 
 Other things, it is true, were regarded in the distinction. 
 
w 
 
 238 
 
 SUBJKC"! IV!; FRori'.Il'I'IKS. 
 
 ^i^ I, I . 
 
 >. t' 
 
 li jl 
 
 as personal peculiarities. Horner thus distributes the difTer* 
 ent stvles amoiif^- three of his leading characters.* Stilly 
 when the attempt was made by rlietoricians to determine 
 the province of these separate styles they generally fell buck 
 on the subject. Thus Cicero, Is erit igitur eloquens, qui 
 poterit parva summisse, modica temperate^, magna graviter 
 dicere.-'-Ora^. 29. 
 
 The following will serve to illustrate what different char- 
 acter the occasion or the subject will impress on style «ven 
 when the same thought is to be conveyed. Home) thus 
 describes the morning: 
 
 The saffron morn, with early blushes spread. 
 Now rose refulgent from Tithonus' bed, 
 With new-born day to gladden mortal sight. 
 And gild the course of heaven with sacred light. 
 
 Butler, in his Hudibras, thus describes the same scete! 
 
 The sun had long since in the lap 
 Of Thetis taken out his nap; 
 And, like a lobster boiled, the morn 
 From black to red began to turn 
 
 Burke, in his speech on Conciliation with America, was 
 led to speak in the following terms of the rapid increase of 
 p(,pulation in the colonies: 
 
 I can by no calculation justify myself in placing the 
 number below two millions of inhabitants of our own 
 European blood and color j besides at least five hundred 
 thousand others, who form no inconsiderable part of the 
 whole. This, sir, is, I believe, about the true number. 
 There is no occasion to exaggerate, when plain truth is of 
 
 * E.i ipsa genera dicendi jam antiquitus tradita ab Homero sunt 
 tria in tribuB ; magnificum in Ulyxe et ubertum, subtile in Monolao 
 et coliibitum, mixtmn moderatuiuqne in Nts'ore. — Gell. VII. 14 
 See also Quint. Inst. Orat. II, 17, 8; XIL 10, 63. G4. Cic Oral 
 ?3— 29 
 
 W 
 
NATURALNESS. 
 
 239 
 
 flo much weif^ht and importance. But whether I put tho 
 present numbers too high or too low is a mutter of little 
 moment. Such is the strength with which population shoots 
 in that part of the wurld, that, slate the numbers as high as 
 we will, whilst the dispute continues tiie exaggeration ends. 
 Whilst we are discussing any given magnitude;, they are 
 grown to it. Whilst we spend our time in deliberating on 
 the mode of governing two millions, we shall find ve have 
 millions more to manage. "V'our children do not g. jw faster 
 from infancy to manhood, than they spread from families 
 to communities and from villages to nations. 
 
 Dr. Johnson, in his pamphlet entitled "Taxation no 
 Tyranny," aiming at an entirely opposite object, to disparage 
 tJie colonies, uses the following language in respect to the 
 same point: 
 
 But we are soon told that the continent of North America 
 contains three millions, not of men merely, but of whigs; 
 of whigs fierce for liberty, and disdainful of dominion; that 
 they multiply with the fecundity of their own rattle" 
 snakes; so that every quarter of a century doubles their 
 numbers. 
 
I I 
 
 PART IIL—OBJECTIVE PROPERTIES. 
 
 CHAPTER I. 
 
 GENERAL VIEW. 
 
 $ 306. The objective properties of style are 
 those whicli are determined to discourse by a regard 
 to the effect on the mind addressed. § 244. 
 
 The objective properties presuppose the other two classes 
 of properties, and are founded, in part at least, upon them. 
 They differ, sometimes, only in degree; as clearness, which 
 i& an objective property, may often be only significance in 
 a higher degree, which is a suggestive property. Energy, 
 also, another objective property, presupposes harmony, an 
 absolute property, as well as others of that class. But it 
 may be necessary, however, for the sake of effect, often to 
 regard those other classes of properties more than would 
 otherwise be required by any consideration of the nature of 
 style. 
 
 But this objective use of language, for effect on other 
 minds, requires some characteristics of style that are distin- 
 guished from the absolute and subjective properties, not ia 
 degree merely, but also in kind. Many of the figures of 
 speech, so called, for instance, are of this character. 
 
 The circumstance that the subjective prop? ^es presuppose 
 those of the other classes and are founded, in part upon 
 
Gi; NIC II Ah VIKW 
 
 241 
 
 for 
 
 ^ERTIES. 
 
 of style are 
 by a regard 
 I. 
 
 er two classes 
 t, upon them, 
 arness, which 
 gnificance in 
 ty. Energy, 
 harmony, an 
 3lass. But it 
 lect, often to 
 i than would 
 the nature of 
 
 feet on other 
 
 lat are distin- 
 
 jerties, not in 
 
 he figures of 
 
 racter. 
 
 es presuppose 
 
 in part upon 
 
 them will account ,ur tne lact that, in some cases, me con. 
 sideration of the same property may belong in common to 
 dilferent parts of rhetoric* There is, notwithstanding, an 
 obvious and radical distinction between the three different 
 classes. 
 
 § 307. The objective properties are, all, in their na- 
 ture relative, and must vary with the various charac- 
 ter of the inind addressed. 
 
 It is hardly necessary to advance any formal illustrations 
 ot the truth of this proposition. What is clear to one mind 
 may be obscure to another. What is impressive and 
 beautiful to one, may be dull and dry to another. 
 
 Ivfis still to be observed that all minds have common 
 properties; and there are laws applicable to all alike, which 
 control the exercises of the intellect, the feelings, and the 
 taste. There are, consequently, principles of style which are 
 founded on the general and invariable character of the 
 human mind. Those characteristics which render a dis- 
 course clear to one mind will, to a certain extent, be requi- 
 site to make it so to every other mind. 
 
 § 308. The objective properties of style are Clear- 
 ness, Enerhy, and Elegance. 
 
 It is obvious that in order to affect another mind to the 
 highest degree by discourse, it must not only contain 
 thought,— be significant, but, also, be susceptible of ready 
 interpretation. It must be clear. 
 
 In order, farther, to a vivid effect upon the intellect and 
 feelings, discourse must bear on its face the character of life 
 
 It maybe proper to remark here, that in order to avoid nnneces- 
 •ary repetition, some observations are made under one dags of 
 properties wliich might properly fall under another. 
 
 2) 
 
V k ! 
 
 ■1 
 
 m ■• : 
 
 1 • 
 1 
 
 1 
 
 ■l 
 
 
 
 ^l''H 
 
 ^^^^B|u ^ 1 
 
 1 
 
 1] 
 
 
 
 \!5 
 
 1 
 
 242 
 
 OBJECTIVE PROPERTIES. 
 
 and vigor. The thought must be addressed in livcl)', (flovf 
 ing language. Discourse must be energetic. 
 
 Once more, the same end of discourse cannot well be 
 eirecied without regard to the aesthetic properties ol" the 
 mind; in other words, without regarding the taste oi" those 
 addressed. Dipcouree must bo clep;nnt. 
 
 These three properties are all which a consideration of the 
 effect of discourse requires in style, exclusive of those which 
 tlje nature of languasre and the mental condition of the 
 speaker impose. 
 
 $ 309. Of the three objective properties of style, 
 clearness is, in order of importance, the first and most 
 indispensable ; energy is next in importance ; and ele- 
 gance last and lowest. 
 
 Clearness is most indispensable, since if discourse is not 
 understood, it can not be felt. Just so far as it is unintel- 
 ligible, it fails of its very end. VV'^herever, therefore, clear- 
 ness comes into collision with energy, it should have the 
 precedence. But yet, as clearness is a property that admits 
 of degrees, and what is slightly obscure may be still intelli- 
 gible althougii only with effort, a high degree of energy 
 may sometimes be properly preferred to a slightly increased 
 degree of clearness. 
 
 Farther, energy must be obviously regarded, in all proper 
 oratory, as of superior importance to elegance; while, at the 
 same time, it may be expedient to sacrifice a little energy 
 to gain a high degree of beauty. 
 
 The character of discourse will, however, affect the rela- 
 tive properties. In explanatory discourse, where the object 
 is to inform, clearness is decidedly the ruling property ; aud 
 its claims far outweigh all others. In conviction, energy 
 rises relatively in importance, and may properly require 
 
CLKAHNESS. 
 
 2-13 
 
 Home sacrifice of clearness. Still more is this the case in 
 excitation and persuasion. Passion, here, sometin.es tri- 
 urnphs over reason; and sympathy outruns argun.ent 
 Wlierever, again, vehement feeling enters into discourse 
 energy should strongly prevail over mere elegance. On the 
 other hand, in gentle excitement of feeling, elegance is eleva- 
 ted, relatively, to a higher rank. 
 
 CHAPTER II. 
 
 OP CLEARNESS. 
 
 $ 310. Clearness in style requires that the thought 
 be so presented that the mind addressed shall appre- 
 hend it readily and without labor. 
 
 It is not enough that the speaker himself readily appre^ 
 he.ul the thought, or that the discourse be clear to himself- 
 or that it may be readily intelligible to a certain class of 
 minds. Clearness, as a relative property of style, § 307 
 requires that the particular mind addressed be regarded' 
 and that care be taken to adapt the discourse to its capacity 
 ol apprehension. 
 
 Nor, farther, is it enough that even the mind addressed 
 may, on sufficient study and reflection, be able to make out 
 the sense. The discourse, says Quintilian, should enter the 
 mind, as the sun the eye, even although not intently fixed 
 apon it; so that pains are necessary not merely that the 
 hearer may be able to understand it, but that he can in no 
 way fail to undersfand it.* 
 
 Ut m ani,„ura ejus oratio, ut. sol in ocnioa, etian.d in ea.n 
 non nuendatur. incurr... (iuare non, at inlelligere pos«it, sed ne 
 omnmo ,,o,Mt nqn infdli^xuo, curandu,n.~Or«^ Inst. Ill 2 23 2* 
 

 !■ I 
 
 F 
 
 244 
 
 OHiRiri Vi; PKOPHIITIBS. 
 
 
 $ 311. Clearness tlopcncls on a right consideration 
 of three (lilh;n;nt things in discourse, viz: 
 
 1. The Ivind of words employed ; 
 
 2. TIic representative imagery ; and 
 
 3. The structure of the sentence. 
 
 § 312. The kinds of words to be preferred for tha 
 sake of securing clearness, are 
 
 1. Such as are grammatical in opposition to barbar- 
 isms ; 
 
 2. Anglo Saxon words ; 
 
 3. Such as are not equivocal or ambiguous ; and 
 
 4. Simple and specific in distinction from the more 
 generic. 
 
 All the var/pties of barbarisms enumerated in § 289, are 
 to the popular mind generally obscure or unintelligible, just 
 so far as not in use. It should be remai ked, however, that 
 whether barbarisms are clear or otheru ^e to a particular 
 mind, depends on the circumstance of its having been 
 familiar with them or not. To the scholar, archaisms are 
 not aluu; ()])scure; nor to the man versed in a particular 
 art or science, -e the tech>iicalities of that art obscure. 
 They may be to him, indeed, the clearest of all classes of 
 words. But so far as discourse is intended for the popular 
 mind generally, all barbarisms should, for the sake of clear- 
 ness, be avoided. 
 
 When, on the other hand, the discourse is addressed to a 
 particular class of minds, the words more familiar to that 
 class are preferable as cowducive t, clearness. An address 
 to sailors may, thus, consistently with clearness, abound 
 with nautical terms. 
 
 The following sentences are faulty in respect o th*» um 
 of this species of words. 
 
CLEARNESS. 
 
 id Q thfi \m 
 
 to sea. 
 
 Tack to the larboard and stand off lu sea. 
 
 Veer starboard sea uud \and.~Dri/den', JEucul 
 
 Hethaf works by Thessalic ceremonies, b 
 
 ^15 
 
 nonsense wor<^, b, figures and insignilica^t^^l.: " ^^.^^f 
 by.na,e,s and by rags by circles *\nd impertec e * 
 
 haflMnore advantage and real title to the opnortuni cTi^f 
 inisch.et, by the cursing tongue.-/. T^.y/o^i ^I";;!"! '' 
 
 (J 1 begins his cure by caustics, i)v incisions and instru, 
 ment.s 01 vexation, to try if the dise..; that will X eld o 
 the a lectives of cordials and perfun^.s, iVictions Tnd Wh. 
 
 t^ but ir' "f '^ '""T'^'' ^^^"^ -^^"- -^ '~ - 
 
 tai_v, but less pleasing physic— /</. 
 
 , Anglo-Saxon words, as belonging to the original stock of 
 our language and constituting the i^uly vernacular part of 
 It, so to speak, are more significant and intelligible to the 
 Lnghsh mind than those of Latin or French origin, and are 
 on th.s account to be preferred. IVen radical words of 
 Lafm origin with Anglo-Saxon termir.«tions are, often, more 
 expressive and clear than those reguk,Jy formed with Latin 
 tenniuutiuns. Hence, perhaps, it is w. hnd so many hybrid 
 tenns in our language; such as lucid.v.s, passiveness; tar- 
 diness, instead of lucidity, &c. 
 
 It is to be observed, however, that in order to greater 
 precision and exactness in the use of language, words of dif- 
 erent stocks have become appropriated, respectively, to dif- 
 ferent shades or applications of the general idea denoted by 
 the original word. Words of Latin derivation have, thus, 
 in many cases, been introduced for the purpose of denotino- 
 only one specific shaue of the general meai irg which is ext 
 pressed by the proper word, bot:- in the Angl^axon and 
 the Latin language. Hence, inasmuch as prec:.ion is an 
 element of clearness, a Latin word denoting such .. s^articu- 
 lar a.spect of u.e general idea may be more clea, .^J^an the 
 corresp. ading term of Anglo-Saxon origin. Thus .\.e w^rda 
 
 91* 
 
 a 
 
240 
 
 OBJKCTIVE PROPHKTIRa. 
 
 h,<m„n, human,; a,.d ,nunl,j have uriginallj, ,|,o ,ame .!«. 
 m(,™„„„; .u.,Uo. Journal. <//a,-y,and daily; igueo,nZ 
 
 Ja such ca«e.. the Latin word wilj often be found to be 
 most perspicuous. 
 
 E(|uivocal words are of four dilTerent classes: 1. Pr^.i 
 t^^cs,U> wbich use has somehow appropriated diderent si,.' 
 "^/.ca.o„3 of which kind of words the number is very 
 g'-eat in all languages; as coin, which signifies a corner or 
 wedge and also a die or money stamped by ^ die- hdm 
 
 -h.ch de^^, both a defend fW the L 
 nitJiit by which a ship is steered. 
 
 Tl)e relative pronouns tvho, which, and that are used 
 both to explain a. d also to limit and restrain the word or 
 words to which they refer. They are, in other words, as 
 Ur Umpbell de.gnates them, expliccUive or ddermiuatiu 
 
 1 hey are explicative in the following sentences : 
 
 tremble.' '"''" '' """"^ "'" ''"™^"' " "^ ^'^ ^^>'« ^^^ ^''^H of 
 
 Oodliness which with contentn^ent is great gain has tl.« 
 promise of the present life and of the future. ^ 
 They are determinative in the following: 
 The man th.t endureth to the end shall be saved 
 Ue remorse, which issues in reformation, is true repent- 
 
 ance 
 
 They are more or less equivocal in the following- 
 
 I know that all words which are signs of complex ideas 
 furnish matter of mistake and cavil. ^'""iP'ex ideas 
 
 2. Derivatives and compovnds; as mortal, which has 
 both an active and a passive sense, as in the sentence, «As 
 for such animals as are mortal or noxious, we have a right 
 to destroy them"; consumption, as, "Your majesty has lost 
 all hopes of any future excises by their consumption"; and 
 in compounds, overlook, as, "The next refuge was to say. 
 
' the same aigw 
 ; f'^- ft eons and 
 
 )e luiind (o be 
 
 e«: 1. Pn'mi. 
 1 (lifTerent sig- 
 iinber is very 
 s a corner or 
 'Q. die; helm, 
 id tlje instru- 
 
 hat are used 
 
 the word or 
 
 lier words, as 
 
 terminutive. 
 
 ces: 
 
 ' and full of 
 
 CLEARNESS. 
 
 247 
 
 ain, has the 
 
 ved. 
 
 true repent- 
 
 I'ing: 
 mplex ideas 
 
 , which has 
 ntence, "As 
 lave a right 
 isty has lost 
 ttion'*; and 
 ^as to say. 
 
 it was overloolffid by one mnn inr? n^n«. 
 
 "/ ""e man, and many passages whoUv 
 
 written by another"; discharge, as, ' *^ *» ^^""^^^ 
 
 'Txs not a crime to attempt what I decree, 
 Ur ii It were, discharge the ci ime on me. 
 
 Dry den's ^neid, 
 3. Injlccted words, or those which are equivocal in con- 
 -ejjuence of u si.„ilurity of inflection in diHerent words- as 
 .She united the great body of the people in her and iheir 
 cornmon interest"; «I have long since learned to like 
 nothing but what you do.^' 
 
 Equivocal word, are either properly ambiguous, or 
 hon,onvn,ous A properl;, ambiguous word i., one wl.ich 
 l.a» come to be used in diflerent signifieations, as, «.„■»«. 
 vduci, means either of stro,,g „.,-ves or of n,eak n.rve,. 
 Wmomjm. are words which, of a different origin, have 
 accdeutally assumed the same form, as ma^s. a heap, and 
 muss, a catholic religious servicer 
 
 lod.vidual and more specific words are (o be preferred to 
 those which are „,ore generic, because individual and specific 
 objects are more easily apprehended than abstract and 
 generic. 
 
 4. Words which become equivocal by position, as in the 
 tuUou'ing instances: 
 
 coIlnstvT'""' " '"^ ^'""''^^^ ^"^^^'^^^^ ^^-^ -tirely 
 
 The lecture was well attended and generally interesting. 
 
 $ 313. The representative imagery employed for 
 
 the communication of thought should for the purpose 
 
 of clearness, be derived from such objects and truths 
 
 as are familiar to the mind addressed ; and, also, be 
 
 »-v Itself susceptible of a ready interpretation 
 
 This element of clearness is founded upon the symbolical 
 
m 
 
 An'''- M 
 
 At ' SI 
 
 il^""^ E 
 
 248 
 
 OBJECTIVE PROPERTIES. 
 
 properties of language, $ 281. From the very nature of 
 language, regarded as symbolical or picture-like, it will be 
 obvious that the symbol or picture itself must be known by 
 the hearer or he caanot interpret it. Here the same obser- 
 vations apply to some extent that have been already made in 
 reference to words of popular use. While all minds may 
 be supposed to be conversant with the great phenomena 0/ 
 nature that daily exhibit themselves to the senses, yet even 
 these specifically diifer in different parts of the earth. Hence 
 the inhabitant of sunny Greece may readily u;:derstand 
 language that pictures the thought and sentiment through 
 images drawn from his own daily observation^ which would 
 be unintelligible to one who dwells under a colder and a 
 cloudier sky. The representative imagery of the Bible was 
 doubtless clear to the orientalist for whom more immediately 
 it was written, while it is often extremely obscure and un- 
 intelligible to others. A style that abounds in classical 
 imagery is clear to the scholar; but unmeaning to the unedu- 
 cated. The sermons of Jeremy Taylor, which employ this 
 kind of representative imagery to a groat extent, would 
 entirely fail of etTect, from their unintelligibleness, on a 
 common audience. Those discourses, also, which, to an 
 audience familiar with the scriptures, are perfectly clear, we 
 know from actual occurrences are unmeaning even to an 
 intelligent mind that has not been conversant with the Bible 
 
 Farther, even when the mind addressed may be supposed 
 to be familiar with the sources of the imagery, care is neces- 
 sary to present it in such a manner as that it shall be easily 
 intelligible. 
 
 The following are exemplifications of offenses against 
 these principles o^ clearness: 
 
 They thought there w^as no life after this; or if there 
 were, it was without pleasure, and every soul thrust into a 
 
 ^™ 
 
CLEARNESS. 
 
 249 
 
 hole, and a dorter of a span's length allowed for his rest 
 and tor his walk; and in the shades below, no numbering 
 of healths by the numeral letters of Philenium's name no 
 fat mullets, no oysters of Lucrinus, no Lesbian or Chian 
 wines. Thereiore now enjoy the delicacies of nature, and 
 feel the descending wines distilled through the limbeck of 
 thy tongue and larynx, and suck the delicious juices of 
 fishes, the marrow of the laborious ox, and the tender lard 
 of Apuliau swine, and the condited bellies of the scarus- but 
 lose no time, for the sun drives hard, and the shadow is 
 long, and " the days of mourning are at hand," but the 
 number of the days of darkness and the grave cannot be 
 told. — /. Taylor. 
 
 So neither will the pulse and the leeks, Lavinian sausages, 
 and the Cisalpine suckets and gobbets of condited bullV 
 flesh, minister such delicate spirits to the thinking man 
 but his notion will be Hat as the noise of the Arcadfan por- 
 ter, and thick as the first juice of his country lard, unless 
 he makes his body a fit servant to the soul, and both fitted 
 for the employment. — Id. 
 
 $ 314. Clearness, as depending on the structure of 
 the sentence is afTected either by the brevity of the ex- 
 pression, or by the relation between the parts of the 
 sentence. 
 
 $ 315. Brevity is opposed to clearness whenever, 
 
 1. Through want of copious and ample illustration, 
 the thought is not held up sufficiently long before the 
 mind for thorough apprehension ; or 
 
 2. For want of completeness, the whole thought is 
 not presented. 
 
 Different minds difier much in regard to quickness of 
 apprehension. The speaker should, therefore, inquire care- 
 fully of himself, whether through natural dullness of appre- 
 hension, or through want of familiarity with the subject, 
 the mind addressed requires more or less time for contem- 
 
: t^' 
 
 \ f 1 I 
 
 250 
 
 OBJECTIVE PROPERTIES. 
 
 plating the thought in order to apprehend it; and amplify, 
 the expression accordingly. He should, likewise, consult 
 the state of the hearer's mind at the time. When the 
 mind is excited and attentive, the apprelicnsion is ^^ui...er 
 than when it '" dull and uninterested. In the more anima- 
 ted parts of 1 .e discourse, accordingly, greater brevity is 
 admissible. It is then less necessary to amplify the thought 
 — to carry out the expression to perfect completeness. Brief 
 hints and suggestions may be sufficient to put the hearers in 
 possession of the entire thought. 
 
 Repetition is generally to be preferred to obscurity or 
 ambiguity. Dr. Campbell exemplifies this principle by the 
 following passage, in which the words, his fatlier, are 
 repeated three times Avithout disagreeable effect. "We said 
 to my lord. The lad cannot leave his father; for if he should 
 leave his father, his father would die." 
 
 The following sentences are faulty in this respect: 
 
 If he delights in these studies, ho can have enough of 
 them. He may bury himself in them as deeply as he 
 pleases. He may revel in them incessantly, and eat, drink, 
 and clothe himself wiih them. 
 
 How immense the differance between the pious and 
 profane. 
 
 § 316. Clearness, as depending on the relation of 
 the parts of the sentence, is afFected 
 
 1. By the use of the relative words m it; 
 
 2. By the arrangement of the difll^rent members; 
 and 
 
 3. By the interposition of parenthetical clauses. 
 
 $ 317. Relative words may either be too remotely 
 separated from their antecedents, or may be of ambigu* 
 ous reference. 
 
clearnp:ss. 
 
 261 
 
 The following are examples of this class of faults: 
 
 a. Too remotely separated; 
 
 God heapeth favors on his servants ever liberal and 
 faithful. 
 
 b. Of amhiguous reference ;* 
 
 Lysias promised to his fatJicr never to abandon his friends. 
 
 Dr. Prideaux used to relate that when he brought the 
 copy of his "Connection of the Old and New Testainents" 
 to the bookseller, he told him it was a dry subject, and the 
 printing could not be safely ventured upon unless he could 
 enliven {\v: work with a little humor. 
 
 Thus I have fairly given you. Sir, my own opinion as well 
 as that of a great majority of both houses here, relating to 
 this weighty affair^ upon which I am coniidcnt, you may 
 securely reckon. 
 
 They were summoned occasionally by their kings, when 
 conii)eiled by their wants and by their foes to have recourse 
 to their aid. 
 
 He conjured the senate, that the purity of his reign might 
 not be stained by the blood even of a guilty senator. 
 
 He atoned for the murder of an innocent son, by the exe- 
 cution perhaps of a guilty wife. 
 
 Their intimacy had commenced in the happier period, 
 perhaps, of their youth and obscurity. 
 
 We do those things frequently that wc repent of after- 
 wards. 
 
 Sixtus the Fourth, was, if I mistake not, a great collector 
 of books at least. — Bolingbroke. 
 
 • Rt'inhard in his Memoirs and Confessions s;iys, " I have always 
 had considerable difTiculfy in makinjj a proper use of pronouns. In- 
 dek^d, I have taken great pains so to use them, that all ambiguity by 
 the reference to a wrong antecedent should he impossible, and yet 
 have often failed in the attempt. • • * That it is difficult to 
 avoid all obscurity of this kind I am ready to acknowledge. It can 
 often he done only by completely chan<»-inji; the train of thought and 
 easting it into another form. — Letter III, Boston Ed. pp. 102—3. 
 
252 
 
 OBJECTIVE PHOPEHTIES. 
 
 It is folly to pretend to arm ourselves against the acci- 
 dents of life, by heaping up treasures, which notliing can 
 protect us against, but the good providence of our Heavenly 
 Father. — Sherluck. 
 
 Men look with an evil eye upon the good that is in others, 
 and think that (heir reputation obscures them, and that their 
 commendable qualities do stand in their light; and therefore 
 they do what they can to cast a cloud over them, that the 
 bright shining of their virtues may not obscure them. — Til- 
 lot son. 
 
 This work in its full extent, being now afflicted with an 
 asthma, and finding the powers of life gradually declining, 
 he had no longer courage to undertake. — Johnson. 
 
 $ 318. In respect to the arrangement of the mem- 
 bers of a sentence, clearness requires 
 
 1. That the parts of the complex tl:oug-ht be pre- 
 i.-.nted in their relative prorninencf and dependence; 
 
 2. That the related clauses be kept in close proxim- 
 ity; and 
 
 3. That the oi-der be such as to indicate the depen- 
 dence and connection. 
 
 1. Relation of hading and subordinate thoughts. 
 This relation is not regarded in the following sentences: 
 
 After we came to anchor, they put me on shore, where 1 
 was welcomed by all my friends, who received me with the 
 
 greatest kindness. 
 
 In this sentencf it difficult to teFl which is the leading 
 thought; or en which circumstance the writer intended to 
 fix the attention of his readers. The unity of the sentence, 
 by the failure to express the duo suk>rdinatiuu of tiie parts, 
 is destroyed. The same fault is seen in the following sen- 
 tences: 
 
 The L ui;d acceptation takes pKifit and pleasure for two 
 iJifferent things, and not only calls (he followers yr votarieu 
 
CLlwVIl.NKSS. „j,„ 
 
 of them by several names of busy and idle men bnt Ai r 
 guishes the faculties of the nund that are conv^rsrntt ui 
 them, calling the operations of the first wisdom, and oiZ 
 other wit which is a Saxon word, that is used to expre s 
 what the Spaniards and Italians call ivgenio, and the French 
 esprit both from the Latin; but 1 think wit more peculiarly 
 signifies that ot poetry, as may occur upon remarks on the 
 Runic language. — Temple. 
 
 He is supposed to have fallen, by his father's death, into 
 the hands ot ins uncle, a vintner, near Charing Cross who 
 sent him lor some time to Dr. Busby, at Westminster- but 
 not intending to give him any education bevond that of the 
 school, took him, when he was well advanced in literature 
 to his own house, where the Earl of Dorset, celebrated for 
 patronage of genius, found him by chance, as Burnet relates 
 reading Horace, and was so well pleased with his pro- 
 ficiency, that he undertook the care and cost of his academi- 
 cal education. — Johnson's Life, of Prior, 
 
 2. Proximity of related clauses. The following sen- 
 tences oO'end against this principle >.f clearness. 
 
 The moon was casting a pale light on the numerous 
 graves thut were scattered before me, as it peered above the 
 horizon, when I opened the small gate of the church-yard. 
 
 There will, therefore, be two trials in this town at that 
 time, which are punishable with death, if a full court should 
 attend. 
 
 Mr. Dryden makes a very handsome observation on 
 Ovid's writing a letter from Dido to .^neas, in the follow- 
 ing words. 
 
 3. Order of dependence. In the following sentences 
 it is difficult to determine which is the subject and which 
 Ihe object of the verb: 
 
 And thus the son the fervent sire addressed. 
 Tiie rising tomb a lofty column bore. 
 In the following, the dependence of the Italicised clause 
 is obscurely represented: 
 
 As it is necessary to have the head clear as well &h th« 
 
 22 
 
 A 
 
M I 
 
 254 
 
 OBJECTIVE PROPERTIES. 
 
 complexion, to he perfect in this part of learning, I rarely 
 mingle with the men, but frequent the tea-tables of the ladies. 
 
 In the following sentence obscurity is occasioned by the 
 position of the relative word before its antecedent: 
 
 When a man declares in autumn, when he is eating them, 
 or in spring when there are none, that he loves grapes 
 
 § 319. Clearness is often violated by the introduc- 
 tion of long parenthetical clauses^ and especially of 
 parentheses containing other parentheses within them- 
 selves. • 
 
 The writings of the Apostle Paul, which are characterised 
 more by energy than by clearness, are remarkable for this 
 introduction of long and involved parentheses. A remark- 
 able instance occurs in his epistle to the P^phesians. The sub- 
 ject of the verb is in the first verse of the third chapter, while 
 the verb itself is in the first verse of the fourth. The follow- 
 ing extracts furnibh further exemplificatioTts of the same fault. 
 
 It was an ancient tradition, that when the capitol was 
 founded by one of the Roman Kings, the god Terminus, 
 who presided over boundaries, and was represented according 
 to the fashion of that age, by a large stone, alone, among 
 all the inferior deities, refused to yield his place to Jupiter 
 himself. — Gibbon's Rome, 
 
 The description Ovid gives of his situation, in that first 
 period of his existence, seems, some poetical embellishments 
 excepted, such as, were we to reason a priori,^ we should 
 conclude he was placed in. — Lancaster on Delicacy. 
 
, I rarely 
 
 he ladies. 
 
 id by the 
 
 ng them, 
 apes 
 
 ntroduc 
 ially of 
 in them- 
 
 'acteriscd 
 'i lor this 
 . remark- 
 The sub- 
 ter, while 
 le follow- 
 ,me fault. 
 
 sitol was 
 'erniinus, 
 iccording 
 e, among 
 J Jupiter 
 
 that first 
 lishments 
 re should 
 cy. 
 
 ElMERGT. 265 
 
 CHAPTER TIL 
 
 OP ENERGY. 
 
 $ 320. Energy is that property in style by means 
 of which the thought is impressed with a peculiar 
 vividness or force on the mind addressed. 
 
 This property of style has been variously denominated, 
 as vivacity, strength, and energy; all which terms, from 
 tlieir etymology, point at once to the nature of the property 
 designated by them. 
 
 For the sake of clearness it will be convenient to consider 
 this property in respect to its two species; as secured to 
 style in accordance with the other properties, or only by a 
 certain deviation from these properties. See § 306. 
 
 § 321. Energy is either />ro/>er ox figurative. 
 
 Proper energy is secured to style in accordance 
 with the other properties ; 
 
 IiGURATivE energy, by a greater or less deviation 
 from them. 
 
 Without going out of the range of the other properties 
 ated, it is obvious style may be more or less modified 
 in accordance with their principles with a view to energetic 
 etleet. Such modifications, made with a view to such a 
 vivid injpression, come properly under consideration under 
 the head of energy. 
 
 But discourse admits of modifications with a view to 
 energy, which are not properly dictated by any principles 
 that belong to these other properties. It is often turned 
 from the direction in which it would flow if those properties 
 alone controlled it. The verbal expression of thought m 
 
256 
 
 OBJECTIVE PROPERTIES. 
 
 thus turned from its natural course is termed fgurattve 
 expression. 
 
 $ 322. Proper energy depends on the kind of words 
 employed, the number and the arrangement of them 
 in the sentence. 
 
 $ 323. Energy requires, in respect to the kinds of 
 words employed, that 
 Those of Anglo-Saxon origin, be preferred to others ; 
 Those of national and j)opular use to barbarisms, 
 whether foreign or technical ; and 
 
 The more specific to the more generic and abstract. 
 It is unnecessary to add to the remarks already made 
 under the head of clearness, § 312, in order to illustrate the 
 trutli and importance of lliis principle of style. It is suffi- 
 cient to observe here that style admits of great modifications 
 in respect to the kind of words habitually employed by the 
 speaker, and that even great energy of thouglit may be lost 
 in the selection of words that are wanting in this element 
 of expression. It cannot, therefore,, be too earnestly enjoin- 
 ed on the forming speaker to study those authors assidu- 
 cusly who are distinguished for their vse of Anglo-Saxon, 
 the strictly vernacular and the specific Avords of our lan- 
 guage. It will generally be found tliat the same taste and 
 the same training which have led to the habitual preference 
 of one of these classes of words, have made, also, the others 
 most familiar and pleasing. Care should be taken to make 
 these classes of words forn» the body of sound, — tl^e material 
 in which the thoughts most easily and spontaneously invest 
 themselves. That this is practicable is proved by the fact 
 that men learn universally to think in the language which is 
 spoken around them. As we have authors which are char- 
 acterised by this excellence and others which abound ia 
 
 
KNKROT. 2J.J, 
 
 Latin and FrencI, words and irti„m», it i, „h,i„„, ,, ^ 
 mor should be habitually s.udied and comniiUed toJ 
 while the <..,l,e. should U lef. for n,atur:I<, 7"^' 
 versafon generally prefe.s A„gl„.S„x„n words. I've,, d"' 
 Johnson himself, i„ „,e ,an,.li..,,y „„d ,„„,^^,„^^^ ^ ; 
 ord,„ary conversaUon, en.ployed Anglo-Saxon words, wh h 
 .n rs wr.. en d .course he u„h„ppi,, „„,„„,,j j^,^ ]^ 
 .zed d,aleo .♦ Hence the study of language as en,ploy d 1 
 common h,e ,s h.ghly uselul to the orator in this respect 
 
 i 324. In respect to Ihe member of ,oords, the pri„. 
 ciph, of energy ,s, that the utn.ost brevity consiLnt 
 wtth clearttess and with the other principles of enegy 
 be preserved. '""'S/j 
 
 In the application of this principle, not only redundant 
 words and phrases are to be avoided, but, also, the n.ore 
 direct and sn„ple forms of expression are to be preferred to 
 the more crcuitous and prolix. Hence, often, the sentence 
 should be wholly re-cast. 
 
 oil'-" '"""""'''' '°""'""' "™ '''"'"^' '" "'P''' '" ""' P'i"- 
 
 I went home full of a great many serious reflections. 
 I shall suppose, then, in order to try to account for (t, 
 vjs™^^ut^,^,^,hat as SauKnd 1™!!;,*; 
 • Mae»„lay, in an ..rtWe in ,l,e Kdinl,„,;|, ReVle;. f^sgl, ri^T, 
 
 of he bed on „h,cb one of as w»s to lie." I„ r.cnris .hfc |„eide„ 
 In In, Journey ,o ,he H.,„.ides ,h„s; .-Ou, of „„e of ,„e beds on 
 .h.h «e „.ere ,„ rop«,, started up a, „„r entrance, a ,„„ ,J,,ek 
 
 ' Th„ l^t" r. '"" '°''°"''-" ^""■""■»=^ '- '""*"«' "load 
 "TheEel,ear«.I," he »,id, "hasno,,,!, enougl, to keep it sweet;" 
 
 p.Xto:.'"™""" "■" ""' ^"'"»^"-«- «» P— eU fro'n. 
 
 22* 
 
•.Ai 
 
 ±^ . 
 
 258 
 
 OnJKCTI 
 
 PROP TIEB. 
 
 '^%h 
 
 ? r 
 
 "Mid 
 
 /f ,11 
 
 :>.: I 
 
 u ere jnurneyinp^ along in their way to Damascus, a^ ix« 
 traordiimry rucl leally did liupppn. 
 
 Neither is any condition ol' lilc mure IionjraUe in the 
 sight oT God than another, ofhervvise he would be a respec.ter 
 of per<j(His, which he assures us he is not. 
 
 It will often be greatly r -iducive to the er'rgetic effect 
 of the whole expression^ aftii nuving presented the thought 
 for the sake of clearness in a more extended ' *n, to repeat 
 it in a more condensed sentence. 
 
 The following extract from Buike will f irnish an exem- 
 plification: 
 
 When the old feudal and chivalrous spirit of fealty, 
 which, by treeing kings from fear, freed both kings and 
 subjects from the precaution of tyranny, shall be extinct in 
 the minds of men, plots and assassinations will be anticipated 
 by preventive murder and preventive confiscation, and that 
 long roll of grim and bloody maxims, which form the poli- 
 tical code of all power, not standing on its own honor, and 
 the honor of tlmse who are to obey it. Kings will be 
 tyrants from, policy, when subjects are rebels from prin- 
 ciple. 
 
 $ 325. Energy, in the arrangement of the parts of 
 a sentence, depends, 
 
 First, On the preservation of unity in the general 
 form of the sentence ; 
 
 Secondly, On the right disposition of the capital 
 words and members ; and 
 
 Thirdly, On the disposition of coordinate or correla- 
 tive words or members. 
 
 § 326. Unity in a sentence is preserved by the pre- 
 sentation of but one leading subject, § 318, and by 
 the binding together of all the parts in one compact 
 whole. 
 
 The firsl 
 cientlv con 
 
 The sec( 
 $ 2(J9, in , 
 placed last 
 whole. 
 
 The folic 
 
 While a; 
 part of Vir 
 part of Hel 
 
 l^>r as f 
 faculties, so 
 forbid (hat 
 the supreint 
 in the servii 
 
 There is \ 
 is horrible ( 
 cite disgust, 
 the sacrtdne 
 aj)rsf;ife.s to 
 as the one 
 must look rt 
 anticipate it; 
 
 $ 327. '{ 
 bcini^ the ( 
 should, wh 
 given to (Ik 
 
 This print 
 with circum 
 give them ar 
 course, such 
 duce to "lear 
 oratory thcv 
 observed, vvl 
 
 I 
 
I 
 
 ENiiiu-y. 
 
 259 
 
 Tlje first element „f „„i,^ i,e„ „,e„ti„„rd has b<..„ « 
 Tho second „p|,ea,. in ».,|ein ,1. ,,e,i,.,ilo alrncn., 
 plaoeU ,a,t, b.nds ,he ,v„„,e ,.,,H,,er into „„e .:,:;::*; 
 Tl,e roll.nving are example, „f the ,,„iudic »ir„ef„re- 
 
 For as n,ult nover rose from a true use of our ratio.nl 
 
 facul ...s, so It ,s very frerjuentlv subversive of t en, f J 
 
 orb.d ,hat pn.cleuce, the first of all ,l.e v r e a sucl^ .^ 
 
 he supreme chrector of then, all, should ever b'e e„ , 'd 
 
 Ki the service ot any of the \icea.— Burke. ^"^P'''}ctl 
 
 There is sou.olhin.- in the present business, with all that 
 IS horrible to create aversion, so vilelv loafhs ,me, as to ex 
 Cite d,so.„st. It IS n,v lords, surely s.iperiiuous to d v 1 oi 
 the sacrcdness ot the ties, vvhieh those aliens to fceliur I ose 
 ap.s ates to humanity thus divided. In such an Snblv 
 as the one before which I speak, there is not an ey but 
 Hiusf look reproof to their conduct ;-not a heart burmus 
 u.itic.pate its condeinnafion.--.S7/cnV/..„. ^"' "'"'^ 
 
 § 327. Tile most conspicnoiis parts of the sentence 
 bcinir the comniencoinont and the close, these parts 
 should, when energy of expression is aimed at, be 
 given to the capital or loading words and members. 
 
 This principle forbids commencing or closing a sentence 
 with circumstantial words or clauses, unless it is desired to 
 give them aa emphatic dislinction. In merely didactic dis- 
 course, such clauses are admissible because they often con- 
 duce to "iearness and readiness of apprehension. In earnest 
 oratory they can never be justified except, as has been just 
 observed, when they are made emphatic. In this case, 
 
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.^. 
 
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 ^ 
 
 f> 
 
260 
 
 OBJECTIVE PROPERTIITS. 
 
 placing them at the beginning or the dose at once give* 
 thein a hi"-h degree of force and impressiveness. 
 
 We find in the Latin language a happy exenipiification 
 of this principle of energy. When Mucins Scaevola in 
 Livy wisl.es to turn the attention of Porsenna on the fact 
 tliat he was a Roman^ he says, Romanus sum civis. On 
 the other hand, when Gavius in Cicero's oration against 
 Verres was urging his rights as a citizen, not merely as a 
 Roman, he i,ays, Civis Romanus sum. Although the words 
 are the same, the leading thought being different in tlie two 
 cases, Livy places one word at the beginning of the sen- 
 tence, and Cicero another; and both clearly from mere 
 reference to energetic effect. 
 
 The following sentences are faulty in this respect: 
 
 The other species of motion are incidentally blended also. 
 
 Every nature you perceive is either too excellent to want 
 it, or too base to be capable of it. 
 
 Seeing the delay of repentance doth mainly rely upon the 
 hopes and encouragement of a future repentance, let us con- 
 sider a little how unreasonable these iiopes are, and how 
 absurd the encouragement is which men take from them. 
 
 But it is absurd to think of judging either Ariosto or 
 Spenser by precepts which they did not attend to.— Watson. 
 
 There need no more than to make such a registry only 
 voluntary, to avoid all the difficulties tiiat can be raised, 
 and which are not too captious or too trivial to take notice 
 of.- -Temple. 
 
 In like manner, if a person in broad day-light were falling 
 asleep, to introduce a sudden darkness would prevent his 
 sleep for that time, though silence and darkness in them- 
 selves, and not suddr uly introduced, are very favorable to it. 
 Tins I know only by conjecture on the analogy of the 
 senses when I first digested these observations; but I have 
 fince experienced it. — Burke, 
 
ENERGY. 
 
 261 
 
 The following extracts, on the other hand, furnish instan- 
 ces of this kind of energy : 
 
 In their prosperity my frienas shall never hear of me; in 
 their adversity, always. 
 
 True liberty, in my opinion, can only exist when justice 
 is equally administered to all, to the king, and to the beggar. 
 
 Never, so clearly as in the present instance^ have I ob- 
 served that safeguard of justice which Providence has placed 
 in the nature of man. 
 
 No: I am no emissary — my ambition was to hold a place 
 amono- the deliverers of my country — not in power, not in 
 profit, but in the glory of the achievement! Sell my 
 country's independence to France! and for what? A 
 clianue of masters? No: but for ambition! 
 
 Under this species of ergy may be ranked what has 
 been denominated the Climax; or that structure of the sen- 
 tence in which the different members succeed each other in 
 Older of strength or importance, the most impressive being 
 placed last. 
 
 The iulhnving are examples: 
 
 In the middle of the day, at the moment of divine wor- 
 ship, when the miserable husband was on his knees, direct- 
 ing the prayers and the thanksgivings of his congregation 
 to^lheir God — that moment did the remorseless, &c. 
 
 Impose upon m.e whatever hardships you please; give me 
 nothing but the breid of sorrow to eat; take from me the 
 friend In wlu)m I had placed my confidence; lay me in the 
 cold hut of poverty and on the thorny bed of disease; set 
 before me death in all its terrors; do all this, only let me 
 trust in mv Savior, and I will fear no evil— 1 will rise 
 superior to "affliction— I will rejoice in my tribulation. 
 
 $ 328. Ill the arrangement of the sentence, further, 
 coordinate and correlative words and members should 
 be placed in corresponding parts, so as to answer to each 
 other and reflt H on each other, so to speak, their own 
 force. 
 
262 
 
 OBJECT! V i: I' IIOPK IIT I ES. 
 
 The Latin and Greek languages, through the variety of 
 their inflections, admitted this species of energy to a much 
 greater degree than most modern tongues. Cicero says that 
 the following expression drew forth wonderful applause from 
 the audience; 
 
 Patris dictum sapiens, temeritas filii cornprobavit.* 
 
 The following are from his orations; the first from that 
 for Ligarius, the second from the oration for Roscius 
 Amerinus: 
 
 Nihil habet nee fortuna tua majus quam ut possis, nee 
 natura tua melius quam ut velis, conservare plurimos. 
 
 Accusant ii, qnibus occidi patrem Sexti Roscii bono fuit; 
 causum dicit is, cui non modo luctum mors patiis attulit, 
 verum etiam egestatem. Accusant ii, qui hunc ipsum 
 jugulare summe cupierunt; causam dicit is, qui etiam ad 
 hoc ibidem ante ocuios vestros trucidetur. 
 
 In our own language, the following sentences may be 
 
 given as illustrations: 
 
 Never before were so many opposing interests, passions, 
 and principles committed to such a decision. On one side 
 an attachment to the ancient order of things, on the other a 
 passionate desire of change; a wish in some to perpetuate, 
 
 * Orator, 63. Hoc dichorco tantiis clamor concionis excitiitus 
 est. ut admirabile est. If tlie dou})le trochee at tlie close had its 
 eflfect, it is yet questionable whether the energy of the expression 
 is not owing still more to the admirable arrangement of tlie words, 
 which are made most perfectly to answer to each other. * Pa- 
 tris ' and 'filii* are at the extremes; 'sapiens* and 'temeritas* 
 in the middle in juxta-position, and tiie one at the close, the other 
 at the commencement of the respective members to which they 
 belong; and the un -related word 'dictum' thrown as far as pos- 
 sible out of view. The whole sentence is bound together by the 
 verb, which as the most important word, occupies the last place 
 in the sentence. We have, besides, the inversion of the object 
 before the subject. To all this is to bo added the harmony of the 
 whole. There is here a combination of many excellencies of style. 
 
ENERGY. 
 
 263 
 
 in others (o df^stroy every thing; every abuse sacred in the 
 eyes of the lorrner, every fouudatiou attempted to be demo- 
 lished by the latter; a jealousy of power shiiukiug fioiu the 
 sliohtest iauovation, preteusiuus to freedom pushed tu mad- 
 ness and anarchy ; superstition in all its dotage^ impiety ia 
 all its fury. 
 
 Sullen and severe without religion, profligate without 
 gaiety, you live like Charles the Second, without being an 
 amiable companion; and, for aught I know, may die, as his 
 father did, without the reputation of a martyr. 
 
 § 329. As, frequently, it may be desired to weaken 
 and soften rather than to fr* -^ngthen the expression, 
 this object may be effected, for the most part, by means 
 iust the reverse of those which have been prescribed 
 for imparting energy. 
 
 The Eno-lish language, from the very heterogeneo.'sness 
 of its ori'i-in, allows more than most other languages this 
 variation in the degrees of energy. The same object may 
 be represented by a skillful orator in the strongest vividness 
 and force or in the most indifferent tameness, simply by 
 means of a different selection from those w^ords w^bich are 
 grammatically proper to the object. Here belong those ex- 
 pressions usually denominated Euphemisms, w'hich are 
 employed to soften or weaken the impression made by the 
 more appropriate representation. The following are exem- 
 plifications: 
 
 1. In the kind of words: The toast concludes with a 
 patriotic wish for all his persuasion, by the consummation 
 of which there can be no doubt the hempen manufactures of 
 this country would experience a very considerable con- 
 sumption. 
 
 For vvhen the restless Greeks sat down 
 So many years, before Troy town,^ 
 And were renowned, as Homer writes. 
 For well-soaled boots, no less than fight* 
 
264 
 
 OBJ C ( ' i" I V I ; r !J O P K 11 T I E8. 
 
 2. In the niunber of words: 
 
 They did that which every master would have wished hii 
 ■ervauts to do in such an exigency: instead of, they killed 
 Clodius. 
 
 3. In the arrangement of words: 
 Parturiunt montes, nascetur ridicalus mus. 
 
 § 330. Figurative energy is founded either, 
 
 1. On the kind and number of words employed; 
 
 2. On the representative imagery ; or, 
 
 3. On the structure of the sentence. 
 
 The most strictly philosophical treatment of figurative 
 energy, as well as also of clearness, would represent it in 
 the light of the absolute and subjective properties of style, 
 and follow the method furnished by the analysis of those 
 properties. But both to prevent repetition and for conven- 
 ience and simplicity, it may, perhaps, better be exhibited 
 under the three heads named abo e. 
 
 $ 331. Those forms of figurative energy .Aich de- 
 pend on the kind of words employed, are denominated 
 Tropes^ which may be defined as follows : 
 
 A Tropk is a word employed for the sake of energy 
 in a different import from that which is proper to it. 
 
 It is obvious to remark that tropes are founded on the 
 etymological properties of language. They are figurative 
 uses of the 'proper import of words. A tropical impro- 
 priety is denominated a cataohresis. 
 
 $ 322. Tropes impart energy to style by represent- 
 ing the object in a more individual or sensible form 
 than the proper denomination of it ; as sceptre instead 
 of dominion ; Homer instead of the Homeric poems ; 
 Britain instead oi the government of Great Britain. 
 
ENHRGY. 
 
 265 
 
 $ 333. Tropes may be distributed into two classes 
 according as they are founded on a direct resemblance 
 of properties, or an indirect resemblance or similarity 
 of relations. 
 
 The former class may be denominated simple 
 tropes ; the latter are called metaphors. 
 
 All tropes are tbunded on resemblance, or, more philoso- 
 phically speaking, on a more or less perfect identity. This 
 partial identity or resemblance can always be traced even 
 in the most remote cases. When we say, thus, " The cres- 
 cent wanes," instead of, "The Mohammedan power declines," 
 we lirst conceive of the flag of that power from its charac- 
 teristic symbol; and then of the power itself froii the flag 
 which represents it; and in both cases the conception is 
 founded on a species of local identity. The place of the 
 crescent is in the flag; and of the flag with the presence of 
 the power or authority. Without this identity, the mind 
 has no power to conceive of the object represented. If the 
 identity respect only one or two obscure particulars, or, in 
 other words, if the resemblance be but faint and dim, the 
 trope is catachrestic — harsh and far-fetched. The explana- 
 tion of tropical energy is hence obvious. By the trope, the 
 mind addressed is placed in a certain place or time or ana- 
 logous relation, from which it views the object represented; 
 as in the trope *" a boisterous multitude,' the mind is referred 
 to a furious wind swelling and roaring, and in that sensible 
 image perceives the characteristic given in the epithet to thf 
 'multitude.' 
 
 Hence, when a word originally tropical ceases, from 
 familiar use, to call up the sensible or singular object or 
 ecene to which it properly refers, it loses its tropical charac* 
 
 it) 
 
 23 
 
266 
 
 OBJECTIVK PROPERTIED 
 
 ten Such is the tendency in the progress of language with 
 
 all tropes. 
 
 Here we find the explanation of the fact that the same 
 discourse pleases an imaginative mind skilled in the use of 
 language and accustomed to refer the words to the sensible 
 object which they originally lepresented, that, to another 
 mind, seems wholly destitute of beauty. Here, too, is found 
 the explanation of the peculiar energy and beauty of that 
 species of style which puts the imagination of the reader 
 constantly in the way of making this reference. 
 
 These general observations apply with equal force to the 
 second class of figures or those founded on the representa- 
 tive imagery. 
 
 § 334. Simple Tropes are of two species ; 
 
 Those ill which the objects compared dinier in degree, 
 and those in which the objects diller in khid. 
 
 A trope of the formej- species is termed a synecdoche, 
 as "Cicero" instead of "orator;" "a sail" for "a ves- 
 sel." 
 
 A trope of the latter species is called a metonymy ; 
 as " the father of Jupiter'* for "Saturn ;" "the grave" 
 for "death." 
 
 $ 335. Synecdoche is a trope in which either the 
 part is put for the whole, or a species or individual for 
 the class. 
 
 Examples of the former variety are; 
 **England is still flourishing for the instruction of the 
 world," lor "Great Britain." — Mirabcau. 
 **By thousands,'" for "great numbers." 
 
 The following are instances of the latter variety: 
 Romanus proelio victor, for Ronianu 
 
ENKllOY. 
 
 267 
 
 Some village llampdan that, with dauntless breast. 
 The little tyrant of his iields withstood; 
 Some mute inglorious Milton here may rest. 
 Some Cromwell, guiltless of his country s blood. 
 
 So thought the countries of Demosthenes and the Spartan: 
 yet Leonidas is trampled by tiie timid slave, &c. 
 
 $ 336. When the whole is put for a part, or the class 
 for the species or individual, the trope is still called a 
 synecdoche. In this case, for the most part, the energy 
 of the expression is w^eakened. 
 
 'To appropriate to one's self,' is more general language 
 and less forcible than ' to steal/ ' He went to his rest,' is 
 a softer expression than ' he died.* The use of the plural 
 ** we " is thus less egotistical than the singular " I." 
 
 On the other hand, when the general essence is put for 
 the individual concrete the trope is often highly energetic; 
 as, "gold " for " the money " made from it, as, 'Paid my 
 price in paltry gold/ ' Freedom shrieked/ for ' the friends 
 of freedom/ 
 
 $ 337, A METONYMY is a trope in which the object 
 is represented by a word properly applied to something 
 else that differs in kind from the represented object. 
 
 The additional energy imparted to the expression by this 
 trope is owing to the circumstance that the object is repre- 
 sented by means of one more familiar, or more readily 
 conceived, in consequence of its being single or cognizable 
 by the senses. 
 
 The different varieties of this trope may be thus classified: 
 
 1. Cause represented by the effect or vice versa; as " gray 
 hairs " for " old age "; " Milton" for Milton's writings." 
 
 This variety is ultimately founded on identity of time, as 
 tbe following is on that of place. 
 
 IflMiJ-' 
 
868 
 
 OnJKCTlVK PHOFKlfl'II^S. 
 
 i'Wf, 
 
 ; "r^ -^n^l 
 
 2. Substance by quality, property, or accident, and vic§ 
 versa; as, " the sun" tor " (he heat of the sun "; " Brutus * 
 for " iuilexiblc tirinness "j ** wealth counts its cattle " for 
 " the man of wealth." 
 
 Here belongs the metonymy of the sign for the thing sig- 
 nified, and the reverse; as 'scepter' for 'dominion/ 
 
 3. The time, for what existed or transpired in it, and vice 
 versa; as, * antiquity ' for 'the men of antiquity/ 'poster- 
 ity ' for ' the future.' 
 
 Under this variety is included the metonymy founded on 
 proximity of time. 
 
 4. The place, for what is in it or associated with it, and 
 vice versa; as 'Greece' for 'the Greeks'; 'the forum' for 
 'a judicial tribunal,' or 'judicial business.' 
 
 $ 338. A MKTAPFioii is a trope in which the repre- 
 sentation of the object is eflected by the use of a word 
 properly denotinjj something analogous; and is founded 
 on a resemblance or identity of relations. 
 
 A nietiiphor being founded on an identity of relation is 
 by this distinguiahed from simple tropes, § 333. The 
 nature of the nietaphor may be seen from the following 
 illustrations: 
 
 "Time had ploughed his venerable front." — The word 
 " ploughed " is here used metaphorically. The use of it is 
 justified on the ground of the analogy of the efiect of literal 
 ploughing to that of time. In other words, what the driving 
 of the plough is to the soil, time was to the forehead. The 
 resemblance on which the metaphor is founded is obviously 
 one of relation and not of properties. 
 
 O! when the growling winds contend, and all 
 
 The sounding forest fluctuates in the storm. 
 
 To sink in warm repose and hear the din 
 
 Howl o'er the steady battlements — 
 
ENKRGY. 
 
 269 
 
 There is in these lines an accumulation of metaphors, all 
 clearly distinguishable by the characteristic named from 
 the simple trope. The winds are said to growl from the 
 aualdgy of the elTect on the mind to the growls of a wolf. 
 What growling is to the wolf, the noise of the storm is to 
 the wind. So the motion of the forest is to the trees what 
 the jlHctudtion of the water is to the waving sea. The 
 same remark is applicable to 'the howling of the din over 
 the battlement/ It is to be observed that in the first and last 
 of these metaphors there is, besides the metaphor, also, the 
 figure of personification. 
 
 The metaphor often contains in itself a simple trope, as 
 in the following examples: 
 
 Metaphors of Synecdoche; "A sea of troubles," for **a 
 multitude of troubles." 
 
 Apollo bade me check my fond desire. 
 
 Nor on the vast Tyrrhenian spread my little sail. 
 
 In this last instance, the * Tyrrhenian' is a synecdoche 
 for any large sea; and it is likewise used metaphorirdUy,— 
 the vast sea being to a little bark what epic themes were to 
 the lyric spirit of Horace. 
 
 Metaphors of metonymy. 1. Cause and effect. 
 
 Bears his blushing honors thick upon him. 
 Streatning Grief his faded cheek bedewed. 
 
 Grief is here put for the effijct and is characterised meta- 
 phorically as streaming. 
 2. Substance and property. 
 
 Or have ye chosen this place 
 After the toils of battle, to repose 
 Your wearied virtue? 
 
 ** Virtue " is here used for the persons to whom itbelongi^ 
 end " wearied virtue " is a metaphor. 
 
 23* 
 
270 
 
 OBJECTIVE rilOPKIlTlRS. 
 
 3. Time; as, MariM clime; 'Sinniner life' for 'agree- 
 able life.' 
 
 4. Place. 'Bleeding bosom' for 'grieving heart,.' 
 
 § 330. Fijruiativc eiKMjry as dcinMuliiip^ ou llie nunir 
 her of words consists in a repetition or an onii.^sion of 
 certain wonls which the ordinary forms of expression 
 do not admit or rerjuire. 
 
 $ 310. This class of figures includes Figurative 
 Repetition and Ellipsis. 
 
 Figurative repetition includes epizenxis where 
 the word is immediately repeated without any intervening 
 word or clause, as, "The inlri)ducers of the now-established 
 principles of political economy may fairly be considered to 
 have made a great discovery; a discovery the more credit- 
 able," &c.; and epanalepsis, wlure a word or clause inter- 
 venes, as, "The persecutions undergone by the Apostles 
 furnished both a trial to their faith, and a conla-mation to 
 ours: a trial to them," &c. 
 
 The repetition of connectives belongs to this class, and is 
 called Polysyndeton; as, "Such a man might fall a victim 
 to power; but truth and reason and liberty would fall with 
 him." 
 
 And the kings of the earth, and the great men, and the 
 rich men, and the chief-captains, and the mighty men, and 
 every bond-man, and every freeman, hid themselves in the 
 dens and in the rocks of the mountains. 
 
 Ellipsis is the omission of a word or words which would 
 be supplied in the ordinary form of expression; as. 
 
 Hereditary bondmen! know ye not. 
 
 Who would be free, themselves must strike the blow? 
 
 The Ellipsis of connectives is termed asyndeton; fu, 
 Vnoi, vidi, vici. 
 
 r 
 
 s 
 
 I' 
 
ENERGY. 271 
 
 5 :MI. Thoso forms of figurative energy which de- 
 pend on the represcnlutive imagery include liueo 
 
 ''^'T^ Tliose figures which consist in a change of the 
 nature or relaUoiis of the represented ohject ; 
 
 2. Those which consist in comparison or contrast; 
 
 ^\ Those which consist in a deviation from the or- 
 dinary mode of expressing tiie mental condition of the 
 
 speaker. 
 
 . 342. The Hrst class of representative figures m- 
 eludes those of vision, personification, and hy- 
 
 perhole. 
 
 Vision is a figure in which the object although really 
 remote is represented as present in tin.e or place. 
 
 This fi,n,re, which is founded on a represented change m 
 
 the relatulus of the object to time or place, is exceedingly 
 
 connnon; and is found in style of all degrees ot energy and 
 
 1 Ti.A fiiUowin"- are illustrations: 
 
 vehemence. 1 he nniow uij, uiu 
 
 1 . !,;« fnrrcs were collected with the utmost 
 
 He was chosen: las torccs weic ^ i 
 lie »<ii3 towards Cvrrha. o\xi now, 
 
 f ^"",r.;, ^cH : l^r^-d Ser to tl,^ Cy.rbeans or the 
 
 '";. „„hnp,>y .nan. -e-d as He «.s^^^^^^^^^^ 
 
 for hi,s ..alive co.u.try, is ''™'S'''„''e„Ince distorted «ith 
 
 cm.e to Sicl.v as a spy .-6.ee™ a a. 
 
 ^^^•'""^■^' ;!:;„\^olrT:...^::rn, to'mi t,. puc. 
 ^Xirr:;o:ii,u.urt.a"te.he.w^^^^^^^^^ 
 
 where we are passing, and soon shall have p 
 
272 
 
 OBJECTIVE FRGPERTIES. 
 
 human duration. We bid you welcome to this pleasoni 
 land of the Fathers.— Webster. 
 
 The figure in this last example is specifically denomina- 
 Ted an apostrophe. It is in truth, however, a combination 
 of vision and apostrophe. § 344. 
 
 Personification is a figure in which inanimate 
 objects and qualities are represented as living beings. 
 
 This likewise, is, a very common figure. Indeed, as 
 many words in every language which were originally ap 
 plied to inanimate objects or mere qualities only figurative- 
 ly, have, by use, dropped their personifying character and 
 are regarded as proper terms; so, likewise, phrases and 
 extended forms of representative imagery have become the 
 ordinary and proper mc'es of representation. 
 
 It is often conjoined with vision, and especially, with 
 
 apostrophe. 
 
 But look, the morn, in russet mantle clad, 
 Waiks o'er the dew of yon high eastward hill. 
 
 Shakspeare, 
 
 With such delay 
 Well pleased, thev slack their course, and many a league. 
 Cheered with the gratef J smell, old Ocean smiles. 
 
 Milton, 
 
 Ye woods and wilds, whose melancholy gloom 
 Accords with my soul's sadness, and draws forth 
 The ttar of sorrow from ray bursting heart. 
 Farewell awhile. — Home. 
 
 The peculiar nature of the English language, which 
 applies no di. Unctions of gender to objects destitute of sex, 
 makes the use of this figure at once easy and forcible. 
 The simple application of a personal pronoun implying 
 sex to an inanimate object at opce invests it with person- 
 ality. 
 
 la like manner, liberty herself, the last and best gift of 
 
ENKRGY. 
 
 273 
 
 God to his creatures, must be taken just as she is. You 
 may pare her down into bashful regularity, and shape her 
 into a perfect model of severe scrupulous law; but she will 
 be liberty no longer. — Erskine. 
 
 When Natural Religion has thus viewed both, ask her, 
 Which is the prophet of God? But her answer we have 
 already had, when she saw part of this scene, through the 
 eves of the centurion, who attended at the cross. By him 
 she spoke, and said: "Truly this man was the Son of God." 
 — Comparison of the religion of Christ and of Mahomet 
 in Sherlock's Sermons. 
 
 The opposite of this figure, where a person is represented 
 as a thing, has a similar energy in exposing a character to 
 scorn and contempt. 
 
 How in the name of soldiership and sense. 
 
 Should England prosper, when such things, as smooth 
 
 And tender as a girl, all essenced o'er 
 
 With odors, and as profligate as sweet; 
 
 Who sell their laurel for a myrtle wreath. 
 
 And love when they should fight: when such as these 
 
 Presume to lay their hand upon the ark 
 
 Of her magnificent and awful cause? 
 
 Hyperbole is a figure in which the object is represented 
 as magnified or diminished beyond reality. 
 
 As vision is founded on a change in the relations of the 
 represented object, and personification on a change in its 
 nature or kind, hyperbole is founded on a change in the 
 degree of some of its properties or qualities. 
 
 I saw their chief, tall as a rock of ice; his spear^ the 
 fir; his shield the rising morn: he sat on the shore, like a 
 cloud of mist on the iiill. — Ossian, 
 
 A lover may bestride the Gossamer, 
 That idles in the wanton summer air. 
 And yet not fall— so light is vanity. — Shakspeare, 
 He was the owner of a bit of ground not larger than a 
 Lacedemonian letter. 
 
 I 
 
274 
 
 OBJECT I V K P HOP IIUTIES. 
 
 The minds of the aged are like he tombs to which they 
 are approaching; where, though the brass and the maib e 
 remain, yet the inscriptions are etiaced by time, and the 
 imagery has mouldered away. 
 
 ^343. Tiie second class of lepicscntative figures 
 being founded on a comparison of one object ^vith an- 
 other include those of comparison proper and simile ; 
 contrast, allegory, and allusion. 
 
 This class of figures differs from the first class 
 that while the latter confine the view to the object itself and 
 only represent it as changed in its relations, nature or 
 de-ree, those of the second class go out from the object Kself 
 and represent it only through the light of some other to 
 which it bears some resemblance. 
 
 The COMPARISON PROPER is a figure in which the pro- 
 perties or relations of the object are represented by means of 
 similar properties or relations in another object of the same 
 
 class. a \ • 
 
 The comparison differs from the metaphor chiefly m being 
 more extended. It is not essential to the comparison that 
 the words of comparison, ' like/ ' as,' ^ so/ &c., be actually 
 expressed; aUhough the term "metaphor/' or « metaphon- 
 cal comparison," is more commonly applied when those 
 words are omitted. The figure is in this case bolder and 
 makes a stronger demand on the imagination cf the reader; 
 a. all the properties of the representative object are in form 
 attributed to the other, and the reader is left to distinguish 
 and select from among them such as may be appropriate. 
 The use of the comparative particles and words, on the other 
 hand, indicate only a partial resemblance. If the poet had 
 said, « Be not dumb, driven cattle," the expression, if 
 tllowcd by the meter, would be felt at once to be stronger 
 
n 
 
 ENERGY. 
 
 275 
 
 tnd bolder than the comparative form which he adepts; 
 ** Be not like dumb driven cattle." 
 
 The SIMILE ditTers only in form from the comparison. 
 The term 'simile' turns the mind on the object to which 
 the theme is likened as the prominent thing. In the simile, 
 accordino'ly, the representative object is presented as the 
 leading theme; and the represented as the subordinate one. 
 In the comparison, on the other hand, the represented object 
 is made the leading theme. Thus, a comparison would be 
 in this form ; "As when the thunder rolls in peals; the light- 
 ning glances on the rocks; spirits ride on beams of fire; and 
 the strength of the mountain-streams comes running down the 
 hills: so was the voice of battle." In the simile, the repre- 
 sentative object would be presented as the leading theme; 
 »s, « Thou hast seen the sun retire red and slow behind his 
 cloud; night gathering round on the mountain; while the 
 unlrequent blast roared in narrow vales. At length the rain 
 beats hard; and thunder rolls in peals. Lightning glances 
 on the rocks, spirits ride on beams of fire, and the strength 
 of the mountain-streams comes roaring down the hills. Such 
 was the noise of battle." Differing thus slightly, the simile 
 and comparison are very commonly confounded. 
 
 Contrast is a figur. in which the object is represented 
 by another similar object, but the attention is turned on the 
 opposition or points of diff^erence between them. 
 
 Contrast thus involves comparison, since there can be no 
 contrast oetween things enti.ely dissimilar; it differs from 
 comparison in this, that while it assumes the resemblance it 
 goes farther and dwells on the points of opposition or dis- 
 similarity. 
 
 The destruction of a dangerous error which had widely 
 extended its dominion is a glo.ious victory w^n by the 
 friends of truth, armed onl^ with the weapons ot iaith. 
 
276 
 
 OJBJKCTiVB PllOPKKTlES. 
 
 
 Such a conqueror no streams of blood accompany : in hi* 
 train are no desolated fields. 
 
 The ALLEGORY is but an extended simile, in which the 
 comparative words are omitted. 
 
 The allegory, the parable, and the fable belong to the 
 same class of figurative forms of representation; and their 
 distinctions are not ely observed in the common use of 
 language. It is suflScient to remark of them that the fable 
 is distinguished from the proper allegory by being shorter 
 and also by being narrative or historical, It is founded on 
 an imaginary event; whereas an allegory may be descrip- 
 tive. The term parable is more strictly confined to alle- 
 gories either narrative or descriptive, of a moral or religious 
 character, which are, moreover, founded on real scenes or 
 events J as those of Christ. 
 
 One of the finest examples of the allegory is in the eighti- 
 eth Psalm, from tl»e eighth verse to the sixteenth inclusive. 
 
 The Pilgrim's Progress by Bunyan is another fine exem- 
 plification of the extended allegory. 
 
 The ALLiT&iON is a species of comparison in wiiieh, while 
 the comparative words are omitted, the represented object is 
 still made the leading theme; and the comparison is with a 
 real object or event. 
 
 By this last cliaracteristic it is distinguished from th» 
 allegory, in which, as in the simile, the representative ob- 
 ject is the leading theme. It differs from ©ne class of met- 
 aphors only in being raore extended. Indeed, this class of 
 metaphors, referring to a real sc? ne or event, are denomina- 
 ted metaphorical allusions or allusive nietaphors; as 
 ** The self-seeking will betray his friend or brother with a 
 Judas-kiss.'' 
 
 When it is said that the allusion always respects a real 
 •wnt or object, it is not meant to exclude such imaginarji 
 
ENKKUY. 277 
 
 objects or events as have been actually described or narrated 
 in works of fiction. 
 
 $ 344. The third class of representative figuves, or 
 those ill which the mental condition of the speaker is 
 represented as different from the reality, may be dis- 
 tributed into three species, according a? they respect 
 the personality of the speaker ; that of the hearer ; oi 
 the nature of the thought or feeling represented itself. 
 
 The first species is PROSOPOPOEIA, in which the speaker 
 personates another; as where Milo is introduced by Cicero as 
 speaking through his lips; "Attend, I pray, hearken, O 
 citizens, I have killed Publius Clodius by this sword and by 
 this right hand, 1 have kept off his rage from yoiir necks, 
 which no laws, no courts of judicature, could restrain," &c. 
 It is sometimes joined with personification, in which case 
 inanimate or irrational things are represented as speaking ; 
 as in Cicero^s first oration against Cataline, the republic is 
 made the speaker and addresses Cicero himself. " What 
 are you doing? Are you suffering him whom you have 
 found to be an enemy, who you see is to be at the head of 
 the war, whom you perceive our enemies wait for in then 
 camp as their general, who has been the contriver of this 
 wickedness, the chief of the conspiracy, the exciter of slaves 
 and profligate citizens, to leave the city which is rather to 
 bring him in than let him out? Will you not order him to 
 be imprisoned, cond.:. ned, and executed?" &c. 
 
 Sometimes this figure takes the form of a colloquy or ft 
 dialogue. This was the ancient sermocinntio. 
 
 How does God reveal himself in nature? She answers 
 thee with loud voices, with a thousand tongues: God is love. 
 
 The second species is apostrophe, in which the speaker, 
 instead of addressing directly his proper hearer, turns him- 
 
 24 
 
 •m 
 
278 
 
 OBJEC 
 
 person 
 
 IVE PROPERTIES. 
 
 other 
 
 or 
 
 thing, either really or only in 
 
 self to some 
 imagination present. 
 
 This figure abounds in the orations of Cicero. Ihus in 
 his first against Catuline: " I desire, senators, to be merciful, 
 but not to appear negligent in so great dangers of the St«te; 
 thouoh at present I cannot but condemn myself of remiss- 
 nuss! There is a camp formed in Italy at the entrance of 
 Etruria, against the State; our enemies increase daily; but 
 we see the commander of the camp and general of the ene- 
 mies within our walls, in the very senate, contriving some 
 intestine ruin to the State. If, now, Cataline, I should 
 order you to be seized and put to death," &c. 
 
 Again, in his defense of Milo, he turns to his brother 
 Quintus and addresses him as if present: "And how shall I 
 answer it to you, my brother Quintus, the partner ot my 
 misfortunes, who art now absent?" 
 
 The third species of figures of this class which respect a 
 change in the represented conception of the object by the 
 speaker from the reality, includes iromj, doubt, and znterro^ 
 gation. 
 
 Irony is a figure in which the speaker represents his 
 thought in a form that properly expresses the directly oppch- 
 site of his opinion. It is employed mostly for purposes of 
 playfulness or scorn and contempt. 
 
 Silence at length the gay Antinous broke. 
 Constrained a smile, and thus ambiguous spoke; 
 What god to you, untutored youth, affords 
 This headlong torrent of amazing words! 
 
 May Jove delay thy reign, and cumber late 
 So bright a c-enius with the cares of state! 
 
 ^ ^ ')dyssey, I. 490. 
 
 ' But, Mr. Speaker, we have a right to tax America.' Oh, 
 inestimable right! Oh, wonderful, transcendent right! the 
 assertion of which has cost this country thirteen provinces. 
 
ENERGY. 
 
 279 
 
 fix islands, one hundred thousand lir/es, and seventy 
 millions of money. Oh, invaluable right! fur the sake of 
 which we have saciiliced our rank among nations, our 
 importance abroad, and our happiness at home! 
 
 Doubt, also called (v^oria and dubitatio, is i figure in 
 ■which the speaker represents himself as in doubt for the 
 purpose of winning a stronger coniideace from the hearers. 
 Thus, Cicero in his oration for Cluentius: 
 
 I know not which way to turn myself. Shall I deny the 
 scandal thrown upon him of bribing the judges? Can I say, 
 tlie people were not told of it? &c. 
 
 Interrogation is a figure in which a strong and con- 
 fident assertion is represented under the form of an inquiry 
 
 or deuumd. 
 
 Have any alarms been occasioned by the emancipation 
 of our Catholic brethren? Has the, bigoted malignity of 
 any individuals been crushed? or has the stability of the 
 goVernment or that of the country been weakened? or is one 
 million of subjects stronger than four millions? 
 
 § 315. Those forms of figurative energy which de- 
 peml on the structure of the sentence respect either 
 the order and corniection of the parts ; or the com- 
 pleteness and length of the entire sentence. 
 
 They include inversion and anacoluthon ; aposi- 
 pesis and senientiousness, 
 
 $ 340. Inversion is a figure in which the arrange- 
 ment of the parts of a sentence is changed from the 
 usual syntactical order. 
 
 The general principle of energy in regard to the arrange- 
 meat or the parts of a sentence is, that the more important 
 words or phrases be placed first or last, and the less impor- 
 tant be thrown into the middle. This principle, indeed, 
 applies also to the arrangement of words in the members. 
 
 m 
 
 m 
 
280 
 
 OBJECTIVE PROPERTIES. 
 
 Words of transition, of every class, as < however/ ' besides, 
 ' therefore/ and the like, should in accordance with this 
 principle be thrown, whenever practicable, into the middle of 
 the sentence ;-should be, in other words, postrosttive ^nA 
 not prepositive. So, likewise, merely explanatory members 
 or phrases should be neither the first nor the last on the 
 mind, unless they are to be made emphatic. 
 
 But the unbending syntax of our language allows but 
 little liberty to the orator in this respect. It is here incom- 
 parably inferior to the ancient languages which, by the mul- 
 tiplicity of their inflections, admitted readily any desn-ed 
 arrangement of the words and phrases. It is, however, even 
 here superior to some other modern languages; and without 
 offending against its essential principles, the orator may 
 :mpart much energy t > discourse by authorized deviations 
 from the ordinary structure of the sentence. 
 
 As the subject is naturally the first thing to be presented 
 to the mind, our language requires that ordinarily it be 
 placed first in the sentence. But sometimes it is the predi- 
 cate in whole or in part, or the mode of the copula, upon 
 which the orator wishes the attention more particularly to 
 be fixed. To accomplish this inversion, in the first place, 
 we have certain words and forms of expression which are 
 used for this purpose alone and are in themselves utterly 
 destitute of meaning; such as, « there," « there is," « it is. 
 
 There is a feeling of the sublime in contemplating the 
 shock of armies, just as there is in contemplating the 
 devouring energy of a tempest; and this so elevates and 
 engrosses\he whole man, that his eye is blind to the tears o 
 befeaved parents, and his ear is deaf to the Pteous "man o 
 the dying, and the shriek of their desolatedtamihes. There 
 isa gracefulness in the picture of a youthful warrior burn- 
 ing for distinction on the field, &c. 
 
 U gives me pleasure to advance a farther testimony in 
 
ENERGY. 
 
 281 
 
 belialf of that government with which it has pleased God, 
 who appointed to all men the bounds of their habitation, to 
 bless that portion of the globe that we occupy. 
 
 It is the gospel of Jesus Christ, which has poured the 
 light of day into all the intricacies ol" this contemplation. 
 
 Again, when the predicate is separated in part or in whole 
 from the copula the predicate or a part of it may be placed 
 first. 
 
 Great is Diana of the Ephesians. 
 
 His faithful dogs howl on his hills, and his boars which 
 he used to pursue, rejoice. Fallen is the arm of battle; the 
 mighty among the valiants is low ! 
 
 Farther, the qualifying parts of a sentence, when they are 
 to be made emphatic, may be placed first without violatir.g 
 the principles of the language. 
 
 So deeply were they impressed with the sense of their 
 wrono-s, that they would not even accept of life from their 
 oppressors. 
 
 Once more, in the objective relation of the sentence, our 
 language ordinarily requires that the object follow its verb. 
 For the sake of energy, however, inversion is often allow- 
 able here. 
 
 All that I have and all that I am and all that I hope in 
 this life, 1 am now ready here to stake upon it. 
 
 § 347. Anacolutiion is a figuie in which, for the 
 sake of energy, the orator drops the grammatical form 
 with which he had commenced and adopts another 
 not syntactically reconcilable with it. 
 
 This figure, common thu classical writings, is rarely 
 allowable in our language. Only strong passion can war- 
 rant it, as it seems to imply such a degree of emotion in the 
 ipeakei as to destroy the recollection of grammatical forms 
 
 24* 
 
282 
 
 oiuf:ctive puoperties. 
 
 § 318. Aposiopksis is a figure in which the feel- 
 ings of the speiik..'i- induce him to inUurupt the expies- 
 aion and leave the sentence incomplete. 
 
 This iigiwe, by its direct address to the imagination of 
 the hearer, is often one of great power. 
 
 Demosthenes employs it freciucntly with much effect; as 
 in his address to Aeschines: O thou-by what name can I 
 properly call thee? 
 
 Must I remember? why she would hang on him 
 As if increase of appetite had grown 
 By what it fed on; yet, within a month- 
 Let me not think— Frailty thy name is woman. 
 
 $ 319. Sententiousness is a deviation from that 
 continuousness in style which thought naturally re- 
 quires, § 295. It characterises that discourse which is 
 broken up into short and abrupt sentences. 
 
 The women, in iheir turn, learned to be more vain, more 
 gav, and more alluring. They grew studious to please and 
 to conquer. They lost somewhat of the intrepidity and 
 firmness which before were characteristic of tbem. Ihey 
 were to a.Tect a delicacy and a weakness,, fheir education 
 wa.^ to be an object of greater attention and care. A hner 
 seiise of (liit> was to arise. 
 
 After all, what is high birth? Does jt j^stow a nature 
 dilTerent from that of the rest of mankind? Has not the 
 man of ancient line, human blood in his veins? Does he 
 not experience hunger and thirst? 
 
 Besides, Sir, we have no election. If we were basa 
 enough to desire it, it is now too late to retire from the con- 
 test There is no retreat but in submission and slavery. 
 Ou; chains are forged. Their clanking may be heard on 
 the plains of Boston. The war is inevitable, and let it come. 
 I repeat it. Sir, let it come. 
 
 § 350. There are certain general principles which 
 
K.Nl'.IK^Y. 
 
 283 
 
 apply to the uso of figures aiid which :,houl(l bo care- 
 fully observed. 
 
 Th'i first respects the occasion of usin^^ thciu ; it re- 
 quiies that they never be introduced unless there be fit 
 and suitable ground for them in the feelings of the 
 speaker. 
 
 So far as figures appear to be sought alter, they indicate 
 labor and affectation which are in themselves most hostile 
 to energy. The proper rule to be observed in reference to 
 pro.i i.M,. in the use of figures, is that, while familiarity be 
 obtained by previous study with the various kinds of figures, 
 such only be actually employed in discourse as spring up 
 naturally at the time. 
 
 § 351. The second i)rinciple respects the number 
 of figures ; it fi)rbids a too frecinent repetition of them, 
 and^ especially, the frequent repetition of the same 
 figure. 
 
 § 352. The third principle respects the relation to 
 be observed to the ordinary essential iiroperties of 
 style ; it reipiires that figurative expressions should be 
 in conformity with the necessury principles that govern 
 those properties. 
 
 Figures are deviations from the ordinary forms of speech, 
 bul aui never be properly violations of its essential proper- 
 ties. In the use of figures, accordingly, the principles of 
 etymol, gv, svntax and lexicography, for example, should 
 never be"violalecl. No real energy is gained to discourse by 
 the introduction of a figure which is unintelligible or obscure. 
 § 353. The fourth principle respects the quality of 
 the fi<nu"e itself; it requires that it be ever congruous 
 and Complete in itself; and at the same time be ex- 
 
284 
 
 OBJKCTIVK FROPERTIKS. 
 
 tended no farther than is necessary for distinct appre. 
 1 tension. 
 
 The Hability to an ofTense against this principle is great- 
 est in the case' of the representative ligin es. Whenever these 
 are presented confusedly and with incongruous features they 
 oflend rather than impress. So, also, while ollenKive 
 abruptness and incompleteness are to be avoidtd, the liguie 
 should never be extended farther than the imagination of the 
 hearer needs in order to grasp it intelligibly and fully. In 
 the simile or comparison, for instance, to carry out the 
 figure into every possible resemblance weakens as well as 
 disgusts, and is fatal to ent gy. 
 
 The following extracts exemplify violations of this 
 
 principle: 
 
 I am convinced that the method of teaching which 
 approaches most nearly to the method of investigation, is 
 incH.n.parablv the best, since not content with serving up a 
 few barren and lifeless truths, it leads to the stalk on which 
 they grow. — Burke. 
 
 There is not a single view of human nature \\h\rU is not 
 sufficient to extinguish the seeds of pride.— J /'//.v.r.. 
 
 Men must acquire a very peculiar and strong habit of 
 turning their eye inwards, in order to explore the interior 
 rcLnons ai>d recesses of the mind, the hollow caverns ol deep 
 thoi-.L^J.t <!- private seats of fancy, and the wastes and wil- 
 dein( ( ^is v,-tli as the more fruitful and cultivated tracts, 
 of thi- o •s.iure dimixte.—iihaftsbvry. 
 
 The-e are the first-fruits of my unHedged eloquence, of 
 which thou hast oft complained that it was buried in the 
 
 ■hade. 
 
 Upon thy mirror, earth's majestic view. 
 To paint thy presence, and to feel it too. 
 
ELEGANCE. 
 
 285 
 
 CHAPTER IV. 
 
 18 
 
 uot 
 
 of 
 
 OP ELKQANCE. 
 
 § 354. Ei.EOANCE is that property of style by vir- 
 tue of which the discourse is commended to the taste 
 of the hearer. 
 
 $ 355. Tlie elements of elegance in style are pro- 
 priety ; expression of right sentiment ; and grace. 
 
 This analysis of elegance is founded on that of the consti- 
 tuents of aesthetic beauty. (Introduction, chap. III. § 21.) 
 Tiie first element of taste, if it be not rather an indispens- 
 able condition, is propriety or fitness. We require, for 
 instance, as essential to all beauty that Ihere be fitness in 
 respect to the end or design in reference to which the work 
 ol art is constructed. The perception of this fitness gives ua 
 pleasure of itself with no further clement of beauty. Thus 
 the adaptation of the various parts of a steam engine to its 
 designed end — the production of motion; of the different 
 members of the animal body to their respective uses, and 
 of all of them together to the final end of the animal econ- 
 onjy ; of a chain of reasoning or a series of complicated 
 arguments to the proof of a proposition, gives us a higher or 
 lower degree of aesthetic pleasure. 
 
 We are likewise pleased with the expression of a correct 
 sentiment. We admire the exhibition of devoted friendship 
 and attachment in the episode of Nisus and Euryalus in the 
 ^neid; of generous and lofty patriotism in the well-known 
 adjuration and other parts of the oration of Demosthenes on 
 the crown. 
 
 W^e are touclu-d. also, by the exhibition of grace in the 
 
 I ! 
 
 itHl) 
 
286 OBJECTIVF. FUOl-KlfllKa. 
 
 construction, of a.., eviaciag a n.asl.rly skill ..nd powor in 
 
 "inT'lLe ele„,ents „>ay be resolved all the .unstituenU 
 of beauty in style. 
 
 8 356. PuoPiuETY in style leqiiires 
 
 1 A just expression of all the various properties of 
 style that have been before enumerated, and a sym- 
 metry and congruity as respects the parts of a dis- 
 
 coui'se; , • ^^ fV.^ 
 
 2 An adaptation of the verbal expre.ssion to the 
 character of the thenie as sacred, important, serious, 
 
 or otUcvwise ; and . 
 
 3 The observance of a due decorum as determined 
 by the character of the speaker, of the hearers, and 
 of the occasion and chcumstances of speakmg. 
 
 An elen.ent of style so extended although so indispen- 
 sable and so difficult of attainment, its very nature torbuls 
 the attempt to describe or exemplify more fully. It is one 
 which, as Cicero remarks, it is i.npossible to commumcate 
 by art.* One or two general observations arc all that it is 
 deemed useful to add on this subject. . ^ , , , 
 
 The first is, that a strict regard to propriety is absolutely 
 indispensable to success in oratory, so far as success depends 
 on the hearer^s taste. And his gratif.cation here may have 
 a determining power over his attention, his perception and 
 judgment. Indeed, Cicero does not hesitate to say tluU pr.. 
 nriety is the essential element of oratorical power. Is erit 
 eloquens, qui ad id quodcumque decebit, potciit accommo- 
 dare orationem." . 
 
 '^Caput .ss'e artis, dccore ; quod tameTi^n id ease, quod wA\ 
 arte non possit.— De Oral. I. 29. 
 
ELEGANCE. 
 
 287 
 
 The nuture of oratorical propriety, further, mav perhaps 
 best be understi.od from the observation that it is merely the 
 giving to discourse ".hat bek)iigs to it. The demands of 
 propriety are fully met when what belongs tu the nature of 
 style as the expression of thought^ to the nature of the sub- 
 ject, the character of the speaker and the hearer, the occasion 
 and circumstances of speaking, is correctly observed in the 
 discourse. 
 
 $ 357. The expression of right sentiment 
 as an element of beauty in style, involves the use of 
 such representative imagery in the exhibition of thought 
 as is founded on high and pure associations. 
 
 This is a positive element of beauty, and is of a higher 
 order than the first named — propriety. It is by this element 
 that oratory more closely links itself to the peculiar beauty 
 of ideal art which lies in (he representation of sentiment. 
 It is, indeed, only indirectly and incidentally that sentiment 
 can be expressed in oratorical style; while in art it may con- 
 stitute the final end of the work. Still sentiment appears in 
 style. It gives to style a peculiar color and hue. When 
 discourse proceeds from a mind imbued with elevated sen- 
 timents and familiarized with pure and noble associations, 
 style, as the body of the thought, puts on a peculiar fresh- 
 ness and beauty which commends it to every refined taste. 
 The character thus reveals itself in style. It was on good 
 grounds that the ancients urged so earnestly the importance 
 of character to success in oratory ; for, as Quintilian reasons, 
 " discourse reveals character and discloses the secret disposi- 
 tion and temper; and not without reason did the Greeks 
 teach that as a man lived so he would speak." — " Proferr 
 •aim mores plerumque oratio, et animi secreta detegit. Neo 
 
288 
 
 OBJECTIVE PUOPEllTlEfl. 
 
 Sine causa Graeci prodiderunt, ut vivat, quemque etiam 
 
 5 358. Grace is tl.at element of beauty which 
 smli-s from ease of execution implying not only a 
 :& knowledge of the pnnciples of style but also 
 powei- and skill in the actual expicssion. 
 
 Grace ultimately is founded on motion or power .n 
 sensible operation, § 21. By »"/»'3'/"*'"Sy '' » 
 applied to moral and abstract expresa.ons of power, as weU 
 a! also, to forms which are motionless but yet surges pre- 
 vious exertion of power in determm.ng them We speak 
 thus of the grace of a statue which represents the easy atlt- 
 tude of perfect vigor and suppleness of hmb. 
 " op . , i„ in ,!,» .asv flow of diction which 
 
 Grace appears in style in the easj uow oi 
 
 attends po v r of expression. Abruptness and sen.entiousnes, 
 Istyle imply, indeed.power. So far as abrupt and brol<e 
 however, discourse implies a broken or impeded energy 
 The roar and foim of a mountain torrent dashing again t 
 n>cks and trees display force; it is '-«'''<'""'=;''='''!'';: 
 impeded and out-mastered. The easy gentle flow o. tie 
 ma estic river, that quietly takes into its current and bears 
 along without a ripple every obstacle that comes in its way, 
 is a more perfect emblem of unimpeded power and in its 
 „,otion we see grace exemplified. Mere impulsive, jetting 
 oratory is so far deficient in grace, as it in.phes .mped...d 
 atid resisted power. 
 
 $ 359. Ill the acquisition of this property of style, 
 elegance or heauty, three means are essential ; 
 
 First, mental culture ; ,.••!„ 
 
 Secondly, study of art, including both its prmciples 
 and its exemplifications in models ; and 
 
 Thirdly, exercise with judicious criticisms. 
 
 ."■ '\ 
 
El-ROANCE. 
 
 289 
 
 $ 360. Mental culture is essential both for the pur- 
 pose of acquiring those moral habits and associations 
 which are necessary for the expression of right senti- 
 ment ; as well as also for the attainment of that power 
 which is the foundation and source of grace. 
 
 § 361. The study of art is directly beneficial in 
 creating that sense of propriety which is the conditiou 
 of all beauty ; as well as also in forming the senti- 
 ments and in developing power of expression. 
 
 Every species of art may be turned to useful account in 
 the formation of oratorical taste. While in no one are all 
 the forms of beauty perfectly revealed, there is none, per- 
 haps, which is not distinguished above every other in iU 
 adaptedness to develop some one or another particular ele- 
 
 meat of beauty. 
 
 The term 'art' is here employed in its most comprehensive 
 import- and is intended to include every exertion of power 
 under the control of taste. Nature itself in this view is but 
 the workmanship of a most perfect artist, and is hence a 
 most appropriate model for the study of oratory in all its va- 
 rious forms of skill and beauty. Manners and morals, also, 
 lie within the domain of art; and for many reasons demand 
 the close and constant study of the orator, not for the mere 
 information of tlie understanding only, but as furmshingthe 
 means of developing and forming the taste. 
 
 $ 362. Exercise in oratory of itself develops and 
 strengthens power of execution; and, combined with 
 judicious criticism, aids in the cultivation of all the 
 elements of oratorical taste. 
 
 la applying criticism to oratorxal compositions, the 
 caution given in § 18 in regard to the time of criticism 
 
 25 
 
trained aud developed to tl e po _^_^j^^^^ .^ 
 
 to be preferred to any im ^ i„ th, 
 
 eo„,posing, to eomrnunK . to .t^le P P_^^^.^^_ ,„ .„g 
 
 ,vords of Dr. Whately ^^^^[ „ ,,i„u about it 
 
 the act of composition, t study » ^^^ ,^ their 
 
 ,t all. Let an author^'u X '- ^^^^ ^_^ ___^^ .„^,„. 
 
 beauties of ='>■'« ^f^/^" J,,;,,,, himself with elegance; 
 .ibly catch the habit o -P-^^;^ ;,.„„, ,,e may revise 
 and when he has complCed ""^ """P" i;,„k„„M and 
 
 it, and -»ti-»'y =^>'" Jj; cSe nd obscure; but let 
 harsh, as well as those that a^J^ .^_^^^.^^ ^^. ^,^,^. 
 
APPENDIX. 
 
 THEMES FOR EXERCISES IN INVENTION 
 
 THEMES IN NARRATIVE DISCOURSE. 
 
 1. Simple Nanation, 
 
 The crusades. 
 
 The discovery of America. 
 
 The conquest of England by the Normans. 
 
 Magna Chart a, ^ . 
 
 The early population of the earth by successive migration. 
 
 The dismemberment of Poland. 
 
 The expulsion of Kings from Rome. 
 
 The exodus of the Israelites from Egypt. 
 
 The origin of the Grecian game. 
 
 The Persian invasions of Greece. 
 
 The rise of tragedy. 
 
 The plebeian triumph in Rome. ^ 
 
 The origin and spread of British conquest, in India. 
 
 The American Revolution. 
 
 The battle of Waterloo. 
 
 The conquests of Alexander the Great ^ 
 
 The history of Republics in F..uth America. 
 
292 
 
 At'PKNDlX. 
 
 The Peloponnesian War. 
 
 The history of modern commerce. 
 
 The destruction of Carthage, 
 
 Gothic conquests in Italy. 
 
 The subjection of Greece by the RomiBf. 
 
 The history of Jerusalem. 
 
 The French revolution in 1830. 
 
 The first Triumvirate in Rome. 
 
 The revival of legal studies. 
 
 The Quadruple Alliance of 1814. 
 
 The battle of Lexington. 
 
 The Swiss Confederacy. 
 
 The rise of Monachism. 
 
 The division of the Roman empire. 
 
 The rise of the Turks. 
 
 The Saxon descendents in England. 
 
 The expulsion of the Moors from Spain. 
 
 The introduction of Christianity into EngUnd; the Oil. 
 man tribes; China; the South Sea Islands. 
 The Danish invasions of England. 
 The rise of the Feudal System. 
 The Sicilian Vespers. 
 The Hanseatic League. 
 The Lutheran Reformation. 
 The war of the Roses in England. 
 The Spanish Inquisition. 
 
 The Slave Trade. 
 
 The imprisonment and execution of Mary Sta««. 
 
 The settlement of New England. 
 
 The English Commonwealth. 
 
 The rise of Mohammedaniam. 
 
 The ministry of the elder Pitt ••."".. 
 
293 
 
 THEMES. 
 
 The independeiicc of Modern Greece. 
 The American Constitution. 
 The battle of the Nile. , ^ , , 
 
 The Union of Great Britain and Ireland. 
 The Reformation in England. 
 
 ;': llrlS: Solo„, De.„sthene. M..^^r^ 
 olt r.,pW, The—, C^ C.^ — 
 c • :„ rirnro Mahomet, Charlemagne, AHrea ii 
 Scp.o, Cice'"-; j.„, „f Chatham, Hampden, 
 
 Belisarius, Tycho Brahe, the i. pavette.LouU 
 
 Michael Angelo, Col->bu., Wash.ngto . La F e 
 XIV., Cowper Edmund Bv^e,Ha.d ^^^ ^^^^_ 
 
 Be„iamln F-anVUn «^- ^;,,„,, v., F.edenc. 
 
 tatiu^ Loyola, Francis Xavie,-, John Jay. 
 ° 2. ^t5/^'-rtC* Narratioji. 
 
 The progress of 'civilisation in the world. 
 The rise of popery. 
 The ditlusion of knowledge. 
 The spread of Christianity. 
 The rise of free cities. 
 The development of taste. 
 The growth of genius. 
 The progress of free principles. 
 
 '1 he decline of the poetical spirit. ru.mual 
 
 The lapse of virtuous principle when deprived of its usual 
 
 "Cransition of superstition to infidelity. 
 
 ,, Narration. itk..luMtion of causal r^^^^^^^^^ 
 The influence of the Reformation on the intellect 
 
 Europe. 
 
 ^ 25* 
 
 1^ a 
 
294 
 
 API'HNDIX. 
 
 The prohable influence of the United States on the des- 
 
 tinies of the world. ^^^ ^^^ 
 
 The influence of the spirit of the present a^e 
 
 kiny of the world. 
 
 The influence of the press. 
 
 The influence of the American Revolution. 
 
 The influence of the national spirit on security. 
 
 The public games of Greece. ^ 
 
 The influence of the Reformation on avil liberty. 
 
 The causes of the melancholy of genius. 
 
 The influence of periods of great excitement on literature. 
 
 The influence of the Feudal system. 
 
 The influence of the Crusades. 
 
 The influence of chivalry. 
 
 The influence of commerce. 
 
 The influence of climate ou rialional character. 
 
 T tudy of History as a n.cans of inteUectual growth 
 
 The influence of seclusion in cultivating the mind and 
 
 '"tL influence of christian missions on the literature of the 
 
 ge. 
 
 The indulgence of a spirit of censure. 
 Singleness of purpose in its bearing on succes.. 
 Imitation as leading to servility. 
 
 THEMES IN DESCRIPTION. 
 
 1. Description proper. 
 The Geographical Fca-are. of Switzerland, Italy. Tavtary 
 Or!' Brltl, Greece, The Onitod States, Dentnark, Egypt, 
 
 'l:lt and .ode™ Athens, I^on,e, Th^es I^hyloa. 
 P„is, London, St. Petersburg, Edinburgh, Washtngton. 
 
THEMES. 
 
 295 
 
 The ».le of Chan,o«ni,Mont Blano, The vale of Temp., 
 
 „f Niagara, of ^^-^■■^^^l'^::::,'':^-,, ., Ko... 
 T\w. Parthenon ot Athens, »t. i eier s i^i* „ , , 
 St Paursit London, King's Cl.apel Cambridge, Stra^burgh 
 
 Cathedral. 
 
 The cedar of Lebanon. 
 
 AutUTun, 
 
 The planetary system. 
 
 2. Abstract Description. 
 
 1>]je German Confederation. 
 
 The Hanseatic League. 
 
 The EnelisU ConstituUon. - * j«» 
 
 The Constitution of the United state, of Am«i«. 
 
 The Swiss Confederacy. 
 
 The British Farliauient. 
 
 Republican B-orae. 
 
 Roman I'atvioli™. ^ Washington, 
 
 The character ot Napo » ^P ^^ ^^^^^^^ ^^^^ 
 
 Oliver Crom«ell La Faje Ue L , ^^^^^ ^.^ ^^ 
 
 Jay, Socrates, Cicero, Porapey, 
 
 "^^ a— of the American Indian. 
 The man of independent thought. 
 The true statesman. 
 The enthusiasm of genius. 
 Moral courage. 
 Character of the Modern Greeks. 
 
 V Mtavacter of the Scriptures. 
 
 The literary chaiaati ui 
 
 ■ • f ^Jr Walter Scott. 
 
 The wnting.s of ^k ^^ '^'^ 
 
 
 !i' 
 
996 
 
 APPENDIX. 
 
 The Lake poets. 
 
 Cheerfulness. 
 
 The beauty cf a forgiving spirit 
 
 True Greatness. 
 
 Genius. 
 
 Gmuine politeness. 
 
 Intltpeiidence of character. 
 
 The pleasure derived from the contemplation of the part. 
 
 THEMRS IN ANALYSIS. 
 
 The benefits of a refirted taste. 
 
 The excellence of ingenuousness. 
 
 The evils of Party Spirit. 
 
 The benefits of Party Spirit. ^ 
 
 Impedlu^ents to high literary exceUence ,n th. Umted 
 
 States. 
 
 The benefits of foreif,^ travel. 
 
 The uses of the study of History. 
 
 The benefits of national adversity. 
 
 The uses of knowledge. 
 
 The motives at the present day to aim at high mental 
 
 superiority. 
 
 The obligations of a country to her literary men. 
 
 Decision of character. 
 
 The means of perpetuating the bles,ing» of . free gov- 
 
 ernment. 
 
 The political prospects of Europe 
 
 The eccentricities of genius. 
 
 Liabilities of the student at the present day. _ 
 
 The benefits resulting from a high culture of the social 
 
 affections. 
 
 Tho social tendencies, in the Umted States. 
 
THEME 3. 
 
 29 
 
 Abuses of the imagination. 
 
 Duties resulting from the right of suffrage. 
 
 Uses of biography. 
 
 Uses of history. 
 
 The duties of the American Scholar. 
 
 Constituents of real greatness. 
 
 Benefits of the fine arts. 
 
 The duties of literary men to their country. 
 
 lustruction to be derived from the history of our revolu- 
 
 Hon. 
 
 Moral defects of P:nglish Poetry. ^ 
 
 Advantages arising from a love of literature in early life. 
 Abuses of the spirit of honor in this country. 
 
 THEMES IN EXEMPLIFICATION. 
 
 The power of habit. 
 
 The corrupting eflects of slavery. 
 
 The order of nature. 
 
 The power of conscience. 
 
 The love of system. 
 
 Nothing beneath the care of Providence. 
 
 The power of resolution. 
 
 The power of association. 
 
 The ingratitude of Republics. 
 
 PractiaU character of the age. 
 
 Undue i.aueuce of foreign opinion in this country. 
 
 THEMES IN COMPARISON AND CONTRAST. 
 i,lluer.ce of the study of nature and of art on char- 
 
 I he 
 At-te'-. 
 
 Tiie ct)mpa 
 tioual character 
 
 Hiive etTectsof climate and desctnt on na. 
 
298 
 
 APfRNDIX. 
 
 The influence of agriculture, commerce, and manufao- 
 fuies on national character. 
 
 Principles, not in en. 
 
 A Government of lavv. 
 
 Reward and punishment as incentives to exertion. 
 
 Acting- from princij)le, rather than froin impulse. 
 
 Comparative dignity of the warrior and statesman. 
 
 Literature as alVected by different lorms of government, 
 
 Readinsi^ and observation in the study of human nature. 
 
 The comparative virtue of the enlighfencd and ignorant 
 classes. 
 
 The influence of architectin-e, painfing, poetry, and mu- 
 gic in providing and perpetuating religious impressiinis. 
 
 The iniluence of the ancient and modern languages in 
 the culture of the taste. 
 
 The letters of Lady iMontague, Horace Walpole, and 
 Couper. 
 
 The Mvlholojiies of Greece and Rome. 
 
 The military character of Napoleon and Wellington. 
 
 Personal memoirs and formal histories as illustrative of 
 national history and cliaracter. 
 
 The power of conscience and human lavv. 
 
 The comparative effects of literutuie and science on civi- 
 lization. 
 
 The influence of moral and physical causes on cliaracter. 
 
 Skepticism and love of truth as indications of mental 
 vigor. 
 
 Hume and Lingard as Historians. 
 
 The poet of an early and of a civilized age. 
 
 Imitation and mi licry. 
 
 Domestic Life among the ancient Greeks and Romans, 
 and in this country. 
 
THEMES. 
 
 299 
 
 Ages of action and reflection. 
 
 Tlie dilTcrent styles of eloquence prevailing ia different 
 agsii and countries. 
 
 Modern and unciejit Greece. 
 Policy and principle. 
 
 THKIMKS IN CONFIRMATION. 
 
 Commerce favorable to national character. 
 
 Civilization progressive. 
 
 Intcrnufioual copy right. 
 
 The necessity of mainlainiiig national credit. 
 
 Dramatic Entertainments hurtful to sound morals. 
 
 Universal SulTrage. 
 
 Civilization dependent on Christianity. 
 
 Novel Reading. 
 
 Every man the architect of his own fortune. 
 
 The dopetidence of commerce on credit. 
 
 The desirableness of cherishing a military spirit in this 
 
 country. 
 
 The unlimited right of society to control individual pur- 
 suits. 
 
 The right of government to enforce the sacrifice of pri- 
 vate interest to public good. 
 
 The equal distribution of happiness. 
 The rewards of virtue sure. 
 
 General dilTiision of knowledge advantageous to the higher 
 classes of literature. 
 
 The necessity of relaxation. 
 
 No man without influence. 
 
 Men resi)0ii5ible for their opinions. 
 
 The j)rogres3 of right opinions slowr. 
 
 Utility ol national celebrations. 
 
300 
 
 APPENDIX. 
 
 Precarioiisness of popular favor. 
 
 The original unity of the human race. 
 
 The desirableness of short terms of political office. 
 
 The expediency of making authorship a profession. 
 
 The natural proof of the soul's immortality. 
 
 Original diversity of talents in man. 
 
 THEMES IN EXCITATION. 
 
 The death of Socrates. 
 
 The reign of terror in France. 
 
 Gen. Washington resigning his sword to Coi^reak 
 
 The plague in London. 
 
 The extinction of the Indians. 
 
 The Slave trade. 
 
 The field of battle. 
 
 THEMES IN PERSUASION. 
 
 The love of truth as a practical principle. 
 
 Aiming at perfection in every thing. 
 
 Culture of the taste. 
 
 Education of the senses. 
 
 Firmness in duty. 
 
 Contentment with the allotment* of Provideoo*. 
 
 Fortitude under reverses. 
 
 Habits of industry. 
 
 The love of nature. 
 
 Thorougliness in intellectual altainments. 
 
 MT!>CELLANEOUS THEMES, 
 
 Love of retirement. 
 
 Study of the Mathematics. 
 
 Tendency of an excessive veneration of antiqnitf 
 
i 
 
 THEMES. 
 
 301 
 
 National monuments. 
 Influence of a free press on Government, 
 Conversation as a means of intellectual improvemenu 
 The influence of the discovery of America on tho V6tA 
 lect of Europe. 
 
 Influence of constitution on literary pursuits. 
 
 Tendency to extremes at the present day. 
 
 Early impressions. 
 
 Knowledge is power. 
 
 The choice of friends. 
 
 Persecutions for opinion. 
 
 Influence of mental culture on moral feelin|;. 
 
 Providential evils, real blessings. 
 
 The limits to intellectual acquisitions. 
 
 Influence of literature on national refinement. 
 
 The value of an unspotted reputation. 
 
 A superHcial attention to a great variety of purniitf. 
 
 The true character revealed in the conduct. 
 
 Influences of circumstances on character. 
 
 Self government. 
 
 The union of discipline with native genitta. 
 
 Indulgence of a spirit of censure. 
 
 The power of custom. 
 
 The influence of associates on character. 
 
 The abuse of free discussion. 
 
 The eff'ects of irregularity in rank and condition in i 
 
 republic. 
 
 The influence of great emergencies en the formation of 
 
 character. 
 
 Delicacy of feeling. 
 Conflict of opinion. 
 Sanguine temperament. 
 
 26 
 
 I 
 
302 
 
 APPKNDIX. 
 
 Influence of promiscuous reading. 
 Public education. 
 
 Prevailing deference to public opinion. 
 Anonymous literature. 
 National recollections. 
 Eagerness for politics in this country. 
 Activity as the great source of happiness. 
 The authority of great names. 
 The dread of singularity. 
 Models in literature. 
 
 Inordinate love of wealth as a peculiar weaknew in 
 A.merican character. 
 The mental discipline required in this country. 
 Virtue the true guide to lasting favor. 
 Visionary anticipations of the future. 
 Influence of free institutions on the habits of social life 
 Love of excitement. 
 
 The character of the early settlers of a country. 
 Influence of literature on the stability of government 
 The evils of sudden revolutions in government. 
 Self educated men. 
 
 Neglect of literature by professional men. 
 The desire of esteem. 
 High aims and expectations. 
 Self-confidence. 
 Early trials in life. 
 
 Free intercourse with the world in early life. 
 The influence of great national wealth onmonjff. 
 Use of ridicule. 
 Intellectual Independence. 
 Genius has its weaknesses. 
 Sacrifice for principle. 
 
THEMES. 
 
 303 
 
 Power of tnilh and llie certainty of its final triumph. 
 Influence of the study of poetry on the intellectual and 
 moral character. 
 
 Knowledge of human nature. 
 
 Influence of periodical literature. 
 
 Errors of Genius without moral principle. 
 
 The power of local association. 
 
 Integrity in politics. 
 
 National benefactors. 
 
 Carrying early warmth of feeling into life. 
 
 Tendency of great scenes and objects to elevate the char* 
 
 acler. 
 
 Judicious culture of the imagination as a means of en- 
 joyment and usefulness. 
 Habits of reverie. 
 Security of free institutions. 
 Erroneous estimates of greatness. 
 Influence of strained and excessive feeling on literatuTOi 
 Literary courage. 
 
 Prooress of our country in national iniprovemer. 
 
 Power of opinion in a free government. 
 
 Accomplishments. 
 
 Destiny of the English Langusge. 
 
 Independence of Genius. 
 
 Memorials of great actions. 
 
 Influence of a spuit of distrust 
 
 Influence of Christianity on the spirit of poetry. 
 
 Generosity of sentiment. 
 
 Ambition as a motive to literary exertion. 
 
 Military greatness as an object of admiration. 
 
 Abuses of free discussion at the present day. 
 
 Cherishing high sense of national character. 
 
m m. 
 
 304 
 
 APPENDIX. 
 
 Literary enterprise. 
 
 The abus(5 of power in republics. 
 
 Spirit of revolutions in Europe. 
 
 Study of the human heart. 
 
 Influence of mental culture or dignity of cbaracter. 
 
 Super fi rial reading. 
 
 Encouragement to philanthropic effort derived from the 
 
 present state of the world. 
 
 National amusements. 
 
 Desire of change. 
 
 Culture of eloquence in the United States. 
 
 Influence of great scenes and objects on the formation ef 
 character. 
 
 The trials of genius. 
 
 Advantages of a national literature. 
 
 Influence of moral feeling on a refined taste. 
 
 Tiie comparative value of contemporary and subsequent 
 narrations of historical events. 
 
 The moral influence of the Christian Sabbath. 
 
 Active profession in its influence on the effects of a liter- 
 ary man. 
 
 The influence of foreign languages on the originality of s 
 
 nation's literature. 
 
 The standard of taste. 
 
 The idea of the beautiful as developed in Grecian litera- 
 ture and art. 
 
 The elTects of increased facilities of intercourse between 
 the Eastern and Western continents on the Uuited States. 
 
 The mo-al tendency of the nutu.al sciences. 
 
 The use of a diversity of languages. 
 
 The use of ballads and songs in influencing a nation's 
 cluuracter. 
 
APPENDIX. 
 
 305 
 
 Elevation of rank as affecting turpitude of character. 
 The dependence of the mind on the state of the body. 
 The influence of the fine arts upon religion. 
 The influence of Christianity in the moral and intellectual 
 revival of Europe after the dark ages. 
 
 Agitation as a means of effecting reform. 
 The influence of Christianity on domestic habits. 
 Severity of manners in a republic. 
 Originality of thought, as ali'ected by the maturity of 
 literature and science. 
 
 The prospects of genuine liberty in Europe. 
 
 The study of the exact sciences. 
 
 The reciprocal influence of literature and morals. 
 
 The permanence of our free institutions. 
 
 The decline of poetry. 
 
 The influence of philanthropy on Chiistianity. 
 
 Early preju lices. 
 
 The influence of imagination on happineM. 
 
 The heroic character. 
 
 Pride of ancestry. 
 
 Reason and resolutioa.