PHILOSOPHY OF EHETOEIC, 
 
 BY 
 
 JOHN BASCOM, 
 
 AUTHOR OF " AESTHETICS, OR SCIENCE OP BEAUTY," " SCIENCE 
 OF MIND," ETC. 
 
 ILLUSTRATIONS SUPPLIED BY HORACE H. MORGAN. 
 
 PRINCIPAL OP ST. LOUIS HIGH SCHOOL AND AUTHOR OP LITERARY STUDIES PROM 
 THE GREAT BRITISH AUTHORS, ETC. 
 
 NEW EDITION. 
 
 UNIVERSITY 
 
 NEW YORK. 
 
 G. P. PUTNAM'S SONS, 
 
 27 & 29 W. 23o STREET, 
 1885. 
 
Copyright 1882, 
 
 ^//3Y?-tf 
 
 Br G P. PUTNAM'S SONS. 
 
an 
 
 J & 
 
 PREFACE. 
 
 THERE is much seeming boldness in offering 
 a new work on Rhetoric. Few subjects have re- 
 ceived so much attention from so many able 
 writers. The following treatise has arisen from 
 considerable experience in instruction. It aims 
 to be what it is entitled, a PHILOSOPHY OF RHET 
 ORIC, giving the principles as well as the rules 
 on which excellence depends. The discussions 
 present the mental and moral laws of influence. 
 The work is chiefly designed for the later years 
 of collegiate instruction. A simple rhetoric of 
 rules prepares the beginner for his earlier efforts : 
 afterward, when the nature and difficulties of the 
 
 (3) 
 
4 PREFACE. 
 
 task are better understood, he is ready for a 
 somewhat more extensive and philosophical dis- 
 cussion of the principles it involves. A complete 
 and succinct statement of these is the object of 
 this work, and it is designed to take, in a course, 
 of training, a later position, such as is assigned 
 Whately or Campbell. 
 
CONTENTS. 
 
 INTRODUCTION. 
 
 PAGK, 
 
 Science, Art, Definitions of. Relations of. Principles. Rules. 
 Skill. Rhetoric, what. Its Relations to Arts and Sciences. Its 
 Philosophy, what. Four Steps. Relations of Rules to Nature, to 
 Genius, to Success 9-20 
 
 BOOK I. Ends. 
 
 CHAPTER I. 
 DEPARTMENTS OF COMPOSITION. 
 
 No Composition aimless. Leading Aims. Three Departments of 
 Composition. Relation of the Understanding, Emotions, and Will. 
 Historic Progress 21-27 
 
 CHAPTER II. 
 PROSE. 
 
 Double Office of. History. Philosophy. Novel. Prose allows no 
 
 distinct Form 28-31 
 
 CHAPTER III. 
 POETRY. 
 
 Rhetoric includes Poetry; why? Kind of Emotions called forth. Its 
 
 Relations to Metre; to Esthetics. 32-35 
 
 CHAPTER IV. 
 ORATORY. 
 
 Its End. This defines the Means. Relation to Hearers; to Speaker. 
 Divisions of. Three Sources of Impulse. The Right, Emotions 
 
 (5) 
 
6 CONTENTS. 
 
 sustaining it. Pleasure, Emotions giving- Rise to it. Interest. 
 Its Emotions. Pulpit Oratory. Advantages. Difficulties. Ad- 
 dress to the Individual. To the Assembly collectively. Delibera- 
 tive Oratory. Eloquence of the Bar 36-52 
 
 BOOK II. Means. 
 
 Two Kinds. Division especially applicable to Oratory 53,54 
 
 CHAPTER I. 
 LAW OF INFLUENCE. 
 
 Relation of the Individual to others. Law of Influence that of Right. 
 Obligation of Speaker to himself; to others. - Necessary to Suc- 
 cess. Nature of Oratory. 55-62 
 
 CHAPTER II. 
 ARGUMENTS. 
 
 Sources of Proof, two: Intuition, Experience. Four Forms of Intui- 
 tive Proof. Experience. Connections on which it proceeds. Fal- 
 lacies. Testimony, two Kinds: of Fact, of Opinion. The two 
 confounded. Calculation of Chances. Proof either Intuitive or 
 Rationative. Arguments Inductive or Deductive. Character of 
 each. Principles which determine the Choice and Arrangement 
 of Arguments. Burden of Proof. Different Forms of Oratory. 
 Treatment of Opponent. Answering Objections. Importance of 
 Argument 63-94 
 
 CHAPTER III. 
 EMOTIONS. 
 
 Relation of. Sympathy, Office of. Estimate of Speaker's Character. 
 Sects and Parties. Office of Introduction. Qualities which win 
 Sympathy. Effect on Orator. Kinds of Feeling to be used by 
 Orator. How secured. Growth of Fegling. How remove ad- 
 verse Feeling. Two States interfering with Success. . . . 95-112 
 
 CHAPTER IV. 
 IMAGINATION AND MEMORY. 
 
 Instrumental Faculties. Imagination, Source of vivid Ideas, of Convic- 
 tion. Sources of Imagery. Memory. Importance. Method of 
 Employment 113-118 
 
CONTENTS. 7 
 
 i 
 
 \ v 
 
 x 
 
 CHAPTER V. 
 WIT, HUMOR, AND RIDICULE. 
 
 Definitions. The Resemblance in Wit. Habit of Mind to which it 
 
 gives Rise. Its Office. Ridicule. Its Office. '. . . . 119-124 
 
 CHAPTER VI. 
 LAWS OF LANGUAGE. 
 
 Relations of Language to Thought. Growth of Language. Lead- 
 ing Constituents. Change in Words. Their Meaning. Their 
 figurative Force. Philosophy. Use. Qualities of. Purity. 
 Propriety. Why regard these Qualities. Permanence. Symme- 
 try. Intelligibility. How Use established. Divided Use. 
 Canons 125-151 
 
 CHAPTER VII. 
 BARBARISM. 
 
 Kinds. Foreign Words. Provincialisms. Vulgarisms. Obsolete 
 
 Words. Compounds. Rules for Formation 152-158 
 
 CHAPTER VIII. 
 SOLECISM AND IMPROPRIETY. 
 
 Solecism, what. Arrangement. Marks of Declension. Frequent 
 Solecisms. The Verb. Moods. Tenses. Passive Forms. 
 Conjunctions. Improprieties. Synonymes. Plurals. Effect of 
 Solecisms; of Improprieties . 159-178 
 
 BOOK III. Methods. 
 
 CHAPTER I. 
 STYLE. 
 
 Style, what. Kinds. Qualities. Perspicuity. Elegance. Energy. 
 
 Relation of these to each other; to Mind; to Composition. . 179-184 
 
 CHAPTER II. 
 PERSPICUITY. 
 
 Importance of. Relation to Capacity; to Subject. Dependence on 
 Honesty; on Discipline; on the Choice of End; of Means. Di- 
 visions. Comparisons. Objects of. Antithesis. Choice of 
 
8 CONTENTS. 
 
 Words. Drollery. Common Life. Anglo-Saxon. Number of 
 Words. Arrangement. Adverbs. Pronouns. Perspicuity, rel- 
 ative. Not always needed in full Degree 185-206 
 
 CHAPTER III. 
 ELEGANCE. 
 
 What. Dependence on Emotions. Relation to various Kinds of 
 Composition. Exercise, in Nature, in Society, fn Literature. Re- 
 lation between Style and Subject; between the Parts and the Whole. 
 Proportion. Relation between the Discourse and the Circum- 
 stances and Persons. Relation to the Speaker 207-222 
 
 CHAPTER IV. 
 ENERGY. 
 
 Dependence on the Desires; on the Will; on Virtue; on the Distinct- 
 ness of the End. Three Forms: Strength, Vivacity, Vigor. Qual- 
 ities of Thought. Thoroughness. Rapidity. Directness. Di- 
 rectness, how lost, by Philosophical, by Poetical Excellence. Choice 
 of Words. Speciality. Strength of Words. Asseverations. 
 Epithets. Number of Words. Tautology. Pleonasm. Ver- 
 bosity. Arrangement. Period. Loose Sentence. Figures. 
 Tropes. Delivery 223-248 
 
INTRODUCTION. 
 
 * SE ! ^ 
 
 /^^ 
 
 - u ^ j x Y 
 
 SCIENCES and arts, though closely related, are in 
 themselves quite distinct. This difference we need to 
 understand for the right apprehension of either. A 
 science has reference to an intellectual end ; an art, to 
 a practical end : the one informs and gratifies the mind 
 by a knowledge of the real character and dependence 
 of things ; the other guides and fortifies life in their 
 use and government. A science is a stricter form of 
 knowing ; or, accurately, it is a department understood 
 in its facts and laws. The impulse of knowledge which 
 belongs to mind urges it ever to inquire, What is ? and, 
 Why it is? And these questions fully and wisely an- 
 swered give science. 
 
 An art is the application of knowledge is that system 
 of rules by which we reach a practical end. Not every 
 
10 INTRODUCTION. 
 
 end is so fixed or inclusive as to involve any methods 
 of action, any determinate means, the mastery of which 
 makes the artisan. Around all the general and settled 
 pursuits of life, however, are clustered guiding precepts , 
 and these constitute the arts. 
 
 Art must precede science; since the wants of life 
 arise at once, and before that leisure is secured which 
 is the condition of inquiry and accurate knowledge. 
 
 The imperfect and inaccurate information involved in 
 the rudiments of art and civilized life will not be ripened 
 into science, till, the appetites of the body in a measure 
 appeased, the mind can secure attention to its own 
 wants. This step, however, once taken, the sciences 
 are established on their own footing, and henceforward 
 take the lead. The rules of art become the scholiums 
 of knowledge the application of its principles. The 
 foundation of a complete and broad control of Nature is 
 laid in an extensive understanding of her forces. Art 
 can hardly reach any high point till adopted of science, 
 and taken under her instruction. Though our inferior, 
 physical life is immediate and importunate in its claims ; 
 it can be lifted into broad, abundant, and safe enjoy- 
 ments only as it is endowed with the mastery, and 
 protected by the guidance, of the intellect. 
 
INTRODUCTION. 11 
 
 Skill arises from a practical familiarity with rules. 
 It is the acquisition by muscle and mind of the quick- 
 ness, the ease, which arise from habit. Both mind and 
 body are greatly dependent for rapidity and precision 
 of action on practice. To this the artisan and orator 
 owe their facility and power of execution. The acqui- 
 sition of skill in any art is what is usually understood 
 by learning that art. As skill arises from a transfer 
 of action from the slow and hesitating movements of 
 thought to the quick mechanical movements of habit, 
 from a conscious effort to an unconscious power, it 
 depends wholly on familiarity, on a protracted use of 
 rules. This is as true in higher as in lower art ; of the 
 artist as of the artisan. Elegance of manners, ease of 
 expression, and even the highest virtue, arise from 
 forgetfulness of rules in their perfect and unconscious 
 application. Facility of execution we may expect, there- 
 fore, to find associated with rules ; and this will be all 
 the greater, because of their limited application. 
 
 A principle as involving a law of nature, as stating a 
 condition under which all action takes place, is to be 
 distinguished from a rule. The one is a specific direc- 
 tion by which a given end is reached ; the other, a 
 statement of that method or order of Nature to which 
 
12 INTRODUCTION. 
 
 any of her phenomena are conformed. A knowledge of 
 principles is requisite for understanding the reason of 
 rules ; for fertility and fulness of resources in meeting 
 untried exigencies ; for the subjugation of new forces in 
 nature, and their varied application beyond the stretch 
 of limited experience. Principles give us scope and 
 power in device ; rules, ease and perfection in execution. 
 Principles belong to science ; rules, to art. Invention 
 is dependent on both on a knowledge of the condi- 
 tions under which natural forces act, and on that inge- 
 nuity and manipular skill by which those conditions are 
 met, and power is successfully applied to the production 
 of a given result. There may be much good work 
 within an art with little mastery of its principles ; there 
 can be no thorough knowledge of an art, or great power 
 to develop its resources, without tracing its rules to the 
 laws on which they depend. 
 
 Every art stands in intimate relations with one or 
 more sciences, that furnish the principles which govern 
 and explain its operations. Every combination of 
 machinery is to be understood by the mechanical powers 
 employed the measurements of carpentry by the solu- 
 tions of geometry which they involve ; the enjoyments 
 of poetry and oratory by the laws of the human mind 
 
INTRODUCTION. 13 
 
 under which they arise. A single science, like that of 
 chemistry, may render its aid to many arts, and a single 
 art, like that of agriculture, may receive assistance from 
 the most various forms of knowledge. Thought and 
 action are inextricably interwoven, and sustain each 
 other at a thousand points. 
 
 The philosophy of an art is the reference of its rules 
 to their appropriate principles. The mind is never sat- 
 isfied till all its action becomes rational ; that is, till it 
 has explained to itself the reasons on which it rests. 
 The mind thus assumes that supervision and govern- 
 ment which belong to it. Art is made amenable to 
 science, and science tests its power by expounding and 
 guiding art. 
 
 Rhetoric is an art. It strives to render aid to action, 
 to prescribe its methods. What is the action whose 
 rules are furnished by rhetoric? It is the mind's action, 
 we answer, in communicating itself, its thoughts, con- 
 ceptions, feelings, through language. There has been 
 a general tendency to limit rhetoric to direct address 
 oratory, so called. We cannot regard this as desirable, 
 since, in that case, we must have an additional art to 
 guide the mind in other forms of composition an art, 
 the body of whose precepts must be identical with those 
 
14 INTRODUCTION. 
 
 already given in rhetoric. Expression of thought in 
 language in all its varieties is but one department, 
 governed by the same fundamental principles. The 
 differences between the several forms of composition are 
 those of species, rather than those of genera, giving rise 
 to a varied adaptation of rules to something diverse, 
 but not radically new, in methods or in ends. 
 
 We define rhetoric as the art which teaches the rules 
 of composition. By composition we understand the 
 expression in language of thoughts, emotions, for some 
 definite end. 
 
 There are various arts and sciences subsidiary to 
 rhetoric. Grammar gives us the rules by which the 
 words of a language are united in a correct construc- 
 tion. Logic tests the validity of the arguments em- 
 ployed in address, and defines the form of sound 
 judgments. Elocution governs the delivery of dis- 
 course, and enhances the impression secured by 
 rhetoric. 
 
 The philosophy of rhetoric is the reference of its rules 
 to the principles of mental and moral science on which 
 they are dependent. Mind expresses itself according to 
 its own laws, toward its own ends. When affected 
 from abroad, it is by the influence of mind of those 
 
INTRODUCTION. 15 
 
 for whom the composition is prepared. Whether com- 
 position is sought as a means of expression or of per- 
 suasion, its end is reached in mind, and mind gives the 
 governing principles. 
 
 The first step toward rhetoric is, as in other arts, 
 practical the use of language in communicating 
 thought. Not till some literature has arisen under the 
 art, can the art itself separately arise. Composition 
 must be the object of criticism and correction. Men 
 will seek guidance and skill only in that about which 
 they are employed. The necessity of rules will not be 
 felt, nor will that be present from which they may, by 
 experience and observation, be drawn, till literature has 
 accumulated the material of criticism. 
 
 The second step toward rhetoric will be one of sep- 
 aration and classification, by which the several forms of 
 language and parts of composition are distinguished, 
 the one from the other ; the figurative from the literal, 
 the argumentative from the emotional. This analysis 
 will give the terminology of the art, expressing the 
 distinct features and forms of utterance which appear 
 in the complex whole composition. 
 
 Different methods and separable parts are now open to 
 observation ; their several effects become traceable ; and 
 
16 INTRODUCTION. 
 
 the results of composition, favorable or unfavorable, are 
 referred to this and that manner of presentation. The 
 mind thus takes the third step the formation of rules 
 which treasure up and make most available the knowl- 
 edge derived from experience. At this point, rhetoric 
 as an art appears. It states and combines the rules 
 which literature in its progress has developed. The 
 second and third steps alone strictly give an art; the 
 first is merely conditional for them. 
 
 If rhetoric arises in the manner now pointed out, we 
 see how erroneous is the idea that rules, when correctly 
 applied, can hamper genius, or take away any just 
 liberty. These rules are a concise general expression 
 of the manner in which it has been found that 
 past successes have been achieved. They have been 
 arrived at by the study of the works of genius. Just 
 rules are natural, not artificial. Nature, powerful na- 
 ture, genius, achieves success through its own spon- 
 taneous apprehension of law. The method of this ac- 
 tion in the highest degree natural, since it is that 
 of vigorous nature now becomes a subject of in- 
 quiry, and is expressed in a precept. This precept, 
 within its own limits, if rightly established, genius 
 cannot henceforward reject, since therein is defined the 
 
INTRODUCTION. 17 
 
 manner of its own efforts. Nor can Nature reject it, 
 since she alone has established it. Rules exist latently 
 in all the powerful, successful movements of mind. 
 Genius shows itself to be genius by the certainty and 
 celerity with which it reaches and acts upon great prin- 
 ciples ; by the precision and perfection with which it 
 expresses the natural force that is in it. 
 
 Rules, precepts, arise from the desire to make our 
 best efforts the guides of our future exertions ; to render 
 the path opened by genius accessible to industry; to 
 shed the light of inspired men and inspired moments 
 over ordinary men and ordinary moments. It is equally 
 false to affirm the complete success and the complete 
 failure of such efforts. Native power is indispensable ; 
 acquired power is indisputable. The law which the 
 first has established, the second may adopt, and in its 
 adoption develop rapidly and to the utmost its resources. 
 A life which is not vigorous enough to force growth 
 against obstacles, may yet be nourished into healthful 
 activity. An intellect which cannot strike out the best 
 method, can yet naturally and successfully pursue it. 
 Experience is a teacher, and her precepts, when rightly 
 apprehended and adopted, become a truer nature than 
 awkward, unkindly growth they displace. 
 
 B 
 
18 INTRODUCTION. 
 
 It is a mistake to suppose that everything that has 
 arisen without design is natural in any just use of the 
 word, or that what arises from effort and discipline is 
 artificial. The pugilist that strikes by a right rule, 
 rightly applied, strikes most efficaciously, and most 
 efficaciously because most naturally. This naturalness, 
 perchance, does not spring from his own nature, but 
 belongs to the best physical formation in the highest 
 execution of its power. What is most perfect in any 
 form of life or action is most natural, most nearly the 
 fulness of natural law ; that which is least perfect is 
 least natural. All awkwardness, error, and imbecility are 
 unnatural, however universal they may have become. 
 
 There are two things requisite for the success of 
 rules that aim to give polished power to action. They 
 must spring from nature ; they must be incorporated 
 into nature. While they must hit upon the natural, the 
 right method, he who uses them must be so familiar 
 with them, that his own native forces can find habitual, 
 spontaneous expression under them. Art is, indeed, 
 no substitute for force, thought, life ; but it can develop 
 native and acquired powers into a strength and sym- 
 metry of form not otherwise attainable. A true rule, 
 springing from the most perfect expression of the most 
 
INTRODUCTION. 19 
 
 perfect nature, must be incorporated into the mind, 
 must become a part of it, unconsciously guiding its ac- 
 tion : must be ingrafted upon it as a higher and better 
 nature than its own. 
 
 All just disparagement of art has arisen from its be- 
 coming artificial ; that is, from its separation as a dead 
 form from the life which it was designed to express. 
 No perfection of form that is vitalized by adequate, 
 energies can be amiss. Ehetoric shapes what science in 
 all its departments has furnished. It cannot go beyond 
 its material ; it is enough if it make the most of this 
 material. Art comes in for the guidance of power, and 
 can do little till this, the condition of its action, is fur- 
 nished. Fine art always implies a culture radical and 
 broad, of which it is the expression, and in fault of this 
 can be but the merest surface work. 
 
 This third step being taken, by which rhetoric is 
 reached as a system of rules, there remains a fourth 
 the explanation of these rules through the principles on 
 which they depend. This is properly the philosophy of 
 rhetoric. Rules, especially those which govern the 
 mind's action, are more easily and freely obeyed when 
 then* true force is seen. We shall strive, therefore, to 
 ground our art in nature by referring all its precepts to 
 
20 INTRODUCTION. 
 
 the principles which give them validity. We shall thus 
 not only know what we are to do, but why we are to do 
 it ; have a reason rendered from nature as well as from 
 experience; and enlarge and strengthen our practical 
 results by our theoretical conclusions. We shall present 
 the art in three parts its ends, its means, its methods ; 
 thus answering the three questions, What do we pursue? 
 By what means? In what manner? 
 
PHILOSOPHY OF RHETORIC. 
 
 BOOK 
 
 CHAPTER I. 
 
 DEPARTMENTS OF COMPOSITION. 
 
 No composition is aimless, not even soliloquy. If it 
 were aimless, there could be no criticism, no excellence, 
 no rules guiding its structure, since these imply that some 
 end is to be reached, some right method to be employed. 
 Composition, in all the forms in which it adds itself 
 either to the labor or literature of the world, pursues 
 some appreciable end, and thus lays itself open to criti- 
 cism as right or wrong in its object, right or wrong in 
 its method. So obvious is this, that we need not dwell 
 upon it. Any composition absolutely without an end 
 must be without connection, without meaning. There 
 is some method even in madness. 
 
 The three leading ends of composition are defined by 
 the three divisions of man's intellectual powers under- 
 
 (21) 
 
22 PHILOSOPHY OP RHETORIC. 
 
 standing, emotions, and will. Truth to be adduced and 
 established, or to be conveyed, feeling to be uttered, the 
 purposes of men to be shaped, are each the objects of 
 literary effort. Address, using the term broadly, may 
 find its object in the understanding, in the emotions, 
 or in the will. The philosophical essay does its chief 
 work in the intellect. Its connections are logical, its 
 conclusions those of the understanding. The poem 
 springs from the emotions, and acts upon the emotions. 
 Its excellency is tested by the character and scope of 
 the emotions which it arouses. It has reached its end 
 when men are moved to a just appreciation of its.beauty 
 and sentiment. The oration, when clothed in power, 
 when possessed of its true generic character, moves men 
 to action ; is satisfied with no conclusions, is content 
 with no feelings, which do not result in the desired 
 effect. Oratory seeks to sweep through the whole man, 
 to bind him to a purpose, and press him on in a career. 
 
 Language is so governed by the form of composition, 
 and has so little reference to its intrinsic character, that 
 any production may be termed poetry which bears its ex- 
 ternal mark of metre. All productions destitute of this 
 are hurriedly grouped as prose ; while every composition 
 which chances to be spoken is indifferently styled an 
 oration. A more philosophical classification, if not a 
 more convenient one, would distinguish prose, poetry, 
 
DEPARTMENTS OP COMPOSITION. 23 
 
 and oratory according to their subject matter, whether 
 addressed to the thoughts, emotions, or will of man. 
 With present divisions, we have much under the poetical 
 garb which is not poetry ; much spoken which does not 
 belong, to oratory ; much in a prose form which is im- 
 pregnate with a true poetical fire. We do not insist 
 on the divisions now made. They serve a profitable 
 end in thought, if not always regarded in language. 
 
 There are three departments of composition strikingly 
 distinct in their typical forms ; and though, as in 
 almost all vital products, the shore-marks of division 
 may neither be always straight nor well defined, the mind 
 is greatly aided in its grasp of things by a recognition 
 of those outstanding features, those prominent peaks 
 from which the sloping sides, ultimately meeting on 
 common ground, take their departure. Prose, the 
 province of the understanding ; poetry, of passion ; ora- 
 tory, of the whole man gathered and uttered in volition, 
 become, in view of the effect sought, the three great 
 forms of composition, each possessed of fundamental 
 characteristics. 
 
 The logical order of address, in its transition through 
 the understanding, the emotions, and the will, is that in 
 which they are here placed. Emotion is conditioned on 
 apprehension, volition on emotion. We first see, then 
 feel, and afterward act. The passions, aside from the 
 
24 PHILOSOPHY OF RHETORIC. 
 
 grosser appetites, are not accessible save through the 
 intellect, nor the will save through the passions. In 
 the passions, emotions, we here include the moral sen- 
 timents. There is no direct address to the sensibilities 
 or to the will. I can exhort a man to think at once on 
 the topic offered, but not, with propriety, to feel or will 
 concerning it. Emotion and volitipn must depend for 
 their character on the nature and relations of the 
 topic, and these must be presented as the indispensable 
 condition of feeling and action. Presentation is first in 
 order and is directed to the intellect ; emotion follows 
 the presence of the appropriate object ; and volition is 
 subsequent to both presentation and emotion. 
 
 A pure address to the understanding, however, is 
 very different from one which passes like light through 
 the lens of thought, only to be lodged with its warmth 
 in the emotions. The one presents truth for its own 
 sake ; the other, for the feelings which it is fitted to 
 arouse. In the one case, the topic and treatment are 
 chosen in reference to the elucidation of truth ; in the 
 other, in reference to their power over the emotions. 
 For the one purpose, they are thoughtful ; for the other 
 passionate and poetical. 
 
 A kindred diversity exists between those forms of ad- 
 dress which terminate respectively in the passions and 
 will. Some feelings leave the mind wrapped in emo- 
 
DEPARTMENTS OF COMPOSITION. 25 
 
 tion lost in the beauty, pathos, or grandeur of the 
 accompanying conception. Others hurry it on to action ; 
 the theme fills the mind with indignation or with 
 desire, and thus drives it along the path of gratification. 
 It is these different relations of emotions to the mind 
 itself, and its active powers, which determine the result, 
 and leave the theme, now lodged in the affections of the 
 man, and now, as passing words of exhortation, lost in 
 his life. 
 
 Though the logical relation of man's faculties is that 
 now pointed out, their order in individual and historical 
 development is somewhat different. The emotional 
 nature is earlier aroused than the intellectual, and hence 
 poetry, its natural expression, precedes prose. The 
 passions, quickening and quickened by the imagination, 
 incite physical effort, make life adventurous, anticipate 
 the judgment, outstrip systematic thought, and, with 
 no more of the intellectual element than is involved in 
 the presentation of appropriate objects, inflame the mind 
 with heroic verse. 
 
 The emotions, though, indeed, reached through the 
 understanding, are roughly and strongly shaken before 
 any clear light is shed through the mind, or any strong 
 pleasure experienced in its more refined action. Many 
 are ready to insist, that the passions in the outset move 
 us only the more strongly from the murky intellectual 
 2 
 
2 PHILOSOPHY OF RHETORIC. 
 
 medium in which their subjects are presented, and the 
 great predominance of sensible over intelligible objects. 
 We would rather say, that in its early periods emotion 
 is more rude and demonstrative, not more strong, than 
 in its later periods. 
 
 Orator} 7 -, especially in its first forms, is more closely 
 allied to the emotions than the thoughts, and hence has 
 followed quickly upon poetry. It seeks also a practical 
 end, an immediate influence to be exerted on human 
 action, and has, therefore, an advantage over the more 
 remote and abstract aims of thought. 
 
 A thorough and logical development of the intellect, 
 a search after truth and satisfaction in it, are among 
 the later steps of mental progress ; yet these, once taken, 
 react strongly on poetry and oratory, and impart to 
 them a new character. While the movement of mind, 
 though substantial, is yet crude and incomplete, it may 
 tend to render both poetry and oratory somewhat formal 
 and barren, to restrict them to its own didactic method ; 
 but when culture becomes deep, rich, and productive, 
 its emotional products will be more profoundly passion- 
 ate than those of any previous period ; more just and 
 symmetrical, they will also be thoroughly vital. Not 
 till the mind has worked its way through the periods 
 of scepticism and destruction into those of belief and 
 construction, out from uncertainty and doubt into hearty 
 
DEPARTMENTS OF COMPOSITION. 27 
 
 faith and advocacy, will the emotions claim and fulfil 
 their highest part in the progress of man. The stream 
 of human life does not run shallow as we advance. 
 The most profoundly emotional truths committed to the 
 mind, like morning stars, appear late above its horizon. 
 In the fullest discipline of the human mind, therefore, 
 we seem to return to the order first presented, in which 
 a delicately, broadly, profoundly apprehensive intellect 
 stands at the threshold of human faculties. 
 
28 PHILOSOPHY OF RHETORIC. 
 
 CHAPTER II. 
 
 PROSE. 
 
 PROSE, as distinguished both from poetry and ora- 
 tory, arises in the service of the understanding ; it is 
 the storehouse of knowledge, of the processes and 
 results of thought. It has the double office of estab- 
 lishing and imparting truth. In the one case, convic- 
 tion is secured; in the other, information is imparted. 
 The one process opposes itself to error, the other to 
 ignorance. Argument is the means employed by the 
 first, statement by the Second. 
 
 These distinctions, often just, seem lost again in the 
 fullest form of proof. Indisputable scientific proposi- 
 tions are stated in themselves, and in their proof, as 
 things of knowledge, not of controversy. Argument 
 differs from proof in implying unbelief to be combated, 
 a proposition to be established against the tacit or 
 avowed opposition of certain persons. Proof is ar- 
 ranged with sole reference to interior logical connec- 
 tions, while argument contemplates these in connection 
 
PROSE. 29 
 
 with that phase of belief it would controvert, and the 
 persons it would convince. 
 
 The chief connections of facts, as simple unexplained 
 facts, are those of place and time. The rendering of 
 them, under the first of these relations, is description; 
 under the second, is narrative. History rests chiefly on 
 the last. While prose describes and narrates princi- 
 pally for the facts themselves, it justly strives to render 
 them in their real, their living force, though at this 
 point the emotional elements of poetry indirectly enter. 
 
 The connections of things as grouped and explained 
 by the mind are resemblance and cause and effect. 
 These two are the scientific links of thought, and are 
 chiefly employed in philosophical prose. Objects are 
 treated according to their inherent and permanent agree- 
 ments, or their causal dependence one on another ; and 
 these substantial connections of things become the for- 
 mal connections of thought. Science and philosophy 
 rest on these relations, and here prose is severely true 
 to itself. 
 
 There is a connection, an involution of ideas, inde- 
 pendent of things, by which the one contains or includes 
 the other. This gives play to deduction, which is in 
 each step demonstrative. Interior, logical connections 
 only are considered, and by these are successively unfolded 
 the minor truths of some pregnant major premise. Thus 
 
30 PHILOSOPHY OF RHETORIC. 
 
 from a few simple notions are evolved the many propo- 
 sitions of geometry. Here, most of all, is prose simply 
 true to the relations of thought. 
 
 The form of prose composition which is most anoma- 
 lous, unless it be the degenerate prose drama, is the 
 novel. The novel is in its aim poetical. It has chiefly 
 to do with emotion, and especially with that of love. 
 It presents life on the side of its affections and passions, 
 and makes information and influence subordinate to this 
 end. The moral aim or effect of the composition is 
 involved in the narrative, not evolved from it, or 
 enforced or illustrated by it. A segment of life, just or 
 fanciful, is presented, and the reader is left to the natu- 
 ral effect of the principles of morality contained in it. 
 The tale may show its prose character by relaxing into 
 discussion and criticism, but these are aside from its 
 proper office. The early romances were chiefly, almost 
 exclusively, metrical, and the modern novel seems to be 
 a prose poem a transitional form between depart- 
 ments in their typical products quite distinct. 
 
 In prose the form of the expression is shaped exclu- 
 sively by the exigencies of the thought, and admits of 
 as much variety, and as many modifications, as this will 
 suffer. In poetry and oratory, impression being pre- 
 eminent, a variety of things may enter into the product, 
 may concur with and enhance its impression on the emo- 
 
PllOSE. 31 
 
 tions. In prose, the mind alone being addressed, any 
 adjunct of metre, anything granted to the form merely, 
 serves to distract the attention and weaken the thought. 
 A measured flow of syllables thus becomes in prose 
 a blemish. The harmony of alliteration, when em- 
 ployed, must indicate a kindred harmony of ideas, and 
 arise as an undesigned coincidence. An antithesis of 
 words is only justified by an antithesis of the thought. 
 The emotions are influenced by harmony, by concur- 
 rence of impressions. The intellect seeks distinction, 
 division, single and explicit statement. Therefore 
 thought, as thought, accepts no method which would be 
 to it a source either of constraint or distraction. The 
 rule softens as the aim of prose becomes more inclusive, 
 adding pleasure to instruction. 
 
32 PHILOSOPHY OP RHETORIC. 
 
 CHAPTER HI. 
 
 POETRY. 
 
 CONTRARY to the usual method, we shall treat rhet- 
 oric as inclusive of all forms of composition ; since no 
 one form can be understood without apprehending its 
 relations to the remaining forms ; since each mode rests 
 on essentially the same principles, and employs the same 
 means, modified by the particular end proposed ; since 
 the three departments of expression are complementary 
 divisions under one general movement, the communica- 
 tion of mind with mind through language. 
 
 Poetry arises from the interchange of emotion, emo- 
 tion expressed for its own sake, with no ulterior refer- 
 ence to action. Feeling is aroused and nourished in 
 man by the things and movements about him. Beauty, 
 objects of hope and apprehension, of affection and aver- 
 sion, reward and retribution, stir powerfully the human 
 soul, and force its emotions into language. The mind 
 is first and chiefly moved through sensible objects, and 
 under their forms continues to present its feelings. The 
 imagery of the imagination gathers in its procession 
 
POETRY 33 
 
 things sublime and terrible, beautiful and joyful, homely 
 and mirthful, and the heart is by turns awed with a sol- 
 emn pageant, saddened with a dark retinue, cheered 
 with a sportive troop, or made merry with a mock 
 carnival. 
 
 The emotions, ever varying in character and depth, 
 are prone to utterance, to seek the sympathy, the reali- 
 zation, and extension of language, and hence have given 
 rise to this most adequate and full medium of expression 
 poetry. Poetry, in its perfect type, its strictly charac- 
 teristic form /is emotional conception expressed in met- 
 rical language.) The substance and life of poetry is 
 feeling; its peculiar and appropriate form is rhythm. 
 The latter affords the more convenient, but not the more 
 important distinction. Poetry properly demands them 
 both. 
 
 There is no limit but that of the emotions to the sub- 
 ject matter of poetry, and no restrictions on its metrical 
 forms but the possibilities of language. The more 
 extended and weighty the feeling, the less it will cumber 
 itself with the demands of form. This is seen in the 
 themes appropriate to blank verse, and in the constant 
 tendency of humor and satire to rhyme. The more brief 
 and isolated the emotion, the more intricate and care- 
 fully wrought out the measure. The stones of which 
 a temple is reared are individually treated slightly 
 
34 PHILOSOPHY OF RHETORIC. 
 
 The stone of which a brooch is made is wrought into 
 some rare and exquisite form. An intricate and perfect 
 rhythm, if long continued, wearies more than plainer 
 verse. There is a fitness between emotion and metrical 
 language which makes the latter the almost necessary 
 vehicle of the former. To repeat a song is not to ren- 
 der it ; to state an emotion, or speak of its object, is not 
 to express it. The passions of men have always sought, 
 as their most copious utterance, song, poetry united 
 to music, and will not readily part, on any plea, with 
 the remnant of this association metre. Music and 
 metre are as much the elocution of poetry as emphasis 
 and gesture of oratory. As emotion is the great modu- 
 lator of the voice, by inversion sound becomes a chief 
 medium of emotion ; and passionate composition poetry 
 looks to it for aid. Feeling is often contained more in 
 the tone than in the word, and can never divorce itself 
 from this, its most natural expression, nor stand in the 
 same undefined relation to it as prose. Poetry searches 
 for all the avenues of emotion, arouses the senses, and 
 in its flow of sounds soothes, saddens, or quickens the 
 soul. This vocal form is the natural outgrowth of 
 feeling. 
 
 Poetry receives character and value from the nature 
 of the emotions which gave rise to it, and which it is 
 fitted to impart. The more common divisions of poetry 
 
PGETR*. 35 
 
 have little reference one to another, and rest their dis- 
 tinctions now on subject matter, now on form. Epic 
 and drama, ode and sonnet, furnish convenient designa- 
 tions for ordinary speech, but do not spring from any 
 systematic apprehension of the subjects of poetry ; nor 
 do they, save in single features, define its field. We 
 need to see the cardinal divisions of the emotions, that 
 we may therein find the offices and relations of poetry. 
 The most profound impulses, as well as the most simple 
 and sensible pleasures of the soul, are realized in verse. 
 The oration is a weapon carefully shaped for an imme- 
 diate and explicit purpose ; the poem is a germ contain- 
 ing within itself, and for itself, the full-balanced forces 
 of one form of emotional life a life with which dis- 
 semination is an inward necessity. Poetry, occupied 
 with conceptions which arise under feeling, and are by it 
 perfected into beauty, becomes a fine art, and belongs by 
 generic features to rhetoric, by individual characteristics 
 to aesthetics. 
 
36 PHILOSOPHY OP BHETORIC. 
 
 CHAPTER IV. 
 
 ORATORY. 
 
 ORATORY differs from the forms of composition al- 
 ready mentioned in its end, and consequently in its 
 relations and means. Oratory proposes an immediate 
 effect in some way to guide or govern action. As 
 that mental state which results in action is completed in 
 volition, oratory aims to affect the will. Thought is 
 not elaborated for its own sake, nor emotion aroused for 
 itself, but only to be immediately employed in persua- 
 sion in deciding the state of the will. 
 
 The means and method appropriate are determined by 
 this practical end of immediate influence, and all that 
 is merely philosophical or poetical, occupying without 
 constraining the mind, becomes inefficacious and wrong. 
 Thoughts and emotions are considered only in their 
 bearings on the proposed action, and are made, with 
 light and heat, to converge at this point as a perfect 
 focus. The mind must be convinced, but convinced of 
 the value and practicability of the action proposed ; the 
 heart must be aroused, but aroused to the motives of 
 
 
ORATORY. 37 
 
 duty, profit, and pleasure which press upon it. By true 
 oratory the whole soul is thrown into a single current, 
 setting outward toward effort, this effort becoming 
 more protracted and thorough in proportion to the deep 
 and inclusive character of the desired end. The highest 
 oratory can only be called forth when the energies of 
 the whole nature, with its fundamental forces, moral 
 and religious, are to be aroused, and to be determined 
 in the permanent direction of holy living. 
 
 As a further result of this outward end, oratory is 
 thrown into relations wholly diverse from those of 
 poetry and philosophy. The philosopher, the poet, are 
 abstracted, the one by his thought, the other by his 
 conception, from all other objects. Everything aside 
 from the one thing in hand is foreign, is alien, to the 
 idea, and to the mind occupied with it. The thought is 
 governed by its own logical relations, the emotion arises 
 with its own sympathetic connections, and therefore the 
 work of composition proceeds by separation by render- 
 ing an individual tiung in its individual way. The 
 success of the labor is dependent on this interior de- 
 velopment of the thing treated. The orator, on the 
 other hand, considers not more the intrinsic power of 
 the theme than its relations to those whose action he 
 purposes to influence by it. The last is with him the 
 controlling consideration. The truth, like iron, must be 
 
 , * 
 
 * 
 
38 PHILOSOPHY OP RHETORIC. 
 
 shaped into an instrument wherewith to accomplish most 
 perfectly and quickly a given work. It is with him as 
 with the agriculturist, whose task is assigned under 
 given conditions of soil and climate ; not to subject all 
 his efforts to these is immediate and utter failure. The 
 oration grows up under a vital power not less than the 
 poem ; but in the last we mark the native force and 
 fulness of a life freely developed, like a plant in an 
 open and rich field ; in the first we note how this and 
 that favoring and unfavoring circumstance have modified 
 the tree, pushing its way with persistent power among 
 its fellows, and gathering nutriment, sunlight, and air 
 as it was able. The oration is the complex product of 
 exterior and interior force, not the peaceful product of 
 the last only. That which here rules the form, which 
 defines and explains it, is the exigency of the circum- 
 stances under which it has arisen. A given audience, 
 through whom a given end is to be reached, is the ever- 
 present and controlling thought of the orator. He may 
 not withdraw into speculation, or at the beck of imagi- 
 nation turn aside to the retreats of beauty. He has no 
 privacy, but is ever haunted by that sea of faces, whose 
 surface is the condensed utterance of many human 
 hearts. His is no single conflict ; a host is to be 
 met, and with no other weapon than that of his theme : 
 in the same instant and by the same action, he is to 
 
ORATORY. 39 
 
 reach and vanquish each individual, intrenched as he 
 may be in dulness and inanity, intrenched as he may be 
 in prejudice and passion. The relations, therefore, of 
 the orator to the audience and the theme become vital 
 considerations. 
 
 A poem is the metrical utterance of emotion ; philo- 
 sophical prose, a logical statement of thought ; while 
 oratory is just and impassioned persuasion, the legitimate 
 influencing of the will through both the understanding 
 and the feelings. If either of these elements is want- 
 ing, if the passion is irrational, or the reason unimpas- 
 sioned, there is no eloquence. 
 
 The leading divisions of oratory arise from diversity 
 of ends. The orator seeks to secure action under cer- 
 tain principles of human conduct. He does not origi- 
 nate impulses, but shows the relation of lines of effort 
 to the native impulses of the mind. The person per- 
 suaded is impelled by his own desires, the speaker pre- 
 senting the object and opening up the way through which 
 these are to be gratified. The oration will receive its 
 character from the character of the constitutional force 
 of which it avails itself in securing effort, from the idea 
 to which it addresses and unites its argument. 
 
 The chief original impulses which supply the im- 
 pelling power in human action, are right, interest, and 
 pleasure. The first of these is wholly peculiar ; the last 
 
40 PHILOSOPHY OF RHETORIC. 
 
 two are more closely related. The sense of right is in 
 all men simple and original, and enters into the compe- 
 tition of motives with its own native force. With self- 
 affirmed and incontrovertible authority, it claims to 
 restrain, quicken, and guide all action. It is, in the 
 order of man's constitution, the only independent, always 
 just, always present impulse, and therefore it alone can 
 rightly order the whole field of action, and give that 
 vigor and that proportion of parts which are just. 
 
 The emotions which directly sustain and enforce the 
 right are an antecedent sense of obligation, and, subse- 
 quent to the action, the feelings of approval, or of 
 guilt, of shame and remorse. Indirectly, the affections 
 also strengthen the right, as they themselves are nour- 
 ished by it. These are disinterested, and only arise in 
 full force in connection with virtue. Once present, 
 they strongly animate the mind, and render its obedi- 
 ence spontaneous and cheerful. They enforce virtue by 
 the enjoyments which they bring. They are reverence, 
 love, benevolence, pity, gratitude, indignation, scorn, 
 according to the character and condition of the person 
 drawing them forth.. The word "love" has come to 
 cover a great variety of feelings, but more specifically 
 applies to moral affection. Any or all these feelings 
 may be called forth as the grounds of moral action. 
 
 Pleasure and interest present motives of action of 
 
ORATOKY. 41 
 
 another class, legitimate or illegitimate, according as 
 they are retained within or pass beyond the limits assigned 
 them by morality. Ultimately both of these rest on the 
 appetites and passions for impulse. Our appetites are the 
 most immediate inlets of pleasure, and hence, in the antici- 
 pation and provision which they require, the most obvious 
 incentives to action. Nor are these appetites exclusively 
 those of the body. The love of truth and of beauty 
 are essentially of this nature. These tastes of the mind, 
 like appetites, furnish a direct motive to action. 
 
 The passions are distinguished from the affections 
 in having perpetual reference to self ; in finding at 
 this point the spring of feeling ; and in the sudden 
 and complete control which they often attain. Though 
 social, they are, as far as the good of others is con- 
 cerned, either indifferent or malevolent. Of the first 
 class are vanity, pride, contempt. Vanity and pride, 
 from their religious use, have become terms of cen- 
 sure, and are applied only to the stronger feelings of 
 their class, while self-love and self-respect -mark the 
 milder exercise of the same emotions. We use the one 
 term to cover all degrees of satisfaction in view of the 
 admiration to be elicited by one's possessions or accom- 
 plishments ; the other, all degrees of esteem in which 
 one holds himself. So used, it is obvious they mark 
 very powerful and pervasive feelings, furnishing con- 
 
42 PHILOSOPHY OF RHETORIC. 
 
 stant motives to action. Indeed, vanity and pride lie 
 at the very root of interested effort. The malevolent 
 passions, arising from some disturbance of self by 
 another, are anger, hatred, envy, jealousy. Tft urge 
 any action by its immediate relation to appetite or 
 passion, is to appeal to pleasure. 
 
 More frequently, however, the gratification is remote. 
 Means to be secured by labor intervene, and toward 
 them the effort is directed. These means call forth 
 desire a feeling differing in the objects toward which 
 it is directed, bu v t in its nature the same. The mind 
 is not indifferent to the things which afford gratification, 
 but is thrown by them, one and all, into a state of 
 desire. These means to ulterior pleasure which call 
 forth the desires are wealth, power, position, and 
 knowledge. There are other things whose presence 
 is a condition of our enjoyment, as life and society, 
 and these may be said to be objects of desire. They, 
 however, stand in a different relation to desire from 
 the four former. These are the constant objects of 
 effort, the immediate and pervasive motives of action. 
 An action springing from any one of them is said to be 
 interested, since it seeks means which may afford 
 pleasure. These desires sometimes become so intense, 
 so overlook the end in view, as to be termed passions. 
 Of this nature is avarice. There are also passions 
 
ORATORY. 43 
 
 directly aroused by the relations of objects to desire, as 
 joy, sorrow, hope, fear, disappointment, regret. Mo- 
 tives drawn from the desires, or the passions immediately 
 dependent on them, are those of interest; and from one 
 of the three sources of action, right, pleasure, and 
 interest, all motives must be taken. The higher may 
 include the lower motive, or the lower may strengthen 
 the higher, or there may be a present conflict between 
 them. 
 
 The highest form of eloquence is evidently that which 
 most thoroughly and deeply searches the human heart 
 for motives resulting in the broadest and most valuable 
 action. So judged, that oratory which acts on the 
 moral impulses, and seeks to change character, is 
 preeminent. Here the end is most inclusive the trans- 
 formation of the whole man, the government of all 
 action by the pervasive law of right. No purpose can 
 be more profound than this. The impulses to which 
 the orator trusts are those of conscience and the affec 
 tions, the holiest portions of our nature. In the great- 
 ness of the work and the weight of the motives, no 
 persuasion can surpass that which enforces virtue. As 
 the moral affections are chiefly aroused by religion, as 
 virtue has only been persistently and successfully en- 
 forced in connection with the Christian religion, this 
 kind of oratory has been termed that of the pulpit. 
 
44 PHILOSOPHY OP RHETORIC. 
 
 The moral nature, in the duties which it imposes in 
 our relations to God, gives rise to religion, and virtue 
 becomes holiness. The moral law cannot fail, if rightly 
 apprehended, to extend itself to, and enforce, religion ; 
 and the facts of religion, in turn, cannot fail to throw 
 about all moral duties new sanctions, and to evolve 
 minor obligations in their natural dependence from the 
 chief obligation that of man to God. Eevelation en- 
 larges the sphere of conscience, not by arbitrary com- 
 mands, but by bringing to light new and fundamental 
 facts, in themselves inclusive of old duties and imposing 
 fresli ones. Eeligioii of necessity thus involves and 
 includes the highest morality; because its peculiar in- 
 junctions are, in their consequences, more weighty than 
 any other ; because it enforces the minor duties of man 
 to man from a new and higher standpoint, a broader 
 apprehension of the relations from which they spring, 
 and the results to which they lead ; and because, in its 
 own promises and threaten ings, and in the power with 
 which it arouses the affections, it adopts and reinvigor- 
 ates the moral law. There thus arises sacred eloquence, 
 the eloquence of a Christian pulpit, immeasurably 
 superior in the motives and emotions with which it 
 animates the mind and heart. The immediate conse- 
 quences of virtue and vice are lost in their more per- 
 manent results ; the breadth of eternity is given to 
 
ORATORY. 45 
 
 action ; the grace of God stoops to bless man to his 
 utmost capacity ; the justice of God walls in and pur- 
 sues his transgressions. In weight, terror, sublimity, 
 joy, and hope, no motives can for an instant compare 
 with those which in sacred eloquence inspire and over- 
 power the mind. Virtue is caught up and in wrapped with 
 the ineffable glory of God ; the virtuous man is caught 
 up and in wrapped in the glory of an incarnate Christ. 
 Armed as is this oratory with weapons of celestial 
 temper, it has the utmost occasion for them all. If sacred 
 oratory is great in its theme, great also are the difficul- 
 ties which it has to overcome. It opposes itself not to 
 isolated actions, but to the very current of conduct. It 
 proposes to reach the whole life, and shape it from its 
 very centre ; to re-beget the man into truth and love. 
 Indifference strengthening into aversion is to be met ; 
 the ear is to be won ; the intellect to be convinced ; the 
 heart to be convicted ; and the religious nature so 
 aroused and inspired, that it can cast down and rule 
 the long dominant impulses of the soul. Yet the chief 
 obstacle to success is in the mind of the orator himself. 
 He is ever liable to lose conviction, to share the spirit 
 which he is to correct, and to try with unsubstantial and 
 inoperative ideas to exorcise the spirit of unbelief. 
 There is no oratory whose whole power depends so 
 much on its inspiration as this, since it seeks to attain 
 
46 PHILOSOPHY OF RHETORIC. 
 
 vitalizing truth. God must breathe into its nostrils the 
 breath of life, that it may become a living soul. 
 
 How wholly sacred oratory is the offspring of the 
 Christian religion is seen in the fact, that the demonstra- 
 tive oration of the ancients, which most nearly cor- 
 responds to it, is ever liable to sink out of the depart- 
 ment of eloquence by lacking an immediate practical end. 
 A eulogy, a presentation of character, is not strictly 
 oratory, save as it oversteps the limits of praise, and 
 holds up for instruction the conduct presented ; save as 
 it condenses into * motive the narrative of an illustrious 
 life, and presses the hearer from idle admiration to 
 active emulation. The difficulty with which it reaches 
 a practical end, and the facility with which, in the 
 symmetry of an artistic labor, it loses itself, separate 
 this form of oratory very far from sacred eloquence. 
 It belongs rather to those transitional, doubtful products, 
 which, indeed, retain oral delivery, but lack the essential 
 feature of strict address its hold on action. 
 
 The interests and pleasures of men furnish the de- 
 partment of secular eloquence. These, as motives of 
 action, are intimately related, the difference between 
 them being chiefly one of time. What contributes to 
 our present interest or advantage is expected to con- 
 tribute to our future pleasure. It is an anticipated 
 enjoyment which imparts present value to objects whose 
 possession is coveted. 
 
ORATORY. 47 
 
 Address contemplates an audience, an assembly of 
 individuals, to be influenced by common considerations. 
 This address may aim at individual action or at joint 
 action ; at the action of man as man under his individ- 
 ual responsibilities, or at those joint measures by which 
 communities and associations determine and regulate 
 their conduct. In the first case, oratory will be almost 
 wholly of a moral or sacred character, and belong to 
 the type already spoken of; in the second case, it will 
 be chiefly of a secular character, the expediency and wis- 
 dom of a proposed measure being the object of discus- 
 sion. It is only the moral and religious impulses, 
 which, fundamentally the same in all, need to be aroused 
 and directed by oratory to be called forth for the gov- 
 ernment of the life. Individual pleasure and interest 
 are so diverse in the lines of conduct which they secure, 
 as to allow little except instructions, furnishing general 
 principles for their guidance ; are so prompt and exces- 
 sive in their action, as to require little aside from the 
 restraint and government of the moral nature. Virtue, 
 therefore, in its individual forms, as temperance, in its 
 collective and most authoritative forms, as religion, 
 becomes the controlling, the well nigh exclusive motive 
 of all oratory, which seeks to influence man in his 
 strictly personal life. This form of address, having to 
 do with that which is sacred in man, with virtue, 
 
48 PHILOSOPHY OF RHETORIC. 
 
 partakes, in all its branches, of the character, and is 
 subject to the laws, of its fullest type pulpit oratory. 
 While the interests and pleasure of the individual fall 
 out of oratory, and become questions of private pur- 
 suit, those interests which are reached or protected by 
 the joint action of men afford points of grave delibera- 
 tion. The law of right still remains as a governing 
 principle, by which all action should be restrained ; but 
 the question is constantly arising, What, within the 
 limits assigned by moral law, do the interests of the 
 community demand? What, within the constitutional 
 law of man's nature, should become civil law ? These 
 questions are propounded again and again in each or- 
 ganic assembly, from the highest legislative body to the 
 lowest, and in each are to be answered on principles 
 of general advantage. It is points of common interest, 
 and not of individual morality, which are committed to 
 legislation, and it is in its relations to the first that the 
 second is discussed. In the pulpit, on the other hand, 
 the first is treated in its bearings on the second. Here 
 secular eloquence distinguishes itself broadly from 
 sacred. It has to do with the life, the action, of the 
 community, as opposed to the life, the action, of the 
 individual. This is strictly private, of no moment, 
 save as, leaving its province, it directly affects that 
 which is public the safety and social well-being 
 
ORATORY. 49 
 
 of others, the well-being of government. Sacred elo- 
 quence, on the other hand, penetrates at once the pri- 
 vacy of the individual heart, and laboring here, only 
 shows itself indirectly, though most efficiently, in ques- 
 tions of social and political concernment. The highest 
 legislative body works within man's original native 
 rights ; the lowest, within these, and also within those 
 further regulations established and defined by superior 
 civil law. Allied to these are the questions which 
 occupy every deliberative body, from the most perma- 
 nent corporate association to the most transient popului 
 meeting. Even a religious body, as a body, is occu- 
 pied with questions of prudence and wisdom of the 
 judicious choice of means. 
 
 Deliberative eloquence is one of the long-recognized 
 departments of oratory. As contrasted with pulpit ora- 
 tory, its advantages are found in the singleness and ex- 
 plicitness of the action proposed, and the spontaneous 
 interest which it usually calls forth ; its inferiority in the 
 relatively narrow, though weighty, motives with which 
 it presses the heart. 
 
 What faith and love are to sacred oratory, liberty, 
 public weal, and patriotism are to secular oratory. 
 Much will be left to the deliberation of men in a free 
 government, little in a tyrannical. Oratory will become 
 a most coveted and just instrument of influence in legis- 
 3 D 
 
50 PHILOSOPHY OF RHETORIC. 
 
 lative and popular assemblies, when these are them- 
 selves the source of power. Freedom gives play to 
 action, and action may then be controlled by the just, 
 the natural law of persuasion. The mass-meeting, the 
 hall, and the senate chamber have not existed without a 
 vast influence on oratory in our own country. 
 
 A subsidiary, and, in the form in which it now exists, 
 a most peculiar, type of eloquence is that of the bar. 
 Law established is yet to be applied. To determine 
 what is law, and what are the facts on which it is to be 
 administered, requires much investigation and discrimi- 
 nation. This, in a trial had before a limited bench of 
 learned judges, resolves itself into an almost exclusively 
 logical process, and, losing the emotional element, ceases 
 to be oratory. Occasionally, however, the judge, in 
 setting aside or establishing precedents, is for the time 
 being a legislator ; broad and weighty motives of general 
 interest may be urged upon the mind, and the plea 
 become a most thoughtful, yet impassioned, product. 
 
 In the trial by jury, more of the popular element is 
 preserved ; and though the question is here strictly one 
 of facts, of proof, and therefore somewhat severe and 
 barren, the orator easily steals away from the legal evi- 
 dence and character of the act to its social effects and 
 dramatic bearings. The plea thus often becomes more 
 emotional than it of right ought to be, and the moral 
 
ORATORY. 51 
 
 law of oratory, which regulates the just influence of 
 mind over mind, is in a measure set aside. The judge 
 and jury being by oath and by common integrity bound 
 to the line of legal, of just action, there is given to evi- 
 dence and argument, in judicial oratory, a preponderance 
 which does not belong to them in the symmetrical ora- 
 tion. Persuasion is in many forms positively imperti- 
 nent, since it implies a want of integrity in those to 
 whom it is addressed. 
 
 To escape as far as may be the dulness of demonstra- 
 tion, and yet, on the one hand, not fall into the impro- 
 priety of a popular harangue, nor, on the other, employ 
 surreptitious motives, becomes the difficult task of the 
 advocate. Ancient judicial eloquence was quite different 
 from modern, through the unsettled laws, and the num- 
 ber and popular character of the judges ; it was appro- 
 priately, therefore, a more impassioned appeal. 
 
 The chief divisions of oratory, according as individual 
 or collective action is aimed at, are sacred and secular. 
 The chief form of secular oratory is deliberative. In 
 modern society, in the application of law, occasion is 
 given for a second and restricted form that of judicial 
 oratory. There is a large and increasing class of lec- 
 tures, addresses, orations, which may not seem readily 
 to fall into any of the above divisions. Many of these 
 so lack the force and form of address, or are so -strictly 
 
52 PHILOSOPHY OF RHETORIC. 
 
 didactic, as not to belong to oratory. A large number 
 aim to affect the moral state of the individual, to inspire 
 philanthropy, patriotism, a love of excellence, or a 
 regard for truth. These derive their incentives from the 
 moral nature, and direct themselves to it, and hence 
 belong to the class of sacred oratory. Many preach 
 besides those who profess to. A smaller class of casual 
 speeches, proposing some social or associate action, 
 belong to the class of deliberative orations. 
 
BOOK II< 
 
 THE means of composition, which we now proceed to 
 discuss, are of two kinds the very material, the thought, 
 the feeling, which the mind furnishes, and the language, 
 which gives shape to it. These two stand to each other 
 in the relation of substance and form, and we must 
 know the nature of the one, and the laws which govern 
 the other, before we can advantageously employ them. 
 Few will hesitate to speak of language as a means, 
 something to be employed in composition, and therefore 
 to be studied in its rhetorical laws and relations, while 
 a knowledge of its construction and grammatical prin- 
 ciples is presupposed. It will not, however, seem so 
 plain that the subject-matter of composition, the argu- 
 ment and emotion employed, should be regarded as 
 means. This use of language is applicable to oratory, 
 rather than to poetry or philosophy. 
 
 The oration, having in view an immediate external 
 
 (53) 
 
54 PHILOSOPHY OF RHETORIC. 
 
 end, must select from its resources that which shall be 
 to it the means of present success. The essay, the 
 poem, on the other hand, aiming to present what is 
 already contained in the mind and the emotions, have 
 occasion for a right method, but not for a choice of 
 means, since the truths, the conception to be presented, 
 are both end and means. In philosophy, argument is 
 not the instrument of an advocate, wielded for a pur- 
 pose, opening a way toward an ulterior object, but is 
 the unfolding of inherent connections and intrinsic rela- 
 tions, by which, we come to see things as they are. 
 Vision is here aimed at, and the eye is directed along 
 the line of exposition and argument as the vista of 
 truth. Truth is only known when known in itself and 
 in its premises : the premises are more a portion of it 
 than a means to it. It is not belief, but the grounds of 
 belief, that philosophy inculcates. The ends and means, 
 therefore, are the same ; and while it requires perspicuity 
 of presentation, the thought in hand furnishes the limit 
 and substance of its labor. The same is true of poetry. 
 Its emotions are not means, but ends ; not necessities, but 
 indulgences ; not the straight lines of effort, but the 
 eddying circuits of pleasure. 
 
 Our first inquiries, therefore, must have chief refer- 
 ence to oratory, since this alone aims directly at influ- 
 ence, and needs alone to seek directly its means. 
 
THE LAW OF INFLUENCE. 55 
 
 CHAPTER I. 
 
 THE LAW OF INFLUENCE. 
 
 WHILE man has an individual life, complete in itself, 
 the development and fulness of that life are most strictly 
 dependent on his social connections. The bud of the 
 vine has latent within it the entire power of its species ; 
 yet no bud blossoms or bears the clustering grapes, 
 except as it is one of a community of buds, receiving 
 nourishment from a common stock. The mature fruit 
 of the tree is not reached by divided, but by com- 
 pounded life. It is borne aloft on trunk and branches, 
 the growth of years, and nourished by the associated 
 life of which it is but a feeble portion. Thus is it with 
 man. Man alone is a savage : one in the community 
 of the family, of the state, and of civilized nations, he 
 becomes civilized, and completes the circle of his com- 
 forts with the products of all climates, and the labors 
 of all men. Individual life is a bud far up, and far 
 out, on the common stock. It is sustained by the 
 knowledge, the strength, of those who have gone before 
 it, and nourished by the activity of those about it. 
 
56 PHILOSOPHY OF RHETORIC. 
 
 This is equally true of it in its physical and intellectual 
 dependences. 
 
 The influence of man over man is not only admissible, 
 it is inevitable ; not only inevitable, but the condition 
 and law of his progress. Among the various forms of 
 influence which men exert one upon another, none is 
 more legitimate, more respects the integrity and free- 
 dom of individual action, than persuasion. The limit, 
 the law of persuasion, defining its end and means, is 
 that of right. Not that action, as virtuous, is the only 
 end to be proposed by the orator ; but his aims and 
 methods are ever to be enclosed within those of virtue, 
 lying in the same direction with them, always receiving 
 their sanction, often enforced by their obligations. 
 
 It is only by accepting the law of virtue as the line 
 and limit of influence, that the orator respects his own 
 nature. Right is, or should be, the rule of his intel- 
 lectual and social life. Not till he can invalidate a 
 claim enforced in his own conscience, and annul the 
 grand distinction and justification of conduct, may he 
 set it aside in the most delicate and widely influential 
 of his acts. 
 
 The claims of the intellectual and moral nature of 
 the persons persuaded against virtue are also disre- 
 garded. To reach an illegitimate end, the orator must 
 avail himself of ignorance, resort to misrepresentation. 
 
THE LAW OF INFLUENCE. 57 
 
 excite or cherish excessive or unworthy emotion. To 
 withhold truth and arouse evil passions is a wrong done 
 to the parties affected by such action ; much more is it 
 a wrong when these means are used to induce action, 
 and make the persons persuaded partners in evil. Ora- 
 tory, relying on the spontaneous, free movement of the 
 mind, referring all its motives to its approval and adop- 
 tion, cannot neglect the very laws of thought, truth and 
 right underlying its action. 
 
 If, however, we take the low ground that success 
 gives law to every department of effort, and that ora- 
 tory, as an art, only asks what can be done by the ora- 
 tor with ultimate advantage to himself, we still reach 
 the same conclusion. Eight is the law of general and 
 permanent success in influence. 
 
 The orator must lose hold upon truth, when he ceases 
 to present it, to make it the staple of his own thinking 
 and acting. If he deserts the right at one time, he 
 cannot return to it with deep conviction at another. It 
 becomes to him like his other methods a device and a 
 trick, requiring only skill to be well played off. What- 
 ever may be said of rhetoric, the man himself, the ora- 
 tor, cannot prosper intellectually and emotionally with 
 such a method. The depth, sincerity and vigor of his 
 nature are lost. All the distinctions which judgment 
 and conscience make are in practice thrown away, and 
 3* 
 
58 PHILOSOPHY OF RHETORIC. 
 
 the mind, employed as an instrument of cunning expe- 
 dients, first grows weary of, and then despises, all genu- 
 ine, thorough work. There can be no moral affection, 
 no enthusiasm for truth ; for the heart is either never 
 called forth, or shortly betrayed. The power of will is 
 lost, as it systematically yields to circumstances, nothing 
 being proposed save temporary success. 
 
 The whole man, therefore, being \veakened and wasted 
 by such a method, what shall become of the orator? 
 Scepticism, suspicion, and insincerity, however crafty 
 they may be, cannot compass any weighty moral ends. 
 The powers of a world of conviction, faith, and hon- 
 esty have become a mockery to them, and therefore 
 forever elude them. Virtue is the law of intellectual, 
 emotional, and voluntary life in the orator, and, there- 
 fore, the law of oratory. To think the contrary is to 
 suppose that falsehood is as productive as truth, and 
 that a mind which betrays itself in all its best impulses 
 shall yet lose none of its strength. 
 
 If we look at the persons addressed, we shall also 
 see that virtue assigns the law of successful persuasion. 
 The orator who avails himself of the ignorance and 
 passions of men incurs the risk, that, in wiser and 
 calmer moments, the fact may be discerned, and prove 
 henceforth the occasion of distrust and separation. The 
 grounds of influence in oratory are confidence and sym- 
 
THE LAW OF INFLUENCE. 59 
 
 pathy. Without these, the mind holds itself aloof, and 
 the emotions sought for are not aroused. Nothing more 
 excites men of ordinary intelligence to resistance, to 
 close all the avenues of the heart, than the discovery 
 that they have been deceived and designedly misled. 
 The reserve with which men listen to a plea at the bar 
 or the harangue of a politician, the suspicion and cau- 
 tion with which they follow its arguments, illustrate the 
 loss of confidence with which those persons are received 
 whose aims are divided between interest and truth. 
 The orator, to secure confidence, the great condition of 
 influence, must either, therefore, be virtuous, or per- 
 fectly simulate virtue, or rely on an ignorance and 
 rudeness too great even to discover or heed the funda- 
 mental character of the measures and means employed. 
 It is evident that but one of these ways can be certainly 
 and constantly* successful. The greater the intelligence 
 and virtue of those addressed, the broader and more im- 
 portant the field of oratory, the more does right become 
 the inviolable law of influence. Whatever may be 
 thought of ignorant and vicious men, wise and virtuous 
 men will not long yield themselves to the mischievous 
 management of a monger of lies. 
 
 The notion of oratory which regards it as open to all 
 expedients and forms of trickery, is radically false. 
 True words, words powerful to convince and persuade, 
 
60 PHILOSOPHY OF RHETORIC. 
 
 are not mere words, are not hollow, but full, swelling 
 with the life and character of the man who utters them. 
 Only so far as speech embodies emotion and becomos 
 genuine in the mouth of him whose it is, can it arouse 
 and inspire men. Fire cannot be kindled without fire. 
 The mind of the orator is the point of greatest heat: 
 here all becomes molten, concurrent, ready to issue into 
 the world of action. It is his character which gives 
 character to the words of a great orator. They are 
 quick with his life. They are thrown forth by his 
 assertion, they penetrate by his power. One cannot 
 steal the mail, neither can he steal the eloquence, of a 
 nobler man. Words measure, and are measured by, 
 the mind's dimensions, and, repeated without the power 
 which first uttered them, are well nigh lost. It is im- 
 possible to swell out the contour of a great oration with- 
 out a corresponding life, since the one can only be by, 
 and because of, the other. Greatness is not born of 
 nothing, and least of all in the department of moral 
 influence. We must not be suffered to forget the fa- 
 mous words of the great orator, 
 
 " True eloquence, indeed, does not consist in speech. 
 It cannot be brought from far. Labor and learning 
 may toil for it, but they will toil in vain. Words and 
 phrases may be marshalled in every way, but they can- 
 not compass it. It must exist in the man, in the sub- 
 
THE LAW OF INFLUENCE. 61 
 
 ject, and in the occasion. Affected passion, intense 
 expression, the pomp of declamation, all may aspire to 
 it ; they cannot reach it. It comes, if it come at all, 
 like the outbreaking of a fountain from the earth, or the 
 bursting forth of volcanic fires, with spontaneous, ori- 
 ginal, native force. The graces taught in the schools, 
 the costly ornaments and studied contrivances of speech, 
 shock and disgust men, when their own lives, and the 
 fate of their wives, their children, and their country, 
 hang on the decision of the hour. Then words have 
 lost their power, rhetoric is vain, and all elaborate 
 oratory contemptible. Even genius itself then feels 
 rebuked and subdued, as in the presence of higher 
 qualities. Then patriotism is eloquent ; then self-devo- 
 tion is eloquent. The clear conception, outrunning the 
 deductions of logic, the high purpose, the firm resolve, 
 the dauntless spirit, speaking on the tongue, beaming 
 from the eye, informing every feature, and urging the 
 whole man onward, right onward to his object, this, 
 this is eloquence ; or rather it is something greater and 
 higher than all eloquence; it is action, noble, sublime, 
 godlike action." 
 
 Eloquence must then rely on moral force, since this 
 is the force of character, and there is no strong rational 
 life that is not locked together by a moral purpose. 
 The chief ends of oratory are directly moral; the 
 
62 PHILOSOPHY OF RHETORIC. 
 
 included ends of prosperity and social well-being are so 
 indirectly. In advocating these, there is ever an ulterior 
 reference to the moral conditions of society a sub- 
 servience of immediate to remote good, of individual to 
 general good, which subjects the labor and views of the 
 orator to virtue. 
 
 Success in just ends, through and within moral inter- 
 ests, is the law of influence in oratory. If we cannot 
 enumerate robbery among the methods of production or 
 of exchange, much more can we not admit deception 
 among the means of influence. The former is not more 
 totally destructive of the conditions of commercial suc- 
 cess than the latter of the enda of speech. 
 
ARGUMENTS. 
 
 CHAPTER II. 
 
 ARGUMENTS. 
 
 FACTS, truths, are the only safe basis and guide of 
 action. Our action, to be successful, must unite itself 
 to things as they are, and lie in the line of the forces 
 which govern the world. Without this, all effort is 
 futile, all issues are false. The first necessity of rational 
 action, therefore, is truth ; a presentation of the facts on 
 which effort is to be grafted, and of the principles by 
 which it is to be governed. As an accurate and correct 
 statement of facts and principles is not readily arrived 
 at, as many motives exist which may induce others to 
 mislead us, presentation must assume, more or less, the 
 form of proof, according to the difficulty and doubt 
 involved. If we have confidence in the knowledge and 
 good intention of the person bringing forward the facts, 
 we require no proof beyond the testimony of a simple 
 statement. More frequently, however, suspicious of 
 the many unconscious errors of opinion ; of the warp- 
 ing effect of feeling, habit, and interest ; of the zeal 
 of the advocate, the partisan attachments of the orator, 
 
64 PHILOSOPHY OF RHETORIC. 
 
 or the limited relations of the preacher, we require an 
 independent basis of rational belief to be furnished to 
 our own minds. 
 
 Presentation thus becomes argument, proof, support- 
 ing a proposition, establishing a fact, or sweeping away 
 an error. The sources and kinds of proof, and their 
 relations to conviction, become, therefore, important sub- 
 sidiary inquiries to the strictly rhetorical work the 
 best choice, arrangement, and statement of arguments 
 for their effect on the mind. 
 
 The sources v of proof are two intuition and experi- 
 ence. The word " intuition " is taken from the action of 
 one of our senses, but is capable of an easy extension 
 to all those faculties of internal or external perception 
 which directly or independently report anything to 
 the mind. 
 
 First among the intuitive powers of the mind are the 
 senses. These present distinct and peculiar phenomena, 
 and are our most adequate authority for them. We can 
 have no better proof for a fact than that we ourselves 
 have seen or heard it. This testimony of the senses is 
 independent and authoritative, and can only be modified 
 by the conclusions of an experience which has pro- 
 ceeded on the ground of its general validity. When 
 and how far the eye and the ear are to be trusted, we 
 can only decide by testimony which they themselves give 
 
ARGUMENTS. 65 
 
 us. Within these limits, their proof is as perfect as 
 any proof can be. 
 
 A second form of intuitive knowledge is that direct 
 apprehension which the mind has of its own action. 
 It is more usually termed the testimony of consciousness. 
 It does not arise from any one faculty, but from the 
 very nature of mind. Thought that it may be thought, 
 must be known to itself; feeling that it may be feeling, 
 must be aware of itself; mind that it may be mind, 
 must be conscious of its own phenomena. Complete 
 sleep or unconsciousness would involve the perfect sus- 
 pension of intellectual life. Consciousness testifies di- 
 rectly to mental phenomena to their existence and 
 character, not to their correctness or the truth of 
 their results. 
 
 A third source of intuitive knowledge is memory 
 the testimony which the mind gives to facts which have 
 occurred in its past experience. This, of all the forms 
 of direct proof, is the most uncertain, is subject to the 
 most limitations and corrections from experience. These 
 restrictions, however carefully established, do not give 
 to memory its authority : this is independent and 
 original ; experience only defining the bounds within 
 which it can be relied on. Though a man should see 
 but six feet, it is, nevertheless, sight which carries 
 knowledge thus far. Memory is verified by memory, 
 
 E 
 
66 PHILOSOPHY OF RHETORIC. 
 
 and the experience which corrects it depends upon it. 
 A certain picture which memory has given I may after- 
 ward be able to confront with the facts themselves 
 derived from an independent source, as testimony or 
 vision ; yet even in this most favorable case of testing 
 her power, I still trust the distinctness and precision 
 of her statement for one member of the comparison. 
 The validity of memory is more easily judged than that 
 of most of our intuitive powers ; and the fact that in so 
 many cases it seems so signally to fail, may appear to 
 cast some suspicion on our other intuitive faculties. As 
 nothing can be more destructive to faith in human 
 knowledge than a want of trust in the original and 
 unverified action of the mind, it is important to see 
 that the uncertain action of memory does not imply 
 similar uncertainty in the testimony of kindred faculties. 
 
 The chief fault of memory is negative that it does 
 not retain the matter intrusted to it ; but this does not 
 invalidate its own positive testimony, much less the 
 positive testimony of other powers. 
 
 Again, the results of memory are readily confounded 
 with those of other faculties of imagination, of reason- 
 ing. The partial premises which memory has actually 
 given we complete from our fancy, or by the conclu- 
 sions of the judgment. The whole is then stored in the 
 mind, and afterward reported by memory, and on the 
 

 ARGUMENTS. 
 
 authority of memory; a portion that furnished by 
 imagination or inference is found false. Here the 
 falsification of memory is apparent, not real. There has 
 not been a just separation of the mind's action ; and 
 if this separation should have taken place by memory, 
 her failure to make it is a defective assertion rather than 
 a false assertion. Much which seems to be erroneous 
 is simply defective. That we are compelled to define 
 closely and carefully the safe limits of memory, we are 
 ready to admit, and are quite willing to carry the asser- 
 tion over with its whole force to the other intuitive 
 faculties ; but that within these limits they are not each 
 and all perfectly reliable, cannot be admitted. That 
 these limitations should be numerous in the case of 
 memory is not surprising, since we have here so many 
 concurrent sources of certainty. 
 
 A fourth and most important intuitive faculty is that 
 of the reason. By the term we designate the power 
 which gives us the regulative ideas of knowledge. 
 Things are known only as they are known in certain 
 relations in their arrangement in space, in their order 
 m time, in the connection of cause and effect. The 
 regulative ideas of space, time, cause, by which we 
 arrange impressions into knowledge, are given us di- 
 rectly by the mind, are perceived at once by the reason 
 in the appropriate phenomena. These regulative ideas 
 
f>8 PHILOSOPHY OF RHETORIC. 
 
 are those of existence, resemblance, space, number, time, 
 cause, consciousness, beauty, right, freedom, the infinite. 
 Under some of these, as that of space, are included 
 many subordinate intuitions the axioms of geometry. 
 These the mind apprehends without proof. 
 
 The chief fallacies of this form of proof are mistak- 
 ing the results of reflection or association for those of 
 intuition, or overlooking the conditions of the safe action 
 of our intuitive faculties. The mind interested in its 
 own movement, in the parade of argument, gives more 
 attention to rationative than to intuitive proof. As, 
 however, the latter is the foundation of the former, it 
 must evidently furnish us just premises, before the sim- 
 ply logical, deductive process can be safely instituted. 
 The more rigid this movement of mind, the more cer- 
 tainly does it elaborate error, unless it first freely ac- 
 cepts as premises all the data furnished by intuition. 
 
 The second source of proof is experience. Experi- 
 ence acts only on the facts furnished by the intuitions. 
 The phenomena presented are dwelt upon by the mind, 
 till their resemblances and connections are seen and 
 stated in general terms. Each object is to the eye 
 individual; and named, the name is a proper noun. 
 When, however, other objects are seen closely to resem- 
 ble it, and this fact is marked by the application to 
 them of the same name, the word becomes a common 
 
ARGUMENTS. 69 
 
 noun, and contains a first truth of experience. The 
 mind thus proceeds through the innumerable objects of 
 the external and the internal world, and groups them 
 in classes according to permanent resemblances, con- 
 stantly transforming its proper into common nouns, 
 and greatly multiplying the latter. Each name of a 
 class contains a fact of experience, and language be- 
 comes the storehouse of knowledge. Scientific knowl- 
 edge differs from popular speech only in the more fun- 
 damental and connected character of the resemblances 
 on which it proceeds. A term of scientific classification 
 is part of a system designating not merely one kind of 
 agreement, but constituting the complement of other 
 terms by which the interconnections of an entire depart- 
 ment are noted. A first product of experience is the 
 application to agreeing things of common nouns ; a more 
 mature product, their scientific classification. 
 
 Things agree not only in appearances, but also in 
 their action one upon another. To mark this agree- 
 ment, and thus learn the laws of cause and effect by 
 w r hich things are united in events, and move on in an 
 ever-changing universe, becomes a second most impor- 
 tant and more difficult labor of experience. This effort, 
 in its incipient and rude form, at once shows itself in 
 language, and verbs expressing some given action mark 
 by their application the character of the event. 
 
70 PHILOSOPHY OF RHETORIC. 
 
 Here, again, the chief difference between the popular 
 and the scientific terms in which these truths of experi- 
 ence are treasured, lies in the more accurate, well- 
 defined agreements on which the latter rest. An apple 
 falls to the earth, and gravitates to the earth. The one 
 word marks the fact, the other the fact in its precise 
 manner or law. Man, as he becomes increasingly 
 thoughtful, notes more and more the character of the 
 forces at work about him, and thus reaches the exact 
 truths of experience. 
 
 Experience proceeds on the permanent character of 
 nature that things remain in properties what they are, 
 and, as involved therein, that forces everywhere adhere 
 to their fixed laws of action. From agreement,, there- 
 fore, in appearances and properties, it infers sameness 
 of nature, and attributes to the same species an identity 
 of inherent powers. On the other hand, from agree- 
 ment of causes, of governing circumstances, it antici- 
 pates a similarity of effects. Experience ever argues 
 from resemblance from similar effects to identity of 
 causes, from identity of causes to similarity of effects. 
 
 But resemblance has many degrees. It passes from 
 perfect identity through sameness, resemblance, and 
 analogy into the most transient and' accidental agree- 
 ments. From this fact, great uncertainty attaches to 
 many of the conclusions of experience, and the substan- 
 
ARGUMENTS. 71 
 
 tial and safe features of likeness in every department 
 must be learned by discriminating and protracted ex- 
 perience within that department. Not till observation 
 itself has taught us can we tell how much stress to lay 
 on the agreement of plants in the number and arrange- 
 ment of leaves ; in the number and arrangement of the 
 parts of the flower; in the form of the seed vessel. 
 The more complex the effects or the causes considered, 
 the less able shall we be to affirm a complete agreement, 
 or such an agreement as to secure the safety of our 
 argument. Medicine, administered to a patient, is only 
 one among many and most active and efficacious causes ; 
 we shall trace its effects, therefore, with great uncer- 
 tainty in the results, and cannot conclude, at once, that 
 these will be the same in each case. 
 
 There is, hence, often the semblance of proof without 
 any real strength in its connections. A superficial re- 
 semblance is argued from as if it were an inherent 
 agreement : the premises include a likeness at one 
 point, while the conclusion requires it at quite another : 
 an effect which arises from a complex state is attributed 
 to one of the causes at work, though, for aught that 
 appears, this may be the least efficient of them all, or 
 even adverse. 
 
 A comparison, therefore, becomes a most open and 
 effective way for the admission of a fallacy. It appeals 
 
72 PHILOSOPHY OP RHETORIC. 
 
 to experience, carries its conclusions over with ease and 
 directness, does not challenge criticism, and scarcely 
 seems to suffer error. The substitution of apparent 
 for real resemblance has sorely vexed philosophy, and 
 rendered of no avail the logic of the most acute minds. 
 This is well illustrated in the freedom of the will. If 
 the will is free, it is thereby wholly unique, wholly 
 unlike anything in nature, and, therefore, can be ap- 
 proached or expounded by no resemblance whatsoever. 
 Its chief characteristic is, by the supposition of free- 
 dom, radically diverse from everything else. To affirm 
 that a motive has influence, and afterward proceed to 
 analyze this word " influence " by the analogies of the 
 physical world, is of necessity to destroy the idea we 
 are treating. By comparing influence in the one field 
 of liberty to influence in the other of necessity, we hide 
 in the very word the notion of necessity, and afterward, 
 of course, succeed by analysis in reaching it. We con- 
 ceal the goblet in Benjamin's sack, and then pluck it out 
 as triumphant proof against him. 
 
 Of the second form of fallacy, in which resemblance 
 at one point is substituted for resemblance at another, 
 the argument turning on a different consideration from 
 that brought forward in the premises, an ever-returring 
 illustration is found in the justification of an action on 
 the ground of its fitness at some previous time. Pres- 
 
ARGUMENTS. 73 
 
 ent conditions and relations determine the tightness of 
 action. To justify an institution, therefore, by com- 
 paring it with one previously accepted, is fallacious, 
 unless we can also show an identity of circumstances. 
 Once right, always right, is not an axiom of morals. It 
 precludes the idea of progress, which is their basis. 
 
 Medicine is fruitful in examples of the third fallacy, 
 confidently expecting from one cause effects due to many 
 causes. There is here the opportunity of a double error. 
 The premises may be erroneous, effects being referred 
 to a given remedy which do not belong to it ; the argu- 
 ment may be misapplied, there not being in the two 
 cases an agreement of efficient circumstances. The 
 pleasing and effective nature of comparison, turning the 
 attention from the logical limits of the argument in- 
 volved to the resemblance of familiar objects, should 
 make us the more careful in scrutinizing its character. 
 
 Though the form of knowledge is given in the regula- 
 tive ideas of the mind, the contents of this form, the 
 great bulk of knowledge, is furnished by experience. 
 What is? In what manner is it? are questions which 
 the race, from the beginning, have been busy in answer- 
 ing. This knowledge, accumulated by the joint efforts 
 of men, comes to the individual testified to by those who 
 have gone before him, and the larger share of his 
 knowledge is referable, not to personal experience, but 
 4 
 
74 PHILOSOPHY OF RHETORIC. 
 
 to testimony. Testimony is the great source of facts 
 and principles to the individual, and proof is often 
 resolved into the credibility of testimony. This itself 
 is determined by experience, and is chiefly dependent on 
 the knowledge and integrity of the witness, weighed 
 with the opportunities he may have had for the one, 
 and with the motives which tend to sway him from 
 the other. 
 
 An easy fallacy of testimony is confounding facts 
 with conclusions drawn from them. For competent 
 testimony to the v first, actual observation is all that is 
 requisite. Men, though by no means equal in their 
 power to observe or report events, are so relatively. 
 The value of an opinion, on the other hand, depends 
 almost exclusively on him who gives it. False conclu- 
 sions, therefore, disguised under the facts, and stated 
 as a portion of them, may readily embarrass testimony 
 and mislead the judgment. A man is said to be in- 
 solent, to be proud, to be angry, to be drunk. It is a 
 question, not purely of facts, but of inference from 
 words and actions. 
 
 Certain circumstances, forming a chain of proof, are 
 to be given. The mind may have already united them 
 by a theory of its own, and, if so, inevitably gives col- 
 oring and relation to them according to its own explana- 
 tion of them. In a science like mental philosophy, it 
 
ARGUMENTS. 75 
 
 is much more than half the labor to secure impartial 
 testimony to naked phenomena of mind. This error is 
 often mingled with one already referred to. A patient 
 testifies to the effect of medicine as if his statement 
 were the explicit delivery of facts, and not the most 
 uncertain of all opinions. On an agricultural question, 
 as the effect on a crop of this or that mode of treat- 
 ment, on a social question, as the results of this or that 
 institution, it is most difficult to secure the facts, so 
 enlarged, retrenched, and warped are they by the uncon- 
 scious influence of opinion. 
 
 Hence is it that the mind relies so much on the 
 undesigned coincidence of testimony. The perverting 
 elements of interest and feeling are eliminated, and the 
 essential truth of the statements becomes requisite to 
 explain their agreement. 
 
 Here appears a new form of experience. When we 
 know the causes, we readily reason from them to their 
 effects ; but when we are ignorant of them, or they are 
 too various and irregular to be separately estimated, we 
 yet draw conclusions often possessed of great certainty. 
 A calculation of chances, though sometimes leading to 
 results of little worth for a single transaction, may yet 
 afford safe guidance as cases multiply. 
 
 Accidents assume a certain equality, preserve a certain 
 ratio, when taken in large numbers. Accidents are not 
 
76 PHILOSOPHY OF RHETORIC. 
 
 uncaused events, but events which have no stated cause. 
 Under given circumstances, on a large field, they assume 
 certain limits. From these limits they do not greatly 
 vary. If they were to vary, either to increase or di- 
 minish, it would imply the pressure of some steady 
 force, securing this result. The effect would be no 
 longer accidental. 
 
 Dice thrown a large number of times will show equal- 
 ity in the presentation of the several faces. If, how- 
 ever, there was a steady tendency discoverable to present 
 one number, this v would be adequate proof that the dice 
 were not fairly made, that there was in them some 
 inequality of weight. 
 
 In the accidents by which property is destroyed, when 
 we have measured the limits reached by any one form 
 of loss, as by fire, on a field large enough to include 
 the whole range of chances, we are sure that these will 
 not be much overpassed without some assignable, gen- 
 eral, and steady cause. In other words, there is a 
 gauge of partial and fluctuating causes, which experi- 
 ence teaches us may be taken, and that accidents, be- 
 cause they are accidents, can show no steady tendency 
 to preponderate on the one side or the other. 
 
 What is termed circumstantial evidence depends 
 chiefly on a calculation of chances. A dozen things, 
 which might with little difficulty be accounted for sepa- 
 
ARGUMENTS. 77 
 
 rately, together form a network of proof from which 
 there is no escape. The distinct threads now draw 
 together, and, as in a cord, must be broken at once. 
 On what supposition shall they all be accounted for? 
 is the pregnant question. The chances that one solu- 
 tion should solve them all, and not be the true solution, 
 are as the chances that a key shall open a complex lock, 
 and not be the key. 
 
 In reasoning from a calculation of chances, two points 
 are of importance : that the number of cases taken be 
 so great as to include the extreme range of accident, 
 an entire cycle of chances ; and that in passing from 
 one field to another there remains a perfect agreement 
 in the known causes at work. Where these cannot be 
 readily estimated, the measurement of chances must be 
 again taken, so as to include them. The loss by fire 
 in cities must obviously be greater than in the country, 
 and in one city than in another, according to the mate- 
 rial employed in building. But the amount of these 
 differences can be ascertained only by independent cal- 
 culations. 
 
 Proof, or evidence, may be of two kinds intui- 
 tive or ration ative. The intuitive faculties are the 
 most immediate and satisfactory sources of proof. 
 The man who cannot be convinced by seeing, cannot 
 be convinced at all; nay, has lost the very use of 
 
78 PHILOSOPHY OF EHETORIC. 
 
 those faculties through which conviction comes. It 
 is no assumption to start with all that any faculty 
 testifies to. It is a most perplexing and impossible 
 form of proof to struggle to establish through argu- 
 ment what rests on the immediate insight of the 
 mind. Axioms cannot be proved save as axioms. 
 Doubt them as axioms and they are forever lost. That 
 is a most perverse rhetoric which strives to get lower 
 than the foundations. The testimony of the mind 
 should be taken, where it can be taken, without hesi- 
 tancy or distrust.' Let the mind lose trust in itself, and 
 all adroitness of argument afterward becomes, like the 
 skill of an equilibrist, of no practical value. There is 
 no conviction so deep and perfect as that which arises 
 when man's moral nature is directly appealed to, and the 
 testimony of the reason invoked. Every other witness 
 is far off, compared with conscience. 
 
 Arguments are of two kinds inductive and deductive : 
 the differences between them are radical. Inductive 
 reasoning proceeds from specific examples to a general 
 principle, inclusive of all kindred cases. Deductive 
 reasoning evolves from a general truth or principle what 
 is contained in it. In the one case, the conclusion 
 reaches beyond the premises ; in the other, it is included 
 within them. In induction the argument rests on re- 
 semblance, and springs from experience ; it passes from 
 
ARGUMENTS. 79 
 
 like to lite, from what has been to what shall be, ever 
 assuming the permanent, self-consistent character of 
 causes. In deduction the argument is a logical evolu- 
 tion of principles oftentimes wholly independent of 
 experience. Induction is never, and can never be, 
 demonstrative. There is more affirmed in the conclu- 
 sion than is given in the premises. With no insight 
 into the nature of causes, we learn their effects from 
 experience, and under its guidance anticipate similar 
 results in future, without being able to establish an 
 absolute identity, but only a more or less perfect resem- 
 blance of causes. The conviction, that the same cause 
 will ever produce the same effect, is iixiomatic, and does 
 not, when involved, destroy the demonstrative character 
 of an argument. Induction and experience fail of abso- 
 lute proof by not being able to establish identity of 
 causes, and by being constantly compelled to assume 
 this on the ground of resemblances more or less perfect. 
 Deductive evidence, on the other hand, meets the 
 conditions of a complete syllogism, is always demon- 
 strative in form, and would be so in fact, did it not 
 often start with principles resting only on induction. 
 The reasoning of mathematics is demonstrative, because 
 it unfolds what is contained in conceptions and axioms 
 clearly present to the mind. If, taught by experience, 
 we secure a distinct notion, an adequate definition, of a 
 
80 PHILOSOPHY OF RHETORIC. 
 
 force in nature, we may demonstratively unfold its 
 effects when assumed as present under given conditions. 
 This is done in mechanics, in astronomy, and proof 
 resting originally on induction becomes demonstrative 
 through the simple and defined character of the causes 
 concerned. Deduction, strictly, is always demonstrative. 
 The argument, if correct, is adequate from the given 
 premises to absolutely prove the conclusion. If any 
 doubt enters, it does not attach to the deductive process, 
 but to some of the steps preparatory to it. The syllo- 
 gism is in its perfect form demonstrative, no matter 
 what its contents. All deductive argument assumes the 
 perfect form. 
 
 Virtue and intelligence secure success. 
 A. has virtue and intelligence. 
 Therefore A. will succeed. 
 
 This is a deductive argument. Success is evolved 
 from A.'s virtue and intelligence. No doubt can enter 
 between the premises and the conclusions. The deduc- 
 tive steps are just as demonstrative as those of mathe- 
 matics. If any distrust still lingers about the conclu- 
 sion, it must arise either from the minor premise a 
 disbelief in the fact of A.'s virtue and intelligence 
 or from the major premise a doubt of the correctness 
 
ARGUMENTS. 81 
 
 of the induction, by which, from given cases, the prin- 
 ciple is established. 
 
 It is a mistake to suppose that what is sometimes 
 termed moral evidence is not, in many of its forms, 
 demonstrative. The circumstances, however, with 
 which it deals, are not often so well known or estab- 
 lished as to allow it to avail itself of this fact. In this 
 respect it is like mixed mathematics. A hypothetical 
 system of morals can readily be constructed, demon- 
 strative in all its parts. The preacher, at least, has 
 quite as often to do with deductive as with inductive 
 argument to unfold and apply what is conceded as to 
 establish principles. The lawyer and statesman, on the 
 other hand, dealing with facts, must constantly guide 
 their steps by experience, and rest their conclusions on 
 the history of the past. The process is more often the 
 establishment of a principle, or the including of a given 
 case under a principle, than the deductive unfolding of 
 the principle itself. 
 
 A chief difficulty in the reasonings which pertain to 
 ordinary life, is a want of precision in the terms em- 
 ployed. Words shift their force in the same connection, 
 contain more in the conclusion than in the premises,, 
 more for one mind than for another, and thus the argu- 
 ment staggers or sinks altogether, from the fleeting 
 character of the floating symbols on which it traverses 
 
82 PHILOSOPHY OP RHETORIC. 
 
 the tide of talk. In the proof above given, as accurate 
 as most, what precisely is meant by success, and what 
 degree of virtue and intelligence is requisite to secure 
 it? So various are the forces which oppose progress, so 
 various the power which virtue brings against them, 
 that the most which can be affirmed with absolute cer- 
 tainty is, that all degrees of virtue and intelligence favor 
 success, and that any high degree will usually secure it. 
 Life fails to be reduced to a demonstration, not from 
 the uncertainty of the connections, the dependences 
 between things,* but from our uncertain hold of the 
 things themselves. Definition is the basis of demon- 
 stration, and our ordinary notions are at masquerade, 
 because we so poorly define them. They elude us; 
 they are never themselves ; never twice alike ; and 
 have no false connections, because they have no true 
 ones. Science is little more than accuracy, than defi- 
 nition ; and where this can be reached, argument quickly 
 approaches absolute proof. In philosophical productions, 
 where the precision and justness of the thought are 
 everything, all must proceed from the most clear and 
 well-defined ideas, and the laws of thought become the 
 laws of composition. In oratory, however, the argu- 
 ment is used, not presented, and this fact gives us some 
 further principles. Truth is not furnished for its cwn 
 

 ARGUMENTS. \^C4 t 
 
 ^ "~ 
 
 sake, but proof is urged as the motive and basis of just 
 action. 
 
 A first principle, therefore, is, that proof should be 
 strictly pertinent, called for by the end in view. To 
 present arguments, however just in themselves, which 
 are not needed to bring the will into action, is at very 
 best a loss of time, and usually, therefore, a loss of 
 interest and opportunity. 
 
 To determine what is requisite in argument, we need 
 to know what we can trust to the intuitions of our audi- 
 ence. A direct appeal to their own sense of truth and 
 right is, when first principles are involved, by far the 
 most efficacious method, both because this is the appro- 
 priate proof of such principles, and because it indicates 
 our reliance on their integrity and honesty, and makes 
 them cheerful parties to the conclusion. On the other 
 hand, subtle arguments on such points are always unsat- 
 isfactory ; the auditor is thrown into a cold, critical 
 state ; and a spirit of scepticism is evoked, which will 
 not be readily laid. 
 
 We should also know what is already admitted by 
 those addressed, that on these points, if the argument 
 is treated at all, it may be in the most succinct state- 
 ment. Let it not seem, for an instant, that a question 
 encumbered with serious difficulties is to be handled at 
 a safe distance in its obvious features, with an oversight 
 
84 PHILOSOPHY OP RHETORIC. 
 
 of its more perplexed parts. The impression of bold- 
 ness, directness, and thoroughness of argument are 
 worth everything. 
 
 It is also a preliminary point of some moment to 
 determine with whom the burden of proof lies. If it 
 rests 'with one's opponent, this fact affords a just and 
 often very grave advantage. In this- case, as when one 
 defends a citadel, not to be vanquished is to vanquish. 
 After each unsuccessful assault, the holder is left in 
 more secure possession. It is a just advantage, since 
 it arises from the nature of the case. No one is called 
 on to prove innocency. The accusation of guilt must 
 be specific and well established, and it is sufficient to 
 meet it when presented. One quietly conscious of in- 
 tegrity will not be put on his defence, will not entertain 
 the necessity of proof, till the danger becomes distinct 
 and imminent. Virtue rests on a silent appeal to char- 
 acter ; guilt must be established by proof. 
 
 All that is, either as springing from nature, or from 
 the opinions of men, has in its favor the presumption 
 of right. Action and opinion, if changed rationally, 
 must be changed for a reason. Whatever a custom 
 may be, therefore, before laying it aside, or adopting 
 a new method, we justly demand an adequate motive 
 proof of its impropriety, proof of the superiority of 
 that offered in its place. Till this is given, we rightly 
 
ARGUMENTS. 85 
 
 remain where we are. However much one may be 
 haunted with a vague notion of the unreliable character 
 of the opinions which education or accident have made 
 his, he cannot wisely reject them, till, one by one, they 
 have been satisfactorily disproved. It is more rational to 
 content one's self with an old lie, an old doubt, than it is 
 to accept a new one ; since, by the supposition, we have 
 not improved our position by changing it, and have therein 
 acted without a motive. A good illustration of the 
 advantage afforded by the burden of proof resting on 
 an adversary is seen in the establishment of any reli- 
 gious form. The presumption is, that the form of any 
 action, if not explicitly defined and enjoined, is unim- 
 portant. Hence the advocates of any one form must 
 establish it, not by establishing the action itself, but by 
 the explicit enforcement of it under the given method, 
 to the exclusion of every other. 
 
 The burden of proof, like occupancy, affords an 
 advantage which ought not to be resigned unless in 
 view of easy and certain success. Once waived, and 
 the argument entered on, it cannot be readily recovered. 
 We may decline to enter the field of debate on the 
 ground that it cannot be claimed of us; but being 
 pushed, we cannot so readily retreat to the assump- 
 tion of right 
 
 Having settled what must be proved to secure rational 
 
86 PHILOSOPHY OP RHETORIC. 
 
 conviction, it remains to choose and arrange our argu- 
 ments. A chief principle here is, their careful adapta- 
 tion, in matter and manner, to the powers of the persons 
 addressed. Arguments are more often obscure through 
 the language used, than through any inherent abstruse- 
 ness of thought. The educated mind is more and more 
 removed from the popular mind in the form of its ideas 
 and their manner of expression. Terms used in a 
 technical and limited signification become not only 
 familiar to it, but the staple of its vocabulary, and its 
 ideas assume a v mode of expression so diverse from that 
 of ordinary speech as effectually to perplex the untrained 
 mind. 
 
 Whatever the subject-matter, language, illustration, 
 must have sole reference to the hearers. It cannot be 
 too familiar and easy. It must be made for them the 
 most perfect and perspicuous medium of thought. It is 
 the skill, the instinct, of the orator, that teaches him 
 where and how to find his audience. 
 
 There is also a choice in arguments. Not those most 
 conclusive, but those most convincing, are to be taken. 
 The intricacy of a deductive argument which taxea to 
 the utmost the intellect is highly unfavorable to oratory, 
 since it leaves the mind weary, prepared for rest, not 
 aroused by quick flashes of truth to earnest action. 
 Comparisons and examples, though less accurate, are 
 
ARGUMENTS. 87 
 
 much more efficacious methods of proof. The audience 
 is brought to the conclusion in the freshness of its 
 power, quickened, not taxed, by thought. 
 
 Rapidity thus becomes an important element of sue 
 cess. To dwell long on arguments, or to convince by 
 their laborious accumulation, makes the way tedious, and 
 the hearers are either exhausted by it or cease to follow 
 it. If the mind is to be set aglow, there must be quick- 
 ness of movement ; and once brought to the right point, 
 it cannot long be retained there. Strike while the iron 
 is hot, is a precept of broad application. The effort 
 to gather up the details of an argument may, by restor- 
 ing the attention to particulars, to minutia? of proof, so 
 cool the mind that it shall become less and less pliant to 
 our purpose. The exact measure of rapidity which the 
 orator should employ must depend on the power of 
 the audience. We cannot move successfully faster, 
 nor much slower, than the minds of those who listen. 
 The attention is more fixed, and a stronger effect pro- 
 duced, by a thorough treatment of a few arguments than 
 by their multiplication. The uncultivated are especially 
 impatient of protracted proof. Their opinions are 
 formed hastily by a few points well put. 
 
 Proof requires impression almost as much as matter 
 less logical. To evolve an argument, and urge it from 
 many sides till it comes to possess the mind, is most 
 
88 PHILOSOPHY OF RHETORIC. 
 
 essential. The mere statement of proof is cold and 
 barren. Conduct is not so wedded to conviction as this 
 would imply. 
 
 The arrangement of arguments must be such as to 
 secure a growth of impression. It cannot, therefore, 
 proceed from greater to less. Nor need the order be 
 exclusively that of a climax, since a growth of convictions 
 may often be secured without this. As in a sentence, 
 the earlier and later positions, those considerations which 
 first invite and last occupy the mind, are most important. 
 Attention should be commanded by the weight of the 
 proof brought forward ; and the mind should be con- 
 firmed in its convictions by an effective, final point. 
 Arguments much below the level of those adduced with 
 them, hardly add to the strength of a cause. The 
 necessity of employing them implies weakness, and 
 they are liable to weary the mind, and to render it 
 suspicious. 
 
 Arguments, of course, come early in the oration. 
 They occupy the mind while it is yet quiet, and clear 
 the way for rational feeling. No sooner is the subject 
 before the mind, than it wishes to know the ground of 
 action : to state and establish this becomes the imme- 
 diate duty of the speaker. The argumentative and 
 emotional parts of discourse are not so much distinct 
 sections, readily separable and following one the other, 
 
ARGUMENTS. 89 
 
 as interwoven members everywhere sustaining each 
 other. The feeling must begin to arise with the argu- 
 ment, and the argument can only close at the full tide 
 of feeling. The earlier movement is more exclusively 
 thoughtful, the later more strikingly impulsive; but the 
 emotion has sprung up everywhere in the track of truth, 
 and to the very end is nourished by the argument to 
 which in quick snatches of conviction it is ever return- 
 ing. Like opposite poles in the electric current, they 
 rest on each other, and coexist everywhere. 
 
 Different forms of oratory stand in different relations 
 to the argument. Pulpit oratory has more occasion to 
 enforce and apply than to establish truth; the bar is 
 chiefly occupied with the more strict processes of proof. 
 The first, with more undoubted claims, and less delayed 
 by the exigencies of argument, can bring forward more 
 confidently and quickly the stirring appeal, and press 
 onward to the immediate end of action. 
 
 Misled by this general conviction of the goodness of 
 the cause, and freed from attack, the sacred orator may 
 become less cautious of the soundness of the considera- 
 tions advanced, and commit the unpardonable error of 
 weak and puerile argument employed in the defence of 
 unmistakable truths. The cause is thus damaged by 
 those who sustain it. A more common mistake, resting 
 on the conviction of undeniable right, is the hortatory 
 
90 PHILOSOPHY OP RHETORIC. 
 
 form which discourse often assumes from the beginning 
 to the end. Now, exhortation requires a basis, if not 
 in argument, yet in presentation. Not till truth has 
 been more vividly brought before the mind, or more 
 broadly unfolded, is it prepared with any new energy to 
 espouse or obey it. Exhortation is properly the conclu- 
 sion, not the body, of discourse. There are at this 
 point two opposed errors, almost equally fatal, which 
 men fall into according to their several characteristics 
 a direct appeal without that presentation of truth which 
 gives it propriety and power ; a discussion of principles 
 without that enforcement which gives them value. It is 
 only when the body of thought is animated by fitting 
 emotion, that we have a living product ; only when the 
 will is reached through the intellect as well as the heart, 
 that man achieves progress. 
 
 As the truths which the minister enforces stand in 
 various relations, and are chosen not in reference to any 
 one mooted question, the sermon demands and receives 
 an application. The whole armament is turned upon a 
 single point, and from this concentration of aim the 
 effort receives its law, and becomes an oration 
 
 The lawyer, on the other hand, has constantly occa- 
 sion to discuss and establish the ever-doubtful conditions 
 of action, and can do nothing rightly till some basis of 
 action has been found in fact or in law. The plea, 
 
ARGUMENTS. 91 
 
 therefore, is preeminently argumentative; and as proof 
 is often difficult, it is made exhaustive, and every con- 
 sideration is thrown into the vacillating balance. Plausi- 
 bility a preparation for proof, rather than proof itself 
 here often becomes important. Events separately 
 established are to be united into a narrative, natural in 
 all its connections. The facts proved, when thus con- 
 curring, have their full force, and the way of argument 
 is made easy. When the facts are undoubted, plausi- 
 bility may be neglected ; but when all the resources of 
 proof are requisite, its strength cannot be further taxed 
 by inherent improbability. 
 
 A first consideration in treating an opponent are 
 candor and fairness, for what they are in themselves, 
 in their effect on others, and in the strength they imply. 
 Thorough knowledge and a calm confidence of success 
 beget these qualities, and these in turn become their 
 index. The irritable acrimony, the assumed contempt, 
 with which an adversary is often treated, are feeble 
 makeshifts, and evidence of a mind seeking personal 
 ends rather than truth. Conviction is often readily 
 secured by the fairness with which a real difficulty is 
 stated and removed, when it could not possibly be 
 reached by any amount of independent proof. This 
 principle is of broad application, but is possessed of 
 
92 PHILOSOPHY OF RHETORIC. 
 
 special force in legal oratory, already too much sus- 
 pected of petty devices and sharp practice. 
 
 That an opponent's arguments should be met and 
 answered at the proper time is a point of some impor- 
 tance/ To answer objections at the outset, whether 
 urged by another or known already to exist, may fre- 
 quently consume too much time, embarrass the argu- 
 ment, and be less satisfactory than when this is done in 
 connection with the just view which the speaker him- 
 self is to propose. There are cases, however, which 
 will not admit delay. The mind is so occupied by 
 difficulties as to be closed to any argument till these are 
 removed. An important rule is, when the hearer is 
 preoccupied either by the arguments of an adversary 
 or opinions of his own, these must be in a measure met, 
 preparatory to an independent presentation of opposing 
 principles. When, however, the mind is sufficiently 
 candid and open to give due weight to what is urged, 
 the most easy and complete refutation of false opinions 
 will be made in connection with an establishment of the 
 truth. It then becomes natural to mark the lines of 
 deviation which error has taken. 
 
 A common fallacy is to attach too much consequence 
 to the refutation of a single argument. As arguments 
 often stand alone, it may be a point of little moment 
 
ARGUMENTS. 93 
 
 that one has been overthrown. The eclat, howe.ver, 
 which attends a successful refutation, and the quick 
 judgment which is arrived at, that remaining consider- 
 ations are of the same character, sometimes make an 
 unimportant advantage equivalent to a complete over- 
 throw. The popular mind judges so much by retorts, 
 by the apparent relations of parties, as to render shal- 
 low adroitness in debate more than a match for awkward 
 and ponderous strength. Here is furnished another rea- 
 son why any position relatively weak should not be 
 taken, lest its overthrow prove the signal of defeat. 
 There is often a panic in discussion, as in arms. 
 
 In debate a speech does not stand in connection with 
 the subject and audience merely, but with the exigencies 
 of the instant. It becomes the part of a more inclusive 
 whole, and is alone no longer a symmetrical production. 
 It assumes the argument and passion already put forth, 
 and unites itself to the movement at the point which 
 these may have reached. Not to be able to do this 
 is to fail. 
 
 Argument, the subject now presented, is the basis of 
 permanent success. No one can long succeed, no one 
 ought to succeed without supporting the truth, and 
 without its support. Here lies the justice, and there- 
 fore the strength, of one's cause. All forms of knowl- 
 
94 PHILOSOPHY OF RHETORIC. 
 
 edge are the sources and instruments of argument. 
 It is by a broad survey of real relations alone, that 
 one can discover and maintain the truth. Ehetorical 
 culture implies all other culture, and must have it. 
 Nothing is more superficial than superficial oratory. 
 Eloquence roots itself in all knowledge, and only a 
 rich soil can yield a rank, native growth. 
 
EMOTIONS. 95 
 
 CHAPTER m. 
 
 EMOTIONS. 
 
 INTERMEDIATE between the intellect and the will, 
 in the line of action, lie the emotions. Through these, 
 desire is called forth, the will determined, and the 
 whole man set in motion. Thought becomes power 
 only by the intervention of feeling, and is judged, 
 therefore, by the orator solely in reference to the emo- 
 tions it is fitted to arouse, and the relation of these to 
 the end in view. Neither the laws of thought nor of 
 feeling alone are considered by him, but both in their 
 connections with each other and with the will. Thus 
 only can all the complex conditions of a volition, the 
 fulness and completion of mental activity, be reached. 
 Oratory is the dynamics of mind. It contemplates it 
 aroused and active, and studies the laws of the forces 
 which then control it. 
 
 A first condition of easy and perfect success in arous- 
 ing emotion is the sympathy of those who are to expe- 
 rience it with him who calls it forth. Fire is kindled 
 by fire, feeling by feeling. A cold statement of appro- 
 
96 PHILOSOPHY OF RHETORIC. 
 
 priate truths does not necessitate warmth of conviction 
 in the hearer any more than the heaping up of combus- 
 tible material secures heat. The spark of ignition must 
 come from the earnestness of the speaker. He is the 
 fountain of feeling, and looking with him at the sub- 
 ject, the audience insensibly catch his emotion. Great 
 dramatic art may show some exceptions, but the chief 
 condition on which the power of the speaker to make 
 others feel deeply will depend, is depth in his own 
 emotions. 
 
 But this feeling cannot be transferred without that 
 sympathy which removes opposition, and leaves the 
 hearer open to the subject presented. It is by con- 
 current thinking the heart is to be aroused ; and if each 
 movement is arrested by the barrier of prejudice, each 
 effort met with a counter effort, there can be no com- 
 munity of action. 
 
 The opinion which the audience entertain of the 
 speaker thus becomes an important consideration, since 
 by it the way of influence is opened or closed. It may 
 be said that justice requires that beliefs should be 
 separated from persons, and judged on their own ab- 
 stract merit. However true this may be in given 
 instances, the mass of conclusions are not so reached. 
 Persons and opinions are identified, and views are 
 greatly prejudiced or promoted by the character of those 
 
EMOTIONS. 97 
 
 who hold them. This is unavoidable, and, for the most 
 part, not undesirable. Complex questions must, in the 
 bustle of life, be settled, not always by considerations 
 truly fundamental and carefully considered, but often 
 also by superficial marks and tendencies more quickly 
 reached. Among these secondary indications of the 
 character of opinions, few are more reliable than the 
 purposes and influence of those who sustain them. One 
 can often decide by these when not able to form a well- 
 balanced opinion on the case itself. It is in vain to 
 try to rob men of this quick and generally just method 
 of judging measures. To distrust the man, and trust 
 his schemes, is too nice an equipoise of mind for 
 most purposes, or most men. The agent gives char- 
 acter to the agency, and becomes its efficient moral 
 force. 
 
 This is perfectly just so far as the person seeking to 
 exert influence is concerned. He ought to be held to a 
 rigorous account as to the method in which he has 
 hitherto employed power, the opinions he has advocated, 
 and the paths in which he has sought to lead men. 
 Virtue ought to accumulate strength, vice to lose it. 
 Benevolence ought to win favor, and selfishness to for- 
 feit it ; integrity to secure confidence, and trickery to 
 destroy it. The momentum and power of personal 
 character are a most wholesome law in the world. 
 5 G 
 
98 PHILOSOPHY OP RHETORIC. 
 
 The points at which the character of the speaker is 
 chiefly judged are intelligence and virtue. Of these 
 the last is obviously the most important. Intelligence 
 alone only increases the power to deceive ; suspicion is 
 on the alert, and will not suffer the mind to accept just 
 reasoning, lest it be found a gloss of language. A 
 distrust of one's virtue may lead to the immediate rejec- 
 tion of discourse ; of one's intelligence, to a more care- 
 ful and scrutinizing inquiry into it. In the one case, 
 the character of the speaker turns us from him; in the 
 other, draws us to him, and disposes us to give his 
 opinions honest consideration. The admiration which 
 genius excites, however, in part counteracts this ten- 
 dency, and gives an undue weight to the intellectual 
 element in character. 
 
 The relation of the speaker to a sect or party may 
 also be an occasion of prejudice against him. Partisan 
 feelings are stronger and blinder in the illiterate than in 
 the more intelligent. The one class rest their opinions 
 on conviction, and neither need nor seek any firmness 
 beyond that derived from views deliberately formed and 
 discriminatingly held. They are both able and willing 
 to canvass a subject whose bearings they understand. 
 The other class, arriving at their views largely by acci- 
 dental and external influences, steady themselves in 
 them by the superinduced obstinacy of party feeling, 
 

 [TV II 
 
 EMOTIONS. 99 
 
 ' ,c 
 
 and do not venture on discussion beyond n few familiar 
 cant phrases, conscious that their power is not here. 
 Liable, if they once give way to argument, to be blown 
 about at random, they make it a first principle of 
 honesty and honor to adhere faithfully to any party or 
 sect with which caprice or accident has identified them. 
 As change, with their limited ability to canvass all its 
 motives, would be capricious, they arm themselves 
 against it by personal and party obstinacy. They yield 
 to a first caprice, and ever after abjure it. Partisan feel- 
 ings, taking the place of deep convictions, are very strong 
 with the ignorant. Though blindly driven by old 
 leaders, they do not readily yield to new ones. When 
 these prejudices, therefore, lie in the way of the orator, 
 they require skilful treatment, lest in the outset they 
 extinguish all sympathy. 
 
 Allied to differences of party are differences of doc- 
 trine. Doctrine often assumes so settled and obdurate 
 a form as to close the mind to all opposing considera- 
 tions, and cut off the opportunity of conviction. A 
 creed made up is like a fortress with its defences, and 
 cannot be lightly approached. If it be the difficult task 
 of the orator to attack opinions and customs long estab- 
 lished, a conciliatory and adroit method is requisite to 
 obtain an honest hearing a thing most rare among 
 rare things. 
 
100 PHILOSOPHY OF RHETORIC. 
 
 The most important office of introductions is that of 
 conciliation. A favorable state of feeling is, if possi- 
 ble, to be assumed. It is one of the more offensive 
 forms of egotism to refer, at the outset, to one's personal 
 relations to the audience, when these are not prominent, 
 to assume the existence of hostile feeling, when there 
 is little or no feeling. When, however, either the 
 speaker or subject stands in an obviously unfavorable 
 light before the audience, a conciliatory introduction, 
 winning favor, or at least attention, becomes a matter 
 of great importance. A fair hearing for one's self or 
 subject may be invoked, the generosity and candor 
 of the hearer appealed to, and the motives which urge 
 to a broad and kind consideration of all the points 
 involved be pressed. 
 
 The general office of an introduction is to secure 
 concurrent sympathetic action between the speaker and 
 listener. When conciliation is not required, it may 
 still be necessary to win attention, and to lead the 
 thoughts, with some interest and expectation, to the 
 theme. In proportion as the subject is before the 
 minds of all, and has secured the interest of all, does 
 an introduction become short and unimportant, since 
 the condition of sympathetic action is already present. 
 
 The qualities in the speaker which win interest and 
 attention are frankness, earnestness, and self-control. 
 
EMOTIONS. 101 
 
 An undisguised and open method inspires confidence, 
 and assures us of the honesty of the speaker. We feel 
 that we are not to be practised upon, and may, at our 
 ease, listen to that which shall be said. Earnestness is 
 always pleasing, and especially so in the presentation of 
 opinions, as it implies confidence in them and attachment 
 to them. 
 
 No man fails to feel the power of an earnest manner. 
 There is an honesty in it which works conviction. Self- 
 control, controlled emotion, is always requisite for the 
 orator. Men are not to be driven by. wild gusts of 
 passion, but to be urged by just feelings springing from 
 correct views. The speaker occupies the position of an 
 adviser and guide, and no one can direct wisely who 
 does not perfectly govern himself. No burst of oratory 
 can, to advantage, pass the limit of perfect self-control. 
 The orator must ever command the expression, and 
 shape it strictly in view of the exigencies of the subject 
 and the occasion. It is not every theme which will 
 admit strong emotion, and misplaced eloquence is 
 bombast. The theme must be the adequate source of 
 all feeling which is employed in urging it. 
 
 Feeling, on the part of the orator, which seems to the 
 audience excessive, destroys sympathy, and produces an 
 effect quite the opposite of that intended. This may 
 arif 3 e, not only from uncontrolled passion, but also from 
 
102 PHILOSOPHY OF RHETORIC. 
 
 the too great rapidity with which the subject sometimes 
 acts on the mind of the speaker. He must not only 
 commence where the listener is, but be sure to keep 
 with him through all the discussion. When the orator 
 dissevers himself from the audience, and hastens on 
 under his own momentum, he soon becomes a spectacle 
 to idle or critical lookers-on. The increments of mo- 
 tion, as when an engine toils at its load, are often small 
 in oratory. Precipitation then becomes disruption and 
 failure. In brief, sympathy that is, unity of action 
 must both be secured and maintained : when this is 
 lost, success becomes impossible 
 
 Aside from the direct relations of the speaker, sub- 
 ject, and audience, sympathy may be increased by many 
 incidental methods. The circumstances of the occasion, 
 the imagery and language employed, associated inci- 
 dents, may furnish means by which to arouse and har- 
 monize the feelings. Quick insight, delicate apprecia- 
 tion, and ready resources must belong to the orator, that 
 he may at once apprehend the exigencies of the case. 
 He must first measure, and then meet, the moral state 
 in and on which he is to work; and the most trifling 
 expedients, when prompted by the sagacity of a quick 
 sympathy, may prepare the way for success. All speak- 
 ing, all personal influence, is a strife between different and 
 adverse states of mind as to which shall overcome and 
 
EMOTIONS. 103 
 
 displace the other. The apathy of the audience may 
 overpower the speaker, or the animation of the speaker 
 may arouse the audience : the first result is dulness ; the 
 second, eloquence. To establish at any related point a 
 oneness of interest and thought, is a preparation for 
 success. 
 
 The harmony of mental action, of which we have 
 spoken, is not less necessary for the pleasurable and 
 powerful movement of the mind of the speaker than for 
 the right reception of what is said. While the orator is 
 the source of influence, he is also the recipient of influ- 
 ence. The audience speedily begin to react upon him, 
 and the processes of thought commenced, the emotion 
 aroused, can only be sustained and completed when he, 
 in full sympathy with those addressed, feels the im- 
 pulse of concurrent sentiment, the strength of growing 
 emotion and deepening conviction. Nothing is more 
 destructive of mental effort than the inattention and 
 indifference of those for whom it is instituted. The 
 inspiration of thought is its effectiveness. Sympathy 
 does not so much imply the absolute acquiescence of 
 all in the views advanced as the attention and interest 
 of all a simultaneous movement of all minds under 
 the direction of one toward a single object. 
 
 When we remember that the oration is not simply an 
 argument, a logical process, but a product filled with 
 
104 PHILOSOPHY OF RHETORIC. 
 
 vitality, through the vitality of the speaker, a weighing 
 out in overwhelming counterpoise the enthusiasm and 
 convictions of his soul against the indifference and unbe- 
 lief of others, we see at once how great and exhausting 
 is the effort, how the whole man is taxed in the struggle, 
 and the more taxed as the audience becomes larger and 
 the oratory complete. 
 
 Sympathy with the mental movements of the orator, by 
 which he is made the medium through which the subject 
 is viewed and felt, we have shown to be the condition of 
 all emotion. The feelings to be aroused, and the methods 
 by which they are excited, demand further attention. 
 
 The emotions have sometimes been divided with 
 respect to their relation to action into three classes : those 
 which excite effort, those which restrain it, and those 
 indifferent to it. This is not a permanent division, since 
 the same emotion under different circumstances, may be- 
 long to each of the classes. Fear, ordinarily used to 
 restrain action, may almost as readily call it forth, or 
 simply leave the mind apprehensive without any explicit 
 determination. There is, however, this difference in the 
 emotions aroused by oratory compared with those elicited 
 by poetry, that the former, for the time being, have con- 
 nection with some definite action, either tending to secure 
 or restrain it ; while the latter either occupy the mind with- 
 out directing it, or exert a general influence not determined 
 
EMOTIONS. 105 
 
 toward any single effort. This determination of feeling 
 toward a definite action is oratorical. 
 
 The emotions constitutionally strongest in man are 
 the affections which arise in connection with his moral 
 nature. Through these, he is most deeply and justly 
 influenced, and to know how to move them becomes the 
 secret of benign and permanent persuasion. Closely 
 allied with the moral sympathies as motives of action 
 are the tastes. 
 
 A second more constantly and immediately operative 
 class of feelings are those of self-interest. As they are 
 not in themselves wrong, and only become so through 
 that perverted or excessive action by which they lapse 
 into passion, they also afford a constant means of per- 
 suasion. Neither at this nor at any other legitimate 
 point does influence trench on the liberty of man. The 
 whole career of a rational being is one of giving and 
 receiving influence. Almost every movement of man 
 among his fellows is one of persuasion, of inducements 
 offered or taken, of example set for others or received 
 from them, of custom current by common enforcement, 
 of words spoken or heard. Liberty is not liberty from 
 influence, but the liberty to be influenced by the most 
 numerous and various considerations. 
 
 A third class of feelings through which conduct is, 
 unfortunately too often, affected, are those arising from a 
 5* 
 
106 PHILOSOPHY OF RHETORIC. 
 
 direct appeal to appetite and passion. To persuasion 
 accomplished by these forces we cannot accord the title 
 of eloquence, at least so far as it violates the law of just 
 influence, and binds the man by base means to a base 
 purpose. Oratory has nothing to do with this class of 
 motives save to reprobate them, as resulting in that 
 debasement of mind which must ultimately sweep away 
 all higher inducements and forms of action. 
 
 The sources of influence are, then, the affections, the 
 tastes, and interests of men. If we are correct in 
 affirming, that, constitutionally, right is the supreme 
 law enthroned in every man, the moral affections become 
 the soundest, safest means of persuasion. When the 
 effective motive really relied on is self-interest, it does 
 not follow that more noble considerations may be safely 
 overlooked. When convinced that action is right, men 
 will push farther and more boldly in it, though this fact 
 be with them only an ostensible motive covering a more 
 selfish impulse. It is the duty and advantage of the 
 orator to furnish the best motives, though they may 
 not be found solely the efficacious ones. If the greater 
 may not exclude the less, certainly the less may not 
 lead to an oversight of the greater. The oftener and 
 bolder the appeal to that which is highest in man, the 
 firmer and more legitimate is the influence established. 
 When the question is one of interest, with no obvioua 
 
EMOTIONS. 107 
 
 moral relation, while the discussion should conform 
 to the fact, oratory is greatly restricted by it. The 
 canon, that the good man alone is the orator, has been 
 so often recognized by rhetoricians because of the supe- 
 rior hold which virtue gives to those motives and emo- 
 tions by which, under a divine ordinance in man's 
 nature, truth and right are carried from mind to mind. 
 He who has no hold on the conscience must work uncer- 
 tainly toward transient and superficial ends. While not 
 in form accepting the assertion that eloquence is virtue, 
 we would say, that it derives its life from virtue. 
 
 x 
 
 The purpose and circumstances of the oration must 
 define the emotions called for, and the question then 
 becomes important, How shall these be secured? Feel- 
 ing springs up in view of certain objects or truths fitted 
 to call it forth, and it is, therefore, a first labor to pre- 
 sent and establish these. This is the province of argu- 
 ment, already spoken of, and the soundness of this is 
 the occasion and justification of the emotions excited. 
 The mind is most deeply moved by truth. Fiction acts, 
 indeed, strongly on the feelings, yet, in part, because 
 the absorption of the mind in the narrative leads it to 
 overlook its unreality, and to accept its creations as real 
 personages. When we wish to quiet the emotion ex- 
 cited, it is done by reverting to the fact of the fictitious 
 character of the events. Plausibility, naturalness, and 
 
108 PHILOSOPHY OF RHETORIC. 
 
 adhesion to the truth of character and relations the 
 most weighty of all truths justly give the novel a hold 
 on the heart. This, in the rightly-governed mind, is it? 
 only hold. The feeling aroused by fiction is not that of 
 oratory, and chiefly because the subject matter lack? 
 that entire truth which belongs to the latter. The 
 novel usually gives no definite direction to the emotion 
 it excites, and thereby enervates the voluntary and 
 active powers. Oratory, resting on naked truth, calls 
 the whole nature into use, and thus invigorates it. 
 Suitable facts and principles, those which involve the 
 action proposed, are the first and indispensable steps 
 toward complete and permanent conversion to our 
 purpose. 
 
 Among the many opinions received and doctrines 
 conceded, comparatively few are constantly operative on 
 conduct. To secure this obedience, there must be a 
 clearness of apprehension and depth of conviction which 
 belong only to a few familiar and governing principles. 
 It is chiefly for this reason that persuasion becomes 
 requisite. Truths are to be restated and reestablished, 
 their consequences traced, their relation to present action 
 seen, and the fearful force with which they shape events 
 impressed on the mind. It is thus that the chasm be- 
 tween knowing and doing is filled. Facts and prin- 
 ciples are first proved, and then enforced by a survey 
 
EMOTIONS. 109 
 
 of their relation to ourselves, to the events and persons 
 about us, to the future in its more immediate and 
 remote events. The action proposed is shown to spring 
 from the case in hand, and to be of importance. 
 
 Exhortation to feeling, which does not supply these 
 its conditions, harasses and wearies the mind, and leaves 
 it more dead than ever. The vividness of ideas is 
 largely dependent on the imagination. Of this we shall 
 speak at a later point. Much oratorical effort has for 
 its aim to attach the ideas under consideration to those 
 most familiar and operative in the minds of the audi- 
 ence, and thus arouse concerning them that feeling 
 which secures action. 
 
 Here we see the gradual growth in pathos as the 
 speaker proceeds. The earlier steps are more coldly 
 logical, a truth is presented or established. As the 
 thoughts begin to be occupied with it, it arouses interest, 
 and works conviction. The importance of its relations 
 is then unfolded; it is made in familiar imagery to 
 stand out as a governing principle in conduct, affecting 
 daily and dear interests. Its immediate claims on con- 
 duct are urged, and, according to the homely and 
 emphatic expression, the truth is brought home to the 
 heart ; and this is oratory. That which was not in the 
 mind, or lay on its very margin, is brought into its 
 immediate presence, and made, like the work of the 
 
110 PHILOSOPHY OF RHETORIC. 
 
 painter, to fill the canvas, to stand distinctly and warmly 
 out, in glowing colors. 
 
 A law of progress is thus established. The per- 
 suasive force steadily increases, till, in the conclusion, 
 it is all gathered up, and applied to the purpose in 
 hand. The movement of feeling is not precipitate or 
 fitful, but well ordered and efficient, sustained by truth, 
 and itself giving vitality to the truth. The growth 
 of emotion, with and out of argument, gives it the 
 needed validity and power, and renders it in full force 
 at the moment when it is to be employed, when the 
 mind passes from contemplation into action. 
 
 When a weighty impression has been produced, as by 
 an advocate, it may become the inquiry, How shall this 
 be so far removed that the minds of the jury may 
 return to a candid rejudgment of the topic ? Unfavor- 
 able feeling may be displaced directly or indirectly. It 
 is directly displaced by overthrowing the foundations of 
 proof on which it rests ; or, assenting to the genera] 
 truth of the statements, by pointing out the untrue or 
 extravagant consequences which have been deduced from 
 them, and that conclusions quite the reverse logically 
 follow ; or by showing that the subject is unimportant, 
 meriting no immediate attention. Feeling is thus 
 allayed by reversing the steps by which it has been 
 aroused. It may sometimes, however, be so intense as 
 
 
EMOTIONS. Ill 
 
 not to suffer this immediate and direct method. Time 
 must be given for it somewhat to abate. The mind 
 must be diverted to matter relatively indifferent, till, 
 reverting to its ordinary state, it may again be occu- 
 pied with a fair discussion of the theme. The mind is 
 occasionally more readily vacated by considerations not 
 wholly pertinent, than by those which call forth its 
 opposition. 
 
 There are two processes of mind which are especially 
 liable to interfere with securing and directing emotion. 
 These are the logical and imaginative. The first, 
 becoming too severe and pervasive, makes a sound, but 
 often a very dull and ineffective speaker. The product 
 is not sufficiently vital. The method is too coolly ana- 
 lytic, too cruelly anatomical, and, while those who 
 choose to attend are instructed, attention and action are 
 not necessitated. The heart needs to be more deeply 
 moved claims a larger part in the presentation. 
 
 The imagination may also escape control, and cease 
 to serve the ends of the orator. In this case, attention 
 is usually gained, but no practical bent given to the 
 thoughts. Interest is secured, but not action. This is 
 liable to be the error of an orator too eager for success, 
 and not sufficiently occupied with the subject. 
 
 Much popular speaking is faulty in this direction, and 
 relatively valueless for moral and social ends. A strong 
 
112 PHILOSOPHY OF RHETORIC. 
 
 desire to reach fully the given end is the great protec- 
 tion of the orator. This necessity makes the advocate 
 explicit and plain in what he says. When the speaker 
 must succeed or the failure become palpable and great, 
 he has that which keeps him steadily in the one line of 
 effort: he neither leaves the feelings dormant, nor 
 arouses them to waste them. 
 
IMAGINATION AND MEMORY. 113 
 
 CHAPTER IV. 
 
 IMAGINATION AND MEMORY. 
 
 AMONG the instrumental faculties there are two which 
 the orator has constant occasion skilfully to employ 
 imagination and memory. For carrying on the pro- 
 cesses of thought, these faculties are fundamental. 
 That the mind should have power to retain and present 
 to itself its conceptions is essential to all movement and 
 clearness of thought. While, therefore, the imagina- 
 tion and memory are not active for their own sakes, 
 their action is requisite for all the ulterior ends of think- 
 ing and feeling. 
 
 Imagination is more frequently employed to denote 
 the power by which, through memory, we restore sen- 
 sible phenomena, more especially those of vision, to 
 the mind; or by which we construct images under 
 kindred forms, subject to desire. That use of the term 
 in which it designates, the presentation by the mind to 
 itself of material under any form of experience, is less 
 general and less immediately applicable to oratory. 
 
114 PHILOSOPHY OF RHETORIC. 
 
 The vividness and force of composition must depend 
 largely on the skilful use of imagination. 
 
 Sensible objects are most immediate and strong in 
 their hold on the mind. Our senses are a first, con- 
 stant, and undoubted source of knowledge. Value and 
 pleasure early and chiefly attach themselves to sensible 
 objects : around these the associations of life cluster. 
 Hence no form of knowledge is so full and determinate, 
 so immediate in its hold on the mind, as that received 
 through the senses. There is an effort constantly made 
 to present all tbe difficult matter of science through 
 diagrams, models, experiments, and specimens ; since 
 anything offered to the eye is thought of more avail 
 than the most comprehensive description. That an 
 orrery should become a medium of apprehending the 
 solar system is a striking fact, showing with how short 
 and weak a staff the mind sustains its steps. 
 
 A direct appeal to the senses is seldom open to the 
 orator. He may sometimes recall the pictures of mem- 
 ory, and stir the mind powerfully through the image of 
 vanished events ; but even this opportunity is of rare 
 occurrence. His chief resources in removing the truth 
 from its abstract relations, in bringing it near to the 
 mind, are illustration and resemblance instances of 
 the action of the principle in hand, a kindred relation 
 of things in other departments. In these the orator 
 
IMAGINATION AND MEMORY. 
 
 aims chiefly at the clearness and vivacity which they im- 
 part, and needs therefore to draw his imagery with apt 
 and close agreement from departments most interesting 
 to the audience. The comparison seeks to avail itself 
 of familiar facts to flash light on those less known or 
 heeded. The torch is taken from the very hand of the 
 spectator, and its blaze cast upon the object. The 
 images of the imagination, therefore, must not merely 
 be in themselves striking and illustrative, but must 
 he drawn from facts which already have hold on the 
 mind of the listener. Intimate knowledge of the habits 
 of feeling belonging to the classes addressed is requisite 
 to give the imagination high power. 
 
 It is the vividness of the ideas presented which arouses 
 emotion, and thus carries over conviction into persuasion. 
 Hence it is that the imagination plays so important a 
 part in oratory. Truth comes forth from its systematic 
 and logical connections, shows itself operative in the 
 events about us, and establishes its claim on action by 
 its harmony with facts, and by the many instances in 
 which it has already proved effective. The mind sees it 
 and presents it, not chiefly as a principle, but as a law 
 controlling the phenomena of the world. Enforcing 
 this view, and transferring the mind from speculations to 
 facts, many instances crowd themselves upon the imagi- 
 nation. The nearer these are to the daily experience of 
 
116 PHILOSOPHY OF RHETORIC. 
 
 men, the more necessarily and successfully is the topic 
 urged on their attention. 
 
 It is emotion in the speaker which arouses the imagi- 
 nation and fills the mind with imagery : thought can 
 thus no longer proceed in naked statements, but at once 
 seeks enforcement by a retinue of illustrative events. 
 The imagination may not only be cultivated, but prac- 
 tically directed to oratorical ends by cherishing the ten- 
 dency to observe the resemblances between moral and 
 physical things. The world is an inexhaustible store- 
 house of images, and the mind that directs its attention 
 to them will be more and more able to discover 
 them. Since it is not sufficient, however, that the 
 image in itself be perfect, but it must also be open to 
 those addressed, a sympathy with men, with those to be 
 immediately influenced, is indispensable to give to truth 
 and its illustrations that pertinence and precision which 
 impart to them their power. The ministry are more 
 open to failure here than other classes of speakers, since, 
 by their pursuits, they are liable to be more removed 
 from men, and since their failures are disguised from 
 them by the often remote and intangible character of the 
 results expected. A definite end, pressing the mind and 
 heart, is a great security to oratory. If all that is 
 empty and worthless instantly shows itself to be so, the 
 rebuke secures the remedy. 
 
IMAGINATION AND MEMORY. 117 
 
 While the vividness of the impression made by the 
 orator depends largely on the imagination, its perma- 
 nence is due to its hold on the memory. A vivid 
 impression does of itself tend, indeed, to permanence; 
 yet there are other distinct considerations. An oration 
 that pays no heed to the memory, that seeks neither to 
 make perfect nor easy the performance of its duty, may 
 be forcible for the moment, may have striking points, 
 which may linger in the mind, but cannot unite to secure 
 a single and permanent effect. The mind does not 
 readily recall it, and thus cannot contemplate it as a 
 single effort, strengthened by all its parts, and resting 
 upon them all. The joint power, which should be the 
 chief power, of the oration is largely lost without the 
 free action of the memory. 
 
 The memory recalls objects by a variety of relations, 
 but always proceeds on some definite connection. We 
 may restore in memory the persons at any time present 
 in an assembly by the order in which they were seated, 
 by the time of their entrance, or by the part which they 
 took in the proceedings. The connections of place, 
 time, resemblance, cause and effect, dependence, are 
 among the leading ones employed by memory. The 
 more perfect and complete the relation, the more readily 
 does memory, by means of it, bind the parts together. 
 A close logical connection of members in a whole, of 
 
118 PHILOSOPHY OF RHETORIC. 
 
 reasons and conclusions, gives this faculty the greatest 
 ease of movement. Any relation, however, which 
 makes of the treatment a chain of linked ideas, will 
 impart ease and certainty to the mind in traversing it, 
 and compactness and power to the impression. This 
 accumulative power of memory, closely allied to logi- 
 cal force, must be secured in all thorough and diffi- 
 cult work. 
 
WIT. HUMOR, AND RIDICULE. 119 
 
 CHAPTER V. 
 
 WIT, HUMOR, AND RIDICULE. 
 
 COMPOSITION finds among its occasional means, wit, 
 humor, and ridicule. The best definitions of wit and 
 humor are those furnished by Sydney Smith. Wit is 
 eliciting surprise by an unexpected association of 
 ideas ; humor is eliciting surprise by an unexpected 
 association of things. Surprise and ideas are the im- 
 portant words in the first ; surprise and things in the 
 second definition. If any stronger feeling than surprise 
 is aroused, the wit or the humor disappears. If the 
 witticism is profane, to the religious mind it loses its 
 force. Thus a truly noble object cannot be made the 
 subject of degrading wit, while pretentious greatness at 
 once becomes its butt. The dandy slipping into the 
 ditch is a humorous object, but fracturing his limb, be 
 becomes an object of pity. 
 
 Wit is distinguished from humor by pertaining to 
 ideas rather than to persons or things. Wit thus is 
 more transient, spends itself in sudden sallies, while 
 humor is more continuous, follows the narrative in its 
 
120 PHILOSOPHY OP RHETORIC. 
 
 events, and mates up the comedy of life. Wit is more 
 cutting and brilliant, humor more mild and pleasing ; 
 wit more admirable, humor more laughable ; wit more 
 to be feared, humor more to be loved. 
 
 Campbell has said, with but partial truth, that char- 
 acter alone is the appropriate subject of humor, and that 
 it always occasions contempt. Man, having more char- 
 acter than the objects around him, can present more 
 striking incongruities. Yet Rosinante was scarcely less 
 an object of humor than his master. That contempt is 
 not always inspired by humor is shown in the fact, that 
 we so often strive to give this turn to the narrative of 
 our own adventures. Yet humor, like good nature, 
 seems to be thought a little incompatible with the 
 highest dignity. 
 
 The resemblance of ideas in ~wit differs from that in 
 comparison in extent. In the last case, the more com- 
 plete and perfect the agreement the better ; in the for- 
 mer, similarity at one point should be attended with 
 striking diversity at all others. It is this unexpected 
 union and quick recoil of ideas that please the mind. 
 A pun is an agreement in sound with different mean- 
 ings. The mind is instantly foiled in the natural com- 
 pletion of its work. N 
 
 The justice of the above definitions is seen in the 
 fact that wit so soon becomes stale. Surprise quickly 
 
WIT, HUMOR, AND RIDICULE. 121 
 
 disappears, and then the connection no longer pleases 
 us. So, too, retort has always the advantage over 
 attack, since the latter suffers premeditation, the former 
 does not. The suddenness and aptness of the junction 
 enhance the surprise, and a witticism of equal intrinsic 
 merit given in reply secures the victory. These defini- 
 tions also explain our admiration of wit. It seems to 
 indicate great quickness and breadth of thought, that 
 slight connections in so diverse and remote objects 
 should at once be seen. 
 
 The habit of mind, however, which wit cherishes, is 
 obviously not desirable. Wit turns on secondary and 
 trifling relations, not on fundamental agreements. The 
 more philosophical our habits of observation, the more 
 carefully and constantly we note important resem- 
 blances, the less shall we mark or treasure the trivial 
 connections of wit. The movement of mind from 
 which wit springs is opposed both to thorough and 
 serious reflection, and ought not, therefore, to become 
 habitual. 
 
 Nor is wit desirable as a constant accompaniment of 
 composition or of conversation. The train of thought 
 is too much diverted and interrupted by it. Take, for 
 instance, the habit of punning. The pun demands a 
 separate consideration of mere verbal relations. The 
 thread of discourse is for the instant broken, and the 
 6 
 
122 PHILOSOPHY OF KHETORIC. 
 
 mind requires time to rally and reunite it. Let diver- 
 sion of this sort recur several times, and the interest 
 and attention due to the cardinal point are lost, and the 
 main topic is abandoned amid the percussion of small 
 wit. Undoubtedly, even the most serious discourse 
 can, in the hands of a master, indulge occasional humor 
 without detriment ; but more frequently laughter is 
 secured at the cost of conviction. 
 
 Another undesirable result of wit, when constantly 
 employed, is the insatiable demand to which it gives rise. 
 Men love to laugh better than to think ; and the moment 
 they find one who can indulge them in this respect, they 
 require a constant exhibition of his power, and transform 
 him, as far as possible, into a public buffoon. Great 
 earnestness and strength of purpose are required to 
 resist this tendency. The power is rare and exceed- 
 ingly attractive, and flattering in the immediate popu- 
 larity it confers. One who possesses it is strongly 
 tempted to indulge it on all occasions, more and more 
 to rely upon it, and thus ultimately becomes a cracker 
 of jokes. 
 
 Notwithstanding these their dangers, wit and humor 
 may subserve an important purpose. One can, indeed, 
 succeed perfectly without them, but can succeed a little 
 more readily with them. To awaken interest, quicken 
 the flagging attention, relieve protracted debate, aid an 
 
WIT, HUMOR, AND RIDICULE. 123 
 
 unpopular theme, parry assault, carry home to the ob- 
 tusest mind an argument, and afford a decent retreat or 
 brilliant exit, wit is most efficient. 
 
 Ridicule is wit and humor used to influence opinion. 
 This they can only do against the person who is their 
 object. Placed in an unfavorable and humorous light, 
 feelings of contempt or aversion are aroused toward 
 him. Ridicule is a legitimate weapon when employed 
 against absurdities and follies. The first cannot be 
 exposed by argument, lying already quite beyond it. 
 They can only be met by pointing out the ridiculous 
 figure they make when viewed in the light of reason. 
 The second are mere idiosyncrasies, arising by accident, 
 half unconsciously. They are treated, therefore, by ex- 
 posure rather than by reproof. A counterpoise to the 
 force of habit is found in the ridicule to which they 
 subject us. 
 
 Errors and faults, on the other hand, deserve and 
 require in the outset more grave treatment, to be cor- 
 rected by argument and reproof. Truth and right 
 afford for these the just correction. When this- remedy, 
 however, has proved in whole or in part unavailing, 
 they also may be lashed with ridicule. Public contempt 
 drives men from positions which they will not yield 
 to argument. 
 
 The form of composition set apart to ridicule is satire 
 
124 PHILOSOPHY OF RHETORIC. 
 
 This alone is not very efficacious in reaching its end. 
 An age will laugh with its satirists, and yet burn its 
 reformers. There is in ridicule alone too much of mere 
 good-natured humor, or of personal pique and misan- 
 thropy, greatly to disturb men. It requires settled 
 benevolence, wisely, steadily, thoroughly pursuing a 
 reformatory end, to arouse all their hate. Satire, as a 
 secondary instrument, used with forbearance and love, or 
 applied to the incorrigible enemies of truth, may serve a 
 purpose. Irony is disguised ridicule, an expression 
 whose meaning is the reverse of what it seems. 
 
LAWS OP LANGUAGE. 125 
 
 CHAPTER VI. 
 
 LAWS OF LANGUAGE. 
 
 WE now come to speak of means somewhat more 
 external, somewhat less of the very essence and sub- 
 stance of discourse. 
 
 In composition, the material in which the product is 
 wrought is language. The skilful and correct use of 
 language, therefore, becomes indispensable to success 
 in all forms of literary effort. We are not, however, 
 to look on language as a means to be mechanically 
 employed in expressing a thought already realized. 
 The connection between thought and language is 
 much more intimate and vital than this would imply. 
 Thought is not only lodged and retained in language, 
 its very existence and form are closely connected with 
 language. While thinking, as a constructive power, 
 precedes language, it none the less advances by means of 
 language, as life by its organs. Ideas are separated and 
 held fast in connection with the words and sentences that 
 express them. Thinking is the union in propositions 
 of definite conceptions previously fixed in words. Every 
 
126 PHILOSOPHY OP RHETORIC. 
 
 step in limitation and definition is a step in language. 
 The separated idea is defined and retained in its limits 
 by a word, and every movement of thought originates 
 or employs a word. The word and idea measure each 
 other. The word is not more nor less accurate than the 
 idea, but is exactly what the idea has made it. Its 
 very birth was in the idea which it measures and 
 expresses. This is strictly true when the word is con- 
 sidered as belonging to the individual mind which uses 
 it; but when the same word is employed by many, it 
 then comes to have a more or less well-defined meaning, 
 which the individual thought finds and accepts, rather 
 than establishes. Words are the footprints of the mind ; 
 and though in a given case measured in their signifi- 
 cance by the person who employs them, like footprints 
 they are to mark the way for others, and assume a fixed 
 position and outline in the progress of thought, which 
 those travelling after hit more or less accurately. 
 
 While, therefore, language is instrumental in the 
 mind's action, it is an instrument which becomes the 
 measure of the thought, and the constant organ of the 
 power whose product it is. Language and thought 
 coexist in mutual dependence the form and substance 
 of one thing. 
 
 Language is also the storehouse of knowledge, and 
 this not merely, or chiefly, as arranged in definite lit- 
 
LAWS OF LANGUAGE. 127 
 
 erary productions, but in its words, and in the marks 
 left upon these of the labors they have performed, and 
 the changes they have suffered, in the service of thought. 
 
 The generalizations, the distinct conceptions, the dis- 
 covered and defined ideas, forces, and laws of science, 
 are expressed in appropriate terms ; and to apprehend 
 these in their present and past use, is to possess the 
 history of science, and all its rallying points. Were it 
 not that mental acquisitions could be thus readily and 
 securely lodged in language, the mind could make but 
 little progress. Its utmost strength would soon be 
 demanded to hold in steady view the truths already 
 realized. The thought already put forth within a given 
 language, and treasured by the words of that language, 
 measures the available power and advantage at once 
 presented to every mind which uses it as the medium of 
 its thinking. Men who employ different languages are 
 possessed of very diverse facilities for accurate inquiry, 
 and have very different amounts of labor rendered to 
 their hand. The starting point of thought is given by 
 language, and with the ideas already defined therein the 
 mind proceeds in its work of distinction and discovery. 
 
 From the relation of language to thought it will be 
 seen at once that it cannot be stationary. It must share 
 the fortunes and express the changes of intellectual 
 action so long as it remains speech, a vehicle of 
 
128 PHILOSOPHY OF RHETORIC. 
 
 living thought. It may, by circumstances, be thrown out 
 of the current of human action, and as a dead language 
 remain relatively unchanged, subject chiefly to the decay 
 of time. But so long as language is used, it must be 
 modified by the exigencies of use, and be impressed by all 
 the changes of the mental life of the nation whose it is. 
 
 These changes of language are usually spoken of as its 
 growth. They are allied to growth in this that they 
 take place, not by forces external to the mind, but 
 through the varying phases of intellectual life, the vital- 
 izing principle of speech. They are the result of a 
 living power acting on its own organs, and shaping 
 them to its modified use. These modifications are also 
 allied to growth in the fact that they are unconscious. 
 The current of thought, in changing, changes its banks. 
 It does not purpose to change under a conscious recog- 
 nition of its own exigencies, but the exigency itself 
 determines the change, and is brought to light in it. 
 All the forces that act upon character act upon lan- 
 guage, and act on language through character. This 
 is true of speech when left to itself within its own 
 national bounds. When violently acted on by a foreign 
 tongue, the changes become more deep and radical, the 
 life of language developing itself under new and arbi- 
 trary conditions. 
 
 The leading constituents of a language are its vocab- 
 
LAWS OP LANGUAGE. 129 
 
 ulary and its grammar : it is the last that chiefly gives 
 character to and defines it. 
 
 The appearance of grammatical laws, of a system of 
 grammatical construction, marks the birth of a lan- 
 guage ; any great modification of these, its decay. 
 Only slight and secondary remodellings of this frame- 
 work of speech are to be looked for in its historical 
 periods. Not till the laws of grammar are settled is 
 there any language, any system and method ; and these 
 established, the instinct of self-preservation secures 
 their careful observance, lest speech again lose its 
 ground, and slip into disorder. Grammar is the 
 emerging of method, of order, and all further change 
 is the slighter movements of completion. 
 
 The period of bold changes is half anarchical, and is 
 soon brought to an end by the strongest tendencies 
 which it itself develops. 
 
 The changes which longest perplex grammar, and most 
 disguise it, are phonetic. Phonetic changes, arising 
 from the coalescence of two words, or of a root and 
 final syllable, are the source ot its terminations ; and 
 these, forever on the tongue, are further clipped, till little 
 of their former semblance remains. The reduction of 
 terminations to their smoothest, easiest forms is as inev- 
 itable as the process which wears the pebble round. 
 
 The changes of words, on the other hand, are great 
 6* I 
 
130 PHILOSOPHY OF RHETORIC. 
 
 and constant, accompanying language in all stages. 
 These are the reception of new words, the loss of old 
 words, and a modification in the meaning of words. 
 
 It is evident, that in the progress of a nation, and 
 consequent changes of its social life, there must be 
 constant occasion for new words. The vocabulary, 
 therefore, ever enlarges itself, now on this side, now on 
 that, now slowly, now rapidly, according as one or 
 another spirit prevails with the people. Here, from the 
 nature of the case, there can be no limit. But all old 
 words do not retain their ground ; some are displaced 
 by better words, some by new words, and others, for an 
 unrendered reason, drop off the dead leaves of a past 
 season. 
 
 An equally serious and constant change is in the 
 meaning of words. There is a tendency by which these 
 become less specific and more general. A word applied 
 to a given object or operation passes beyond this first 
 use to objects or operations closely allied to it, till, 
 creeping from meaning to meaning, it becomes a 
 general instead of a specific term, or performs a dozen 
 distinct offices. Words, like kings, overpass their pre- 
 rogatives. This is especially true in popular speech. 
 Philosophy struggles to counteract this tendency,, and to 
 bring back words to a more precise office. This accu- 
 racy of thought gives to its language a technical char- 
 
LAWS OF LANGUAGE. 131 
 
 acter. The mediums of popular and philosophical 
 thought separate themselves more and more, owing to 
 these tendencies, on the one hand, to lose the specific in 
 the general, and, on the other, to restore the specific, 
 under more accurate conceptions, with new definitions. 
 
 Closely allied to this enlargement of words is that 
 tendency by which language becomes less figurative and 
 more literal. The name of one object applied to a sec- 
 ond, on the ground of some connection, at first presents 
 both objects and the bond between them. By repeated 
 use, however, the mind at length as readily associates 
 the term with the second as with the first object, and 
 the fact and grounfl of the transfer are overlooked. The 
 word has ceased to be a trope. Poetry is thus forever 
 losing its language, and is forced to restore its imagery 
 by a new and bold application of terms. It thus 
 shares and greatly intensifies the popular tendency, and 
 makes the poetic use of language strikingly opposed to 
 its philosophic use. It is not strange, then, that the very 
 laws of language relax themselves in poetry, and give it 
 an easier rein than prose. The philosopher and the 
 poet stand at the two extremes in the play of language, 
 while the orator occupies intermediate ground, with the 
 right to move in either direction. 
 
 According to the prevalence of one or other of these 
 counter tendencies, either to more careful analysis and 
 
132 PHILOSOPHY OF KHETOEIC. 
 
 limitation in the use of words, or to their wider application 
 on the ground of remote and superficial connections, lan- 
 guage becomes clear and vigorous, or loose and nerveless. 
 
 Eestraint and rule in popular and poetic speech even 
 are the condition of permanent vigor and vividness. All 
 the light that is struck out of language by lawless lib- 
 erty is sure to lapse into deeper darkness. A flashy 
 use of words becomes, like a spent fashion, least of all 
 impressive. It not unfrequently happens that definite- 
 ness is restored to a word by its exclusive use in a later 
 meaning. The last duty performed by it, becoming the 
 more important, draws it wholly away from its first 
 office. There is thus a change witftout any necessary 
 enlargement or restriction of meaning. 
 
 The meaning of words is also constantly modified by 
 changes in that to which they are applied, or in our 
 conception of it. The terms employed in philosophy 
 and religion are an illustration of the latter case, and 
 aany of those used in morals of the former. A writer 
 ;>n mental science cannot be perfectly understood till 
 we know from what school of philosophy his language 
 comes. Yet more marked is this in the case of religion. 
 The words of any faith can, in their religious import, 
 be apprehended only by the interpretation of that faith 
 itself. Words applied to persons, to social and moral 
 qualities, will lose and gain rank according to the char- 
 
LAWS OF LANGUAGE. 133 
 
 acter of those who receive them. Though the term of 
 praise or censure may for a little affect the man, he, as 
 the stronger of the two, soon comes to impart to it his 
 own character. The Puritan and the Methodist brought 
 up these appellatives in the dignity of language to the 
 point to which they themselves had ascended in the 
 scale of worth. 
 
 The changes to which language is subject are more 
 violent and less homogeneous when it is exposed to for- 
 eign influence, and built up as a composite fabric, than 
 when developed chiefly from its own roots, and in com- 
 pletion of its own laws. The ease and boldness, also, 
 with which modifications are made, are much greater in 
 the earlier than in the later history of a language, 
 while it remains speech than after it has become the 
 vehicle of literature. The laws of language, as its 
 structure grows, tend to greater authority and rigor; 
 any departure from them is much more easily and gen- 
 erally observed when made permanent to the eye in 
 print, than when left to the detection of the ear amid 
 the careless and slipping forms of speech. These 
 changes, also, become more and more destructive of the 
 ends and the integrity of language, and convert its 
 growth into a perpetual transition from product to 
 product, instead of the ripening of a single product. 
 As the framework of a language assumes form, and 
 
134 PHILOSOPHY OP RHETORIC. 
 
 approaches completion, this movement must be rela- 
 tively suspended, or it quickly undoes what has just 
 been accomplished. 
 
 Each language possesses its own words, and shapes 
 and arranges them under its own laws. What is the 
 legislative, the law-giving authority? Use. A method, 
 a manner, unconsciously works its way into speech, and, 
 once in possession, assumes as a principle of order the 
 authority already tacitly conceded. The most unim- 
 peachable principles of action often come from silent 
 recognition in all of the necessity of a method, and from 
 the ease and safety which it gives. Custom, the com- 
 pendious digest of the more or less lucid experiences of 
 men, is a great source of law. That custom which 
 rules in language is termed use. 
 
 Use is not all use, but good use ; and good use is 
 present, national, reputable use. Different classes of 
 men have not equal influence over language, and, there- 
 fore, not equal authority in it. It is much more imme- 
 diately and constantly the instrument of some than of 
 others. One with a few hundred vocables employs lan- 
 guage merely as a means of gearing the wheels of business 
 and physical life ; another, with many thousand words in 
 all departments of thought, makes it the field of his con- 
 stant movements, the receptacle of his labors, and, while 
 enriched by it, in turn enriches it with oratory, poetry, 
 
LAWS OF LANGUAGE. 135 
 
 or philosophy. In the hands of the literary class does 
 language chiefly show its po\ver. It is they that enlarge 
 and shape it into the efficient and flexible instrument of 
 the mind. It is preeminently their product, and accu- 
 mulates for them its wealth. In turn, therefore, it ren- 
 ders itself into their hand, and from them receives its 
 laws. 
 
 But language is a medium, as well as an instrument. 
 It goes between man and man, between the one and the 
 many ; and that speech is national which is the medium 
 of a nation's thought. Hence the literary man controls 
 the nation's tongue, not by a private, but by a public, 
 use of it. When, as a writer and speaker, he puts him- 
 self in communion with men, in giving law to their 
 thought, he gives law, also, to the nation's language. 
 Those who most broadly and frequently make language 
 the means of arousing the popular, the national, thought 
 and feeling, chiefly control it. In this regard, the poet 
 and orator have more influence than the philosopher. 
 Use, then, is the use of reputable writers and speakers ; 
 and this is general use. There may be many departures 
 from it ; but these, arising from a class or section, will no 
 one of them have the currency w r hich belongs to good, 
 to national, use. It is the reputation of authors which 
 gives them authority, and therefore the most reputable 
 use will become national use. 
 
136 PHILOSOPHY OF RHETORIC. 
 
 But, as already seen, language is not stationary, and 
 use must belong to the time which it rules. It thus has 
 the three characteristics of being present, national and 
 reputable. 
 
 The qualities of style immediately dependent on obe- 
 dience to use are purity and propriety. The first is the 
 use of the words and forms only of the language em- 
 ployed ; the second, the employment of these in the 
 meaning belonging to them. 
 
 The question arises, Why this obedience? In the 
 first place, it is the indispensable condition of the exist- 
 ence of a literature. There must be permanence and 
 stability in a language to make it the depository of the 
 literary wealth of successive generations. In a culti- 
 vated period and race, language must not only be the 
 intelligible medium of thought between those of a single 
 generation, but between successive generations. It must 
 have universality in time as well as space. Indeed, the 
 coveted honor of literature is durability. Without this, 
 the ephemeral success of wide circulation is of little mo- 
 ment. The fulness, richness, and usefulness of a litera- 
 ture will depend on the number of those who have access 
 to it, the sympathy by which it lives among the masses 
 in successive periods, and becomes the common recep- 
 tacle and source of wide-spread influence. But this 
 growth and availability of literature can only be found 
 
LAWS OF LANGUAGE. 137 
 
 in a language slow to change, conservative of its laws 
 and character. Progress becomes less destructive, more 
 restrained and careful, averse to the new as new, and 
 watchful of the old. Cultivated periods, under the in- 
 stinct of self-preservation, that their labors may not be 
 cast aside in a single generation as already antique, have 
 attached increasing importance to obedience, and have 
 armed criticism with a severe authority. 
 
 There is, indeed, through this movement, some loss 
 of flexibility and vital force in language ; but this is 
 more than compensated by its stability, the fidelity with 
 which it retains what is committed to it, the grand 
 growing power with which it discourses to the successive 
 generations of men. 
 
 Such a language, like the classic tongues, may 
 quickly give way before the violence of a disorganized 
 society, yet even then reserve for itself an enviable life 
 in the retreats of learning. The very crystallization of 
 a language, which makes it clear and symmetrical, may 
 make it fragile under the blows of violence. Nomadic 
 speech preserves its flexibility, as the tribe preserves its 
 freedom of emigration, by possessing nothing. 
 
 Since, therefore, obedience is the condition of litera- 
 ture, and literature is the consummation of all literary 
 labor, it is neither unexpected nor unreasonable that it 
 should be implicitly exacted. 
 
138 PHILOSOPHY OF RHETORIC. 
 
 As it is the inevitable tendency of language, in the 
 progress of cultivation, to become relatively stationary 
 and feeble in its organic powers, all the more care is 
 requisite in the reception of foreign words and forms. 
 These, from the advanced point at which they have been 
 received, arc sure to remain more alien, more anoma- 
 lous, less incorporated into the language, than its earlier 
 acquisitions, and fitted therefore only to mar its sym- 
 metry, to perplex its orthography and orthoepy, and 
 make it a rough mosaic of joined but uncompacted parts. 
 The symmetry and harmony, and therefore the ease and 
 grace, of speech must, the moment its leading features 
 are defined, depend on the care with which foreign 
 tendencies and elements are excluded, and native and 
 analogous words and constructions maintained. The 
 causes by which the one result or the other is reached 
 are indeed, for the most part, beyond the control of 
 individuals, and undesigned in their effects; yet purity, 
 and the effort by which it is sustained in a language, are 
 the organic force of symmetry and order showing itself 
 against lawless and ceaseless change. This tendency, 
 therefore, should be accepted and cherished. Criticism 
 should aid and make way for the vital force of speech, 
 even if it can do no more than relieve it from foreign 
 material and methods, displacing its own forms and in 
 capable of assimilation. 
 
LAWS OF LANGUAGE. 
 
 "Not only do the permanence and symmetry of language 
 call for obedience, but so also does its highest significance. 
 A foreign word is stripped of its kindred. It does not 
 by derivation and relationship stand in connection with 
 a family of words by which it is expounded, and which, 
 in turn, it helps expound. Bereft of explanatory and 
 pleasing associations, it remains an alien, doing but 
 coldly and mechanically the task laid on it. Words 
 oftentimes do not suffer transplanting without a sad loss 
 of grace and power. The awkward pronunciation 
 which overtakes them, by which they lose citizenship 
 at home without gaining it abroad, marks this devastat- 
 ing tendency. The ready intelligibility and expressive 
 power of any tongue will depend chiefly on the relations 
 of its words one to another, and the mutual support 
 they render. A word formed from an old root receives 
 light from all its cognates, and is closely knit to the lan- 
 guage of which it is the offspring. A self-developed 
 and homogeneous language can be mastered on its own 
 ground, its growth having been the consecutive and 
 logical expansion of its own powers. A composite 
 speech, on the other hand, is perpetually referring us to 
 foreign sources, and is full of results due, not to the 
 interior progress and necessities of national thought, but 
 to historical and extraneous forces. Its growth is more 
 political, and less strictly linguistic. Language thus 
 
140 PHILOSOPHY OF RHETORIC. 
 
 loses that transparency which it possesses when per- 
 meated through and through by a few leading ideas and 
 native roots. Permanence, symmetry, and intelligi- 
 bility, therefore, call for purity in speech, and give 
 authority, in all literary and reflecting periods, to the 
 law of use. 
 
 But if this law is established, the composition of the 
 individual will suffer much from its violation. Critical 
 taste will be offended, an appearance of effort and 
 affectation belong to the style, the obscurity of a novel 
 
 V 
 
 phrase burden the thought, and that weariness overtake 
 the reader which is the sure result of any unusual strain 
 on words. The most simple style is the most perma- 
 nently effective, and simplicity is no more immediately 
 and obviously dependent on any one quality than on 
 purity. To master a language and use it powerfully is 
 a much greater achievement than to eke out expression 
 with scraps and phrases borrowed from all tongues. 
 The modest strength of the one method is placed by a 
 long remove above the anxious pedantry of the other. 
 No style can deserve the high praise of simplicity which 
 is not pure, and no production will be likely to enrich a 
 permanent literature which has not a good degree of 
 this quality. 
 
 Use is established for the most part unconsciously. 
 Some would push the statement farther, and put the 
 
LAWS OF LANGUAGE. 141 
 
 growth of language wholly beyond the critical efforts of 
 those who employ it. It is, indeed, only in the later 
 and more reflective periods, that literary effort will, of 
 set purpose, curb wayward tendencies, and shape its 
 instrument to its ends. The two forces which control 
 the growth of language are the exigencies of expression 
 and the harmony of sounds. We must remember that 
 speech strives to communicate thought, to make it intelli- 
 gible. It does not, therefore, invent new methods, which 
 as new would be unknown, and fail to serve its purpose, 
 but it struggles to enlarge the old, and adapt them to 
 its ends. Certain words are familiar, certain methods 
 common : a new application of these, therefore, will not 
 be unintelligible, but flash the thought at once upon the 
 mind. The very object of expression, the very exigency 
 of intercourse, will tend to maintain and enlarge the 
 old as the only clear means of communication. But 
 the compounds and grammatical combinations which 
 thus arise, and in the outset explain themselves, will 
 soon begin to be acted on by phonetic changes, which 
 clip, and compact, and smooth the flow of sound. In 
 this manner, the original intelligibility of the combina- 
 tion may be lost ; but it has now by custom acquired 
 the desired power of expression, and no longer needs 
 the interpretation of its roots. Thus, even when speech 
 builds up its fabric in a significant way, its forms 
 
142 PHILOSOPHY OF RHETORIC. 
 
 ultimately assume an arbitrary appearance through the 
 elisions they have suffered through the inevitable 
 modifications which abbreviate sounds and shape them 
 to the mouth and ear. 
 
 Of this the past tense in ed is a convenient illustra- 
 tion. This termination is by Miiller referred to the 
 auxiliary did. I love did, I loved. 
 
 Though it is evident, that use founded on the exigency 
 of expression, of communication, must tend to the 
 familiar, the self-explanatory method, and that any word 
 or form that should obtain a majority vote would thereby 
 be pressed on the universal acceptance, yet it is also 
 evident, that on many points there might arise, and for 
 a time at least remain, a divided use. This shows itself 
 more in words than in grammatical forms. These 
 spring up so early, and run so long a career, that at 
 some point the balance is lost, and the weight of custom 
 passes over to the one or the other method. Words, on 
 the other hand, changing constantly, remain for a time, 
 in minor points, as spelling, and especially pronunciation, 
 unsettled. 
 
 While use, then, is absolute, and to be set asido at 
 one's peril, with or without reason, where is the 
 authority in the case of divided use ? It is evident that 
 supreme authority is lost ; and we have two or more 
 methods open to choice. In any one of them we are 
 
LAWS OF LANGUAGE. 143 
 
 right ; in none of them are we absolutely right, to the 
 exclusion of the others. It does not follow from this 
 that there is no ground of choice between different 
 forms established by use, that we are always and 
 only to inquire after the decision of the majority, and 
 if this can be determined, blindly adhere to it. We 
 have our idea of symmetry and perfection in language ; 
 and of ease, power, and precision in the performance of 
 its offices. These considerations often do not leave it a 
 matter of indifference what forms shall be accepted. 
 Criticism, a conscious exercise of judgment, may, and 
 does, come in to aid in settling fluctuating use. It 
 is certainly irrational to forbid this exercise of reason, 
 and contrary to facts to assert that it has no power. A 
 great lexicographer, like Webster, can do much to con- 
 trol divided use ; and every writer, who for a reason 
 adopts a given form, just as much aids in establishing 
 its authority as does he who unconsciously and carelessly 
 employs it. The question is not whether scholars have 
 consciously or unconsciously accepted a spelling or pro- 
 nunciation. It is equally established in the one case as 
 in the other. Men can be influenced by reasons, by 
 example and instruction, as readily in this as in any 
 other form of action. Criticism of language, therefore, 
 is neither absurd nor impotent ; vacillating use may obvi- 
 ously be much affected by it, and in rare cases we have 
 
144 PHILOSOPHY OF RHETORIC. 
 
 no doubt that a well-established use might be first 
 divided, and at length overthrown by it. We need, 
 however, always to bear in mind that use is the law, and 
 that he who rejects any one of its commands takes the 
 risk of a reformer. A nation is to be persuaded at the 
 peril of his own personal condemnation. It is not our 
 idea of language that all its movements are, like the 
 currents of the wind, only to be observed, and never, in 
 the least degree, to be controlled. Much less do we 
 suppose, that it is open to every humor of the critic, or 
 wholly pliant in the hands of literary men. The uncon- 
 scious life and necessities of the national heart and 
 intellect shape it ; but this heart and intellect can them- 
 selves be affected, and words, like ink punctured from 
 a pen-point, be fastened in the very tissue of a living 
 organism. 
 
 Canons of criticism have been often given, which are 
 fitted, and ought, to exercise an influence on literary 
 men in the decision of all open questions of use. We 
 give the most important of them. 
 
 The analogy of a language should be followed. 
 
 It is only by order, rule, that language becomes lan- 
 guage. To extend this order as far as practicable is 
 only to suffer the organic power of speech to show and 
 complete itself. Want of analogy is so far want of obe- 
 dience is disorder. Strenuously to sustain single anom- 
 
LAWS OP LANGUAGE. 145 
 
 alous forms and words here and there, is to insist that 
 use shall perpetually contradict itself. Certainly, use is 
 more honored by making complete the principle which 
 it has established than by maintaining, in the very teeth 
 of principle, an exception which rests on no reason. 
 This is to refuse to carry out the most authoritative and 
 just tendencies of a language, is to deprive it of 
 symmetry, and make it a medley of exceptions and 
 undeveloped principles. TJndistinguishing obedience 
 like this is irrational, and, when use is already divided, 
 futile. 
 
 These considerations are especially applicable to or- 
 thography, since the spelling of a word is not decided 
 by general use, but by the use of the press. The eye 
 marks the spelling ; hence printed matter alone deter- 
 mines questions of this kind. Nor is it the author so 
 much as the publisher that decides on the orthography. 
 The manuscript is not followed, but some standard 
 which the publishing house has adopted, and to which 
 all questions are referred. The lexicographer decides 
 foi the printer, and the printer decides for the public. 
 If this statement does not cover all the facts, it covers 
 many of them, and, in view of it, it is absurd to say 
 that a language cannot be even greatly affected by 
 direct, designed effort. Spelling in the Elizabethan 
 age was much at random, and has been defined and 
 7 j 
 
146 PHILOSOPHY OF RHETORIC. 
 
 settled largely through the influence of the dictionary. 
 An early lexicographer must exert a great influence on 
 orthography, and every dictionary which obtains a large 
 circulation carries with it its spelling. 
 
 Many questions of orthography have been warmly dis- 
 cussed ; the one side striving to maintain irregular and 
 wavering use, the other, to carry it over to a uniform 
 principle. Among these disputed points have been the 
 substitution of er for re in the few words which still 
 retain the latter syllable ; doubling a final consonant 
 in such words ' as fulfill when preceded by a vowel, 
 and taking the accent ; retaining the single consonant in 
 the final unaccented syllable of the root when receiving 
 a termination, as in traveler. 
 
 The rule of analogy requires that the English pronun- 
 ciation of a word, incorporated from abroad into the 
 language, should be preferred. 
 
 A second canon is this : In cases of divided use the 
 etymological relations of a word should govern its form. 
 
 A word, itself a derivative, is often a root of other 
 forms. It is desirable, therefore, that it should stand 
 in harmonious relation both with its own root and the 
 word? which spring from it. "Defense," therefore, is 
 preferable orthography to " defence," since it is thus in 
 agreement with its source, dejfensio, and its derivative, 
 defensive. 
 
LAWS OP LANGUAGE. 147 
 
 It would be foolish to strive to correct all the mis- 
 takes of etymology which have become incorporated into 
 the language. A word, like a tree long planted and 
 growing, cannot be lightly plucked up for every fault in 
 its form. Algebra serves as good a turn as if it con- 
 tained no solecism. Yet it does not follow that we 
 should be heedless of all errors of etymology, that our 
 words should blunder into their forms, and be united by 
 no principle of order to their cognates. The intelligi- 
 bility of a language, and ease of acquisition, require that 
 its growth should find and follow a law. 
 
 The words decompound and unloose give an in- 
 stance of faulty etymology, since the prefix is not suf- 
 fered to have its ordinary force ; but the root retains, in 
 spite of it, its original meaning. 
 
 A third canon is, Distinct words should, as far as 
 possible, be kept distinct in form and meaning. 
 
 Thus aught and ought are separated by using the 
 first exclusively as a noun, the second as a verb. 
 Gauntlet, a glove, and gantlet, a form of punishment, 
 should be separated by a diverse orthography. It 
 is obvious that perspicuity of speech will be aided by 
 this rule. When the same word has distinct offices as 
 a verb and noun, etymology forbids a change of form. 
 The English has striven in some degree, though with no 
 uniformity, to mark this distinction by accent, or by a 
 
148 PHILOSOPHY OF RHETORIC. 
 
 change in the sound of a letter. Thus we have in the 
 word use different sounds employed to separate the noun 
 and verb; in convict, conduct, present, produce, dif- 
 ferent accent. In some words, the more questionable 
 method of overlooking analogy and derivation has been 
 employed, and we have advise and advice; practise, 
 practice. The weaker mark of pronunciation, leaving 
 a clear etymology, seems the appropriate distinction. 
 
 We add a fourth canon more immediately applicable 
 to grammar. 
 
 When a divided use is struggling to reject an anom- 
 alous grammatical construction, not to be referred by 
 analysis to any principle of syntax, such forms should 
 be abandoned. 
 
 Of this class are tnese in the auxiliary "had" : I had 
 rather go; I had better go ; I had as lief go as not. 
 In each of these cases would is the auxiliary which the 
 forms of grammar require. The obscure combinations 
 of verbs and participles are already so many in English, 
 and occasion so much perplexity in the grammar, and 
 opacity in the expression, as to render every movement 
 which tends to their reduction desirable. In the expres- 
 sion, / ought to have done, the exigencies of grammar 
 override those of the thought, and in the statement of 
 a most simple idea a moral impossibility is involved, 
 The house was being built, is also a conventional ex* 
 
LAWS OF LANGUAGE. 149 
 
 pression defined by custom, not by the intrinsic force of 
 the words. The house being built, is equivalent to the 
 house being finished; adding, therefore, the past tense 
 of the neuter verb simply carries the assertion into past 
 time ; and the expression, The house was being built, 
 should mean the house was finished. In the expression, 
 It looks as if he was a bad man, we have a past tense, 
 but not past time. 
 
 The same want of grammatical construction is some- 
 times found in the pronoun. " Whom do men say that 
 I am?" "Satan, than whom none higher sat." In 
 each of these examples a substitution of who removes the 
 anomaly without marring the thought, and should there- 
 fore be preferred. 
 
 A fifth canon pertains to the meaning of words. 
 
 Certain phrases gain a conventional force aside from 
 their ordinary meaning, or involve a contradictory idea. 
 These should be discarded. 
 
 Most of them are ephemeral forms current in conver- 
 sation, more rarely finding their way into print, like the 
 following : To play out, to use up, the game's up, first 
 best, dance attendance. 
 
 It is strange how much conversation can be made to 
 flow in a few favorite phrases like these. In their origin 
 giving to speech a racy character, they often, in the end, 
 
150 PHILOSOPHY OF RHETORIC. 
 
 rob it of all freshness and value, and make it a dexter- 
 ous transfer of pert phrases, the speaker losing sight of 
 the barrenness of his thought in the smartness of the 
 expression. As many of these forms as will die should 
 be suffered to die. Their first and only merit lay in 
 their novelty, and living on they fill speech with lazy, 
 slouching, slang phrases, irksome in conversation, and 
 wholly intolerable in composition. Some circumstances 
 seem especially favorable to generate and multiply these 
 insects of speech, which buzz in the ear, occupying the 
 attention without instructing the mind, and, with their 
 affected smartness, put sober thought sadly out of coun- 
 tenance. Among students in colleges quite a share of 
 language is sometimes made up of a local phraseology 
 utterly worthless, a jargon barbarous to every one but 
 themselves, and unworthy of the ingenuity with which 
 it is enlarged and employed. One may be a great pro- 
 ficient in the phrases which accumulate in any clique, 
 class, or department, a few of which escape and fly at 
 large, and not only be very ignorant of English, but, 
 for that very reason, the more ignorant of it, and un- 
 able to wield it. 
 
 Of those expressions which give a meaning contra- 
 dictory, the three first may be given as an illustration. 
 The first three is the preferable form. Not every sol- 
 
LAWS OF LANGUAGE. 151 
 
 ecism, however, is inadmissible. A tivo inch plank, a 
 ten foot pole, are current, and almost inevitable, forms 
 of speech. 
 
 The violations of purity are three : barbarism, sol- 
 ecism, and impropriety. A conflict in language is 
 always liable to spring up between the grammarians, 
 whose province is one of rules and who delight in their 
 extension, and the vigorous writers, whose province is 
 that of ideas and who delight in freedom and variety. 
 We are to remember that authority belongs to the sec- 
 ond class and not to the first. Language is not made 
 for its rules, but its rules grow out of the fitness and 
 clearness with which it reaches the ends of expression 
 and influence. 
 
152 PHILOSOPHY OF RHETOFJC. 
 
 CHAPTER VII. 
 
 BARBARISM. 
 
 A BARBARISM is the use of a word which does not 
 belong to the language : it may be a foreign term, a 
 provincialism or. a vulgarism, an obsolete word, or an 
 unrecognized compound. Of these forms of barbarism 
 the first is the most objectionable. It can only be justi- 
 fied by necessity. It does not, indeed, behoove a com- 
 posite speech, like the English, to despise foreign aid ; 
 yet to be ever ready to receive and rely on it implies 
 great weakness in native resources, and tends to perpet- 
 uate this weakness. Because the language has drawn 
 without restraint from foreign sources, it does not follow 
 that it may continue thus to draw. Early additions have 
 become thoroughly incorporated, while later additions, 
 suffering little change, lie as it were on the surface, still 
 alien to the tongue. The pedantry and obscurity of for- 
 eign words should not be incurred without an urgent 
 reason. An invention, a manufacture, introduced from 
 abroad, may appropriately bring with it its name. Our 
 own language should remain the adequate medium of 
 
BARBARISM. 153 
 
 Dative thought, and be able with sufficient honor to 
 
 christen its own products, material and immaterial. 
 
 
 
 While our goods are so poor as to need the falsehood 
 of a foreign label, and our thoughts so flashy as to 
 require the affectation of a foreign phrase, this form of 
 imitation must prevail : but genuine excellency will 
 make the most of itself, and be contented with itself. 
 
 The second kind of barbarism arises from giving 
 currency to words restricted to a province or a class. 
 Any language spoken over a wide territory will have a 
 partially divided use, forms gaining currency in one 
 province which are not recognized in others. Thus 
 there arise provincialisms, or words of local currency. 
 These are to be distinguished from vulgarisms, which 
 are not dependent on place, but are words and expres- 
 sions sustained by the careless and uncultivated against 
 the decision of literary use. The first are, in a meas- 
 ure, foreign to the language ; the last are the scum 
 of expression, thrown off by it, or at least expelled 
 from the careful forms of composition into conversation, 
 always more hasty and heedless. 
 
 To accept a vulgarism is to rescind a verdict already 
 rendered, and this is not to be done without most press- 
 ing reason. Dialects, on the other hand, in the earlier 
 stages of a language, must act strongly upon it, and 
 will always, as roots of the main trunk, maintain more 
 7* 
 
154 PHILOSOPHY OF RHETORIC. 
 
 life than it. The want of what is termed life, in a 
 tongue, is seen in its immobility, its formal and critical 
 correctness, in the hesitancy and caution with which it 
 either adds to the old or modifies it. The inflexible 
 state into which language sets as it receives the impress 
 of cultivation, straitens its vital power, and suspends 
 its growth. The force which most counteracts this 
 tendency is that of dialects. A less critical, more spo- 
 radic, and free movement takes place in the shire, the 
 province, the remote colony, or the distinct kingdom ; 
 and words and forms obtaining ground and strength 
 here, may ultimately force a change on the parent 
 speech. The independent development of distinct na- 
 tions, like those of the United States and England, 
 using the same language, while it may be the occasion 
 of many vulgarisms, will yet render the parent speech 
 more vital than if it were not subject to the strain of 
 such diverse character and circumstances. The joints 
 of speech, when employed in so many and so widely 
 different and unclassical duties, cannot ossify. 
 
 Provincial and dialectic use, therefore, will not of 
 necessity, and always, give way to parent use, but will 
 maintain its ground, renew the stock, and nurse the life 
 from which it sprung. 
 
 We need not mention the very many words furnished 
 by America as names of new plants, animals, products, 
 
BARBARISM. 155 
 
 and institutions. Aside from these, many good words 
 have arisen, deserving adoption. We give, as exam- 
 ples, boatable, availability, bread-stuff, caucus, bogus, 
 chore, clutter, codding, raft, rafting, mass, mail- 
 able, lyceum, location, lobby, salt-lick. Some of these 
 words are new, others old with a new meaning. 
 
 Vulgarisms originate in conversation are its tropes. 
 Colloquial use is quite distinct from literary use. Con- 
 versation requires a dictionary of its own, and good use, 
 even with the educated, maintains but a lenient and 
 wavering authority in this unsettled border territory. 
 The chief medium through which any of these vulgar- 
 isms creep into more considerate literary efforts is the 
 newspaper and the stump-speech. Made at home in 
 this open antechamber, they afterward find their way 
 into dignified quarters. 
 
 A third form of barbarism is the use of obsolete 
 words. Present use is not opposed to past, but to 
 obsolete use. In the journey ings of speech, many 
 words fall by the way, and, having dropped from the 
 memory of man, have something of the strangeness and 
 obscurity of foreign terms. Many expressions which 
 pass for vulgarisms are but old forms still lingering in 
 obscure quarters. A stable literature greatly retards 
 the movement by which words drop away, or are 
 crowded out by others. The English Bible has been 
 
156 PHILOSOPHY OP RHETORIC. 
 
 a safe storehouse to most of the words committed to it. 
 Old words deserve a certain regard, and should not be 
 as closely questioned as new comers. 
 
 The fourth barbarism is the use of unrecognized 
 compounds. Here more liberty should be allowed than 
 anywhere else ; and all the more in English, since the 
 compounding of words has hitherto been so little em- 
 ployed. Compound words have these advantages over 
 foreign terms : they are self-explanatory, more thor- 
 oughly significant, and stand in closer and more sym- 
 metrical relations with the language. 
 
 A tongue that begins to draw largely from foreign 
 sources finds this so ready a method as to be rarely 
 forced into the construction of compounds ; and thus it 
 becomes more and more composite, more and more 
 composed of distinct and inflexible elements. Its 
 words, like stones in a heap, lie apart, with no coa- 
 lescence. Thus, often, when we wish an adjective, 
 instead of constructing it from our own noun, we borrow 
 it from the kindred Latin noun, and say calcareous soil, 
 instead of limy soil. 
 
 The use of compounds requires regulation, not severe 
 restriction. Needed, euphonious and analogous com- 
 pounds are not to be rejected. When the place of the 
 compound can be readily supplied with a simple word, 
 it, as cumbersome and superfluous, should evidently find 
 
BARBARISM. 157 
 
 no acceptance. This is true of many compounds in 
 self; of self-interest 9 in place of interest,' of self-homi- 
 cide, self-murder, and self-slaughter, in place of sui- 
 cide. Uneuphonious compounds, as well-mannered, 
 well-moralized, down-looked, should not be accepted on 
 any weaker plea than necessity. Though a barbarism 
 cannot be as clearly established at this point as at some 
 others, such words render style harsh and uncouth in 
 a high degree. 
 
 The most important consideration, however, in this 
 class of words, is, that their construction shall accord 
 with the analogy of the language. Compounds in self 
 frequently violate this rule. The law of composition 
 in this prefix is given by Campbell. "If the word be 
 a subsfantive, the preposition to be supplied is commonly 
 of; if the passive participle, by; and if the active 
 participle, no preposition is requisite." Thus we have 
 self-love, the love of one's self; self -condemned, con- 
 demned by one's self; and self-consuming. Under this 
 rule, what shall we do with such words as self-charity, 
 self-importance, self-communicative? The rule is, in- 
 deed, somewhat too restricted, as shown in the word 
 self -consistent, but draws attention to an important class 
 of errors. 
 
 It must be remembered in criticism, that language 
 cannot grow without barbarisms ; and the practical 
 
158 PHILOSOPHY OP EHETORIC. 
 
 question becomes, At what point shall the greatest 
 liberty be given to its expansion? If it be granted 
 in the line of derivatives and compounds, the language 
 becomes more consistent and self-contained than by any 
 other method of growth. 
 
SOLECISM AND IMPROPRIETY. 159 
 
 CHAPTER VIII. 
 
 SOLECISM AND IMPROPRIETY. 
 
 A SOLECISM is a violation of the laws of syntax. 
 These laws express the principles by which the words 
 of a language are combined into sentences. There 
 must be some method of marking the dependence of 
 words, one upon another, in the expression of thought, 
 since a given thought is rendered only through a given 
 dependence. This may be done by the arbitrary marks 
 of declension and conjugation, by particles of relation, 
 and by position. A language usually employs all these 
 methods witn a preponderance in each given tongue of 
 one or another of them. The later and more composite 
 languages steadily forsake the prefix and termination as 
 marks of syntax, and rely more and more on position. 
 This renders necessary a correspondence between the 
 order of the sentence and the inherent connections of 
 the thought, and may rightly be termed the logical 
 method. First comes the nominative, the subject of 
 thought ; then, the affirmation ; and later, the results and 
 incidents of the action or state. If the copula of the 
 
160 PHILOSOPHY OF RHETORIC. 
 
 sentence is an active verb, we start with the agent, and 
 descend through the action to its object ; if a passive 
 verb, we start with the object, and ascend through the 
 action to the agent. In either case the order and con- 
 nection are strictly logical. 
 
 In proportion as the understanding gained upon the 
 passions of men, it is evident that these inherent con- 
 nections of thought would more and more control the 
 expression, and as evident that the marks of declension 
 which accompanied the more free and passionate arrange- 
 ment would become less and less necessary. As composite 
 languages tend also, in the conflict of diverse methods, 
 and through the unyielding form of foreign words, to 
 lose declension, it is not strange that the two influences 
 concurring have so far stripped the languages of modern 
 Europe of the marks of syntax, and so much simplified 
 
 A 
 
 their rules. The agreement of the adjective with the 
 noun in gender, number, and case, is an arbitrary agree- 
 ment, and nothing is lost to the thought, though some- 
 thing is to the freedom of arrangement when it ceases to 
 be marked. 
 
 There are two purposes served by the marks of 
 declension and conjugation. Some of these marks are 
 purely arbitrary. They indicate no modification of the 
 idea, but denote a grammatical dependence, the same in 
 all cases. Of this sort are those which indicate the 
 
SOLECISM AND IMPROPRIETY. 161 
 
 dependence of adjectives on nouns ; the agreement of 
 verbs and nouns. Simple position in a more strict 
 
 x, 
 
 arrangement is able fully to meet the office of these 
 terminations, and to set them aside with the introduction 
 of nothing in their place. Another portion of these 
 marks indicates a relation of a peculiar character, notes 
 an additional circumstance, and, thus standing in an 
 inherent connection with the thought, must, if dispensed 
 with, be replaced by some word performing the same 
 office. Of this sort are the case terminations of the 
 noun. Nouns may stand in a great variety of relation, 
 one to another, and these affixes not only indicate a rela- 
 tion, but its precise character, and thus, aside from their 
 grammatical office, take part in the expression. So, 
 also, the tenses, moods, and voices of the verb define 
 the character of the action ; and if, therefore, the verb 
 is stripped of these, the apparatus of expression must 
 elsewhere be enlarged and made more cumbersome. 
 These marks are replaced by prepositions, auxiliary 
 verbs, and more lengthy expressions in significant terms. 
 The most compact and knit expression, therefore, must 
 ever belong to highly inflected languages, since there is 
 here a condensation both of thought and of grammatical 
 mechanism into the significant terms of the sentence. 
 
 Language, however, is not pure in its methods. 
 Prepositions complete the full case declensions, and a 
 
 K 
 
162 PHILOSOPHY OP RHETORIC. 
 
 tongue like the English, well nigh devoid of inflection, 
 still retains a few terminations expressing nothing but 
 grammatical dependence. It is no more difficult to mark 
 by position the dependence of the singular noun on its 
 verb than the plural ; yet the one is aided in the present 
 tense by a full conjugation, while the other retains a 
 single form in all the persons. 
 
 I love, We love, 
 
 Thou lovest, Ye or you love, 
 
 He loves. They love. 
 
 There may be as many solecisms as principles of 
 syntax. It is our purpose to mark only a few of these, 
 into which even good speakers and writers sometimes 
 fall. The fundamental link of the sentence is the verb. 
 This not only contains the leading affirmation of the 
 sentence, and attaches it to the subject, but becomes a 
 chief centre of qualifying words and dependent clauses. 
 While many of the incidents and forms of action are 
 expressed by adverbs, many are also incorporated in the 
 /verb itself. Tenses, moods, and voices compress into 
 the verb the time and relations of the action, till this in 
 every language becomes by far the most pregnant part 
 of speech. In the use of the verb, therefore, even 
 when the construction is as simple as that of English, 
 solecisms frequently appear. Transitive are confounded 
 
SOLECISM AND IMPROPRIETY. 163 
 
 with similar intransitive verbs set with sit, lay with 
 lie. "The coat sets well." "The bird is setting" 
 w I sat myself down to write." " This principle under- 
 lays the subject." These are common instances of 
 this confusion. 
 
 So also frequently verbs are employed in a transitive 
 or intransitive use which does not strictly belong to 
 them. " The guilty children of dust might come to- 
 gether and transact respecting life and blessing." 
 
 The past tense and perfect participle are, when dif- 
 ferent, often used one for the other. The little conju- 
 gation that we retain we seem very liable to forget, 
 and to be constantly willing to substitute the regular 
 forms in ed for the older and stronger ones. Begun 
 is so often used in the past tense for began, as to be 
 now nearly ready, by a tendency seen in other verbs, to 
 claim the usurped place. Conversation is even troubled | 
 to keep distinct forms so separate, as did and done. 
 
 The rule is frequently forgotten, that conjunctions 
 unite in the same construction only like forms of the 
 verb. In the passage, " If thou bring thy gift to the 
 altar, and there rememberest that thy brother hath 
 aught against thee," we have an indicative and subjunc- 
 tive included under the same regimen. Either mood may 
 be used, but the one excludes the other. The subjunc- 
 tive mood in English has few distinctive forms, and 
 
164 PHILOSOPHY OF RHETORIC. 
 
 shares its duties with the indicative. The indicative hus 
 gained ground on the subjunctive to such an extent that 
 there remain but few offices which belong exclusively to 
 the latter. 
 
 The indicative mood marks time more strongly than 
 any other; the subjunctive and potential constantly 
 vacillate in this respect, and forms associated with the 
 past may express both present and future time, requiring 
 the context for their determination. " If he chose he 
 might do it," " He acts as though he thought I were a 
 fool," are expressions marking this fluctuation. In 
 consequence of this tendency of the indicative more 
 explicitly to define the assertion in time, or from the 
 idea of customary action which it involves, the subjunc- 
 tive mood occasionally becomes more appropriate. In 
 the clause, " If he were to do it," the vagueness of 
 time is more consistent with the subjunctive than with 
 the indicative mood. Hence has arisen a rule of very 
 general application, that when doubt and futurity are 
 both involved, the subjunctive is the appropriate mood. 
 "Men do not despise a thief if he steal to satisfy his 
 soul when he is hungry." If the indicative were here 
 used, it might indicate a habit at war with the sentiment 
 of the assertion. 
 
 The English verb is quite full and explicit in marking 
 time ; and at this point, therefore, careless composition 
 
SOLECISM AND IMPROPBIETY. 165 
 
 is especially liable to inaccuracy. Absolute time is 
 chiefly denoted by the indicative. The present tense 
 has, where the meaning of the verb requires it, two 
 forms denoting respectively customary present action, 
 and an act as now transpiring he speaks, he is 
 speaking. Both of these forms of the present tense 
 are sometimes given in the passive, and we have " Houses 
 are built cheaply/'' and the often criticised and somewhat 
 awkward expression, " The house is being built ; " or the 
 older form, cc The house is a building/' A general truth 
 having no immediate reference to time, not coming 
 under its limitations, is allied to customary action, and 
 is always stated in the present. Such truths have an 
 omnipresence that renders this their appropriate tense. 
 " Happy is that people whose God is the Lord." 
 
 In the past tense the English verb expresses three 
 relations of time under two forms : an action transpiring 
 at a definite past time, an action performed at a definite 
 past time, and a customary past action. The last two 
 offices are discharged by the same form. The imperfect 
 is the definite historical tense, and except when marking 
 a customary action, a fact more frequently indicated 
 by additional words in the context, it can be met by the 
 inquiry, When? "He spoke," "He was speaking," both 
 demand for their explanation a definite time, attaching 
 the assertion in the thought to a given moment. The 
 
166 PHILOSOPHY OP RHETORIC. 
 
 same is true of a customary past action, except that the 
 time is lengthened from a point into a period. "Houses 
 were built of wood ; " that is, during a certain past 
 period. 
 
 The perfect tense leaves the assertion in the whole of 
 the past, without attaching it to any one moment ; or 
 carries it through the whole of the past, denying it of 
 every part of it. "I have accomplished it." " No man 
 has ever accomplished it," present the two forms. The 
 perfect is said to have reference to the present. This 
 it does only by implying that the time included comes 
 down to the present moment, not by implying that the 
 act asserted has just taken place. "I have" at any 
 past time whatsoever down to the very latest instant 
 " spoken." If, therefore, the assertion lies in anything 
 less than indefinite past time, beginning at the present 
 moment, the perfect tense cannot be used. We cannot 
 say, "Rome has arisen," since the assertion is not 
 applicable to the period which has intervened since its 
 decline. We can say, ? Babylon, Greece, Rome 
 have arisen and fallen," since individual states are 
 here taken to represent a movement which has con- 
 tinued to the present moment. The essential point 
 of the perfect tense is, that the assertion does not 
 pause till it has reached the present. The time may 
 be restricted by the nature of the case, or explicitly 
 
SOLECISM AND IMPROPRIETY. 167 
 
 by words, in its stretch backward, but it must reach 
 downward to the point now occupied. 
 
 The pluperfect and future perfect, unlike most of the 
 tenses of the indicative, express relative time, and 
 always imply a primary statement, of which they are 
 the complement or correlative. The auxiliaries have 
 and had mark the priority of the action to some speci- 
 fied or implied time a time usually involved in another 
 leading verb. In this respect the pluperfect and future 
 perfect are like the tenses of the infinitive ; the present 
 infinitive denoting a time the same with, or subsequent 
 to, that of the verb on which it depends ; the perfect 
 infinitive, a time prior to that of the principal assertion. 
 To the last rule there is an exception in the clause, 
 " He ought to have done it." A grammatical necessity 
 here gives rise to an expression impossible in the idea 
 it literally conveys, and, by the violation of a general 
 rule, the language gains the power of perspicuous 
 expression in a single case. Ought, having the same 
 form in the present and past, the time-mark which 
 belonged to the indicative is transferred to the infinitive, 
 and a solecism accepted in place of obscurity. The law 
 of means yields to the exigency of the end. In these 
 tenses, where the auxiliary is intended accurately to 
 define the relative time, solecisms frequently arise by 
 their employment in a more general use. 
 
168 PHILOSOPHY OF RHETORIC. 
 
 While may, can, and must, might, could, would, 
 and should are not confined to present and past time, 
 respectively, the last series, almost as frequently as the 
 first, referring to immediate action, they correlate, re- 
 spectively, with present and past tenses. Were correlates 
 with would: "If he were there he would do it." Is 
 correlates with may: "If he is there he may do it." 
 Might, could, would, and should correlate with each 
 other; as also may, can, must, and will: "If this can 
 be done he may be here," or " he must be here," or " he 
 will be here." v 
 
 Has correlates with may, -can, and must; had, with 
 could, would, and should: 
 
 "If the house has been built, it may be occupied." 
 
 "If the house had been built, it might be occupied." 
 
 In this last expression we see that the pluperfect 
 tense does not necessarily imply priority to a past action, 
 but either to past or present time. 
 
 Subjoined are clauses containing some of the more 
 frequent solecisms of tense : 
 
 "He has given me all that I required for my pur- 
 pose." "They continue with me three days." "It 
 was a truth which he was careful to enforce, that the 
 civil rights of men were equal." "It is difficult to 
 say what the world would have been if Christ had 
 not come." 
 
SOLECISM AND IMPROPRIETY. 169 
 
 "If the work should be finished as proposed, he 
 will be greatly pleased with it." " He that was dead 
 sat up and began to speak." "If he is there he might 
 do it." "Meeting with a common beggar upon the 
 road, as he went to relieve him, he found his pocket 
 was picked " " What shall we do that we might work 
 the works of God?" "It may well seem as if other 
 influences than such as are now in operation would 
 require to be put forth before the expected good can be 
 realized." 
 
 " It was killed on the ice in the weakest part of the 
 lake (Champlain), on the 23d of February, thirteen 
 days after the surface was entirely frozen, except the 
 usual small creeks, and a month or two after the ice 
 closed at all points north of the place where the seal 
 was found." 
 
 A peculiar distinction in the use of tenses is spoken 
 of by Webster. " When we use the present tense, it 
 implies uncertainty of the fact, and when we use the 
 preterit, it implies a negation of its existence. Thus 
 a person, at night, would say to his friend, If it rains 
 you shall not go, being uncertain at the time whether 
 it did or did not rain ; but if, on looking out, he per- 
 ceived it did not rain, he would then say, If it rained 
 you should not go, intimating that it did not rain." 
 The explanation of this use seems to lie, in part at 
 8 
 
170 PHILOSOPHY OF RHETORIC. 
 
 least, in the law of correlation pointed out. ? You shall 
 not go," necessarily expresses the one conclusion, and 
 f You should not go," the other ; but these must correlate 
 respectively with the present and past tenses. 
 
 There is an occasional misapprehension of what con- 
 stitutes a verb, leading to a false passive. Campbell, 
 after a careful discussion of the passive voice, recognizes 
 as correct the syntax of the sentence, "The rock was 
 split upon by the vessel." Verbs are most appropriately 
 divided into transitive and intransitive, since this division 
 rests on a grammatical distinction, their power of gov- 
 ernment, and not on the meaning of words. Most 
 of those verbs called neuter are not neuter, and it is a 
 question of no grammatical import whether they are 
 neuter or not. Grammatical distinctions should rest 
 exclusively on grammatical grounds. All transitive 
 verbs can take a real passive ; intransitive verbs, when 
 assuming a passive form, rob it of its force, as in the 
 words, " He is gone" There is a large class of verbs 
 in English compounded with a preposition ; and we re- 
 quire a rule to distinguish them from those cases which 
 arise from the accidental union in position of a verb and 
 preposition. Why have we compounds in the clauses, 
 "He keeps up the establishment," "He entered on 
 'his duties," "They fell out by the way," "The acid 
 acts upon the metal;" and not in the clauses, "He 
 
SOLECISM AND IMPROPRIETY. 171 
 
 kept up the hill," "He entered on horseback," "He 
 fell out of the window," "I act upon this principle"? 
 Evidently because the words in the one series coalesce 
 in a new meaning : " He kept up" that is, he main- 
 tained the establishment ; " He entered on? that is, he 
 commenced his duties ; while in the other series, both 
 verb and preposition retain simply their original power. 
 Only where we have a true compound, and that com-] 
 pound an active verb, can we rightly construct a passive./ 
 In the expression, "The ship split upon the rock, 
 there is no proper union of the verb and particle, and 
 therefore the form was split upon is not legitimate. 
 Still worse is the passive, justified by the same author, 
 in the sentence, "They were fallen out with by her." 
 In this case, the preposition with follows after, but is 
 not compounded with, the verb. 
 
 When the active verb governs two objects, either of 
 them may become the subject of the passive, and we 
 have two forms of the same idea. " My father allows 
 me a horse," becomes, in the passive, either, "/ am 
 allowed a horse by my father," or, "A horse is 
 allowed me by my father." 
 
 As a single further illustration of solecisms, numer- 
 ous in the other parts of speech as well as in the verb, 
 we instance a use of the conjunctions either, neither, 
 when more than two suppositions are made. " He can 
 
172 PHILOSOPHY OF RHETORIC. 
 
 neither remain here, nor return to his friends, nor pro- 
 ceed to advantage." The termination er, as in the 
 comparative of adjectives, has frequently, in English, a 
 dual force, which prevents the use of several particles, 
 when more than two objects or ideas are concerned. 
 Either , neither, other, another, ivhether, former, 
 latter, are words of this character. 
 
 The syntax of the English, though usually thought 
 to be simple, yet requires for its complete knowledge 
 and observance very considerable attention. Aside from 
 the fixed rules,' the language has developed a pref- 
 erence for certain forms, which, if not always imper- 
 ative, yet mark a pure and elegant handling of the 
 national speech. It belongs to grammarians to lay down 
 the laws of construction, and point out the several sole- 
 cisms which arise from their violation. The rhetorician 
 has only occasion to mark the general character of 
 offences against purity, and the value of this quality 
 of style. 
 
 The third violation of the laws of language is an 
 impropriety. It is the employment of words in a mean- 
 ing not given them by use. 
 
 A barbarism is an offence against etymology ; a sole- 
 cism, an offence against syntax ; and an impropriety, 
 an offence against lexicography. Purity is the employ- 
 ment of the words which belong to a language in the 
 
SOLECISM AND IMPROPRIETY. 173 
 
 construction and meaning assigned them by that lan- 
 guage. 
 
 There are two kinds of improprieties those of 
 words and those of phrases. The impropriety in the 
 use of words varies from a slight departure from the 
 most appropriate application of a term to its entire per- 
 version. Synonymous words are especially liable to a 
 careless use, which overlooks their precise power. The 
 beauty and accuracy of expression must depend very 
 much on the care with which the entire force of language 
 is preserved the precision and skill with which it is 
 employed. The fulness and finish of the picture de- 
 pend on the pliability of the colors, and the delicacy of 
 the touch ; the fulness and finish of an expression 
 depend on the clear outline of the thought, and the 
 exactness with which the language is fitted to it. The 
 loose style is ever full of now bolder, now slighter 
 improprieties. The nicer shades of meaning are lost 
 sight of, and a rabble of words are all ready to run on 
 any service. Words allied in etymology are often con- 
 founded, as tragic, tragical ; obnoxious, noxious ; 
 transcendent, transcendental ; admit and admit of. 
 There is no limit to the variety and number of impro- 
 prieties which may arise in the use of words. 
 
 Nouns with two plurals have frequently assigned 
 them a distinct meaning for each form; as, genii , 
 
174 PHILOSOPHY OF RHETORIC. 
 
 geniuses ; brothers, brethren ; indexes, indices. We 
 subjoin a few improprieties in words : 
 
 " No man has a type of face so clearly national as the 
 American. He is acknowledged by it all over the con- 
 tinent." 
 
 "Immediately these schemes failed they were pre- 
 pared to throw the nation overboard." 
 
 " The relation still consisted with the preservation of 
 their religious privileges." 
 
 w Many of the English admitted of no such interpre- 
 tation." 
 
 Impropriety of phrases is of more rare occurrence, 
 and tends to confine itself to a few expressions. In 
 the sentence, " He of all others ought not to do it," the 
 words convey a meaning not intended by the use of the 
 language. He of all others, takes the place of the kin- 
 dred form, He of all persons, and is made to perform 
 an office which use has assigned the latter words. This 
 class of errors is rightly termed an impropriety of 
 phrases, since one form is put for another with no viola- 
 tion of grammar, but with an inappropriate meaning. 
 
 Purity is chiefly valuable as a quality of style through 
 its connection with perspicuity and elegance. Though 
 not capable alone of compassing these higher qualities, 
 it is nevertheless essential to them. Language assumes 
 form and law for the ease and clearness of expression ; 
 
SOLECISM AND IMPROPRIETY. 175 
 
 and ease and clearness demand, in turn, the maintenance 
 of law. Purity, though a somewhat negative qual- 
 ity, is a condition for high, positive, and permanent 
 results. Impurities do not always arise from the same 
 cause, nor are they always equally injurious. 
 
 The introduction of new words frequently springs 
 from pedantry, or from the love of novelty. The style 
 is made one of oddities and conceits, that it may win an 
 attention which the thought is not able to secure. Many 
 barbarisms and some improprieties reveal the conscious 
 effort of a writer who aims at impression rather than at 
 truth, and who rests his reputation on the manner rather 
 than on the matter. 
 
 This method is especially unfavorable to the orator, 
 as it weakens the fervor of address, and casts suspicion 
 on its sincerity. A conceited style is even more at war 
 with energy than with perspicuity, constantly breaking 
 up and turning aside the current of thought with some 
 strange, or strangely applied, word. Composition which 
 aims at amusement may, like a masquerade, proceed 
 with odd and fantastic show. 
 
 Solecisms most frequently arise from ignorance and 
 carelessness. They, therefore, especially offend against 
 elegance. In labored composition, where time is given 
 both to the writer and reader, these become grave 
 offences, marring the beauty of all polished effort. Po- 
 
176 PHILOSOPHY OP RHETORIC. 
 
 etry strives to secure a finish and flow of style which 
 places the means in harmony with the end. In oratory, 
 especially in extemporary effort, on the other hand, sol- 
 ecisms are overlooked, and readily referred to the haste, 
 (ho impatient earnestness, of the speaker. A little care- 
 lessness in the means is pardoned in one thoroughly 
 occupied with the end. 
 
 Solecisms, however, often mark a loose, ravelling 
 style, which needs to find correction in more compact 
 and restricted sentences, in well-knit and firm asser- 
 tions, and clearly defined dependences. The beginning 
 of a long, lazy sentence is forgotten, and hence its 
 grammatical demands overlooked. A promised correl- 
 ative is not given, and the assertion closes wide of its 
 commencement. Extemporary effort is especially liable 
 to be entangled in the connections of a complex sentence, 
 and at last to cast them aside still unclucidated. Sol- 
 ecisms which arise from a weak coherence of the parts of 
 a sentence ought especially to be guarded against, as 
 indicating indolent thought, and tending to inadequate 
 and obscure expression. 
 
 A sentence is the first complete, organic product of 
 thinking, and, in its precision and strength, reveals the 
 vigor of the process under which it has arisen. A com- 
 pleteness of grammatical relations marks the sentence. 
 It is a full circle of dependences. A few conjunctions 
 
 
SOLECISM AND IMPROPRIETY. 177 
 
 imply a previous assertion, and a few pronouns seek 
 their antecedents outside its limits ; aside from this, 
 every relation must be finished within the complete 
 sentence. 
 
 A large class of improprieties arise from careless, 
 vague thinking, a use of words as empty, slipping 
 signs, with no constant reference of them to well-defined 
 ideas, which they are employed to denote. This class 
 of offences, therefore, greatly interferes with perspicuity, 
 especially in all discussions which require accurate and 
 severe statements. If the concepts the bundles of no- 
 tions which lie back of the words, and which they pur- 
 port to represent are not the same for all minds, or 
 for the same mind at different moments, it is evident 
 that the assertions made by means of these words can 
 cover no common ground of thought, and can be safely 
 linked in no chain of reasoning. It is not more neces- 
 sary that the letters of algebra remain, during the reduc- 
 tion of an equation, true to the representative duty as- 
 signed them at the outset, than that words adhere firmly 
 to the restricted ideas with which they are charged. 
 Language is only a precise and safe medium of thought 
 as each word receives and always discharges definite 
 and recognized offices. Otherwise used, it becomes the 
 means of constant deception, misapprehension, and mis- 
 take. The person who carelessly employs it is often, 
 1 8* L 
 
178 PHILOSOPHY OF RHETORIC. 
 
 most of all, deceived by it. Many controversies end in 
 each party's assigning to his adversary a discarded idea, 
 which neither will now accept as having been Tiis own ; 
 in both parties' claiming a position, at length, recog- 
 nized as right. 
 
 Use is only too vague in determining the meaning of 
 words ; if we depart still farther from precision, it must 
 be greatly at the expense of clearness. Improprieties, 
 even when not an immediate oif ence against perspicuity, 
 easily lead to such an offence ; while solecisms may often 
 arise from the idiomatic force of a language. 
 
 Opinion has much altered of late as to the province of 
 criticism and its possible power over a tongue. Many 
 philologists are wishing to renovate English spelling. 
 The speech of a nation is the product of its national life, 
 and will submit to change only in a slow and limited way. 
 Life must be dealt with cautiously, and is not to be so 
 readily helped by improvements as the sanguine reformer 
 imagines. 
 
BOOK III. 
 
 CHAPTER I. 
 
 STYLE. 
 
 IT remains to speak of the methods of composition 
 of style. Style is the peculiar mode of expression 
 which belongs to an author. This, in some of its lead- 
 ing features, is often similar in the writers of a period 
 or of a nation. Style is dependent both on internal and 
 external conditions. It receives its peculiar form chiefly 
 from the mental movements of which it is the expres- 
 sion. The thought and language are realized together, 
 and the same tendencies that determine the one must in 
 this very act definitely fasten the other. Language is 
 often spoken of as the garment of the thought. The 
 figure implies by far too distinct and independent an 
 existence in the thought. This, like the life of a plant, 
 is conditioned by and to the form in which it abides ; 
 and though this form may be greatly modified by the 
 external forces to which it is subject, yet this modifica- 
 tion reacts strongly on the life in the one case, on the 
 
 (179) 
 
180 PHILOSOPHY OF RHETORIC. 
 
 thought in the other. The mind, with a given mastery 
 of language, with a certain fulness and force of vocabu- 
 lary, a certain ease and accuracy of composition, the 
 complex result of habit and education, sets itself to 
 the task of reaching and expressing its thoughts. 
 
 Under these defined external conditions the mind real- 
 izes a product, shaped by its own laws and tendencies 
 of action. The force from within has been modified by 
 the means at its disposal ; and in the result, both inte- 
 rior and exterior causes, both original power and educa- 
 tional advantages, blend and reveal themselves. 
 
 There is no such thing as an absolutely good style. 
 Composition is a means, and, like all means, must be 
 governed by the end. With each variation in. the end, 
 therefore, style, or method, must be modified. In reach- 
 ing the same end, also, minor varieties of method are 
 not only admissible, but desirable, as expressing the 
 varieties of character, and making each product more 
 individual and personal. That which is peculiar with- 
 out being faulty imparts freshness and variety, and adds 
 to the scope of literature. 
 
 It is, therefore, only in certain general characteristics 
 that all good styles agree, and not in the details by 
 which specific ends and adaptations are reached. Even 
 the leading qualities of good style will stand in different 
 relations to each other, and exist in different degrees, 
 
STYLE. 181 
 
 according to the particular object to be secured. There 
 is no uniform preponderance of one over another, or 
 balance of one with another, fitted for all places and 
 occasions. A great variety of adjectives may be applied 
 to style, as terse, vehement, copious, verbose, which ex- 
 press different degrees of praise or of censure, according 
 to the specific object in the light of which the effort is 
 to be judged. What is succinct for one audience is 
 copious for another and verbose for a third. No abso- 
 lute standard is to be set up ; but that we may pre- 
 serve the force of Nature, something of her freedom is 
 to be allowed. A fixed and staid perfection is one of 
 the least perfect of results. The contemptuous criticism 
 of pedantic and formal art marks a decay of power. 
 
 The primary qualities of style are three : perspicuity, 
 elegance, and energy. They make answer in composi- 
 tion to the three questions, What is it? What its pro- 
 priety? What its force? Through perspicuity we realize 
 a definite intellectual product ; through elegance we 
 secure in form its highest adaptation to the end; and 
 through energy its highest adaptation in force. 
 
 Of these three, the fundamental quality is perspi- 
 cuity : without it, a production can neither be elegant 
 nor energetic. We cannot have elegant form till we 
 have form, nor forcible sentiment till we have sentiment. 
 It is the light which perspicuity sheds through the Intel- 
 
182 PHILOSOPHY OF RHETOKIC. 
 
 lectual product which reveals its elegance and energy. 
 Thought, that it may haye the second and third quali- 
 ties, must have the first quality. Without this, it yet lies 
 half hidden amid things unshaped, and can neither fur- 
 nish the form of beauty nor the substance of strength. 
 
 These leading qualities of style stand intimately con- 
 nected with the three divisions of the mental faculties : 
 understanding, emotions, and will. Perspicuity arises 
 from the most perfect action of the intellect ; and per- 
 spicuous composition alone can discipline the mind and 
 meet its wants. There is here a double relation ; per- 
 spicuity is both a result of, and a means to, successful 
 mental effort. 
 
 Elegance springs from, and expresses, delicacy of 
 feeling. The emotional nature, in its more sensitive 
 and esthetical action, is the source of refined sentiment 
 and of those chosen and elegant forms which appropri- 
 ately embody it. The imagination, though often em- 
 ployed in the service of pure thought, only paints in 
 warm and glowing colors under the influence of the feel- 
 ings. Elegance, therefore, as a quality of style, stands 
 most intimately connected with the emotions. 
 
 Energy expresses the patience and vigor with which 
 an end is pursued, and these qualities are due to will. 
 Desire, assuming a settled determination, imparts direc- 
 tion and earnestness to the movements of the mind, 
 
STYLE. 183 
 
 and, hence, energy to that language which reveals them. 
 Energy is rooted in will; without it there can be no 
 persistency, no power. 
 
 These three qualities stand also connected, respec- 
 tively, with the three forms of composition. Prose, 
 philosophical prose, having chiefly to do with the con- 
 nections of facts or the logical relations of thought, 
 above all requires perspicuity in their conception 
 and statement. Accuracy and distinctness are here, 
 as in a working-plan, or an illustrative drawing, the 
 qualities most requisite. Statement is the thing aimed 
 at; and statement is statement no further than it is 
 lucid. 
 
 In poetry, on the other hand, pleasure is sought ; and 
 it is a condition of high-wrought, delicate enjoyment 
 that it shall everywhere meet the laws of taste. It 
 is the perfection of the product that pleases, and this 
 perfection seeks after a complete and elegant form. 
 Hence, elegance, as the condition of the highest pleas- 
 ure, becomes a ruling quality in poetry. 
 
 In oratory, will is to be influenced ; and this is accom- 
 plished chiefly through the energy of argument and 
 emotion. The strength of the thought not its intrinsic 
 and latent strength, but its open, demonstrative power 
 is now the point of interest, and style is to be judged 
 by its immediate, popular force. Those means are the 
 
184 PHILOSOPHY OF RHETORIC. 
 
 best, and those alone, which are most truly effective. 
 Moral force, moving steadily toward a defined end, is 
 the essential characteristic of oratory ; and this is energy. 
 Not only does no one of these qualities exclude the 
 others, they are mutually dependent on each other, and 
 one, when present in a high degree, involves a meas- 
 ure of the remaining two. Though the means of reach- 
 ing these qualities of style are allied, we yet have occa- 
 sion to speak of each separately. 
 
PERSPICUITY. 185 
 
 CHAPTER II. 
 
 PERSPICUITY. 
 
 AMONG the qualities of a good style, perspicuity is 
 plainly the most essential. It must accompany the 
 writer in all forms of effort, and be found in every 
 sentence. It is not, however, so much an absolute as 
 a relative quality. What is plain to one audience may 
 be obscure to another. The man and the child, the 
 ignorant and the learned, cannot be addressed in the 
 same language ; and the perspicuity of composition is to 
 be judged by the intelligence of those for whom it is 
 designed. Perspicuity has reference to the ease, cer- 
 tainty, and precision with which the language yields the 
 thought to those for whom it was expressed. It is not 
 the nature of subjects, but the power of persons, which 
 determines the perspicuity of any given treatment. 
 
 It is evident, that, to a wise man, the capacity of 
 those whom he seeks either to instruct, please, or per- 
 suade must furnish the guide and law of action. What- 
 ever this demands, he will patiently grant as the funda- 
 mental condition of success. Some forms of composition, 
 
186 PHILOSOPHY OF RHETORIC. 
 
 as the oration, have a most immediate and specific ref- 
 erence to given individuals, and, therefore, are levelled 
 to their easy apprehension ; others, as is frequently the 
 case with the essay and the poem, go in search of cer- 
 tain readers, and are not expected to furnish the fullest 
 entertainment or instruction to any but a limited class. 
 Eeaders of any given book constitute a more select circle 
 than those who usually listen to any given address, and 
 therefore the writer may presuppose in those for whom 
 he writes higher powers than can the orator. The 
 poem may rightly demand poetical insight ; and philoso- 
 phy, the discipline of a trained mind. It is sufficient 
 that composition finds a class to whom, through affinity 
 of tastes or powers, it readily imparts its thought. 
 The writer, therefore, in aiming at perspicuity, considers 
 chiefly whether his own ideas have been lucidly ex- 
 pressed, while the orator must inquire whether the 
 expression is open to the easy, pleasurable apprehension 
 of given persons. The book determines the reader, the 
 listener determines the oration. 
 
 The obscurity and difficulty of a subject can hardly 
 be regarded as any just reason for the want of per- 
 spicuity; indeed, they rather seem to constitute the 
 demand for it. One is not bound to write ; if he must 
 write obscurely, and therefore weakly and worthlessly, 
 he is rather bound not to write. In proportion to the 
 
PERSPICUITY. 187 
 
 embarrassments of the topic should the writer move 
 cautiously and distinctly through it. 
 
 Perspicuity is that quality of style by which a clear 
 thought, without loss, without enlargement, is lodged in 
 clear language. It depends primarily on the method 
 of the mind's action, and secondarily on the use of lan- 
 guage. No formal rules, having chief reference to the 
 instrument and methods of expression, can in any high 
 degree secure it. It must spring from a strong, well- 
 furnished, and well-disciplined mind. Confused thinking 
 and confused expression cannot be readily distinguished 
 in their results, and the latter will not often occur 
 without the former. At this point, as at others, we see 
 how deeply true rhetorical excellence is rooted in the 
 mind, and how broad and thorough a culture it implies. 
 The expression is the counterpart and measure of the 
 thinking, and little can be done for the forms of thought 
 except through thought itself. Formal directions are 
 of slight avail ; the mind must be quickened, and taught 
 to do its work more thoroughly. Style, the outgrowth 
 of the intellectual life, can only become clear, concise, 
 and vigorous, as the intuitive and reflective powers 
 themselves possess these characteristics. The strong 
 and elastic step is the spontaneous movement of a 
 full life. 
 
 He that would think clearly can neither be indolent 
 
188 PHILOSOPHY OP RHETORIC. 
 
 nor hasty. Indeed, haste is a very common result of 
 indolence. The mind will either not investigate its 
 opinions, or does it precipitately and carelessly, that it 
 may again relapse into the quiet of dogmatism, substi- 
 tuting obstinacy for conviction. 
 
 Thinking also proceeds so frequently in the interest 
 of some passion, marshalling arguments for a given 
 conclusion, shaping reasons so as to reach a specific 
 end, that candid inquiry and just apprehension, and 
 hence the most perspicuous expression, are impossible. 
 False views, and the worst emotions, may, indeed, be 
 perspicuously expressed ; but they are not likely to be. 
 Man usually strives to throw the semblance of plausi- 
 bility and virtue over his beliefs and action, and in doing 
 this, the thought becomes partial and sophistical. An 
 imposing and decorous phraseology is made to disguise 
 the opinions which it seems to express. That men will 
 not come to the light lest their deeds be reproved, is the 
 explanation of much confused argumentation. The 
 vigor of all parts of man's nature is requisite to the most 
 successful action of any. 
 
 Eight aims and thorough methods are the conditions 
 of just thinking, which is the most perspicuous thinking. 
 Obscurity arises from that rapid glance of the mind by 
 which it seems to behold without fully grasping its 
 object. The eye at no time rests protractedly upon a 
 
PERSPICUITY. 189 
 
 single portion of the field, till it has mapped it in a 
 completed survey. The act of expression hurries the 
 process of thought ; the seeming progress which is 
 made, when a form of words is reached, deceives the 
 mind, and leaves it satisfied with the shadowy semblance 
 of things. 
 
 In passing from the clear sunlight into a dark cave, 
 we see but obscurely, in flickering outline, the objects 
 about us. If we commence instantly our description, 
 we can scarcely expect that the impression which we 
 shall impart will be more accurate. It is necessary 
 that the eye should rest where it falls, till angles and 
 surfaces, projections and crevices, come out from the 
 darkness, and stand rightly grouped before it. Thus he 
 who would think clearly must make tarry within the 
 light of a reflective mind the subject in hand till it 
 stands in clear outline. All, then, that trains the mind 
 to severe thinking, and the heart to right feeling, pre- 
 pares the way for perspicuous utterance. 
 
 While an honest and disciplined mind is the general 
 condition of perspicuity, there are in each effort of com- 
 position more immediate and specific conditions. Some 
 of these we shall mention : the first is a distinct appre- 
 hension of the thing proposed, of the end to be reached. 
 This condition is equally important, whatever that end 
 may be, whether the communication of thought, the 
 
190 PHILOSOPHY OP RHETORIC. 
 
 imparting of pleasure, or persuasion. The object is 
 often not early or definitely enough conceived by the 
 mind to give form to the composition. The writer is 
 said to "write himself clear;" that is, the exact 
 relation of ideas is seen at the close, and not at the 
 commencement, of the effort. This may be frequently 
 unavoidable; but it is evident that the mind cannot 
 most directly and succinctly present a subject till it has 
 defined the topic, and seen its bearings. The more 
 specific and individual the object, the more strict will be 
 the test furnished every sentence, and the more definite 
 the law of arrangement. 
 
 What is termed the throwing out of ideas is an indo- 
 lent and relatively a confused process. Concentration, 
 definiteness of purpose, this is that which gives order 
 and direction to the mind, and sets it on systematic 
 effort. Even in poetry, the more single and individual 
 the product, the more perfect does it promise to become. 
 
 In this choice of an end there is also involved, as a 
 second condition, a clear discernment of the means by 
 which it is to be reached. The two must go together. 
 It is the end which defines and arranges the means. 
 All questions of method are intelligently settled only 
 when we have an explicit apprehension of the object 
 proposed. It is the want of this which so often gives 
 vagueness and generality to discourse, a conflicting 
 
PERSPICUITY. 191 
 
 and erratic character to the essay. The highest per- 
 spicuity can only be reached in connection with severe 
 unity. Every part thus complements, sustains, and 
 expounds every other, and the mind, undiverted, ap- 
 proaches by every movement one step nearer the end. 
 
 Not only must the end and the means by which it is 
 to be reached be present to the mind, they must often be 
 clearly expressed as well as thoroughly contained in the 
 composition. When success depends on the distinctness 
 with which the steps of thought are taken, the mind of 
 the listener must be aided, that the movement may be 
 most rapid, easy, and perfect. It is not sufficient, 
 therefore, for the highest perspicuity, that the relations 
 and line of connection are in themselves perfect ; the 
 auditor needs to be forewarned of the object in view, 
 and to have his attention directly drawn to the succes- 
 sive steps through which it is reached. The general 
 relations of the discussion are thus brought to the sur- 
 face, and the listener led to direct his full attention to its 
 successive stages. Without this general anatomy of the 
 theme, considerable reflection is often required to discern 
 relations in themselves most severe and logical. 
 
 This formal statement of the subject and its divisions 
 is often thought to be mechanical, and to preclude the 
 highest artistic products. The skeleton of the oration, 
 it is said, should be contained in, rather than thus 
 
192 PHILOSOPHY OP RHETORIC. 
 
 raised upon, the composition. In poetry this is uni- 
 formly the case, since the life-like effect is here of 
 preeminent moment, and delighted contemplation, rather 
 than rapid apprehension, is aimed at. In forms of com- 
 position addressed more directly to the intellect, it is, 
 however, the ligaments and relations of thought which 
 especially invite attention, and there is needed no apol- 
 ogy for presenting these in bold relief. In the oration 
 much ingenuity may be exercised in announcing the 
 subject, and in passing from part to part of the dis- 
 course without abruptly suspending the whole movement, 
 and inserting those arbitrary notices of change first, 
 secondly, thirdly. Even these, however, are better than 
 a transition so carefully covered as not to be distinctly 
 and at once observed. Transitions clearly marking the 
 progress of thought are a third important condition of 
 perspicuity. 
 
 This clearness of a production, taken as a whole, is 
 much more important than the perspicuity of single 
 sentences; since the mind experiences more difficulty 
 in grasping and relating the whole than in a careful 
 consideration of detached portions ; since the gain is 
 slight if parts are understood, while their purpose and 
 relations are not seen ; and since, with the general 
 object full in view, obscure sentences can either be 
 comprehended, or, without much loss, be neglected. 
 
PERSPICUITY. 193 
 
 Sentences, the rudimentary parts of discourse, are as 
 compared with their grouping, first into members, and 
 then into a whole likely to receive too much attention. 
 
 A chief instrument of perspicuous thought, and yet 
 more of perspicuous expression, is comparison. The 
 mind adds the unknown to the known by inquiring into 
 agreements and differences. Each new fact takes its 
 place in the classifications of knowledge by its relations 
 to those already present there. The mind is constantly 
 explaining to itself the new, is penetrating it with a 
 more thorough analysis, by an accurate determination of 
 its agreements and disagreements with the old. Think- 
 ing involves, therefore, constant comparison ; and the 
 breadth, justness, and clearness with which this is done 
 measure the power of the mind. Hasty, superficial 
 resemblances are a constant source of error; radical, 
 though often remote, agreements, the foundations of 
 truth. The thoughtful mind is in every step, therefore, 
 trained to comparison, and the precision with which this 
 iu instituted marks the perspicuity of its movement. 
 
 Comparison, in its two forms of resemblance and an- 
 tithesis, being so fundamental a step in investigation and 
 comprehension, must also play an important part in pres- 
 entation. Though essentially the same principles underlie 
 inquiry and instruction, the getting and the imparting 
 of knowledge, the latter receives some modifications 
 9 M 
 
194 PHILOSOPHY OF RHETORIC. 
 
 from the different relations which the mind of the reader 
 or listener may sustain to the subject. It is not now so 
 much the radical comparisons of philosophy, liable to be 
 equally obscure in both their branches, that are sought, 
 as those more general agreements, which, finding one 
 member already lodged in the popular apprehension, 
 pass thence to the other and more obscure member. 
 The mind is no longer busy with its own processes, 
 inquiring into inherent and intimate relations, but is 
 striving within the compass of general knowledge to find 
 a vantage point from which to spring an arch over into 
 the more obscure domain of truth, to discover something 
 of which it may say, " Look ye here ; see this ; it is like 
 that of which I am speaking." A certain aptness and 
 interest in the agreements of things remote are now 
 sought, rather than the thorough resemblance of things 
 closely allied. 
 
 The comparison of 'discourse is always under this lim- 
 itation, that it must find its starting point among things 
 well known. With this restriction, the more severe and 
 philosophic it may be, the more correct and perspicuous 
 is it. Perspicuity is reached by illustrative comparisons, 
 and these, in their just forms, involve inherent agree^ 
 ments. By an error at this point, that which is seem- 
 ingly perspicuous is really most fallacious and obscure. 
 Comparisons which hold to the senses, but not to the 
 
PERSPICUITY. 195 
 
 mind, which involve transient agreements with radical 
 differences, offer subtle means of deception. Just in 
 proportion as the illustrative comparison slips from phi- 
 losophy into fancy, does it become dangerous and ob- 
 scure. Its seeming light adds to the darkness. Like a 
 flickering candle in the night, it makes the gloom only 
 the more impenetrable. 
 
 The comparison may also be used for vivacity, for 
 the beauty of its glowing imagery. Here there is more 
 license in the resemblance, since both branches of the 
 comparison are now relatively well understood, and the 
 aim is rather to delight by the corresponding lustre of 
 remote things than to instruct by the agreement of allied 
 things. 
 
 The use of comparison is very much a habit of thought. 
 The mind observes and treasures up resemblances; it 
 relates and unites diverse things, and thus can reach 
 a given end from many different starting points. It 
 has an eye for harmonies, and marks them in the prog- 
 ress of physical and spiritual forces. So intimate is 
 the connection of style with thought, that the method 
 of thinking must, in a large degree, be the method of 
 presentation, and the relations of the expression be de- 
 termined by the interior relations of the ideas. Style is 
 chiefly to be affected through that discipline which con- 
 trols the mind. The habits of observation and investiga- 
 
196 PHILOSOPHY OF RHETORIC. 
 
 tion give the imagery of discourse. The mind stored 
 with comparisons by its own methods of inquiry, can 
 hardly fail to use them. 
 
 The comparison is a formal figure, pointing out dis- 
 tinctly, and often at length, the agreement or contrast 
 between two things. This fits it for clear, unimpas- 
 sioned presentation, for quiet, yet earnest, explanation. 
 There is in it activity and warmth of thought rather than 
 emotion. The antithesis may present its subject in 
 strong, brilliant outline; but it is throughout a most 
 perspicuous, intellectual process, and requires the com- 
 posure of reason to preserve its balance and make it a 
 presentation, not a distortion, of the subject. Of the 
 two forms, antithesis is the more striking. Marked 
 contrasts are less frequently observed, and affect the 
 mind more than marked agreements. Our judgments 
 are almost wholly relative, and we form our highest esti- 
 mate of any quality by contrasting it with its opposite. 
 
 We now come to those conditions of perspicuity which 
 are more strictly external. Chief among these are the 
 choice of words, the number of words, and their arrange- 
 ment. These are the divisions given by Campbell under 
 vivacity, for which we here find place. The fact is, 
 that the qualities of good style are so allied, that what 
 secures one helps to secure all, and the same points dis- 
 cussed in somewhat different relations are applicable to 
 
PERSPICUITY. 197 
 
 all. Choice of words is important in securing each 
 excellency of style. 
 
 The writer is regulated in his choice of words princi- 
 pally by the subject discussed ; the speaker, by the per- 
 sons addressed. Science has found necessary for pre- 
 cision many new words. These have a limited and 
 technical meaning. The careful philosophical essay 
 must often employ these for the precise and accurate 
 expression of its meaning. These qualities give law to 
 its language, and though, at first, there may seem to be 
 thrown a heavier burden on the reader, he has no right 
 to complain of what is necessary to a more just under- 
 standing of the subject. Ease must give way to accu- 
 racy, and to combine the two in the highest degree is 
 the excellency of the writer. While composition on its 
 philosophical side is governed by precision, on its popular 
 side it is controlled by ease of apprehension. The for- 
 mula for the one is, Be precise, and thereby be under- 
 stood ; for the other, Be understood, and therewith seek 
 precision. Technical phraseology may be in the essay, 
 when rightly employed, most perspicuous ; perspicuous 
 discourse must be most simple in the words used. 
 
 Simple words, in the present meaning, are those read- 
 ily understood by the mass of men. They are the only 
 appropriate, as they are the only perspicuous, words in 
 discourse. Simplicity may have, however, a broadei 
 
198 PHILOSOPHY OP RHETORIC. 
 
 meaning, the use of those words which most readily, 
 most directly, convey the meaning to the minds ad- 
 dressed, and thus belong to all perspicuous compo- 
 sition. Specific as opposed to abstract, and familiar 
 as opposed to unusual words, render the idea most 
 accessible to all minds. It is not so frequently the dif- 
 ficulty or depth of the thought that removes it from the 
 popular apprehension, as the strangeness of the lan- 
 guage in which it is expressed. Many radical princi- 
 ples may be stated and elucidated, many weighty truths 
 discussed and urged, if the language and illustrations 
 employed are level to the audience. There is usually 
 shrewdness enough to catch ideas, when these are not 
 disguised and estranged by unfamiliar phraseology. 
 
 The process of education may, in this respect, unfit 
 the speaker for the task afterward laid upon him. He 
 acquires the vocabulary of schools and books rather 
 than that of popular life, and gives to every discussion a 
 technical turn, which removes it from the language and 
 feelings of the people. Every principle of practical 
 interest, as every radical principle is, can be discussed 
 and pressed as a powerful motive, provided that dis- 
 course unfolds it on its practical side, in its familiar 
 bearings, and not speculatively as the member of a 
 system. 
 
 The speaker must start with the people, enlarge, 
 
PERSPICUITY. 199 
 
 correct, and apply their views. He must, therefore, be 
 familiar with their words, their thoughts, the imagery 
 of their life and minds. To bring forth scholarly 
 thoughts in their original speculative forms, is to invite 
 a popular audience to an entertainment in which they 
 can have little part or interest ; the crane feasts the fox 
 in his own long-necked dish. 
 
 Some men discover this, and fall into an opposite 
 and worse fault. Drollery, extravagance, stories, are 
 made to furnish amusement, and the lightest possible 
 dash of substantial truth is deemed sufficient for popular 
 effect. The discourse is perspicuous, but comparatively 
 worthless. Rarely, very rarely, need one lay aside a 
 good thought as too difficult of apprehension. Find its 
 practical bearings, its familiar applications, and through 
 these it can be approached with great certainty and 
 interest. Discourse, to be thoroughly perspicuous, must 
 be communicated in the speech of common life, not in 
 those abstract and general terms which serve the pur- 
 poses of reflection. 
 
 In no department of oratory is this more manifest 
 than in the pulpit. A certain unreality and estrange- 
 ment from daily experience belong to spiritual ideas. 
 Add to this a theological turn of expression, a set use 
 of peculiar words ever liable to lapse into cant, the 
 solemnity of the Sabbath and the church, and though the 
 
200 PHILOSOPHY OP RHETORIC. 
 
 sermon may seem to be perspicuous, to be perfectly 
 understood, the most weighty truths have in fact fallen 
 on the mind with little or no influence. We may 
 account for this in various ways, but we think it 
 largely due to a want of real perspicuity. We know 
 that certain forms of speech, in themselves clear and 
 weighty, can be repeated till they convey little or no 
 idea. Eeclothe the thoughts in a more immediate and 
 pressing form, and they resume their power. Religious 
 truth is often not perspicuously urged, because not urged 
 under those intimate and searching and changing rela- 
 tions which it really sustains to daily life. When any 
 great department makes the impression of a supersensual 
 and speculative region, it is not understood. One can- 
 not be perspicuous without a thoroughly penetrating view 
 of the radical, living connections of truth. Theoretical 
 men may philosophize, but the orator must know and 
 feel truth on its practical side as well. It is not the 
 statics so much as the dynamics of life that he is to 
 expound and control. Things are plain enough, and 
 we must give to our thoughts the perspicuity of facts, 
 and then they will become effective. This sort of 
 clearness is the foundation of energy. 
 
 In the choice of words, it is evident that purity 
 will greatly aid perspicuity. The original Anglo-Saxon 
 element of our language has been chiefly retained by 
 
PERSPICUITY. 201 
 
 the people, and is now its clearest, strongest portion. 
 Here, again, education may easily weaken our vocabu- 
 lary, substituting classical derivatives for our native 
 speech. 
 
 A second verbal point on which perspicuity depends 
 is the number of words. A cumbersome, involved 
 expression, though containing the idea, is less clear than 
 one more concise. The mind is embarrassed by words 
 which have no essential office. The more divested the 
 sentence is of superfluities, the more separately and 
 singly does the thought stand forth. When the point 
 of comprehension, of fair and succinct statement, has 
 been reached, all beyond wearies and confuses the 
 mind. In the search for something more, it loses sight, 
 in part, of what it had. Amplification is, indeed, a 
 most essential power in oratory, but this is neither cum- 
 bersome nor repetitious. Copious, no less than concise, 
 expression should keep the words directly in the line of 
 thought ; we incline to the one or the other according 
 to the rapidity of movement of which the listener is 
 capable. We can neither fall behind nor outstrip him 
 without weakening attention. Slowness is not simply 
 opposed to energy, it is also unfavorable to appre- 
 hension. 
 
 The last means of perspicuity is arrangement. Thia 
 expresses the grammatical connections of the sentence, 
 9* 
 
202 PHILOSOPHY OF RHETORIC. 
 
 and must, therefore, conform closely to them. Punctu- 
 ation is a further means of expressing these relations, 
 but is so liable to error and change, that it ought to be 
 as little as possible relied on. It is designed rather to 
 give quickness of apprehension to the reader, than 
 intelligibility to the writer. So far as the grammar 
 of a sentence is concerned, its clearness depends chiefly 
 on the simplicity of the construction, the precision of 
 the arrangement, and the reference of pronouns. As 
 regards perspicuity, the length of a sentence is not 
 of as much moment as the character of its construction. 
 It is the complex dependences, the involved relations, 
 the assertion sliding on from point to point, that em- 
 barrass the mind, tripping it in the meshes of grammar. 
 Retain the same simple form of affirmation, and the 
 sentence may be long, yet clear. It is the steady, easy 
 hand with which its grammar is managed which carries 
 perspicuity through a sentence. 
 
 To mark the dependence of adjectives, adverbs, and 
 prepositional clauses, position is relied on. The last 
 two have more license of arrangement than the first, 
 and are, therefore, more open to obscurity. There are 
 frequently opportunities for a double reference. It is 
 in these cases especially that the dependence must be 
 strictly marked. As in the rabble of modern speech, 
 the noun and verb no longer clothe their dependants in 
 
PERSPICUITY. 203 
 
 the livery of inflection, each must gather to itself its 
 retinue in close attendance. 
 
 The relative pronoun, having little to mark the con- 
 nection with its antecedent, is confined in its reference 
 to the sentence to which it belongs, and is further 
 restricted in position. If the antecedent is a prominent 
 noun, it may sufficiently attach the pronoun, though 
 other nouns intervene ; if not, the relative should imme- 
 diately follow. The personal pronoun, though more 
 closely connected with its antecedent by gender, num- 
 ber, and person, is also liable to ambiguous reference, 
 and the more so as the range of its reference is enlarged 
 to preceding sentences. We say sentences : it cannot, 
 however, revert far without obscurity, unless the con- 
 nection is marked and sustained by the frequent inter- 
 vening use of the pronoun. Narrative may maintain 
 the reference when continuous for some time. When 
 any intervening matter has suspended it, the noun 
 should again be introduced. The perspicuity and dig- 
 nity of narrative are better secured by a frequent use 
 of the noun. The demonstrative this is often used 
 with obscure reference, chiefly because it refers, not to a 
 person or thing, but to some sentiment or principle. 
 This principle has frequently not received a distinct 
 statement, but only been hinted at, or involved in what 
 lias been said. The mind, therefore, expounds the 
 
204 PHILOSOPHY OF RHETORIC. 
 
 comprehensive pronoun with uncertainty. It is usually 
 better distinctly to enunciate the doctrine or notion, 
 before this sort of reference is admitted. 
 
 Perspicuity is a relative quality. It is judged by the 
 end in view. It may, therefore, be found in excess. 
 To push lucid explanation beyond what is requisite for 
 apprehension is wearisome. This power of comprehen- 
 sion known to exist, or rightly presumed to exist, varies 
 with every form of composition. The speaker is most 
 strongly and definitely bound by a fact, a given 
 degree of intelligence which he must know and regard. 
 With those who are capable of profiting by it, a sug- 
 gestive rather than an exhaustive style is preferable, as 
 it gives a more independent, fresh, and profitable move- 
 ment to the mind of the listener. There is more pleas- 
 ure in the light and shade of morning than in the even 
 glow of noonday. 
 
 Memory also often demands a compact statement, 
 though it may require much afterthought fully to 
 understand it. Thus knowledge is made portable in 
 aphorisms and proverbs, and the speaker gathers up his 
 discussion in a few terse sentences, which first require 
 the whole discourse for their explanation, and afterward 
 retain it. Subjects, divisions, and compends may be 
 perspicuous only in their connections, being designed to 
 
PERSPICUITY. 205 
 
 fasten attention and aid memory, to contain, rather 
 than to expound, the theme. 
 
 It has also been observed that where persuasion is 
 aimed at, the very end in view will not always suffer 
 the highest perspicuity. An absurd yet common opinion 
 or custom is to be exposed : if unsparing argument and 
 ridicule are employed, pride is aroused, and obstinacy 
 excited. Men are ashamed to accept conclusions which 
 have in them so much censure and contempt for their 
 past conduct ; they are unwilling to believe that they 
 and so many have been grossly mistaken, and resist to 
 the utmost the unpleasant conviction. They try to do by 
 obstinacy what they cannot do by argument. We are 
 all slow to make an unconditional surrender. If a 
 retreat is left open to vanity, we silently draw off our 
 forces without acknowledging even to ourselves a defeat. 
 It is often easier to add a second mistake than to cancel 
 the first by a frank concession. When the aim is to 
 win those addressed, they are not so much to be driven 
 as persuaded. The prejudices and passions are not to 
 be at once aroused by undisguised attack, but princi- 
 ples are to be established, and truths insinuated, that 
 shall lead the mind by its own action to the right con- 
 clusion, and make the result seem to be one of its own 
 acceptance. Pitiless argument, censure, and rebuke 
 can only be used as a last resort toward those who are 
 
206 PHILOSOPHY OF RHETORIC. 
 
 to be aroused and forced to action, or against open 
 and determined enemies, not so much for their sake as a 
 means of influence with third persons. The preacher 
 especially needs to know what kind of perspicuity is 
 persuasive, what effective for the end proposed. 
 
ELEGANCE. 
 
 CHAPTER HI. 
 
 ELEGANCE. 
 
 ELEGANCE is more frequently employed to express 
 a polished and refined style than a simple and natural 
 one ; to denote acquired, than native graces. It is 
 here used to cover all in composition that gives pleasure 
 to taste, both in the matter brought forward and in its 
 method of presentation, or, more accurately, in the 
 matter as presented. The object of taste is beauty in 
 its fuller and more restricted forms, in itself and in 
 its elements. That composition may give pleasure to 
 taste, there must be beauty in the conception, and skill 
 and ease in the execution ; matter and manner must 
 combine to make the product elegant. The more excel- 
 lent either alone may be, the more conscious are we of 
 any discord between them. Homely matter in homely 
 phrase may possess much power ; shift the one without 
 the other, impart refinement to the words merely, and 
 the whole becomes ridiculous. In treating of elegance, 
 we have, therefore, as much to speak of its basis in the 
 
208 PHILOSOPHY OP RHETORIC. 
 
 mind's action, as of those methods which native grace 
 is sure to adopt. 
 
 Elegance rests chiefly on richness and delicacy of 
 feeling. It has but little connection with simply reason- 
 ing processes. Its intellectual side is intuitive a 
 direct, immediate perception of qualities interpreted by 
 the emotions which they arouse. One might as well 
 expect to understand the power of music without feeling 
 it, as to perceive beauty without the love of it. The 
 more diversified and sensitive one's emotional nature, 
 the more rapid and certain will be his judgment in ques- 
 tions which ultimately make their appeal to feeling. 
 Moral problems are often interpreted and solved by 
 generous, just feeling, quite as quickly and surely as 
 by unimpassioned speculation. 
 
 Elegance depends principally on the management of 
 emotional elements ; it is, therefore, an essential excel- 
 lence in poetry. Here nothing can take its place, since 
 to fail in giving pleasure, to fall short of the harmony 
 of concurrent feeling, of inwrapping the heart in 
 elevated sentiment, is to forfeit the very end for which 
 poetry is instituted. In the philosophical essay, ele- 
 gance takes a wholly secondary position. In the 
 anatomical room, we forget the beauty of the living 
 structure. Elegance is now little more than the most 
 straightforward statement of simple facts is but the 
 
ELEGANCE. 201) 
 
 lustre of perspicuity. In the narrative essay, as history, 
 especially when the discussion of causes is forgotten, 
 and the sequence of facts followed, the movement is 
 that of free living forces, and the beauty and grace of 
 life gather about the theme. Here lies an important 
 distinction between history and the novel. In the one 
 narrative, the facts are preeminent ; but that they may 
 be facts, they must, be the entire, the living facts, 
 clothed as far as possible with the emotion of the hour. 
 In the other, the feelings are uppermost, and the flexi- 
 ble narrative goes and comes so as best to reveal these, 
 the real, the vital forces of life. The truth of princi- 
 ples belongs to the good novel ; the truth of facts and 
 principles, to history. 
 
 In oratory, elegance is not only secondary to energy, 
 but taste, when it is in the least degree fastidious, 
 when it is nervous, may decidedly interfere with success. 
 Elegance partakes too much of form, and too little of 
 substance, has reference too much to an ideal and too 
 little to a practical end, to be a controlling quality in 
 oratory. When men are content to be elegant, and not 
 succeed, rather than be a little less elegant, and succeed, 
 taste merely weakens and emasculates speech. Elegance 
 is a method, a manner, and can never be opposed to an 
 end. Reach the end, and do it with as much taste as 
 may be. A querulous and pedantic, or a fondling 
 
 N 
 
210 IHILOSOPHY OF RHETORIC. 
 
 criticism, that trims and soothes everything, is cf little 
 use, and gives its possessor much superfluous trouble. 
 It ought not to be said, that there is any inherent con- 
 flict between elegance and energy. They frequently 
 sustain each other. The apparent disagreement between 
 them arises often from mistaking the end of oratory, and 
 striving to give pleasure rather than to secure impression, 
 and from the frequent want of cultivation in those 
 addressed. 
 
 In the first case, beauty being aimed at, elegance 
 comes to be the ruling quality of style, which it never 
 properly can be in oratory. As true elegance, nay, 
 truer, might have been found by imparting to the address 
 a more determined style, pushing forward to its end. 
 Weakness is not necessary to elegance, though elegance, 
 sought for itself, often leads to it. There is a more 
 sublime and stirring beauty in action than in rest. This 
 enervating taste is corrected by imparting a more ex- 
 ternal and practical end. The tasks which fall to work- 
 ing men are in all departments more or less homely. 
 Dainty men are usually indolent fops. 
 
 In the second case, the orator finds in the audience a 
 blunt, undisciplined taste. He cannot throw his pearls 
 before swine. As a wise man, he draws imagery, 
 illustration, and appeal from familiar fields, and with less 
 beauty, but more energy, presses forward. That criticism 
 
ELEGANCE. 211 
 
 is maudlin, which, in the pulpit or on the platform, cuts 
 off the speaker from the most immediate and full suc- 
 cess. Immediate and permanent success sets law to the 
 effort, and no gains of taste merely can atone for its 
 want. It rarely calls, however, for a violation of taste ; 
 it chiefly leads to a partial oversight. It should also be 
 borne in mind, that a breach of taste may excite atten- 
 tion and win a rude applause, and yet do mischief. In 
 proportion as intelligence and cultivation gain ground, 
 elegance and energy concur in their effects, and the 
 most energetic becomes the most elegant form of 
 action. 
 
 Minds differ much from each other in the delicacy 
 of their apprehensions and quickness of their suscep- 
 tibilities. Some lie sluggish and heavy under all the 
 subtler influences and lighter movements by which 
 grace and beauty are expressed; while others, as if 
 endowed with a new, more universal and perfect sense, 
 like a brilliant flower, cull from the common light all 
 its rarest tints. This delicate perception is an indis- 
 pensable requisite for all composition in any high 
 degree elegant, and, bestowed in its rudiments by 
 nature, is, like every other power, largely dependent 
 on cultivation. 
 
 Exercise is ever the chief means of discipline ; and 
 for this, in the department of taste, the opportunities 
 
212 PHILOSOPHY OF RHETORIC. 
 
 are abundant. The careful observation called for in 
 connection with the natural sciences is one of the best 
 methods of securing that intimacy with, and interest 
 in, Nature, which render us open to her lessons of 
 beauty. The materials of taste here exist in the greatest 
 profusion and abundance ; in individual objects and in 
 the grouping of objects ; in obscure and in palpable 
 forms ; in parts and in perfected wholes ; in suggestion 
 and realization ; in sound, movement, color, and form ; 
 and in all these gathered into one compound and lavish 
 utterance. The great storehouse of illustration, com- 
 parison, metaphor, is Nature ; and by a familiarity with 
 her concealed and open processes we shall find the more 
 obscure workings of thought, the darker flow of abstract 
 things, lighted up by a thousand resemblances. This 
 study of the external world will avail little, unless we 
 bring to it a mind that has a productive habit, and that, 
 too, in the line of letters. Food nourishes the active, 
 growing part, whatever that may be, and he who uses 
 what he gets also acquires the power to get readily what 
 he uses. The same objects are looked upon with very 
 diverse reference, and therefore diverse effect. The 
 literary mind finds the play of thought in external 
 objects, and through them gives play to thought. 
 What seems to be an effect is often most efficient 
 among the cooperative causes. The exercise of an 
 
ELEGANCE. 213 
 
 activity is the reason rather than the result of its nour- 
 ishment. 
 
 As composition deals more with men than things, and 
 deals with them under a more stringent law of propriety, 
 elegance especially demands a knowledge of men, of 
 their passions and impulses. If we would present char- 
 acter in its many varieties, if we would approach it 
 through its many avenues, if we would twist into the 
 cord by which we bind men to our purposes those 
 golden threads which a knowledge of occasions and 
 persons can alone supply, we must move among men, 
 and know them. We must learn to apprehend, without 
 sharing, that which is base and selfish ; and sharing, to 
 feel the influence of every generous, life-giving impulse. 
 Thus we escape those straitened methods and chronic 
 opinions which our own bias or peculiar training may 
 have imparted. The ease and grace of management 
 which a knowledge of men imparts are proverbial. 
 There is, however, this most important limitation the 
 sincerity and freedom of individual action must not 
 thereby be lost. Here, again, we come to the same 
 principle ; we get to use, and the earnestness of using 
 preserves us from the dangers of getting. Without 
 this a cold and courtly polish may cast a chilling ele- 
 gance over our decayed life. No intercourse is so 
 healthy as that with men, men of all sorts, for an 
 
214 PHILOSOPHY OF RHETORIC. 
 
 earnest spirit ; none so dangerous for a vacant one. 
 The controlling power of every truly elegant product 
 is the individual life. This will often, by its own 
 spontaneous strength, secure elegance against every 
 difficulty. 
 
 A last means of discipline which we mention, is 
 familiarity with the best literature. Excellence in each 
 department is so far peculiar, that it must be chiefly 
 acquired by study within its own field. Every good 
 workman must learn his own trade ; and not less must 
 every inspired poet and orator catch his inspiration from 
 poetry and oratory. The chief power of every virtue 
 is a sort of induction by which it begets a like or prox- 
 imate state in every one who beholds it. Contact with 
 that which is excellent, nearness to that which has 
 power, intimacy with that which has grace, give play 
 to this silent force of virtue by which it scatters seeds 
 and shoots in all adjacent soil. The lower grace of 
 manners springs up insensibly as we share the society 
 of those possessing it; so the higher grace, which be- 
 speaks a mind easily moving through the whole range 
 of its thought. Familiarity with feeble novelists will 
 add this to its many other injuries, that the mind, habit- 
 uated to a false or languid style, will lose sight of true 
 excellence, and content itself with that which long com- 
 panionship has made agreeable. He who is intimate 
 
ELEGANCE. 215 
 
 with the best productions of the human mind, while 
 meeting with the largest return in thought, also finds 
 that that preeminence of method which has long been 
 his admiration has quickened and prospered his own 
 exertions. In all this discipline there is the most con- 
 stant action and reaction between the mind and the 
 objects before it. It chooses them in part from what 
 it itself is, and becomes more and more like the objects 
 it has chosen. Between the active mind and its food 
 there is an adaptation, a play of appetite and digestive 
 use, which prevent it from becoming either a gross gor- 
 mandizer or a dyspeptic. The elixir of health, and 
 therefore of beauty, is that principle which sets our 
 power, our knowledge, "in act and use." 
 
 The intrinsic beauty of the theme itself is not in any 
 great degree a subject of choice, except in poetry. In 
 most forms of composition, elegance must show itself 
 more in the method than in the matter of discourse. 
 We come, then, to those characteristics in composition 
 which mark it as elegant. Beauty shows itself in the 
 fitness and perfection of relations, since these are insti- 
 tuted by the artist, and reveal his power. 
 
 The first of these relations is that between the style 
 and the subject. Each theme has its own characteristics, 
 and seeks for a sympathy of manner in the expression. 
 That treatment is most elegant which most thoroughly 
 
216 PHILOSOPHY OF RHETORIC. 
 
 individualizes the topic, brings it forth under its own 
 specific forms, features, and coloring. A method essen- 
 tially the same in all departments reveals at once the 
 inflexible barren mood of the mind. For all its thoughts 
 it has one unchangeable mould,, and sends each new prod- 
 uct forth with the eld mill-mark upon it. The fresh- 
 ness and variety of nature are thus lost. There is no 
 nice discernment of character, no careful reflection of 
 transient feeling. Every subject is weighed in the same 
 rude scale-pan, and gets the taint of the market. The 
 illimitable scope of nature is thus lost : the grave, the 
 sublime, the solemn ; the earnest, the enthusiastic, the 
 inspired ; the pleasant, the gay, the merry, all march 
 to the same step. Or with accidental change, under the 
 mood of the mind, low comedy takes the place of sober 
 discussion, or pompous and emphatic assertion, of simple 
 statement. 
 
 This harmony between the inherent quality of the 
 topic and the style can only be reached when the mind 
 stands in close connection and sympathy with the sub- 
 ject. The language will thus flow forth, colored and 
 impregnated with the peculiar properties of the theme. 
 This congruity will show itself, not merely in the gen- 
 eral method employed, but especially in illustration and 
 ornament. A style indiscriminately ornate reveals a 
 crude or vulgar taste. Economy of ornament, and its 
 
ELEGANCE. 217 
 
 strict subservience to the end aimed at, discover the 
 masterly and chaste quality of the mind. The luxuri- 
 ance of youth is not, indeed, to be rejected, as it gives 
 scope to the sober, pruning hand of age, and helps to 
 save style from those bald forms into which the barren 
 fancy sinks. Imagery which is the growth of earnest 
 emotion, which is the vitality of the heart filling with 
 flowers each vacant spot may indeed be abundant, and, 
 in its spontaneous life, most beautiful. This is quite 
 different from that overwrought style which deals in per- 
 petual hyperbole, and sees none of the poor people and 
 poor facts which lie in its way. The fare of the mind, 
 like that of the body, must be plain, to be wholesome. 
 The mind should truly value the subject, not feel that its 
 task is to make, by adroit rhetoric, something out of it. 
 
 In this relation of the theme and style may also be 
 included harmony and rhythm of sound. The more 
 emotional the theme, the more does it seek this, till, in 
 the gems of poetry, it almost reaches the melody of 
 music. In discourse it becomes a wholly secondary and 
 undefined element, little more than what has already 
 been spoken of as harmony of style. Words as sounds 
 merely somewhat govern each other; so inferior a claim, 
 however, cannot be greatly heeded in the earnest move- 
 ment of discourse. 
 
 A second relation is that between the parts of coinpo- 
 10 
 
218 PHILOSOPHY OP RHETORIC. 
 
 sition to each other, and to the whole. A right relation 
 here is in some respects the most rare and costly beauty 
 of style. To manage the theme as a whole requires 
 reflection, and is more requisite to success than the skil- 
 ful handling of every part. The ground plan of the 
 building goes far to determine the possibilities of the 
 structure. It is easier to elaborate and ornament the 
 parts than to think long on the design ; but not till the 
 outline is reached does the law of the building appear ; 
 afterward all is natural and inevitable. Fragments are 
 more readily produced than wholes. The steadiness 
 with which the mind rests upon and works out the main 
 idea marks its power. Here there is not much differ- 
 ence between the highest poetry and oratory. The epic 
 and dramatic poet must remember the plot, must in each 
 scene heighten and hasten the catastrophe, or the one- 
 ness of the work is lost. In the oration, the introduc- 
 tion cannot linger, the argument cannot pause, nor the 
 passion cool : all must work together in the result, all 
 be proportional parts of a well-proportioned whole. 
 
 This fact of proportion, however, does not define, by 
 any invariable law, either the number or the length of 
 the parts. These points are settled by the peculiarities 
 of each case. Each product has its own proportions, 
 but proportion it must have. Excess and deficiency are 
 equally fatal to symmetry. That no necessary part may 
 
ELEGANCE. 219 
 
 be wanting, and none over-treated, the mind must dwell 
 patiently on the end and the means before it. An undi- 
 vided impulse must pervade the entire effort. The treat- 
 ment once undertaken must be completed. A logical 
 method, promising severe investigation, cannot drop 
 away into a popular strain and ready assumption. The 
 parts must be proportionate, continuous, and concur- 
 rent; that is, harmoniously developed toward a single 
 end. The production thus acquires the elegance of a 
 living whole. In unfolding the subject, the grace of 
 transitions becomes a point of moment. We before saw 
 that they should be clear ; they should also reveal the 
 natural connection of the parts. We thus see that ele- 
 gance is not extrinsic, but intrinsic ; not superinduced, 
 but educed ; not local, gathered here and there into fas- 
 cicles of figures and knots of imagery, but pervasive and 
 inclusive. It is the general merit that at once stimulates 
 and disguises the merits of the parts. 
 
 Another set of relations is found between the dis- 
 course and the persons and circumstances connected 
 with it. We shall have occasion, in connection with 
 <! Energy," to speak of the adaptation of the motives of 
 discourse to those addressed. The adaptation now 
 spoken of is of a more delicate character. It is not 
 simply that the line of thought is perspicuous and per- 
 tinent, level to the intellects and feelings of the audience, 
 
220 PHILOSOPHY OF RHETORIC. 
 
 but that it also indicates familiarity with the transient 
 feelings and passing circumstances of the persons and oc- 
 casion. It is the skilful handling of little things which 
 shows refined perception, takes from the treatment its 
 cold, rugged character, and makes way for it in the 
 affections. The more keenly and delicately alive the 
 heart of the speaker is to the exigencies and peculiar- 
 ities of the case, the more does discourse depart from 
 generalities, and become the fit and elegant outgrowth 
 of the time and place. It is this ease and ductility of 
 method by which it winds in and out of every opportu- 
 nity, gathers up all influences and impressions by the 
 way, that make it pleasing as well as powerful, and 
 doubly powerful because it is pleasing. The speaker is 
 frequently too careless about the nice adjustments of 
 thought. Content with facts and principles that demand 
 assent, he fails to make way for them, he puts them 
 bluntly. He forgets that conviction, cheerful assent, are 
 the result of a complex and growing process ; that atten- 
 tion must be aroused by this method and by that ; the 
 heart opened and softened on this side and on that ; and 
 that arguments are not to be urged -till the mind is ready 
 for them. It is this delicate insinuation, this patient 
 and affectionate approach, that make composition apt 
 and elegant. 
 Under this relation of persons there is a second 
 
ELEGANCE, 221 
 
 adaptation of discourse to the person whose it is. Here 
 is naturalness, the noble virtue of simplicity, which 
 prompts to a genuine, frank, earnest expression of our 
 own convictions. This excellence of style rests chiefly 
 on sincerity, the striving after an internal rather than 
 an external end ; or, rather, an aiming to secure an 
 external effect by a hearty rendering of an internal 
 impression. Personal conviction and interest precede 
 and govern expression ; the lips speak what the mind 
 knows and feels. Everything being honest in the 
 mind's movement, its grasp and government of the 
 topic are honestly rendered, and whatever else the 
 treatment wants, we feel that it is genuine. 
 
 This penetration of action by the character of the 
 agent is far from being disagreeable, especially when 
 it arises unconsciously and inevitably from the straight- 
 forward way in which thought has sprung up. This 
 grace comes unconsciously into style, if it comes at all, 
 and, like many other qualities, is only to be secured by 
 that radical culture which modifies and makes the man. 
 There is no more comprehensive and just direction for 
 reaching true elegance than to be frank and earnest, 
 than to have and express a genuine life. It is not 
 primarily a thing of polish, of courtly phrase, found 
 oftenest with vanity and pride. The face that is truly 
 
222 PHILOSOPHY OF RHETORIC. 
 
 fine is painted from within ; the style that is truly ele- 
 gant is formed and animated from within. 
 
 It is life that works best and most beautifully in the 
 world ; it has merit in its homely as well as in its per- 
 fected forms. An affected and an imitative style are 
 directly opposed to this excellence. Thus we come back 
 again to the truth that rhetorical culture is a profound 
 culture of the intellectual and spiritual nature. A cer- 
 tain simplicity, sufficiency, and sincerity of action, in one 
 direction or another, is a condition on the part of the 
 writer, of continuous pleasure on the part of the reader. 
 
ENERGY. 223 
 
 CHAPTER IV. 
 
 ENERGY. 
 
 ENERGY, the third quality of style, expresses the 
 force and vigor of composition, the power with which 
 it reaches its end. It is a leading quality of discourse, 
 since this aims at an immediate and thorough effect. It 
 springs chiefly from the will and desires, and is meas- 
 ured by their strength. The desires so direct and seal 
 the will, that the tenacity of the latter must be deter- 
 mined by the firmness of the former. We speak of the 
 desires : this language ought not, however, to imply any 
 inherent distinction in them. They differ from each 
 other in the objects which excite them, rather than in 
 the feeling excited. From the very constitution of the 
 inind, it cannot be indifferent toward its own good, its 
 own enjoyment. It belongs to the very nature of hap- 
 piness to impart desire, and this desire logically extends 
 itself to all objects and actions which are found to be the 
 conditions of pleasure. 
 
 We would not say that the desire conies first, and 
 that the enjoyment arises from its gratification, but that 
 
224 PHILOSOPHY OP RHETORIC. 
 
 certain appetites and powers furnish us pleasure, and 
 that this pleasure inspires desire for the objects with 
 which it is connected. The enjoyments of the mind, like 
 those of the body, arise independently of the desires, 
 and enkindle them. But desire, though exclusively 
 directed toward things capable of affording some inde- 
 pendent pleasure, is not always proportioned to the 
 value thus attaching to them. It may, as in avarice, 
 acquire a constitutional hold on the mind, aside from 
 any good to be realized in possession. 
 
 As the motive power of life is furnished by the appe- 
 tites, passions, and affections, the energy with which the 
 mind is driven in any direction must depend on their 
 vigor. The will goes forth to determine and execute 
 what these propose and prompt ; the firmness of desires, 
 however, depends very much on their character as well 
 as on their original strength. The appetites and pas- 
 sions are more fluctuating than the affections, since they 
 have a greater variety of objects, and are easily cloyed. 
 The seeker after pleasure changes his specific purposes, 
 since the relations in which objects stand to his gratifica- 
 tion are constantly changing. Certain objects, which 
 are the constant means of a wide circle of enjoyment, 
 indeed, may enhance all pleasure, are especially capa- 
 ble, by their pervasive hold on desire, of calling forth 
 exertion. Thus the desires for wealth and for power are 
 
ENERGY. 225 
 
 peculiarly exacting. Other desires, by the increasing and 
 noble character of the good conferred, become more and 
 more permanent. Of this kind are those for knowledge 
 and virtue. The stability of the desires, therefore, will 
 depend much on the character of the thing pursued. 
 The firmness secured by virtue has often been evinced, 
 when the choice has been forced on the mind between 
 that and everything else between that and life. 
 The martyr has found it a pleasure to cling to his 
 integrity. 
 
 The will also, like every other power, is strengthened 
 by use, and weakened by inaction and defeat. The 
 habits and training of the man will go far to determine 
 his present power of purpose. The uncurbed and 
 desultory will is obstinate rather than strong. It works 
 with fitful and irregular energy, but does not know how 
 to choose a path, and rein every power into it. It is 
 thus that obedience becomes the school of command. 
 The just will of another accepted lends regularity and 
 government to the mind, till the purposes of the in- 
 dividual, becoming steady and restrained, are able to 
 accept the authority made ready to the hand. The 
 unsteady impulses of the feelings must find a balance- 
 wheel somewhere, must be subjected to the discreet and 
 powerful influence of some ruling desire, before the 
 mind can respond with steady energy to the demands 
 10* O 
 
226 PHILOSOPHY OF RHETORIC. 
 
 made upon it. The mind must come under dominion, 
 government, before it can be an effective instrument for 
 obtaining government. Energy is the pressure of 
 disciplined impulses. 
 
 Though energy in action and energy in speech are 
 essentially the same, in the mental constitution and 
 training which they imply, they are not so in the 
 desires which nourish them. The pursuit of wealth and 
 of power bears no comparison with that of virtue in the 
 aid which it renders discourse. A man may work 
 most vigorously within the line of his own interests^ 
 but the motives which govern him are so far selfish and 
 limited. They can, therefore, rarely be urged upon 
 others, and must often be hidden from them. Selfish 
 aims less frequently than benevolent ones seek the aid 
 of discourse, and furnish much less of its material. 
 The speaker who pursues private ends must either 
 appeal to selfish impulses which make a poor appear- 
 ance, and are more or less in conflict and self-destruc- 
 tive, or he must go out of the range of his own desires 
 in finding the means of persuasion, and thus lose much 
 of the zeal and energy with which the topic ought to be 
 urged ; or he must disguise and misrepresent the motives 
 of action, and involve himself in all the tortuous, per- 
 plexed paths of evil. Those desires, therefore, which 
 are fitted to infuse life into oratory, to inspire and 
 
ENERGY. 227 
 
 impassion poetry even, must have breadth, philan- 
 thropy, and virtue in them, or they cannot address 
 common interests, or enkindle common feelings. The 
 great ideas of justice, the public weal, liberty, and 
 virtue must fully penetrate the mind, arouse the heart, 
 and furnish the desires those objects fitted to call forth 
 and nourish speech. According to the intensity of the 
 desire with which common ends, the interests of public 
 and private well-being, are pursued, will be the energy 
 of discourse. Virtue must rely chiefly on persuasion, 
 and has ever at hand the means, and also the motives to 
 employ it. That training which deepens and strengthens 
 virtuous desire, and brings the will under its steady 
 government, gives to the man, in its most reliable form, 
 all the working power of his nature, impresses all his 
 words with his own life, his own energy. 
 
 The definiteness of the immediate- end chosen also 
 adds to strength. A clear perception of the connection 
 and order of means by which a distant object is to be 
 reached is most requisite to settled, decisive effort. 
 While feeling impels, it cannot take the place of clear, 
 explicit guidance. On the distinctness with which the 
 immediate effect is conceived, and its relations to an 
 ultimate good, will depend the directness and efficiency 
 of the means employed. Severe and logical disci- 
 pline of the faculties gives precision, and thus energy, 
 
228 PHILOSOPHY OF RHETORIC. 
 
 to their action. It is here pulpit oratory often fails. 
 The general, generic end of virtue is not clearly enough 
 resolved into the specific objects which it includes, 
 which are means to it. The aim is not definite 
 enough to arouse and concentrate the mind. The 
 argument and the application are general, and fail of 
 the pungency of more pointed discourse. The specific 
 end should share the elevation of the general aim, 
 and the general aim be sought with the directness of a 
 specific purpose. To such disciplined desires every 
 subject yields its strength ; the sinewy parts rise to the 
 surface as when an athlete wrestles. 
 
 Energy, according to the kind and aim of composi- 
 tion, assumes three forms strength, vivacity, and 
 vigor. Every thoroughly logical process has in it the 
 energy of strength. The premises and conclusions are 
 wrought into each other, and the mind is pushed 
 irresistibly forward. It may refuse to think, but 
 while true to itself, it cannot escape conviction. This 
 is the native energy of thought of truth perspicu- 
 ously stated. 
 
 At another time energy softens down into the 
 vivacity of the imagination when aroused and warmed 
 by feeling. It becomes poetical inspiration, an impas- 
 sioned frame of mind, throwing rapidly into life-like 
 forms the objects of contemplation. 
 
ENERGY. 229 
 
 Energy, in its strongest character, is that vigor with 
 which a purpose is conceived and executed ; with which 
 principles are shaped into proof, and pushed into 
 conviction, by which deep feeling is thrown into 
 strong currents, compelling action. The first two 
 forms arise respectively under the intellect and the 
 feelings ; the third includes these, and carries them 
 forward in the pursuit of a purpose : it is the whole 
 man developed into action. 
 
 The qualities of thought by which energy in com- 
 position is secured are thoroughness, rapidity, and 
 directness. Thoroughness starts the movement with 
 acknowledged principles, and so far leaves no oppor- 
 tunity for retreat. These it unfolds consecutively, and, 
 by steady approaches, forces and secures each position. 
 Without that vigor of thought by which the whole 
 subject is brought into the light, no absolute proof 
 can be reached; and proof is the foundation of all 
 strength. Darkness always affords a lurking place 
 for doubt. Within the intellect, that light must be 
 kindled which is to justify and guide every step. 
 
 So far as the condition of insight will suffer it, the 
 movement of thought must be rapid. Rapidity marks 
 energy, and imparts it. He who is in earnest will not 
 tarry long. To linger in any part of the topic cools 
 the feelings, induces a meditative or a listless state, and 
 
230 PHILOSOPHY OF RHETORIC. 
 
 results in rest, not action. The progress must be 
 sufficient to excite and maintain a glow of feeling. 
 Especially must there be a tendency to accelerated 
 motion as the end of the discourse is approached. The 
 earlier parts are more deliberative, and involve proof: 
 this being furnished, the mind is warmed into conviction, 
 and now justifies to itself the haste of feeling. The 
 speaker must, inevitably, as principles are unfolded in 
 their immediate application, gather the interest and 
 earnestness of a present undertaking : this growth of 
 feeling is requisite to carry the audience over all obsta- 
 cles into the 'desired action. Nothing can be more 
 destructive of persuasion than the loss of feeling as the 
 discourse progresses. Whenever the highest point is 
 reached, the power, as then greatest, should be turned to 
 the work in hand. The movement in the outset may be 
 slow, and even a little tedious, without serious injury ; 
 but at the end it must be accelerated, earnest, impetuous. 
 It becomes an important caution, not, in the beginning, 
 to arouse the emotions when they must of necessity 
 fall away, nor to prolong discourse when it has been 
 ripened for the end. This concentration of discourse 
 by a uniformly accelerated movement, by a growth and 
 accumulation of feeling, is one of the highest powers 
 of oratory, and, when united with directness, makes its 
 effect well nigh irresistible. Without it there is no 
 
ENERGY. 231 
 
 moral momentum, no enthusiasm. This rapidity is 
 almost sure to arise when argument is infused with 
 feeling, and employed solely for the end in view. A 
 languid state, or a nervous desire to say all that can be 
 said, is inevitably destructive of it. 
 
 A third characteristic of energetic thought is direct- 
 ness. The movement is not only thorough and rapid, 
 it is in a straight line through the most efficient motives 
 to the immediate end. Each thing that is said is not 
 only pertinent to the topic, but to the object in view ; 
 is presented not only with vivacity, but in its direct 
 bearings on the action at issue. Directness is especially 
 characteristic of oratory ; since this kind of composition 
 receives its form from an immediate, external end, and 
 must discern and shape itself to the right line by which 
 this is reached. 
 
 Discourse may lose its directness by an undue enlarge- 
 ment of either of the means it employs. Argument and 
 feeling, the intellectual and emotional elements, are each 
 with oratory simply and purely means to an end, and 
 therefore to be governed by it. Either of these ele- 
 ments is liable, through the constitutional bias of the 
 speaker, through vanity, through weakness or uncer- 
 tainty of purpose, to break from its proper restraint, and 
 become a primary instead of a subsidiary aim. Dis- 
 course may be too logical, too reflective, too analytic, 
 
232 PHILOSOPHY OF RHETORIC. 
 
 may occupy the mind with subtle distinctions, and dis- 
 place the admissions of the popular mind with intricate 
 and superfluous proof. It thus becomes philosophical, 
 instead of oratorical, entangles itself in secondary 
 matter, and weakens the power of the whole. It cheats 
 itself with a partial, when a complete success was before 
 it. This is the constant danger of the educated and 
 reflective mind. It loves truth and doctrine too much 
 for their own sakes. It delights itself, and strives to 
 delight others, with speculative relations, with its own 
 views in a strictly intellectual realm. It seems a clip- 
 ping and humbling of knowledge to employ it solely as 
 an instrument for daily uses, never to bring it before the 
 audience for its own sake, for the intrinsic perfection 
 of its interior relations. The mind that worships truth 
 is slow to make it a servant, that it may wash the 
 bruised feet of the way-worn traveller. Yet the desire 
 of substituting an intellectual for a practical end must 
 be perfectly overcome, before the mind is ready for 
 oratory. It must devote I will not say humble 
 all its resources unreservedly and unhesitatingly to the 
 end in view. 
 
 The second element, that of emotion, may be turned 
 from the task assigned it, and employed for an esthetic 
 end. The composition thus becomes poetical rather 
 than oratorical, and though much feeling may be aroused. 
 
ENERGY. 238 
 
 much interest elicited, they are put to no use. The 
 audience are pleased, but character and conduct remain 
 the same. The imagination has free scope, the heart is 
 feasted, but the will is not nerved. The emasculated 
 oration does the work of a novel. This error of dis- 
 course arises often from the vanity of the speaker, and 
 nourishes the indolence of all parties. It becomes fatal 
 according to the greatness and urgency of the end pro- 
 posed. It is, therefore, in pulpit oratory especially, 
 the most inexcusable of faults. 
 
 It is ever to be remembered, that oratory is chiefly to 
 be judged by its immediate effect, and, therefore, that 
 any symmetry of parts, or finish of execution, that 
 weakens the impression, is a fault, rather than an excel- 
 lence. Argument and ornament, matter and style, 
 must submit themselves to the purpose of the speaker. 
 Interior perfection in an instrument is of little value, 
 if it does not serve the purpose for which it was made. 
 There is at this point often prevalent a very false taste. 
 A certain classical excellence is aimed at, as if there 
 were in this more true merit than in the patient sub- 
 mission of the theme and the method to the wants of 
 those addressed. Efficiency and elegance, when rightly 
 understood, rest on the same quality a nice adjust- 
 ment of discourse to its object. No useful thing can be 
 commended by taste till there is found in it a perfect 
 
234 PHILOSOPHY OF KHETOEIC. 
 
 discharge of its offices. It is under this law, that ita 
 beauty is to be realized. 
 
 The most submissive oratory is animated by the 
 noblest impulses. There is in it no display, no dalliance 
 with poetical delights, no indulgence of philosophy, 
 but a cheerful, earnest prosecution of labor, the evoking 
 and strengthening of right impulses in others. Rebuke 
 does not become harsh, nor wit scathing, nor opinion 
 sensorious, nor imagination prodigal ; but love softens 
 and blends all, and with genial, vital warmth, carries 
 the truth over to the intellects and hearts of men. In 
 this oratory of practical benevolence, this thorough per- 
 meation of every word with a generous and hearty pur- 
 pose, there is far more life and true elegance than can 
 possibly be reached in the cold realm of artistic effort. 
 Since oratory cannot much enlarge itself in the region 
 of mere selfishness, but must seek common and broad 
 interests, philanthropy a just estimate and love of men 
 will always be its unconscious vital power, and any form 
 of self-assertion its danger. It is love which removes 
 anger, the irritating edge of censure; love that finds 
 secondary and less worthy motives, and unites them 
 under the higher motive; love that turns all influence 
 into persuasion, and directs that persuasion towards vir- 
 tue. This is most obviously and thoroughly true of 
 pulpit oratory. We doubt not, however, that a great 
 
ENERGY. 235 
 
 difficulty with discourse in other forms is, that it is too 
 often made to turn on limited and selfish ends, that the 
 mind is too contracted and personal in its aims to dis- 
 cover the true strength of the subject. The popular 
 mind quickly feels and yields to the steady pressure 
 of a benevolent purpose. 
 
 Energetic thought possesses in* a greater or less 
 degree these three elements thoroughness, rapidity, 
 and directness ; and as, in turn, each is preeminent, that 
 energy will assume the form of strength, of vivacity, or 
 of vigor. Thoroughness is more an intellectual quality ; 
 this predominating, we have the strength of the logician. 
 Rapidity arises from the flexibility and life of feeling ; 
 this in the ascendency gives the vivacity of poetry. 
 Directness is dependent on the fixedness of desire and 
 will ; this controlling, we have the vigor of the orator. 
 In no production are these qualities so fully contained, 
 and evenly adjusted, as in oratory. 
 
 We have now to speak of the more external charac- 
 teristics of an energetic style. Here we have occasion 
 for the divisions employed under perspicuity, though 
 each is considered from a different point. The energy 
 of language will depend on the choice, number, and 
 arrangement of words. It is obvious in the outset, 
 that the strengtli of style will be closely connected with 
 the precision of the words chosen. This, however, has 
 
236 PHILOSOPHY OP RHETORIC. 
 
 been sufficiently referred to under "Perspicuity." The 
 vivacity of the expression will depend very much on 
 speciality. The most specific, individual word is to be 
 chosen as opposed to the more general, generic word. 
 The reason of this is obvious. The one word contains a 
 complete description, a precise image, and the imagina- 
 tion at once constructs the picture : the other word 
 includes the object or action with many others, and 
 therefore defines none of them perfectly. The imagina- 
 tion does no more than the word, and leaves the picture 
 vague and general. To say, "He shoved the boat from 
 the shore," is descriptive of the manner of the action ; to 
 say, "He removed the boat from the shore," tells us 
 nothing of the method, but only the fact. We need, 
 as much as possible, to deal with concrete, living 
 things, and not with abstractions; we wish, then, the 
 individual, not the generic word. Science loves to 
 overlook differences, and limit its view to single points 
 of agreement, and thus constructs the skeleton of phi- 
 losophy ; poetry and life reverse the process, and reclothe 
 objects with their distinctive features and beauties. A 
 scientific style has not enough imagination in it, enough 
 nearness to living things, enough vivacity, to animate 
 and please the popular mind. 
 
 The vigor of expression will depend on the strength 
 of the words chosen. The word must be adequate 
 
ENERGY. 237 
 
 to tlie office it has to discharge. Weak words can- 
 not be the vehicle of strong emotion. The strength 
 of the word is principally to be determined by the feel- 
 ing it is called to utter. We are not confined to 
 a simple statement of facts, but, in our language con- 
 cerning them, may also express the emotions which they 
 have aroused. Speech thus frequently employs hyper- 
 bole, and carries the word beyond the fact, seeking thus 
 to reveal the impression it has made upon the mind. 
 The vigorous speaker searches for strong, full words to 
 convey his own conception of the subject. 
 
 This sort of energy is often sought by language dis- 
 proportionate to the occasion. There are two things to 
 be expressed the facts, and the feelings concerning 
 them. Language which is true to either of these can- 
 not be greatly at fault. As it is easier, however, to 
 compass heroic expression than heroic feeling, strong 
 words than delicate and profound sensibilities, an effort 
 is often and most ineffectively made to replace the latter 
 with the former. The overstrained expression, losing 
 application and honesty, becomes the mere semblance 
 of strength, and in the end most false and wearisome. 
 No style is more thoroughly weak than one unduly 
 strong, as no feelings are usually more vapid than those 
 which dwell in hyperbole. 
 
 This is seen in asseverations and epithets. The 
 
238 PHILOSOPHY OP RHETORIC. 
 
 strongest and most stable authority expresses its com- 
 mands in the most simple and direct form. In proportion 
 as threat, expostulation, and assurance are added, do we 
 distrust the power, or the intention of execution. 
 Strength, firmness, and truth are too self-confident to 
 make much ado. A statement that is enforced with many 
 asseverations, in its very form indicates a conscious- 
 ness of weakness. A heavy prop against a building 
 gives promise of a fall, though we may not yet detect 
 the seams. This principle, however, suffers limitation. 
 There is admissible a dignified and proper assertion of 
 what in itself seems doubtful. The mind may thus 
 mark the certainty of the thing, and the depth of its 
 own conviction. 
 
 An epithet is an adjective which expresses a quality 
 w r ell known to exist in the noun to which it is attached. 
 Thus the adjective glorious, as applied to the sun, is an 
 epithet. Such adjectives convey no information, and 
 are used to magnify the noun, to distend and impress the 
 idea. They have, therefore, only rare application, and 
 are the constant resort of weak and trite thought. The 
 office of language is to utter what is in the idea, not to 
 magnify it into something other or more than itself. 
 Strong thinking is more essential to strong expres- 
 sion than strong expression to strong thinking. The 
 mind is often best pleased with simple and subdued 
 
ENERGY. 239 
 
 language, when the magnitude of the thought alone 
 occupies it. 
 
 A second consideration is the number of words. En- 
 ergy, even more than perspicuity, is dependent on con- 
 ciseness. Without it there cannot be that rapidity 
 of movement, that concentration of force, mentioned 
 above. Yet strength is not gained by condensation, 
 when this proceeds in the least beyond the limits of 
 perspicuity. In the essay, the demands of perspicuity 
 and energy are essentially the same. In the discourse, 
 the aim is much more frequently to enforce that which 
 is familiar than to present that which is new. Every- 
 thing must be judged by the impression it makes, 
 not by its logical relations to that which has preceded. 
 It is not so much the return of ideas, that is now to 
 be guarded against, as the repetition of trite, unim- 
 pressive forms. The actual advance of the idea in 
 the new sentence, the new illustration, may be very 
 small, and yet the gain to the feelings be quite per- 
 ceptible. Amplification the power to unfold on 
 diverse sides and in diverse directions a single car- 
 dinal thought, till it occupies the mind and resumea 
 its hold on the heart is a chief excellence of oratory. 
 Progress a rapid passing from idea to idea becomes 
 in a measure dangerous : there is no hold secured by 
 the topic. The mind needs to dwell, without halting, 
 
240 PHILOSOPHY OF RHETORIC. 
 
 on a thought, till its practical bearings are fully im- 
 pressed upon it. It is with our most familiar ideas 
 that oratory has chiefly to do from these that its 
 motives are derived. A mere statement, therefore, of 
 what is already more or less present to the mind, will 
 make but little impression. The subject must be taken 
 up anew, the half-forgotten path retrodden, and the 
 topic brought home with fresh and living impressions. 
 Mere repetitions will not accomplish this ; no more will 
 unceasing transition from thought to thought. A single, 
 central idea is to renew its hold on the mind ; and this 
 can only be done by a treatment which amplifies the 
 subject and clings to it. Novelty and instruction are 
 only the occasional, not the habitual, aids of oratory. 
 Our progress, then, is not to be measured in the straight 
 line of logic, but in the growth of feeling. Monotony, 
 diffuseness, tread the same circle round and round ; 
 power, conciseness, return again and again to the thought, 
 but from an advanced, a higher point. The mind as- 
 cends along a spiral to the culminating impression aimed 
 at. Oratory does not differ from other forms of compo- 
 sition in not requiring conciseness, but in determining 
 what is concise or otherwise by the exigencies of feeling, 
 and not of thought. All that does not bear the emotions 
 onward, even though it occupy the thoughts, encumbers 
 the discourse, and is an extra burden to be borne by it. 
 
ENERGY. 241 
 
 The faults most commonly opposed to conciseness are 
 tautology, pleonasm, and verbosity. These words, as 
 usually employed, do not exclusively denote faulty forma 
 of expression. A sentence may be tautological, pleo- 
 nastic, or verbose, when judged merely by the thought, 
 and yet thereby be the more vigorous. Intense passion 
 is, from its very nature, tautological ; it clings to the 
 object of contemplation. Many words are thrown into 
 a sentence, not to amplify the thought, but to modify 
 our feelings concerning it. " Shall not the Judge of all 
 the earth do right ? " is a familiar example. If, therefore, 
 we are to use these words to denote faults exclusively, 
 we must have reference both to thought and impression. 
 Tautology thus becomes unnecessary repetition. This, 
 by a slight change of words, is often disguised from 
 the writer himself. An event, with a modification of 
 expression, is assigned as the cause or the effect of 
 itself. 
 
 Pleonasm is the use of superfluous words, and is cor- 
 rected by excision ; verbosity, a cumbersome expression, 
 to be corrected by restatement. Verbosity differs from 
 verbiage. The one is a reflection on the style, the other 
 on the thought. 
 
 What has been said requires this further caution, that 
 impression is less frequently reached by lengthy forms 
 and an accumulation of words than is often supposed. 
 11 p 
 
242 PHILOSOPHY OF RHETORIC. 
 
 A heavily-laden style is almost sure to be feeble. Bet- 
 ter occasionally to fall short of perspicuity than often to 
 transcend it. At this point a knowledge of men and 
 occasions, with a mastery of the topic and a practical 
 interest in it, can alone save from error. Our knowl- 
 edge prevents diffuse and weak handling ; our interest 
 in results corrects unimpassioned and protracted proof. 
 
 A third consideration in energy is the arrangement of 
 words. All parts of the sentence are not equally prom- 
 inent, equally important. The more weighty words, 
 therefore, must, as far as possible, be assigned the more 
 emphatic positions. These are the beginning and the 
 end of the sentence, especially the latter. A significant 
 and pregnant word should gather up and close the asser- 
 tion, and give the sentence a full cadence. Pains must 
 also be taken to scatter and conceal particles in the mid- 
 dle of the sentence. They thus become less conspicuous, 
 and less interrupt the flow of the thought. It is fre- 
 quently forgotten that the very succession of sentences 
 sufficiently marks many forms of dependence, and ren- 
 ders introductory conjunctions unnecessary. 
 
 Inversion, also, not merely because it assigns an im- 
 portant position to an emphatic word, but because it is 
 inversion, often gives freshness and power to the expres- 
 sion. Yet this, like all unusual methods, can only be 
 occasionally employed. Style becomes affected and 
 
ENERGY. 243 
 
 quaint if inversion passes much beyond wlat custom 
 sanctions. 
 
 Under the arrangement of words belongs the division 
 of sentences into the period, and loose sentence. The 
 criterion of the former is, that if a pause be made at any 
 point before the end, the meaning is not complete. The 
 reverse is true in the loose sentence. The dependence 
 in the former is reciprocal between the earlier and later 
 parts ; in the loose sentence the later portions may be 
 dependent on the earlier, but the earlier are not depen- 
 dent on the later. 
 
 The period retains the idea till it closes, and then 
 brings it at once before the mind. Its force, like that 
 of the hammer, is stored up till the last instant, and 
 then delivered in a blow. There belong to it strength 
 and dignity. The loose sentence is more easy, and, if 
 not long, more vivacious. If either predominates in 
 style, its character will become correspondingly affected. 
 The period is too formal for the highest energy, which 
 requires a more simple and curt expression. The more 
 marked and impressive any method, as a carefully 
 wrought climax, the less can it become an ever-return- 
 ing method^ The direct and unobtrusive forms must be 
 the staple of composition. Style should be left, in the 
 first instance, to the spontaneous action of thought; $ 
 afterward, in its critical consideration, sentences should 
 
244 PHILOSOPHY OF RHETORIC. 
 
 be recast, as variety and harmony may require. The 
 inventive and critical states of mind are too distinct to 
 coexist. The one should follow the other, till the cor- 
 rected becomes the habitual style of expression. 
 
 Energy will also depend on the figures employed. 
 Tropical terms are a constant instrument of the impas- 
 sioned mind. A trope is the use of one word for an- 
 other on the ground of some connection between the two 
 ideas indicated by them. The connections on which 
 tropes proceed are very various, and have given rise to 
 many technical names. The correct use of these may 
 call for some analysis, and thus discipline the mind, but 
 cannot serve any very important rhetorical purpose. The 
 pinciples which include tropes in all their varieties are 
 essentially the same. By means of this natural and 
 inevitable association and substitution of ideas, style 
 gains many obvious advantages. The eye has under its 
 range all adjacent fields, and by some connection of 
 resemblance, or dependence, or partnership, suddenly 
 forsakes the thing spoken of, and puts as its repre- 
 sentative a more fresh and glowing image. The fancy 
 is winged ; it moves everywhere, and plucks every flower 
 for its wreath. The subject cannot languish, since all 
 related themes minister to its illustration and embellish- 
 ment. A constant succession of images arouses and 
 pleases the mind. The barrenness of one point is re- 
 
ENERGY. 245 
 
 Sieved by the freshness of another, and from all sides 
 ;ome trooping in the dramatis personal. 
 
 The mind is interested by the resemblance or connec- 
 tion of ideas ; the light of comparison is thrown upon 
 the subject ; a more striking is substituted for a less 
 striking object, the animate for the inanimate, things 
 sensible for things intelligible, the specific for the gen- 
 eral. The abstract nature of the subject is thus evaded, 
 
 s 
 
 and the imagination brought into full play. All this is 
 accomplished without the addition of a single word. The 
 rapid, free, and often brilliant way in which the trope 
 does its work has drawn much attention to it, and 
 assigned it a conspicuous position in rhetoric. 
 
 "I love the man, I hate the viceroy," makes the scene 
 animate throughout. The imagination, by a bold effort, 
 evokes from one two distinct persons, and sets them^over 
 against each other as objects of affection and aversion. 
 The fancy thus clothes every subject with the vivid im- 
 agery suggested by its attributes, and moves constantly 
 In a world of living and related things. Tropes are the 
 product and food of passion. To one's own faults we 
 add the historic infamy of an Arnold or a Judas by a 
 simple designation under these hated names. 
 
 Adjectives, nouns, verbs, and adverbs are vehicles of 
 tropical expression. The action we affirm of an object, 
 
246 PHILOSOPHY OP RHETORIC. 
 
 the qualities we assign it, at once give distinctness and 
 character to the image. Verbs and adjectives cannot be 
 too carefully chosen. The right appellative is a sentence 
 in itself. 
 
 Tropes are partially subject to use. This is shown in 
 the fact that they cannot be fully transferred from lan- 
 guage to language, nor from one term to a kindred one 
 in the same language. The string of discourse cannot 
 be used for the thread of discourse ; nor, It rounds with 
 my idea, for, It squares with my idea. Tropes have all 
 degrees of vivacity sometimes shooting the most bril- 
 liant light, sbmetimes scarcely luminous. This arises 
 from a difference in original aptness, and from the fact 
 that a trope, by repetition, rapidly loses its power, till 
 at length it has only the force of a proper term. When 
 the word becomes directly associated with its new idea, 
 the original connection is lost sight of, and the term 
 sinks into the growing ranks of simply grammatical 
 tropes. Just at the transition period, and a little before 
 it, the trope is even more trite than the proper term. 
 There is a certain worn-out gentility about it that puts 
 it to disadvantage with plain homespun. Good tropes 
 or none should be the general rule. When the road 
 becomes a little weary, the more direct we make it the 
 better. Tropes may readily so overload the subject with 
 
ENERGY. 247 
 
 imagery as to distract the mind ; or, possessing it with a 
 poetic intoxication, unfit it for stern, straightforward 
 movement. A few clarion notes startle the ear more 
 than a constant bray of trumpets. Simplicity is the 
 fundamental rule everywhere, above all, with energetic 
 working thoughts. 
 
 Among other figures which energy often employs may 
 be mentioned hyperbole, personification, apostrophe. 
 These are all the offspring of passion the means which 
 it has found of expression. Hence the rule for them all 
 becomes the same : That the feeling of the speaker and 
 the audience must make them natural. Otherwise, they 
 are ridiculous. 
 
 The highest energy in discourse will not suffer read- 
 ing. There is a want of spontaneous and immediate 
 impression, of perfect and impassioned connection with 
 the audience and occasion, of free, reciprocal action 
 between the speaker and listener, which cannot be wholly 
 overcome. This is most obvious in those figures of dis- 
 course which seem to be the insight and inspiration of 
 the moment the glow of the mind that utters them. 
 They need to be sustained by the supposition, that they 
 have just flashed upon the thought. It is evident that 
 the highest directness and warmth can be given to 
 speech only when it is, or seems to be, the communica- 
 tion of our immediate sentiments. Nature and cultiva- 
 
248 PHILOSOPHY OF RHETORIC. 
 
 tion, the thoughtful judgments of the past, and the 
 inspiration of the present, unite in the oration to pro- 
 duce a powerful and impassioned product the fulness 
 of rhetorical effort, the ripest fruit of our intellectual 
 and moral life. 
 
APPENDIX. 
 
 PHILOLOGY. (Chapter VL, pp. 125-152.) 
 
 I. (p. 129.) Phonetic change : (1) Lich or like to ly, 
 as truly, goodly, lovely ; whilk to which, swilk to such. 
 (2) Shortening of words, as alms from eleemosynary, 
 learnt from learn-did, eschaunge to exchange, everich 
 to every, Magdalen to Maudlin, el lagarto to alligator, 
 sample (from example), huzzy (housewife), grunsel 
 (groundsill), fortnight (fourteen-night). 
 
 II. Words and letters grown obsolete : Vailing, fore- 
 spurrer, anon, yclept, 'em (for them), parle, climature, 
 precurse, wot, an, bit (bade), can (know how to), en- 
 tame, entayld, throughly, peize. 
 
 Often, soften, \\glii, night, au^t, bdellium, g/^ost, 
 mnemonic, ^sa?m. 
 
 III. Meaning changed : Let (to hinder), prevent (to 
 come before), admirable (wonderful), brave (showy), 
 monument (a tomb), remorse (pity), conscience (knowl- 
 edge), rival (companion), jump (just), umimproved (un- 
 proved), extravagant (wandering), unimagined (imagin- 
 able), probation (proof), takes (blasts), greet (to weep), 
 knave (boy), minion (a favorite), resent (to feel a second 
 time), dilated (expressed in full), liquidate (to melt), 
 censure (judgment), obsequious (funereal), unprevailing 
 (unavailing), merely (utterly). 
 
 IV. Self-contradictory terms : Second "best ; he enjoyed 
 ill health; he progressed backward ; it was fearfully 
 
250 APPENDIX. 
 
 hopeful ; England lay formidably open [Fronde, as cited 
 by White] ; her dearest foe [Mrs. Alexander]. 
 
 V. List of words and expressions from which are to be 
 selected those which are as yet unauthorized : Cablegram, 
 bob up, India rubbers, broncho, caucus, Bramin, camp- 
 meeting, Pundit, pluck, Manilla, Puritan, pedagogical, 
 lithograph, copperhead, secesh, ethical dative, tele- 
 gram, circular (a wrap), humbug, swell, fraud (as ap- 
 plied to a person), ulster, boss politician, political bum- 
 mer, stalwart, literary bulletin, discredits (demerit 
 marks), illiterates, hardly ever, telegraphy, bicycle, ve- 
 locipede, phonograph, oleomargarine, tone (as a term in 
 society), torso, mezzotint, dolman, polonaise, Kaglan, 
 reportorial, educationary, newspaperial, burglarize, idiot- 
 ism, boom (success), rustler, shack, provenience, Boy- 
 cotting, skedaddle, bulldoze. 
 
 VI. Formations contrary to analogy : Traveller, skiU- 
 ful, Paris, Satan, than whom no higher sat, peddler, li- 
 belZer, modeler, parquet, has the bell rang 9 
 
 VII. Formations contrary to etymology : Defence, 
 pretence, imcertain (instead of incertain), walkist, civil- 
 ise, presence, dunce, indeHble, ^loose, scien^W, phys- 
 icist, specialty, paralyze, analyze, reflexion. 
 
 BAKBAEISM. 
 I. OFFENDING AGAINST National Use. 
 
 1. The sweet gentlemen of the court who regard keep- 
 ing their word as mauvais ton. 
 
 2. This form of drama is that in which the misere of 
 citizen life has best liked to insinuate itself. 
 
 3. Mezentian policy. [Froude,] 
 
 4. Every one was on the qui vive. 
 
 5. Madame L., nee Mademoiselle E. 
 
APPENDIX. 251 
 
 6. He had a very distingue air. 
 
 7. He sought his dolce far niente. 
 
 8. He enjoyed his otium cum dignitate. 
 
 9. He is a member of the beau monde. 
 
 10. He committed afaux pas. 
 
 11. . . . may well rank next to Athens in the his- 
 tory which teaches comme Vuom s' eterna. [Lowell.] 
 
 12. . . . who passed along the still unextinguished 
 lamp of intelligence ; the lampada vitce. [Lowell.] 
 
 13. Horace's nonum prematur in annum . . . had 
 been more than complied with. [Lowell.] 
 
 14. We are thankful for a commentator at last, who 
 passes dry shod over the turbide onde of inappreciative 
 criticism. [Lowell.] 
 
 15. ... its deep thunders of tragedy, and its pas- 
 sionate vox humana. [Lowell. J 
 
 II. OFFENDING AGAINST Reputable Use. 
 
 1. A reportorial conclave. 
 
 2. He is an educationalist. 
 
 3. The bank was burglarized. 
 
 4. He has received a cablegram. 
 
 5. The man has been extradited. 
 
 6. There are two gents here. 
 
 7. He has had his photo taken. 
 
 8. Can you lend me a postal 9 
 
 9. All attempts at bulldozing failed. 
 
 10. I have hoards of gold laid by somewhere, and could 
 come out as a Croesus when I chose. [Thackeray.] 
 
 11. Say what you have to say as perspicuously as possi- 
 ble, as briefly as possible, and as remember ably as possible, 
 and take no other thought about it. [Southey.J 
 
 12. The design was impracticable. 
 
252 APPENDIX. 
 
 13. A reward was offered to whomsoever would point 
 out a practicable road. [Scott.] 
 
 14. I was told by a certain party. 
 
 15. That is quite fly. 
 
 1 6. The Irishy by whom he was surrounded . [Lowell. ] 
 
 17. Their haying got a religion to themselves. 
 [Lowell.] 
 
 18. . . , results that permeated all thought, all 
 literature, and all talk. [Lowell.] 
 
 19. . . . which is supposed to glance at the 
 straiter religionists. [Lowell. ] 
 
 20. But how if he lore us ? [Lowell.] 
 
 21. The everyday/ness of his scenery. [Lowell.] 
 
 22. Not because it was unbecoming, but because it was 
 the only wear. [Lowell.] 
 
 23. He chooses his language for its canorousness. 
 [Lowell.] 
 
 24. ... whose tendency it certainly is to become 
 languorous. [Lowell.] 
 
 25. But he watched them all the same with tender but 
 manly severity. [Dean of Westminster.] 
 
 26. Be I to go with you ? 
 
 27. Not only did he endeavor at reforms. [Lowell.] 
 
 28. Spenser has coached more poets, and more eminent 
 ones, than any other writer of English verse. [Lowell.] 
 
 29. He did not do that muchly. 
 
 30. I will not say that Dryden's prose did not gain by 
 the conversational elasticity which his frequenting men 
 and women of the world enabled him to give it. 
 [Lowell.] 
 
 31. Yet I was a poetess only last year. [E. B. Brown- 
 ing-] 
 
 32. Who is the authoress of this book ? 
 
 33. He then proceeded to orate. 
 
APPENDIX. 253 
 
 34. How many sales-ladies do you employ ? 
 
 35. Will you give me a recommend ? 
 
 36. Did you get an invite? 
 
 37. "But, Dorothea/' lie said, remonstrantly. 
 [George Eliot.] 
 
 38. She answered contradictiously. [George Eliot.] 
 
 III. OFFENDING AGAINST Present Use. 
 
 1. He had sit ten down in the winter before the city. 
 
 2. [Mean] while the Irish in town lay in wait to retali- 
 ate, and atrocity I eg at atrocity. 
 
 3. Wliiles I waited. 
 
 4. Shall we be beholden to you ? [Shakespeare.] 
 
 5. I am afeard. [Shakespeare.] 
 
 6. He overpeers the others. [Shakespeare.] 
 
 7. Such a thing bechanced, you would be sorry. 
 [Shakespeare.] 
 
 8. He repented him of the evil he had done. [King 
 James's Translation.] 
 
 9. I'll grow a talker for this gear. [Shakespeare.] 
 
 10. I pray thee overname them. [Shakespeare.] 
 
 11. There is a forerunner come from the fifth. 
 [Shakespeare.] 
 
 12. I had forgot. [Shakespeare.] 
 
 13. You spet upon me on Wednesday last. [Shake- 
 speare.] 
 
 14. Flesh of muttons, beefs, and goats. [Shakespeare.] 
 
 15. The lottery of my destiny. [Shakespeare.] 
 
 16. She blubbered into tears. [Dryden.] 
 
 17. Bars me the right of choosing. [Shakespeare.] 
 
 18. We have not spoke us yet 0/torchbearers. [Shake- 
 speare.] 
 
254 APPENDIX. 
 
 19. And better, in my mind, not undertook. [Shake- 
 speare.] 
 
 20. And whiter than the paper it was writ on. 
 [Shakespeare.] 
 
 21. Slubber not business for my sake. [Shakespeare.] 
 
 22. But stay the very riping of the time. [Shake- 
 speare.] 
 
 23. From whom he bringeth sensible regreets. [Shake- 
 speare. ] 
 
 24. As this fore-spurrer comes before his lord. 
 [Shakespeare.] 
 
 25. That tvas used to come so smug upon the mart. 
 [Shakespeare.] 
 
 26. The Dardanian wives, with bleared visages. 
 [Shakespeare.] 
 
 27. To cry good joy. Shakespeare. 
 
 28. The husbandry and manage of my house. [Shake- 
 speare.] 
 
 29. I could not do withal. [Shakespeare.] 
 
 30. Uncapable of pity. [Shakespeare.] 
 
 31. That have of late so huddled on his back. 
 [Shakespeare.] 
 
 32. It will fall to careless ruin. [Shakespeare.] 
 
 33. Tell her the process of Antonio's end. [Shake- 
 speare.] 
 
 34. These be the Christian husbands. [Shakespeare.] 
 
 35. I am married to a wife which is as dear to me as 
 life itself. [Shakespeare.] 
 
 36. ,You should have been respective. Shakespeare.] 
 
 37. I humbly do desire your grace of pardon. [Shake- 
 speare.] 
 
 38. Be I to go with you ? 
 
 39. He gave currentness to the report. 
 
 40. The populosity of the city was remarkable. 
 
APPENDIX. 
 
 SOLECISMS. (pp. 159-178.) 
 
 1. I don't think I like any man well enough to recom- 
 mend them to you. [Henry James, Jr.] 
 
 2. I don't suppose anyone ever said such a thing to you 
 before. Did they? [Henry James, Jr.] 
 
 3. Let each one take their books. 
 
 4. An advocate or attorney that betray the trust of 
 their client. 
 
 5. Spain promised in general to use their good offices 
 for his [the Palatine's] restoration. 
 
 6. A tenant for life, for years, at will, or a copyholder, 
 cannot prescribe by reason of the imbecility of their 
 estates. 
 
 7. Each of the ladies were perfect in their parts. 
 [Scott.] 
 
 8. Let every man stand in their own place. 
 
 9. When a person is accused of crime, it is right that 
 they should have an opportunity to prove their in- 
 nocence. 
 
 10. The commonwealth is sick of their own choice. 
 
 11. Spence watched him as anxiously as his disciples 
 watched Socrates. [Stephens.] 
 
 12. He [lago] is envious of Cassio, and suspects that 
 the Moor may have wronged his honor. 
 
 13. Elizabeth still hoped that means could be found by 
 which, though on the throne, her [Mary's] hands could 
 be tied, her teeth drawn, and her claws pared. 
 
 14. If she [Elizabeth] preferred it, she might take the 
 league with France and admit Mary Stuart as a third in 
 the same treaty under conditions which would bind her 
 hands, and render her incapable of mischief had she been 
 so inclined. 
 
256 APPENDIX. 
 
 15. The English hate frogs, and the French love frogs 
 and hate the English, and cut off their hind legs. 
 
 16. The Pope was invited to publish the bull against 
 that monarch ; and he delivered over his soul to the devil, 
 and his kingdom to the first invader. [Hume.] 
 
 17. He tore out the beard of a weaver, and that he 
 might give him experience of burning, he held his 
 hand to the candle till the sinews and veins shrunk and 
 burst. 
 
 18. Besides that, I think [he] having interest to the 
 title after her, his nomination among them shall further 
 it with the people. 
 
 19. He breakfasted in company with Mr. Webster on 
 his first arrival in London. 
 
 20. Every one^ knows, too, that in a quarter of a cen- 
 tury it was succeeded by a growth of profound and en- 
 thusiastic admiration, which, though it has been limited 
 by the rise of new forms of deep and powerful poetry, 
 is still far from being spent or even reduced, though it is 
 expressed with more discrimination than of old, by all 
 who have a right to judge of English poetry. [Dean of 
 Westminster.] 
 
 21. Heaven helps him when he embraces his means. 
 
 22. . . . hopes of subduing a people who defended 
 themselves by their money, which invited assailants, in- 
 stead of their arms, which repelled them. [Hume.] 
 
 23. A gallows was erected over the stake from ivhich 
 the wretched victim was to be suspended in a cradle of 
 chains. [Froude.] 
 
 24. They were poor in comparison to what they are at 
 present. 
 
 25. A tenant who has paid rent and acted as such. 
 [Greenleaf.] 
 
 26. Although a thousand posts of usefulness are open to 
 
APPENDIX. 257 
 
 them, they pass them by, and it may well be said of them 
 that they are of no more practical value than chaff. 
 
 27. The words in Tennyson's description of a rippling 
 brook are so admirably adapted to the subject, that it 
 forms a perfect melody of itself. 
 
 28. Mr. Pickwick had no leisure to observe either this 
 or any other particular, the whole of his faculties being 
 concentrated in the management of an animal who dis- 
 played various peculiarities. [Dickens.] 
 
 29. For who love I so much ? [Shakespeare.] 
 
 30. Who did you see ? 
 
 31. Who are you talking to ? 
 
 32. Who were you sent by ? 
 
 33. I have a wife ivhich is as dear as life itself. [Shake- 
 speare.] 
 
 34. Tell me in sadness whom is she you love. 
 
 35. I eat no flesh nor none of my folks, nor is it per- 
 mitted in England during Lent. 
 
 36. Much have I envied your art who vouchsafeth. 
 [Howells.] 
 
 37. Our Father which art in Heaven. [King James's 
 Translation.] 
 
 38. He pursued the man but he escaped. 
 
 39. Whatever did he say ? 
 
 40. When ive shall understand at least what each other 
 means. [Robertson.] 
 
 41. In a word, the whole nation seems to be running 
 out of their wits. [Smollett.] 
 
 42. Objection has been made to these sort of apportion- 
 ments. [Story.] 
 
 43. I had not left off troubling myself about these sort 
 of things. 
 
 44. It is me. 
 
 45. It was him that I saw. 
 
258 APPENDIX. 
 
 46. Thatis/^r. 
 
 47. It is them. 
 
 48. As if they could be interested in the fate of such a 
 wretch as him. [Thackeray.] 
 
 49. Between you and I. [Tennyson.] 
 
 50. No one has been here but her and /. 
 
 51. He said that you and me could go if we wished. 
 
 52. You will see my husband and / next Sunday if we 
 are well. 
 
 53. The earth hath swallowed all my hopes but she. 
 
 54. These sort of exercises are profitable. 
 
 55. Those kind of fruit are valuable. 
 
 56. I cannot come this three hours. 
 
 57. What are you going to do with them horses ? 
 
 58. Each of them took their books. 
 
 \ 
 
 59. Let you and / go home. 
 
 60. Let's you and / take a walk. 
 
 61. It does not become such as me. 
 
 62. He that cometh unto me, I will in no wise cast out. 
 [King James's Translation.] 
 
 63. The nations are not so blessed as thee. 
 
 64. He invited the lady and /to walk in. 
 
 65. Never mind whom it may be. 
 
 6 ft. The stork assembly meets for many a day 
 Consulting deep and various, ere they take 
 Their arduous voyage. [Thomson.] 
 
 67. He feels no bruise himself, and is strongly con- 
 scious of his own amiable behavior since he inflicted the 
 blow. [Thackeray. ] 
 
 68. The courfc which possessed authority . . . whose 
 jurisdiction. 
 
 69. The mission of Germans in Paris seems to be to 
 prevent me feeling homesick. [J. Snodgrass.] 
 
 70. I will tell you who I saw. 
 
APPENDIX. 259 
 
 71. Lets you and /go. [Trollope, as cited by White.] 
 
 72. But if a customer wishes you to injure their foot 
 or to disfigure it, you are to refuse their pleasure. [Rus- 
 kin, cited by White.] 
 
 73. Every one looked about them silently. [Malloch, 
 cited by White.] 
 
 74. And though old manufacturers could not . . . 
 be connected with none but equals. [George Eliot.] 
 
 1. A strata of clay. 
 
 2. Make a memoranda of that. 
 
 3. He is & phenomena. 
 
 4. Enforce some rites or other of religion. [Burke.] 
 
 5. In the English monarch not being expected to hang 
 Eosencranz and Guildenstern out of hand to oblige his 
 cousin of Denmark. [Lowell.] 
 
 6. This is the sensation advertiser, who sometimes is a 
 publisher, sometimes a perfumer ; at others he sells fire- 
 safes. [Richard Grant White.] 
 
 7. He was averse to the nation involving itself in war. 
 
 8. The time of William making the experiment at 
 length arrived. 
 
 9. I am opposed to him going on such an expedition. 
 
 10. Much depends on your pupil composing fre- 
 quently. 
 
 ADYEKBS. 
 
 1. Sweyn was constrained upon the departure of Olave, 
 to evacuate also the kingdom. [Hume.] 
 
 2. Serious difficulty only arose with the genuine adhe- 
 sion of the Catholics. [Froude.] 
 
 3. A pretence was only wanting to invade a people. 
 [Hume.] 
 
260 APPENDIX. 
 
 4. Keligious forms are only malleable in the fervent 
 heat of genuine belief. [Froude.] 
 
 5. He pretended that he only signed as witness to the 
 king's subscription. [Hume.] 
 
 6. If any exceptions can be admitted, it will only be 
 where, etc. 
 
 7. My last request shall be that myself may only bear 
 the burden. [Hume.] 
 
 8. The habits of a great nation could only change 
 slowly. Froude.] 
 
 9. They were only required to relinquish some acqui- 
 sitions which they had made. [Hume.] 
 
 10. I only have relinquished one delight. [Wordsworth. 
 
 11. In Eussia this [serfage] has been only done quite 
 lately by the present Emperor. [Freeman.] 
 
 12. The exercises of intellectual ingenuity which only 
 differ from conundrums and enigmas in not being amus- 
 ing. [A. S. Hill.] 
 
 13. An intense and thorough acquaintance with a lan- 
 guage is only to be acquired by an attentive study of its 
 literature. [Morris. ] 
 
 14. Mason and a few of the leading dragoons only un- 
 derstood the cry. 
 
 15. We were to cautiously and quickly advance to the 
 hill above. 
 
 16. The king survived about a year this melancholy 
 incident. [Hume.] 
 
 17. As we were drifting in bodily to shore. [Poe.] 
 
 18. Harrington's translation of Ariosto is not likewise 
 without its merit. [Hume.] 
 
 19. Antipathy which no time or experience was ever 
 able to efface. 
 
 20. The restoration was enforced afterwards upon his 
 successors. 
 
APPENDIX. 261 
 
 21. The upper house had been treated in disputes 
 which had arisen with significant disrespect. [Froude.] 
 
 22. The prevalence of one opinion in religious subjects 
 can be owing at first to the stupid ignorance alone and 
 barbarism of the people. 
 
 23. And let my liver rather heat with wine. [Shake- 
 speare. ] 
 
 24. They sent an address to the Kegent, where they 
 plainly intimated, etc. 
 
 25. Injuries affecting a man's health or where by any 
 unwholesome practices of another man sustains any ap- 
 parent damage. [Blackstone.] 
 
 26. As they had long been deprived of the presence of 
 their sovereign whom they once despaired ever more to 
 behold. [Hume.] 
 
 27. It is a sad discovery that history is so mainly made 
 by ignoble men. [Lowell.] 
 
 28. Hitherto there had been Englishmen of a distinct 
 type enough. 
 
 29. Chamier declared that it was a hard exercise of 
 faith to believe that so foolish a chatterer could have 
 really written the Traveller. [Macaulay.] 
 
 VERBS. Tense of the Infinitive. 
 
 1. Douglas, who intended to have drawn out the war, 
 was forced, etc. 
 
 2. Had not other States of Europe at the same time 
 received an accession of force, it had been impossible to 
 have retained her [France] within her ancient boundaries. 
 [Hume. ] 
 
 3. He left his fastnesses, in which he intended to have 
 sheltered his feeble army. [Hume.] 
 
262 APPENDIX. 
 
 4. He scorned the title which Elizabeth intended to 
 have restored to him. [Hume.] 
 
 5. They were not able as individuals to have influenced 
 the twentieth part of the population. [Jefferson.] 
 
 6. Lady Kochampton had really intended to have gone. 
 [D'Israeli.] 
 
 7. Since I left this city it has been my good fortune to 
 have travelled a good deal. [Grant.] 
 
 8. They would have found it up-hill work to have earned 
 a bare living. 
 
 9. Had I wished to have done so I should be better off. 
 
 10. I meant to have done it. 
 
 11. He wished to have done it. 
 
 12. He was resolved next day to have converted into 
 ready money the remains of his fortune. [Hume.] 
 
 13. I hoped to have done so. 
 
 14. He undertook to have done it. 
 
 15. We engaged to have done it. 
 
 16. I hoped to have seen you. 
 
 17. He promised to have done so. 
 
 18. I preferred not to have done it. 
 
 19. He would have liked to have shown off Sheilah to 
 some of his friends. [Wm. Black, cited by White.] 
 
 20. One friend she had who would have rejoiced to have 
 been of assistance to her. [Wm. Black, cited by White.] 
 
 21. Leslie was going to have spoken. [Malloch, cited 
 by White.] 
 
 22. Under these circumstances it would have been idle 
 for the crown to have expected aid. [Black, cited by 
 White.] 
 
 VEKBS. Number. 
 
 1. This large homestead, including a large barn and 
 beautiful garden, are to be sold next month. 
 
APPENDIX. 263 
 
 2. Antipathy, which no time or experience were eyer 
 able to efface. [Hume.] 
 
 3. Neither fact nor inference are correct. 
 
 4. This kind of cases are numerous. 
 
 5. Neither the carriage nor the livery were familiar to 
 them. 
 
 6. No nation but ourselves have equally succeeded in 
 both. [De Quincey.] 
 
 7. Where was you ? 
 
 8. Who done that ? 
 
 9. There seems to be no more inclined to take part. 
 
 10. Every one of the men say they saw him take 
 it. 
 
 11. He dare not do anything so bold. 
 
 12. More than one of them holds that opinion. 
 
 13. When wealth, honor, or power are ours, friends 
 are multiplied. 
 
 14. Out of the same mouth proceedetli blessing and 
 cursing. [King James's Translation.] 
 
 15. Let's you and me go along. 
 
 16. Every book and every magazine were catalogued. 
 
 17. There are many pleasures which neither our best 
 interest nor the convenience of others permit. 
 
 18. Neither threatening nor punishment were able to 
 correct the habit. 
 
 19. There's three or four chickens in the coop. 
 
 20. Are either of the two valuable ? 
 
 21. Neither Lenthal nor Manchester ivere esteemed 
 independents. [ Hume.] 
 
 22. The crop of wheat and oats were light. 
 
 23. The great supply that was expected by the Dauphin 
 here are wrecked. [Shakespeare.] 
 
 24. Ay, there goes a pair that only spoil each other. 
 [Goldsmith.] 
 
264 APPENDIX. 
 
 25. Neither of the boys have been taught. 
 
 26. As the long train of ages glide away. 
 
 27. He don't remember. 
 
 28. The grave part of mankind are quite as liable to 
 these imitated beliefs as the frivolous part. [Bagehot.] 
 
 29. Saying things in a short, dense way that compel a 
 halt. [Ik Marvel.] 
 
 30. I knew you was my friend. 
 
 31. I recollect that you ivas his advocate. 
 
 32. Eeligion and virtue, our best support, confers on 
 the mind the principles of independence. [Cited by 
 Fowler.] 
 
 33. In that transaction their safety and welfare is most 
 concerned. [Cited by Fowler.] 
 
 34. There are many faults in spelling which neither 
 analogy nor pronunciation justify. [Cited by Fowler.] 
 
 VEKBS. Connection of Tenses. 
 
 1. I have met three men and I found them true. 
 
 2. The painter plays the spider ; and hath woven 
 A golden mesh to entrap the hearts of men. 
 
 [Shakespeare. ] 
 
 3. It is confidently asserted that two young gentlemen 
 . . . have made a discovery that there was no God. 
 
 4. Birds frequently perish from sudden changes in our 
 whimsical spring weather of which they had no forebod- 
 ing. [Lowell.] 
 
 5. I considered that wit was sarcastic and magnanim- 
 ity imperious. [Johnson.] 
 
 6. The extensive scale of interests gave him great vari- 
 ety ; like his own skylark he soars, and drops into a lowly 
 nest, and as the wind sometimes flags, and the eye is wea- 
 ried, he was unequal ; and there was sometimes want of 
 
APPENDIX 265 
 
 proportion to his subject and his treatment of it. [Dean 
 of Westminster.] 
 
 7. Every one knows too that in a quarter of a century 
 it was succeeded by a growth of profound and enthusias- 
 tic admiration, which though it has teen limited by the 
 rise of new forms of deep and powerful poetry,, is still far 
 from being spent, or even reduced, though it is ex- 
 pressed with more discrimination than of old, in all 
 who have a right to judge of English poetry. [Dean of 
 Westminster. ] 
 
 8. Any that have, may, or shall pretend. 
 
 9. This dedication may serve for almost any book that 
 has, is, or shall be published. [Cited by Campbell.] 
 
 Use of CAK and COULD for MAY and MIGHT. 
 
 1. You can go so far as I am concerned. 
 
 2. You can do so if you choose. 
 
 3. Please can I speak ? 
 
 4. You can go without asking me. 
 
 5. Can we go home now, or shall we stay ? 
 
 6. You can read it ; I do not care. 
 
 7. He can say what he pleases ; it is no concern of 
 mine. 
 
 8. He asked me whether he could go. 
 
 9. I think you could do this to please me. 
 
 SHALL and WILL. 
 
 1. If then we shall shake off our slavish yoke. 
 
 2. Fair Jessica shall be my torchbearer. [Shake- 
 speare.] 
 
 3. If you much note him 
 
 You shall offend him. [Shakespeare.] 
 
266 APPENDIX. 
 
 4. My country 
 Shall have more vices than it had before. 
 
 [Shakespeare.] 
 
 5. And if I die, no man shall pity me. 
 
 6. If they do this 
 
 As, if please God, they shall. 
 
 7. You should refuse to perform your father's will if 
 you should refuse to accept him. [Shakespeare.] 
 
 8. Would make such fearful and confused cries, 
 As any mortal body hearing it 
 
 Should straight fall mad. 
 
 9. Strength should be lord of imbecility, 
 
 And the rude son should strike the father dead ; 
 Force should be right. 
 
 10. It is certain that we will fail. 
 
 11. I would try in vain to thank you. 
 
 12. Will I put some coal on the fire ? [Cited by 
 White.] 
 
 13. It was requested that no persons would leave their 
 seats. [Cited by White.] 
 
 14. When will we get through with the . . . Byron 
 controversy ? [Cited by White.] 
 
 15. I think we will succeed. 
 
 16. I would be false if I did not say so. 
 
 17. We will be smothered in this fire. 
 
 18. Do you think we will have a storm to-day ? 
 
 19. I would try in vain to express myself. 
 
 20. He ought to have known that we would be ruined. 
 
 21. I will not do it. 
 
 22. I will give it to John. 
 
 23. He will go next week. 
 
 24. It will rain, I think. 
 
 25. Will you come to-morrow ? 
 
 26. He would often talk of such things. 
 
APPENDIX. 267 
 
 27. I would have you do so. 
 
 28. We shall go to-morrow. 
 
 29. Shall I read to you ? 
 
 30. You shall have them if you wish. 
 
 31. Thou shalt not steal. 
 
 32. He shall be punished. 
 
 33. I should be sorry if you were to do so. 
 
 34. I should do that differently. 
 
 35. You should do as commanded. 
 
 36. Should you fail to-day, try again to-morrow. 
 
 TRANSITIVE VERBS for INTRANSITIVE, or INTRANSITIVE 
 VERBS for TRANSITIVE. 
 
 1. We trifle time. [Shakespeare.] 
 
 2. The same strict . . . watch 
 
 So nightly toils the subject of the land. 
 
 [ Shakespeare. ] 
 
 3. My tooth ached me. 
 
 4. His burns smart him. 
 
 5. His foot itches him. 
 
 6. The man whom they intend shall do that work. 
 
 7. I called to price your goods. 
 
 8. This store to rent. 
 
 9. To fly the country. 
 
 10. " Was this yoke to be disastrously imposed on 
 necks for which its only effect would be to madden or to 
 gall 9" [P. W. Farrar.] 
 
 CONJUNCTIONS. 
 
 1. Scarcely has he reached it than he shows the differ- 
 ence. 
 
 2. Hardly is this suit settled than old Gaunt dies. 
 
268 APPENDIX. 
 
 3. This could not nor would not have been spoken by 
 Shakespeare. 
 
 4 They were not tempted to seize extensive possessions 
 which they knew neither how to cultivate nor enjoy. 
 [Hume. ] 
 
 5. The general presumption which lies either against 
 the understanding or the morals. [Hume.] 
 
 6. Their interests, loth with regard to property and 
 religion. 
 
 7. As much as the bold and vivid spirit of Montrose 
 prompted him to enterprising measures, as much was the 
 cautious temper of Hamilton inclined to such as were 
 moderate and dilatory. 
 
 8. Who was determined either to ruin himself or his 
 antagonist. [ Hume. ] 
 
 9. They were filled with great sorrow as well as when 
 they considered the miserable end of so brave a patriot as 
 their own forlorn condition from the loss of such a leader. 
 
 -[Hume.] 
 
 10. The livings were farmed out to laymen who either 
 provided an Irish rogue to read the service or obtain 
 dispensations for themselves or their children without 
 pretence or orders to hold benefices with cures. 
 
 11. Adversity loth taught you to think and to reason. 
 
 12. I demand neither pension, place, or any other 
 reward. [Franklin. ] 
 
 13. Somerset, unable to resist at once loth the enemies 
 within and from without, retired. [Hume.] 
 
 14. I have made no alteration or addition to it, nor 
 shall I ever. 
 
 15. He has proceeded to that height of presumption as 
 to levy forces. [Hume.] 
 
 16. Will it be urged that the four Gospels are as old or 
 even older than tradition ? [Bolingbroke.] 
 
APPENDIX. 269 
 
 17. Talk like I do. 
 
 18. Try and think of what I say. 
 
 19. "We do not share his feeling nor suspect it. 
 [Lowell.] 
 
 20. It won't bite us nor meddle with us. -[Lowell.] 
 
 21. All men were either regarded as his enemies or 
 dreaded to become such. 
 
 22. As much as that assembly was once the idol of the 
 nation, as much was it now become the object of general 
 hatred. [Hume.] 
 
 23. He found his power to depend upon so delicate a 
 poise of factions and interests as the smallest event was 
 able ... to overthrow. [Hume.] 
 
 24. I do not know as I shall remain. 
 
 25. This man was equally qualified to gain their 
 affection . . . as to command their obedience. 
 [Hume.] 
 
 26. When a little time . . . had moderated the general 
 fury, he was enabled to form a party. 
 
 27. His Majesty would loth secure his own dominions 
 and the Spanish Netherlands. 
 
 28. Scarcely had he . . . than. [Gervinus.] 
 
 29. This could not nor would not have been. 
 
 [Gervinus.] 
 
 30. Or Shakespeare, . . nor Collins, . . . nor Byron, 
 . . Scott, . . or Wordsworth. [Emerson.] 
 
 ADJECTIVES. 
 
 1. Employ your chiefest thought. [Shakespeare.] 
 
 2. Captains of fifties and hundreds held authority, each, 
 in his loftier tower. [Southey.] 
 
 3. Nor no ill-luck stirring. [Shakespeare.] 
 
 4. Nor none of thee. [Shakespeare.] 
 
270 APPENDIX. 
 
 5. Fiercely-attacked ballads. [Dean of Westminster.] 
 
 6. All the house belongs to me, or will do so in a few 
 years, [Bronte.] 
 
 7. In so much a condition were the privileges of the 
 people. 
 
 8. Which is the lest of these two books ? 
 
 9. He acted so honest and fair-minded. 
 
 10. If your choice lies between them, which of these 
 two things do you want most ? 
 
 11. He did that good. 
 
 12. He waltzed beautiful. 
 
 13. She was dressed beautiful. 
 
 14. The bird sings sweet. 
 
 15. It is awful muddy. 
 
 16. He treated us fine. 
 
 17. I have as good a right as you. 
 
 18. Bring me a couple of books on chemistry. 
 
 19. There is no telling to what lengths this desire to 
 speak fine will lead. [Richard Grant White.] 
 
 PREPOSITIONS. 
 
 1. Notwithstanding his aversion from all labor. 
 [Hume.] 
 
 2. The poetry had so wholly different an influence 
 TO that of S. and G-. 
 
 3. The laws enjoined the use to the younger clergy. 
 
 4. One of those attempts at the life of Louis Phil- 
 ippe. 
 
 5. This large homestead including a large barn and 
 beautiful garden. 
 
 6. The sultry evening was followed with a storm. 
 
 7. There was a dinner twice a week at which Walder- 
 sham was absent. [D'Israeli.] 
 
APPENDIX. 271 
 
 8. In other countries it may be different to what it is 
 with us. [Galton.] 
 
 9. Under much less of restraint. [Gladstone.] 
 
 10. Tyrants equally averse from peace and from free- 
 dom. 
 
 11. A precaution which serves to no other purpose. 
 
 12. The House of Commons showed the same attach- 
 ment with the sailors for the Protestant religion. 
 
 13. The English parliament was now assembled, and 
 discovered in every vote the same disposition in which 
 they had separated. 
 
 14. Francis is said to have been affected with the 
 king's death. 
 
 15. You have too much respect upon the world. 
 [Shakespeare.] 
 
 16. I am provided of a torchbearer. [Shakespeare.] 
 
 17. The difference of Shylock and Bassanio. [Shake- 
 speare.] 
 
 18. Let it not enter in your mind of love. [Shake- 
 speare. ] 
 
 19. Employ your chief est thoughts to courtship. 
 [Shakespeare.] 
 
 20. He is to home. 
 
 21. Where is he at 9 
 
 22. Of his character we know nothing ; but I am sure 
 it was different to his circumstances. [Bronte.] 
 
 23. Mr. Eochester as he sat in his damask-covered 
 chair looked different to what I had seen him before. 
 [Bronte.] 
 
 24. He is independent upon others. 
 
 25. Catch me confiding my person with strangers. 
 [Holmes. ] 
 
 26. All of these have long ago sunk in silence and 
 oblivion. 
 
272 APPENDIX. 
 
 27. Contempt and disregard to all religion. [Hume.] 
 
 28. You might have profited of our example. 
 
 [Burke.] 
 
 29. My dissent to that doctrine. [Burke.] 
 
 30. He received a visit ~by his father. 
 
 31. The conditions of life are so different here to what 
 they are at the South. 
 
 32. It will fall to careless ruin. [Shakespeare.] 
 
 33. Speaking upon the careful observation of several 
 years. . . . [Richard Grant White. ] 
 
 34. Some said they had seen her on the street. [Car- 
 lyle, cited by White.] 
 
 IMPROPRIETY.-(p. 172.) 
 
 1. The first project was to shorten discourse by cutting 
 polysyllables into one. [Swift.] 
 
 2. We still maintain we did right before, and if the 
 same occasion should call us out, we would do it again. 
 
 3. Heaven alone helps us when we embrace his means. 
 
 4. In this battle the barbarians suffered a greater loss 
 than in any battle during the entire war. 
 
 5. In these rigid opinions the whole sectaries * * * 
 unanimously concurred. 
 
 6. His ostensible business would lay with Alva. 
 
 [Froude.] 
 
 7. She hesitated to adopt, and would not reject, the 
 means which were pressed upon her for securing the 
 throne, and she laid with flapping sails, drifting in the 
 gale. [Froude.] 
 
 8. He laid upon the ground. 
 
 9. He laid in wait. 
 
 10. He lay it on the table. 
 
APPENDIX. 273 
 
 11. These men rank among the genii of the world. 
 
 12. Others who dreaded the execution of the king's 
 authority, had fled. [Hume.] 
 
 13. If these facts be just, there has been a great im- 
 provement. 
 
 14. Tonstal was one of the most eminent prelates of 
 that age, still less for the dignity of his manner than for 
 personal merit. [Hume.] 
 
 15. Another mark of attachment, which was the most 
 sincere of any. 
 
 16. Are not the clergy, too, under a temptation to 
 confute 9 
 
 17. I will not say that Dryden's prose did not gain by 
 the conversational elasticity which his frequenting men 
 and women of the world enabled him to give it. 
 [Lowell] 
 
 18. The greatest vices which they could reproach to a 
 great part. 
 
 19. With this magical word he called up the geniuses 
 of the place. 
 
 20. These matters must be considered discreetely. 
 
 21. He managed the affair discretely. 
 
 22. He is continuously in the wrong. 
 
 23. His reasoning is continual. 
 
 24. Don't set there. 
 
 25. Sit that down. 
 
 26. I done that. 
 
 27. Did you loose your hat ? 
 
 28. Who learned you your lesson ? 
 
 2)0. He was at the height of his felicity. [Lowell.] 
 
 30. Not only did he endeavor to reform. 
 
 31. Laws which he made be enacted. 
 
 32. If he is a farmer his avocation must be farming. 
 
 33. I am no poorer than the rest of my townsmen. 
 
 18 
 
274 APPENDIX. 
 
 34. This kind of wit is that which abounds in Cowley 
 more than in any author that ever wrote. [Addison.] 
 
 35. In the age of Elizabeth England was more distin- 
 guished for patriotism than any nation in civilized Eu- 
 rope. [North American Keview.] 
 
 3G. There were less people there than usual. 
 
 37. Don't let that lay there. 
 
 38. The Southern dialect had many plural forms of 
 nouns that were wholly unknown to the Northern dialect. 
 
 39. Have these books indices 9 
 
 40. What are the indexes of these algebraic quantities ? 
 
 41. Do you talk French. [Cited by White,] 
 
 42. They fired arrows and stones. [Cited by White.] 
 
 43. Richelieu, directly he was called to the council. 
 [Buckle, cited by White.] 
 
 IMPROPRIETY. Clauses and Phrases. 
 
 1. The obligation which of all others had been most 
 incumbent on her, she had neglected. [Froude.] 
 
 2. The one of all others who was supposed to represent 
 most nearly the Queen. [Froude.] 
 
 3. The event which of all others he most passionately 
 desired. [Hume.] 
 
 4. The kingdom which of all others had been most 
 devoted. [Hume.] 
 
 5. Questions which of all others had been most devoted. 
 [Hume.J 
 
 6. He is the man of all others slow to admit the thought 
 of revolution. [Lowell.] 
 
 7. The quality which of all others she was least pos- 
 sessed of. [Hume.] 
 
 8. This delusion was of all others the most contrary to 
 common sense. [Hume.] 
 
APPENDIX. 275 
 
 9. He can select with the ease of magic the word that 
 of all others is best for his purpose. 
 
 10. * * * came too late to gladden the hearts which 
 of all others would have most rejoiced in it. [Southey.] 
 
 11. Breathing with ease * * * is of all others the 
 blessing which we possess with the least consciousness. 
 [Southey.] 
 
 USE OF SAME WORD WITH DIFFERENT MEANINGS, or 
 FAULTY EEPETITIOX. 
 
 1. He sent round orders that every one that came to 
 land must be brought into Galway. [Froude.] 
 
 2. B[aily] had revealed the existence of the mystery 
 ~but had left it hut half explained. [Froude.] 
 
 3. Then, to be sure, he snatches the first ready cudgel 
 as in ShadwelFs case, though even then there is some- 
 thing of the good humor of conscious strength. 
 
 -[Lowell.] 
 
 4. Hefell back and laying wait until they came on, he 
 fell upon them at midnight. 
 
 5. I had already written and partly in type, a letter. 
 [Howells.] 
 
 6. It is a well-known fact th'at in all argumentative dis- 
 course that great care must be given to definitions. 
 
 7. I propose to dispose of this subject without the aid 
 of documentary evidence, which, like circumstantial evi- 
 dence is often the most unreliable evidence of any. 
 
 8. He said that it w^as a positive fact. 
 
 9. Are you positively certain ? 
 
 10. Let us continue on. 
 
 11. He Jellied him dead. 
 
 12. They united together. 
 
276 APPENDIX. 
 
 13. The two propositions were connected together. 
 
 14. When shall you return lack home ? 
 
 */ 
 
 IMPROPER ARRANGEMENT and CONFUSED CONSTRUC- 
 TION. 
 
 1. He was obliged to maintain six horses, of which three 
 to be furnished with sufficient harness. [Hume.] 
 
 2. Lying while engaged in tliat great office under the 
 shadow of death, the sword above his head and ready at 
 any minute to fall, he worked under circumstances alone 
 perhaps truly worthy of the task which was laid upon 
 him, his spirit, as it were, divorced from the world moved 
 in a purer element than common air. [Froude.] 
 
 3. He shot the^bird with his arrow. 
 
 4. The nation, that eternal child, is led by gentleness or 
 force, and without its having any hand in the matter, to 
 the end which has been chosen for it without consult- 
 ing it. 
 
 5. You can hire for five dollars, a carriage which will 
 seat four persons and two horses. 
 
 6. There were among the vases several large coursing- 
 cups won by the duke's hounds of exquisite shape and or- 
 nament. [Willis.] 
 
 7. He sometimes whipped the prisoners with his own 
 hands till he was tired with the violence of the exercise. 
 [Hume.] 
 
 8. A practical objection to this system is that the 
 country-houses not being inhabited at the season of the 
 year when they most want it are liable to deterioration 
 from damp. [Hamerton.] 
 
 9. A certain Iturbide called himself Emperor for 
 a while, as people did in other places, but after a while a 
 Federal constitution was established. [Freeman.] 
 
APPENDIX. 277 
 
 10. ... his feeling becomes as nearly passionate 
 . . . as with him is possible. 
 
 11. Each estate or each township for the most part, 
 grew its own food, and (the average of seasons compensat- 
 ing each other), food adequate for the mouths depending 
 upon it. 
 
 12. It is a very great pleasure for Mr. Tennyson's old 
 admirers to receive a new volume from his hand which 
 they can read with unstinted admiration. [London 
 Academy.] 
 
 13. His [the farmer's] wife no less dear to him than are 
 the wives to them of the presumptuous and the proud, and 
 more beautiful and perfect in per son and soul, measures 
 up to her lord in every duty and responsibility of life. 
 
 14. Tlie King having become a Catholic, they will send 
 their sons to K., to be out of the way. [Fronde.] 
 
 15. Where he [Pope] was to remain a bright-eyed 
 restless fox amidst sour grapes, not as his poetic imagina- 
 tion at first suggested, lut a little while longer. [Hogg.] 
 
 1C. In a short time all the gaols were crammed not- 
 withstanding a great number being shipped off to New- 
 castle ; and more were starved and Jcilled than were made 
 prisoners. [Chambers. ] 
 
 17. Born in 1788, his Hours of Idleness, a collection of 
 short poems, in 1807, was mercilessly lashed in the Ed- 
 inburgh Eeview. [Stopford Brook.] 
 
 18. With two or three exceptions we have never seen 
 the writer through a circuit of prodigious reading, who 
 has not sometimes violated the accidence or the syntax of 
 English grammar. [De Quincey.] 
 
 19. Senex had filled the curacies before hv was pre- 
 sented at court, where (in 1832) he saw the Princess Vic- 
 toria then thirteen years of age, led by her mother and smil- 
 ing and bo wing even then like a young queen upon his ap- 
 
278 APPENDIX. 
 
 pointment as chaplain to a newly consecrated Indian 
 bishop Wilson of Calcutta. [Saturday Eeview.] 
 
 20. All the incidents are striking and well told, from 
 the lighter story of the young chaplain who tried to 
 preach to (or at) the Colonel for his improvement and 
 with only the result " For several Sundays past lie lias 
 been sitting with his legs upon the ledge among the prayer, 
 looks laughing at me" till a six weeks' trial of a different 
 system prescribed by Senex <( got the legs doivn" to the 
 darker and stronger incidents of that old Indian life of 
 banishment. [Literary World. ] 
 
 21. When the national government in Spain was upset 
 by Bonaparte, the Spanish colonies began to set up for 
 themselves in 1810. [Freeman.] 
 
 22. That the limits of the two jurisdictions [spiritual 
 and temporal] were difficult to ascertain or define, it was 
 not impossible but by moderation on both sides, govern- 
 ment might still have been conducted in that imperfect and 
 irregular manner which, etc. 
 
 23. I have ventured to give to the foreign word Renais- 
 sance destined to become of more common use amongst us, 
 as the movement which it denotes comes, as it will come 
 increasingly, to interest us an English form. [Matthew 
 Arnold.] 
 
 24. The feudal law, first introducing the law of primo- 
 geniture, made such a distinction between the families of 
 the elder and the younger brothers, that the son of the 
 former was thought to be entitled to succeed to his grand- 
 father preferably to his uncles, the nearer allied to the de- 
 ceased monarch. 
 
 25. She used his language which would not have bean 
 shocking to her ordinary moods, without blenching. 
 [Howells.] 
 
 26. ... on as easy a footing with his allegorical 
 
APPENDIX. 279 
 
 beings as we might be with Socrates in a dream. 
 
 [Lowell.] 
 
 FIGURES. METAPHOR 
 
 1. The points which the judges pushed most vehe- 
 mently were her visions and her revelations and her in- 
 tercourse with departed saints. 
 
 2. They gave into the snare prepared for them. 
 [Hume ] 
 
 3. He had dared to project the throwing across the 
 harbor a mole of a mile's extent. 
 
 4. Even the lamb, when infected by theological fanati- 
 cism, secretes a virus in his teeth, and his bite is as deadly 
 as a rattlesnake's. [Froude.] 
 
 5. A power whose morning drum-beat, following the 
 sun and keeping company with the hours, circled the 
 earth daily with one continuous and unbroken strain of 
 the martial airs of England. [Daniel Webster.] 
 
 6. To maintain his station as head of the community 
 and the chief fountain of law and justice. [Hume,] 
 
 7. It was all ear, and took in strains that might create 
 a soul under the ribs of death. [Milton.] 
 
 8. I heard the wrack, 
 
 As earth and sky would mingle. [Milton.] 
 
 9. The rough edge of battle ere it joined. [Milton.] 
 
 10. Every one knows, too, that in a quarter of a century 
 it was succeeded by a groivth of pro found and enthusiastic 
 admiration which, though it has been limited by the rise 
 of new forms of deep and powerful poetry, is still far 
 from being spent or even reduced, though it is expressed 
 with more discrimination than of old in all who have a 
 right to judge of English poetry. [Dean of Westminster.] 
 
 11. Wordsworth's poetry was not only a powerful, but a 
 conscious and systematic appeal to that craving for deep 
 
280 APPENDIX. 
 
 truth and reality which had been gathering way ever 
 since the French Revolution so terribly tore asunder the 
 old veils of conventionality and custom. [Dean of West- 
 minster. ] 
 
 12. Wordsworth's power was in bursts ; and he wanted 
 to go against the grain of his real aptitude, and prolong 
 into a continuous strain inspiration which was meant for 
 occasions. [Dean of Westminster.] 
 
 13. ... the sweetness of the verse enables the fancy 
 by a slight gulp to swallow, without solution, the problem 
 of being in two places at the same time. [Lowell.] 
 
 14. Mere names, with no todies to ~back them. [Lowell.] 
 
 15. ... he shifted the couplet from the end of 
 the stave, where it always seems to put on the brakes with 
 a jar. [Lowell.] v 
 
 1G. Tangled skeins of rain. [Aldrich.] 
 
 17. Hills mushroomed with tents. [Mrs. E. Akers 
 Allen.] 
 
 18. ... these flaws, though mortals fear them, 
 As dangerous to the pillared frame of heaven, 
 Or to the earth's dark brass underneath, 
 
 Are to the main as inconsiderable 
 
 And harmless, if not wholesome, as a sneeze 
 
 To man's less universe. [Milton.] 
 
 19. k cloud of counter citations that neutralize each 
 other. [Everett.] 
 
 20. A bill, by the bye, is the most extraordinary loco- 
 motive engine that the genius of man ever produced. 
 [Dickens.] 
 
 21. And to ask when the reward that had been prom- 
 ised me, viz., the title held by my ancestors, was again to 
 be revived in my person. [Thackeray.] 
 
 22. Between the happier passages we have to cross 
 stretches of flat prose twisted into rhyme. [Stephens.] . 
 
APPENDIX. 281 
 
 23. His Tcey is so low that his high lights are never ob- 
 trusive. [Lowell.] 
 
 24. The fifth part of the felonies committed in the 
 country were not brought to trial) notwithstanding the 
 great number of indictments. [Hume.] 
 
 25. Eendered the presentation of a kind of epoch in the 
 English Constitution. 
 
 26. The development of the national languages which 
 followed the chaotic period of the ninth and tenth cen- 
 turies is an interesting sign of that new stage in the 
 advancement of civilization upon which Europe was pre- 
 pared to enter. [Freeman.] 
 
 27. Poverty ooze d in with gentle swiftness, and lay about 
 him like a dull cloak for the rest of his life. [John Morley.] 
 
 28. All measures for the public good, however, appear 
 destined to an outselling gauntlet of opposition. 
 
 29. We are only 
 
 Pencils God paints with. [Howells.] 
 
 30. The wings of man's life are plumed with the feathers 
 of death. 
 
 31. Man ! 
 
 Thou jwndulum between a smile and a tear. [Byron.] 
 
 32. Plant lovelier than Naiad ~by the side 
 Of Grecian Irook, or Lady of the Mere, 
 Sole-sitting by the shores of old romance. 
 
 [Wordsworth. ] 
 
 33. Stairs of sand. 
 
 34. . . . sometimes on firm ground 
 
 A standing fight : then soaring on main wing 
 Tormented all the air. [Milton.] 
 
 35. The tardily blossoming cycles, 
 
 Flowering at last in this glorious age of our art had not 
 
 waited, 
 Folded calyxes still for Pordenone or Titian. [Howells.] 
 
282 APPENDIX. 
 
 36. The moral and political system of Hobbes was a 
 palace of ice : transparent, exactly proportioned, majestic, 
 admired by the unwary as a delightful dwelling, but 
 gradually undermined by the central warmth of human 
 feeling, before it was thawed into muddy water by the 
 sunshine of true philosophy. [Mackintosh, as cited by 
 Fowler. ] 
 
 37. The Gospel, formerly a, forester, now became & citi- 
 zen. [Fuller, as cited by Fowler.] 
 
 38. The wand-like lily. [Shelley.] 
 
 39. The lagging hours. [Shelley.] 
 
 40. Therefore, on every morrow are we wreathing 
 
 A. flowery land to bind us to the earth. [Keats.] 
 
 41. ... his tread 
 
 Was Hesperean. [Keats.] 
 
 42. Out of the live-green heart of the dells 
 
 They freshen the silvery-crimson shells. [Tennyson.] 
 
 43. And the flying gold of the ruined woodlands drove 
 through the air. [Tennyson.] 
 
 44. The shrill-edged shriek of a mother. [Tennyson.] 
 
 45. When a Mammonite mother kills her babe for a 
 burial fee. [Tennyson.] 
 
 46. A million emeralds break from the ruby-budded 
 lime. [Tennyson. ] 
 
 47. For the drift of the Maker is dark, an Isis hid by 
 the veil. [Tennyson.] 
 
 48. The long-necked geese of the world that are ever 
 hissing dispraise. [Tennyson.] 
 
 49. Ah, Maud, you milk-white fawn. [Tennyson.] 
 
 50. You have but fed on the roses and lain in the lilies 
 of life. [Tennyson. ] 
 
 51. For the Hack Mt, night, has flown. 
 
 [Tennyson.] 
 
 52. On a led of daffodil sky. [Tennyson.] 
 
APPENDIX. 283 
 
 53. And the soul of the rose went into my blood. 
 
 [Tennyson.] 
 
 54. He sets the jeivel-print of your feet 
 
 In violets blue as your eyes. [Tennyson.] 
 
 55. Queen rose of the rosebud garden of girls. 
 
 [Tennyson.] 
 
 56. There has fallen a splendid tear 
 
 From the passion-flower at the gate. [Tennyson.] 
 
 57. They are but broken lights of thee. [Tennyson.] 
 
 58. A learn in darkness. [Tennyson.] 
 
 59. Men may rise on stepping-stones 
 
 Of their dead selves to higher things. 
 
 [Tennyson. ] 
 
 SIMILE. 
 
 1. Bent like the laboring oar that toils in the surf of 
 
 the ocean, 
 
 Bent, but not .broken, by age was the notary public ; 
 Shocks of yellow hair, like silken floss of the maize, hung 
 Over his shoulder. [Longfellow.] 
 
 2. And feet like sunny gems on an English green. 
 [Tennyson.] 
 
 3. In the midst of it rises an unfinished tower like a 
 head bereft of its hat. [Clara Bell, Tr.] 
 
 4. With honeysuckle covered with perfumed bunches 
 of pale blossoms like spread hands. [Clara Bell, Tr.] 
 
 5. Her eyes are as Hack as dark care. [Clara Bell, Tr.] 
 
 6. Their white sails set like ivings. [Clara Bell, Tr. ] 
 
 7. The foremast, with its double cross of spars, gave 
 way and fell like a broken stick. [Clara Bell, Tr.] 
 
 8. Little images are laid before him like a cock-boat to 
 a whale. 
 
284 APPENDIX. 
 
 9. As killing as the canker to the rose, 
 
 Or taint-worm to the weanling heards that graze. 
 
 [Milton.] 
 
 10. Destiny, which environs us like a drop of deiv in 
 the heart of a rock. [A. H. Walsh.] 
 
 11. He [Gibbon] is like Christie, the auctioneer, who 
 says as much in praise of a ribbon as of a Eaphael. 
 [Parson, cited by Macbeth.] 
 
 12. Gentle as falcon 
 
 Or hawk of the tower. 
 
 [Skelton, cited by Macbeth.] 
 
 13. They rushed to battle like thirsty wolves to a spring. 
 [Homer, cited by Macbeth.] 
 
 14. The mind of humanity seems to swing like the pen- 
 dulum, and, like the pendulum, never remains in the 
 only position in which it can rest. 
 
 15. Like hovering sea-mew that on the broad gulfs 
 Of the unfruitful ocean seeks her prey, 
 
 And often dips her pinions in the brine, 
 So Hermes flew along the waste of waves. 
 
 16. As the wind 
 
 In autumn sweeps the thistles of the field, 
 Clinging together, so the blasts of heaven 
 Hither and thither drove it o'er the sea. 
 
 17. Led they not forth in rapture 
 
 A beauteous maiden there ? 
 
 Eesplendent as the morning sun 9 
 
 Beaming with golden hair. 
 
 18. Upon each other back they bore 
 And gazed like startled deer. 
 
 19. Her beauty hangs on the cheek of night 
 
 Like a rich jewel in anEthiop's ear. [Shakespeare.] 
 
 20. These violent delights have violent ends, 
 
 And in their triumph die ; like fire and powder 
 Which, as they kiss, consume. 
 
APPENDIX. 285 
 
 21. My earthl ysenses are closing o^er my spirit like the 
 leaves around the heart of a rose at sunset. [Hawthorne.] 
 
 22. The childhood shows the man 
 
 As morning shows the day. [Milton.] 
 
 23. Around his image fluttered to and fro 
 
 The ghosts with noise like fear-bewildered birds. 
 
 24. Adam . . . 
 
 Led on ... with desire to know 
 . . . as one whose drouth 
 Yet scarce allayed, still eyes the current stream 
 Whose liquid murmur heard, new thirst excites. 
 
 -[Milton.] 
 
 25. There where your argosies with portly sail 
 Like signiors and rich burghers on the flood, 
 Or, as it were, the pageants of the sea, 
 
 Do overpeer the petty traffickers, 
 That curt'sy to them, do them reverence, 
 As they fly by them with their woven wings, 
 And see my wealthy Andrew dock'd in sand, 
 Veiling her high top lower than her ribs 
 To kiss her burial. [Shakespeare.] 
 
 26. And now, as from the flint the fire, 
 
 Flashed forth at once his generous ire. [Scott.] 
 
 27. As a violent wind uplifts 
 
 The dry chaff heaped upon a threshing-floor, 
 And sends it scattered through the air abroad. 
 So did that ivave fling loose the ponderous beams. 
 
 28. It is not growing like a tree 
 
 In bulk, doth make man better be. [Jonson.] 
 
 29. Care- charming Sleep, fall like a cloud. 
 In gentle shoivers. 
 
 30. And as a purling stream, thou son of Night 
 Pass by his troubled senses, sing his pain 
 Like hollow murmuring wind or gentle rain. 
 
 [Beaumont and Fletcher.] 
 
286 APPENDIX. 
 
 31. He above the rest, 
 
 In shape and gesture proudly eminent, 
 Stood like a tower. [Milton.] 
 
 32. His form . . . 
 
 As when the sun neiv risen 
 Looks through the horizontal air 
 Shorn of his learns. [Milton.] 
 
 33. With eyes upraised, as one inspired, 
 Pale Melancholy sat retired. [Collins.] 
 
 34. Some, like a downward smoke 
 Slow-dropping veils of thinnest lawn did go. 
 
 [Tennyson.] 
 
 35. ... and if his fellow spake, 
 
 His voice was thin, as voices from the grave. 
 
 [Tennyson.] 
 
 36. Set my face as a flint. [Tennyson.] 
 
 37. And his cheek brightened as thefoam-loiv Irightens 
 When the wind blows the foam. [Tennyson.] 
 
 38. The shadow of his loss moved like eclipse, 
 Darkening the world. [Tennyson.] 
 
 39. Faintly as tolls the evening chime, 
 
 Our voices keep tune, and our oars keep time. 
 
 [Moore.] 
 
 40. Erin, the tear and the smile in thine eyes, 
 Blend like the rainbow that hangs in the skies. 
 
 [Moore.] 
 
 41. Sad, silent, and dark be the tears that we shew, 
 As the night-dew that falls on the grass o'er his 
 
 head. [Moore ] 
 
 42. For he was beautiful as day. [Byron.] 
 
 43. Whose tints as gently sunk away 
 
 As a departing rainbow 7 s ray. [Byron.] 
 
 44. Who looked as though the speed of thought 
 Were in his limbs. [Byron.] 
 
APPENDIX. 287 
 
 45. Which flung from its bells a sweet peal anew 
 Of music so delicate, soft and intense, 
 
 It was felt like an odor within the sense. 
 
 [Shelley.] 
 
 46. It loves even like Love. [Shelley.] 
 
 47. The plumed insects swift and free, 
 
 Like golden boats on a sunny sea. [Shelley.] 
 
 48. The unseen clouds of the dew, which lie 
 Like fire in the flowers till the sun rides high. 
 
 -[Shelley.] 
 
 49. In which every sound, and odor, and beam, 
 Move, as reeds in a single stream. [Shelley.] 
 
 50. Whilst the lagging hours of the day went by 
 
 Like ivindless clouds o'er a tender sky. [Shelley.] 
 
 51. And, as a dying meteor stains a wreath 
 
 Of moonlight vapor, which the cold night clips, 
 It flushed through his pale limbs and passed to its 
 eclipse. [Shelley. ] 
 
 52. . . . the moving pomp might seem 
 
 Like pageantry of mist on an autumnal stream. 
 
 [Shelley.] 
 
 53. And the green lizard, and the golden snake, 
 
 Like unimprisoned flames, out of their trance 
 awake. [ Shelley. ] 
 
 54. For the pomp and pleasure of Pride, 
 We toil like Afric slaves. [Hood.] 
 
 55. Thy soul ivas like a star, and dwelt apart. 
 
 [Wordsworth. ] 
 
 56. Mute in her grave as her image in marble above. 
 
 [Tennyson.] 
 
 57. Shining like a dove's neck. 
 
 58. A polished shaft in the temple of letters we are 
 more struck with the leauty of the workmanship than 
 with the weight supported. 
 
288 APPENDIX. 
 
 59. God puts our prayers like rose-leaves, between the 
 leaves of his book of remembrance, and when the volume 
 is opened at last, there shall be a precious fragrance 
 springing from them. [Spurgeon, cited by Macbeth.] 
 
 CLIMAX. 
 
 
 
 1. Exhausted, spiritless, afflicted, fallen. [Milton.] 
 
 2. Unrespited, unpitied, unreprieved. [Milton.] 
 
 3. ... then in an hour 
 
 Ensnared, assaulted, overcome, led bound, 
 Thy foe's derision, captive, poor and blind. 
 
 4. These rags, this grinding is not yet so base 
 As was my former servitude ignoble, 
 Unmanly, ignominious, infamous. [Milton.] 
 
 5. Then knowest the magistrates 
 
 And princes of my country came in person, 
 Solicited, commanded, threatened, urg'd, 
 Adjured by all the bonds of civil duty 
 And of religion, press'd how just it was 
 How honorable, how glorious to entrap 
 A common enemy. [Milton.] 
 
 6. Happen what may, of me expect to hear 
 Nothing dishonorable, impure, unworthy 
 Our God, our law, our nation, or myself. 
 
 -[Milton.] 
 
 7. He was young, hopeful, and intelligent. 
 
 8. He was distinguished at home, in the field, and in 
 the council. 
 
 9. Torn, tattered, and terrified he reached his destina- 
 tion. [H. W. Jameson.] 
 
 10. Language can inform words with the spiritual phi- 
 losophy of the Pauline epistles, the living thunder of a 
 
APPENDIX. 289 
 
 Demosthenes, or the material picturesqueness of a Russell. 
 -[Marsh.] 
 
 11. I am told several pickpockets are here. Let them 
 remember that the eye of God is on them ; and also that 
 there are a number of policemen in the house. [Wesley, 
 cited by Macbeth.] 
 
 12. It was after the angry dispensations of Providence 
 had, with a progressive severity of chastisement, visited 
 the land with a famine one year, and with a Colonel 
 Hannah the next. [Sheridan, cited by Macbeth.] 
 
 13. Who can describe the tears, the lamentations, the 
 agonies, the animated remonstrances of the unfortunate 
 prisoners ? 
 
 PERSONIFICATION. 
 
 1. May, with her cap crowned with roses, 
 Stood in her holiday dress in the fields. 
 
 2. And clamorous labor 
 
 Knocked with its hundred hands at the golden gate of 
 the morning. [Longfellow.] 
 
 3. wake, while Dawn with dewy shine 
 Wakes Nature's charms to vie with thine ! 
 She bids the mottled thrush rejoice 
 
 To mate thy melody of voice. 
 
 4. Now old desire doth in his death-bed lie, 
 And young affection gapes to be his heir. 
 
 [Shakespeare.] 
 
 5. Two of the fairest stars in all the heaven, 
 Having some business, do entreat her eyes 
 To twinkle in their spheres till they return. 
 
 6. The gray-ey'd morn smiles on the frowning night. 
 . . . pure-eyed Faith, white-handed Hope, 
 Thou morning angel, girt with golden wings, 
 And thou unblemished form of Chastity. [Milton.] 
 
 19 
 
 7. 
 
290 APPENDIX. 
 
 8. Roll on, thou deep and dark blue ocean, roll. 
 
 [Byron.] 
 
 9. Night threw her mantle o'er the sky. 
 
 10. The beauty of the laughing ivaterfall. 
 
 11. Then Ire came in, with start and strife, 
 His hand was aye upon his knife. 
 
 [Dunbar, cited by Macbeth.] 
 
 12. The Pyramids, doting with age, have forgotten 
 the names of their founders. [Fuller, cited by Macbeth.] 
 
 13. A ghastly Castle that eternally 
 
 Holds its blind visage out to the lone Sea. 
 
 [Leigh Hunt, cited by Macbeth. ] 
 
 14. There Honor comes, a pilgrim gray, 
 To bless the turf that wraps their clay. 
 
 [Collins, cited by Macbeth. ] 
 
 15. The Hack-winged legions of tempest arise. 
 
 [Owen Meredith, cited by Macbeth.] 
 
 16. Red Battle stamped his foot, and nations felt the 
 
 shock. [Byron, cited by Macbeth.] 
 
 17. "Welcome, maids of honor, 
 
 You do bring 
 In the Spring 
 And wait upon her. 
 
 [Herrick, cited by Macbeth. ] 
 
INDEX. 
 
 ADDRESS, its objects, 22; order, 23; 
 kinds, 24. 
 
 Adverbs, dependence of, 202. 
 
 Affections, 40. 
 
 Analogy, 144. 
 
 Anglo-Saxon words, 200. 
 
 Antithesis, 196. 
 
 Arguments, nature of, choice and ar- 
 rangement, 63; kinds of, 78. 
 
 Arrangement of words, 201, 242. 
 
 Art, what, 9; relation to science, 10; 
 those subsidiary to rhetoric, 14. 
 
 Asseverations, 237. 
 
 Bar, legal oratory, 50. 
 Barbarism, 152; kinds, 153* 
 Burden of proof, 84. 
 
 O. 
 
 Calculation of chances, 75. 
 
 Canons of, 144. 
 
 Capacity of audience, 185. 
 
 Choice of words, 197, 235; of argu- 
 ments, 86. 
 
 Common life, language of, 199. 
 
 Comparisons, 193. 
 
 Composition, what, 13; departments 
 of, 20. 
 
 Compounds, 156; rules for construc- 
 tion, 157. 
 
 Conjunctions, solecism in, 171. 
 Consciousness, form of proof, 65. 
 Conventional phrases, 149. 
 Criticism on language, 143. 
 
 D. 
 
 Declension, marks of, 160. 
 Deduction, 78. 
 Definiteness of end, 227. 
 Deliberative eloquence, 49. 
 Desires connected with energy, 223, 
 Development of composition, 25. 
 Directness, 231. 
 Discipline of taste, 211. 
 Drollery, 199. 
 
 E. 
 
 Education, effect on words, 198. 
 Elegance, 182; how secured, 207. 
 Eloquence, nature of, 60. 
 Emotions, kinds, and how aroused, 95, 
 Energy, 182 ; how reached, 223. 
 Epithets, 237. 
 Etymology, 146. 
 Experience, what, 68. 
 
 F. 
 
 Fallacies, 68, 71, 92. 
 Feeling, at the disposal of orator, 105, 
 107 j connection with elegance, 208, 
 
292 
 
 INDEX. 
 
 Figures, connection with energy, 244. 
 Foreign words, 152. 
 
 H. 
 
 Humor, what, 119; contrasted with 
 wit, 120. 
 
 Imagination, office of, 113. 
 
 Improprieties, 172; disadvantages of, 
 177. 
 
 Induction, 78. 
 
 Influence, law of, 55. 
 
 Interest, as a motive, 42 j warping lan- 
 guage, 188. 
 
 Introductions, office of, 100. 
 
 Intuitions, what, 04. 
 
 L. 
 
 Language, relation to thought, 125 ; 
 
 changes of, 128; constituents of, 
 
 129. 
 
 Literature, knowledge of, 214. 
 Loose sentence, 243. 
 
 M. 
 
 Man, knowledge of, 213. 
 Means of composition, 53. 
 Memory, form of proof, 65 j office of, 
 117; how addressed, 117. 
 
 ST. 
 
 Nature, knowledge of, 212. 
 
 Novel, what, 30. 
 
 Number of words, 201, 239. 
 
 O. 
 
 Obscurity of subject, 186 ; ever appo- 
 site, 204. 
 
 Opinion, confounded with observa- 
 tion, 74 ; opinions the audience have 
 of speakers, 96. 
 
 Oratory, relation to ends and means, 
 and its kinds, 36. 
 
 P. 
 
 Partisan feeling, 98. 
 
 Passion, 41. 
 
 Passive verb, 170. 
 
 Period, 243. 
 
 Permanence of literature, 136. 
 
 Perspicuity, 181 ; how secured, 185. 
 
 Philosophy of art, of rhetoric, what 
 12; advantages of, 19. 
 
 Plan, 191. 
 
 Pleasure, as a motive, 41. 
 
 Pleonasm, 241. 
 
 Poetry, what, and relations, 32. 
 
 Progress, in oration, 110. 
 
 Pronouns, reference of, 203. 
 
 Proof, sources of, 64 ; kinds, 77 ; perti- 
 nent, 83. 
 
 Propriety, 136 ; why regarded, 136. 
 
 Prose, forms of, 28. 
 
 Provincialisms, 153. 
 
 Principle, what relations of, 11. 
 
 Purity, what, 136 ; importance of, 174. 
 
 Q, 
 
 Qualities of style, 181 ; relation to 
 each other, 209. 
 
 B. 
 
 Rapidity, 229. 
 
 Reason, form of proof, 67. 
 
 Relation, between style and subject, 
 
 215; between parts and whole, 217; 
 
 discourse and circumstances, 219; 
 
 discourse and speaker, 221. 
 Rhetoric, what, 13 ; steps by which 
 
 reached, 14. 
 
 Ridicule, what, 123 ; office of, 123. 
 Right, as a motive, 39. 
 
INDEX. 
 
 293 
 
 Right, as a law of influence, 50. 
 
 Rule, what, and relations of, 11 ; rela- 
 tion to nature, 10 ; relation to genius, 
 17; relation to success, 17. 
 
 S. 
 
 Science, what, 9 ; relation to arts, 12. 
 
 Senses, form of proof, 0-1. 
 
 Skill, what, 10. 
 
 Solecism, canon on, 148; what, 159; 
 
 disadvantages of, 175 ; examples of, 
 
 163. 
 
 Speciality, 23G. 
 Strength, 22S. 
 Style, what, 179 ; kinds, 180; qualities 
 
 of, 181. 
 
 Subjunctive, 103. 
 Success, dependent on right, 57. 
 Symmetry, 138. 
 Sympathy, importance of, 95 ; methods 
 
 of securing, 102. 
 Synonymes, 173. 
 
 T. 
 
 Tautology, 241. 
 
 Tense?, laws of, 105 j errori in, 168. 
 
 Testimony, form of proof, 
 Thoroughness, 229. 
 Tropes, 246. 
 
 U. 
 
 Univocal words, 147. 
 Use, what, 134 ; qualities of, 136 ; 
 established, 140 ; divided use, 142. 
 
 V. 
 
 Verbosity, 241. 
 
 Vigor, 229. 
 
 Virtue, connected with energy, 227. 
 
 Vivacity, 228. 
 
 Vivid ideas, how secured, 115. 
 
 Vulgarisms, 153. 
 
 W. 
 
 Will, connected with energy, 225. 
 
 Wit, what, 119; dangers of, 121; ad- 
 vantages of, 122. 
 
 Words, change in meaning, 130 ; in 
 philosophy, 131 ; in poetry, 131 ; their 
 strength, 236. 
 
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