THE LIBRARY
OF
THE UNIVERSITY
OF CALIFORNIA
LOS ANGELES
FREDERIC THOMAS BLANCHARD
ENDOWMENT FUND
LETTERS
ON
LITERATURE,
TASTE,
AND
COMPOSITION
ADDRESSED TO HIS SON.
"BY GEORGE GREGORY, D. D.
LATE VICAR OF WEST-HAM, DOMESTIC CHAPLAIN TO
THE BISHOP OF LLANDAFF, &C. &C. &C,
IN TWO VOLUMES
VOL. I.
LONDON:
''PRINTED FOR RICHARD PHILLIPS
BRIDGE-STREET, BLACKFRIARS.
1808.
T. Gillet, Crown-court,
TN45
PREFACE.
THE following Work is presented to
the public as the last literary composi-
tion which its well known Author lived to
complete ; and it contains the result of
various observations, made by a vigorous
and cultivated mind, upon different sub-
jects of taste and literature. It was con-
cluded a very short time previous to his
decease ; it assisted in cheering and en-
gaging his mind, in soothing the languor
of declining health, and in recalling the
delightful remembrance of former asso-
ciates, and of a long course of intellectual
pursuits. To his friends these circum-
stances will render the Work additionally
valuable. They will, from the natural
and best feelings of the human heart,
765438
IV PREFACE.
cherish the relic which reminds them of
those hours of social conversation when
subjects of literature were discussed ;
when they were illuminated by his scien-
tific and enlightened mind, or exhilarated
by his innocent and undissembled cheer-
fulness. The public, we trust, will re-
ceive the Work as the last performance
of an Author whom they have long ap-
pro vedj of one whose life was uniformly
devoted to their, and his own, best in-
terests : those of science, and literature;
of religion, and virtue.
VOL. I.
LETTER I.
Page
Introduction. Principle of Association. Plea-
sures from the Fine Arts 1
LETTER II.
Style u
LETTER III.
Sources of fine Composition - -21
LETTER IV.
The Sublime - - - . -28
LETTER V.
The Pathetic - 40
LETTER VI.
The Ludicrous ... 47
Works lately published by the same Author.
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LETTERS
ON
LITERATURE AND COMPOSITION.
LETTER I.
Introduction. Principle of Association.
Pleasures from thejine Arts.
MY DEAR JOHN,
WE live in an age when almost every thing
is artificial. When not only rules are proposed
for the performance of almost every action con-
nected with social life, but when the grounds
and principles on which those rules are founded
constitute an object of anxious inquiry. Men
have long agreed in regarding some things as
pleasing ; but not satisfied with this, we are led
to inquire whence they have derived their power
to please, and on what principle in human na-
ture it is that certain appearances, sounds or
ideas are delightful to the human mind.
VOL. i. B
2 INTRODUCTION.
The pleasure which is imparted by the fine
arts, and their power over the mind, are founded
upon certain principles. We have not yet in-
deed been enabled to mount to the source whence
their controul over the passions is derived ; but
by observing carefully certain effects, we can
generally foretel when these effects will be pro-
duced. Music is perhaps the simplest of all the
fine arts : its power is derived entirely from the
influence of certain sounds upon the organs of
perception. It is impossible to say why some
sounds or combinations of sound should be
termed pathetic ; why some should excite hi-
larity ; why some should be adapted to the
passion of love, and why others should be assi-
milated to joy and triumph ; yet so it is, and
there is scarcely an ear so insensible to har-
mony as not to have proved the force of music
on one occasion or another. These effects upon
the ear have been compared, and perhaps not
without reason, to certain impressions produced
upoa our other senses.
" That strain again ; it had a dying fall,
O, it came o'er my ear like the sweet south
That breathes upon a bank of violets,
Stealing, and giving odour." SHAKS,
PRINCIPLE 0F ASSOCIATION. $
To the eye some appearances, and even some
colours, are productive of pleasure. It is ex-
tremely difficult to analyze the sensation, and to
account for the pleasing effect of some flowers
more than others ; it depends upon the comb?-
nation and arrangement of colours ; upon the
regular disposition of the petals; upon some
unknown circumstance even independent of the
principle of association, something as uncon-
nected with ideas of social pleasure or pain, as
the vibrations of an ^Eolian harp.
I find I have casually mentioned the word
association, and it is necessary perhaps to enter
upon a short explanation of it, since those plea-
surable sensations, which may properly be
called mental, and consequently those which
are derived from the reading of poetry, or the
beauties of composition in general, are not
simple but complex sensations, derived, at least
in part, from certain associations Avhich the mind
has formed with other objects.
It is exceedingly obvious that two or more
sensations happening at the same time, the
ideas will become united. Thus the ideas of the
figure and colour of bodies admitted by the eye
are always combined, and these may be still as-
B2
4: PRINCIPLE OF ASSOCIATION.
sociated with another idea admitted by means of
the touch. Thus the idea, or picture formed
in the mind of any object, is complex, or com-
posed of several ideas united : of figure, colour,
and perhaps softness or hardness also. If music
is heard while we behold the instrument, the
sound will be associated with the visible ap-
pearance, and the former will recal the idea of
the latter, even when we do not see the instru-
ment. Names are associated with things, and
things with actions.
On this principle of association depends the
necessary succession of ideas in a train, of which
any one may satisfy himself by attending to the
operations of his own mind : ideas are intro-
duced by an agreement in some of the parts of
which complex ideas are composed. Shak-
speare, describing a merchant's fears, says,
" My wind, cooling my broth,
" Would blow me to an ague, when I thought
" What harm a wind too great might do at sea.
" I should not see the sandy hour-glass run,
" But I should think of shallows and of flats ;
" And see my wealthy Arg'sie dock'd in sand.
" Should I go to church,
" And see the holy edifice of stone,
" And not bethink me strait of dangerous rocks?"
PIUNCIPLE OF ASSOCIATION. 5
The association and train of ideas is perhaps
still more pleasantly illustrated by .a story re-
lated by Hobbes. " In a discourse on our pre-
sent civil war (that in the reign of Charles I.),
what," says he, " could seem more impertinent
than to ask, as one did, the value of a Roman
penny. Yet the coherence was to me suffi-
ciently manifest. The thought of the war in-
troduced the thought of the delivering up of
the king to his enemies ; the thought of that
brought in the thought of the delivering up of
Christ ; and that again the thought of the thirty
pence which was the price of that treason ; and
thence easily followed that malicious question,
and all that in an instant of time ; for thought
is quick."
I hope sufficient has been said to make you
acquainted with what is meant by the associa-
tion and train of ideas ; and what may appear
a digression is in reality more connected with
our subject than at first sight may appear.
For much of the pleasure derived from the fine
arts, and particularly from poetry and oratory,
may be resolved, in part at least, into the prin-
ciple of association. Many of the human pas-
sions are chiefly, if not entirely, derived from
O PLEASURES FROM
it. Thus patriotism, or the strong attachment
which almost every person feels for his country,
is in a manner created from the pleasurable sen-
Cations derived in our earliest youth from the
enjoyments we have found there. The sight of
the place where we have been happy always re-
vives in us a placid, perhaps a melancholy idea
of pleasure.
But it is not necessary in a course of letters
on rhetoric and criticism, to enter deeply into
the philosophy of the human mind, of which,
after all, but little is known ; and my wish is
rather to make these letters practical than spe-
culative. The pleasures afforded by the fine
arts, music, painting, and poetry, have been
termed ** the pleasures of the imagination,"
in contradiction to the sensual pleasures, though
J confess music appears to approach very near
to a mere pleasure of the sense ; and it is per-
haps from its connexion with poetry, or rather
from its subservience to it, that it has been class-
ed among the superior arts, or those which ad-
minister pleasure to the mind.
The pleasures of the imagination are almost
all in a considerable degree the result of associ-
ation. If it \fas possible to present a finely
THE FINE ARTS. 7
pictured landscape to a person who had never
seen a natural landscape, one who had been
born blind, and who was recently couched for
instance, I much doubt whether he would de-
rive from it any other pleasure than that which
its novelty would afford. I question whether
the harmony of the colouring, so much spoken
of by painters, or the light and shade, would
afford any peculiar pleasure. It is the recol-
lection that is revived of the beauties of nature,
of the happiness we have enjoyed in similar
scenes, or possibly of that which we have heard
described as flowing from them, and perhaps an
admiration of the excellence of the imitation,
that principally inspire us with pleasurable sen-
sations on such an occasion.
Hence the fine arts, and particularly paint-
ing, sculpture, and poetry, have been termed
the " imitative arts," because their chief ex-
cellence depends upon their being an imitation
or description of whatever is beautiful or strik-
ing in nature.
To apply all this to the immediate object of
our correspondence. Nothing is more obvious
than that some books are more pleasing than
others; some forcibly occupy our attention,
8 PLEASURES FROM
;
while some inevitably tire and disgust* It is
very easy to see why a narrative or description,
a fine history or a well-told fiction, a tragedy
or a romance should interest. It is because it
affords us a picture of ourselves, or of something
in which our passions are naturally engaged.
But why one composition should be even more
pleasing in its manner than another, why the
style and language of an author should parti-
cularly interest us, is a more curious inquiry,
and more remote from common observation.
Should we be able to satisfy ourselves upon
this subject, it is probable that even a practical
benefit might result from it, since a person who
is acquainted with the sources whence those ma-
terials are derived which render a composition
pleasing, will be better able to avail himself of
them than one who writes at random, and with-
out any knowledge of his ar,t.
I am not one of those who affect to " write
dull receipts how poems should be made." I
know that the most intense study will not give
what is called genius, or imagination, or fancy ;
but still I must assert that every intellectual en-
dowment may be improved. I must assert
that writing, as far as chasteness, correctness,
THE FINE ARTS. 9
elegance, and fluency are concerned, is as
much an art as any other ; that it is in a great
measure acquired by practice and study, by an
imitation of the best models, and by occasion-
ally referring even to principles and rules.
That this is an undoubted truth must be con-
fessed by any person who observes how much
more numerous good, or at least tolerable writ-
ers, are at present in this country than (hey
were two centuries ago. Nature must create a
Shakspeare, a Milton, a Pope, a Swift, an Ad-
dison, a Johnson or a Gibbon. These were
men possessed of most powerful imaginations,
most pregnant fancies ; but it is chiefly art
which produces the many smooth and elegant
writers who flourish at all times in the inferior
walks of literature. I knew a very old gentle-
man of considerable talent who used to say, that
in his youth it was a distinction to write well ;
but that now even the essays in the common
newspapers were composed in a correct and
agreeable style.
What I have now observed ought not to
lessen the value of this accomplishment of writ-
ing well in your opinion. The more general
it is, the more indispensable it becomes. To
B5
10 PLEASURES FROM THE FINE ARTS.
be able to maintain an epistolary correspond-
ence, with elegance and spirit, is now an essen-
tial qualification in the character of every gen-
tleman, I had almost said of every lady. Be-
sides, that all public speaking, in whatever
line, is a species of composition, and he will
certainly be the most successful \vho> if pos-
sessed of equal talents with his competitors, has
made himself well acquainted with the rules
and principles of eloquence.
STYLE. 11
LETTER II.
Style.
MY DEAR JOHN,
MY last letter concluded with recommending
an inquiry why the style of one author should
be more pleasing and interesting than that of
another. If instruction was the sole end of
reading, that style which conveyed knowledge
in the simplest terms, with the greatest clear-
ness and correctness, would be preferable to
every other. This style has indeed its value,
and even its beauty ; and in books of mere
science ought to be preferred to every other. I
shall have in future to make some observations
on this subject, when I treat more particularly
of the different kinds of composition ; but this
is not our present object. We are now consi-
dering the source of that pleasure which is de-
rivable from the mere style, manner, or language
of a literary production.
Authors have distinguished between the d if-
12 STYLE.
ferent styles ; and a grand division is into the
plain, such as I have just now described, and
the ornamented. I apprehend it is chiefly the
ornamented that contributes to the mere plea-
sure of a reader. You cannot be at a loss to
know what I mean by an ornamented style; it
is that in which lively description, similies, al-
lusions, metaphors, and the other figures of
rhetoric abound.
Poetry always interests a reader of taste more
than prose. The causes of this are the har-
mony arising from the metre or the rhyme,
and which (without entering into a metaphysi-
cal inquiry as to the cause) may be referred to
the same source as the pleasure which music af-
fords. The other circumstance which renders
poetry pleasing is the animated and figurative
language, which is one of its characteristics.
We may, I think, easily explain why the
style of one literary work is more pleasing than
that of another, upon the very same principles
that the matter of one is more interesting than
that of another. I observed that histories of
great events, tragedies, or ingenious fictions of
human actions and events, always interest more
than any other literary productions, and the
STYLE. 13
reason is, that they contain something that im-
mediately comes within the sphere of self, and
engages, and by an associated action excites
our passions.
It is of but little consequence whether the
subject is fiction or reality. Robinson Crusoe,
George Barnwell, and even Don Quixote, not
to speak of the incomparable novel of Cecilia,
interest, I will venture to say, more than Livy
or than Hume. The same may be said of those
plays of Shakspeare, which are notoriously
founded on fiction, Hamlet, Othello, Cymbcl-
line, Lear, the Merchant of Venice, &c., which
are certainly not less interesting than his plays
founded on the English history, though the
latter are so far correspondent to fact, that
many of the speeches are nearly a literal tran-
script from the antient chronicles.
It is the picture of the little world within that
interests and agitates us ; it is that correspond-
ent emotions are at once excited in ouf^minds
by what we see or what we read, without re-
ferring to the judgment, or examining the proofs
as to the reality of what is presented to us.
The very same principles I apprehend will
apply to what is called an animated style, as
14: STYLE.
lo an animated or interesting narrative or de-
scription. That style will engage us most
which calls up the most lively and vivid images,
which upon the principle of association shall
excite corresponding emotions in our mimls.
I can cite a very decisive proof of what I
have now asserted, in the well-known and in-
comparable parable of the prophet Nathan.
The effect of this parable, I assert, is princi-
pally owing to the style or manner in which it
is narrated ; and to prove it, we need only re-
late the circumstance in the usual manner of a
newspaper paragraph.
" We haw it from the best authority, that
Christopher Saveall, of the county of Salop,
esq. the other day being surprized by the visit
of a London friend and his family, and not be-
ing immediately supplied with butcher's meat,
and not chusing to take any of his own flock,
they being of a curious breed, dispatched two
of his servants to the house of Timothy Boor-
man, a little farmer in the neighbourhood, who
took forcibly thence, a pet lamb, which they
immediately killed and dressed for the enter-
tainment of the great man's guests."
Here is nothing particularly affecting ; and
STYLE. 15
yet in England such a circumstance is more
likely to excite interest and indignation, than
in any of those countries where the feudal sys-
stera is at all predominant. It must then be
from the styk or manner that this narrative has
so powerful an effect over the heart, that a per-
son of sensibility can scarcely read it without
a tear. Let us examine.
" There were," says the prophet to the royal
sinner, not yet a penitent, " two men in one
city; the one rich and the other poor." Here
the different state and circumstances of the two
parties are admirably contrasted, and it affords
a beautiful and striking opening to thft narra-
tive which is to follow. u The rich man," he
proceeds, " had exceeding many flocks and
herds." Here is a fine amplification, and yet
so far from appearing forced it is absolutely ne-
cessary, and the contrast is still preserved in
the succeeding sentence : " But the poor man
had nothing save one little ewe lamb" where,
observe, the words u nothing," " little," ?.nd
even the word " cue," which marks thcsvx, as
more gentle and defenceless, are all emphatic,
and increase the interest <f which he had
bought," bought it out of his little savings, it
16 STYLE.
was indeed his all, " and nourished up, and it
grew up with him, and with his children."
What a train of endearing and affecting ideas
are here summoned together ? Not only the affec-
tions of the man, but of his children, are sup-
posed to be attached to this cherished object.
" It did eat of his own meat, and drank of his
own cup, and lay in his bosom ;" here the very
nature and kind of the animal is forgotten, and it
becomes almost a rational creature ; which is in-
deed nearly established in the conclusion of the
sentence, for " it was unto him as a daughter."
Thus the hearer's mind is prepared by a se-
ries of pathetic imagery to feel in a tenfold de-
gree the cruel sequel which is coming, and
which is also not less skilfully wrought up.
" And there came a traveller unto the rich
man, and he spared to take of his own flock,
and of his own herd, to dress for the way- faring
man that was come unto him, but took the poor
man's lamb, and dressed it for the man that
was come to him."
Nothing I apprehend need be added to con-
vince you of the different effects to be produced
by the manner of telling a very simple story, in
other words, of the effect of style.
STYLE. 17
From this example too you will see the truth
of an axiom, which is, I believe, generally ad-
mitted. That it is by a clear and distinct re-
capitulation of little circumstances, which ren-
der the picture more vivid and complete, that
poets and orators, and all who address the pas-
sions of their hearers, establish an influence over
their minds.
To select the circumstances which will have
most effect is the peculiar province of genius ;
for there is nothing in which folly is more dis-
played than in too circumstantial a detail of
trifling matters ; while, on the contrary, it is
certain that a discourse (and much more a poem)
which consists entirely of abstract and general
words, can never have an effect upon the hearer
- and reader.
I shall subjoin another instance of a picture
composed of a variety of little, but well-chosen
circumstances. An historian might have said,
in allusion to the shocking murder of Prince
Arthur, the real heir to the crown, in the reign
of King John : " This event produced a ge-
neral agitation in the minds of the people;
scarcely any conversation occurred in which it
was not directly or indirectly alluded to, and
18 STVLE.
thus the people were prepared for the occur-
rences which we have to relate." But our in-
comparable Shakspeare produces an assemblage
of imagery, which while it entertains and en-
gages, leaves a strong impression on the mind :
" Old men, and beldams, in the streets
" Do prophesy upon it dangerously :
" Young Arthur's death is common in their mouths ;
" And when they talk of him they shake .their heads,
" And whisper one another in the ear;
" And he, that speaks, doth gripe the hearer's wrist ;
" Whilst he, that hears, makes fearful action
*' With wrinkled brows, with nods, with rolling eyes.
" I saw a smith stand with his hammer thus,
M The whilst his iron did on his anvil cool,
" With open mouth swallowing a taylor's news ;
" Who with his shears and measure in his hand,
" Standing on slippers (which his nimble haste
" Had falsely thrust upon contrary feet)
" Told of a many thousand warlike French,
*' That were embattrled and rank'd in Kent ;
** Another lean unwash'd artificer
" Cuts off his tale, and talks of Arthur's death."
Much of the satire conveyed in Hogarth's in-
comparable prints is found in the minute cir-
cumstances which he introduces. I need only
mention the coronet, which is so carefully dis-
played on the crutches of the gouty peer in
STYLE. 19
Marriage A-la-mode. I think therefore I may
advance as an admitted truth, that a style is
interesting and impressive in proportion to the
variety of vivid images it presents, provided
they are strictly connected with the subject,
and calculated to excite corresponding emotions
in the mind.
You must carry in your mind that I am
now speaking of that style which pleases, and
not of that which instructs. The work which
engages our attention by its matter is extremely
different from that which is extolled for its ele-
gance of style. I will not pretend to assert that
there is not a certain degree of beauty consist-
ent with the utmost plainness and simplicity,
but this is a beauty of a different kind ; and
productions which possess it will, as I stated,
be only read for their matter. I am speaking
at present of those sources whence the orna-
ments or decorations of style are derived.
One, who was himself a philosopher,* has
very justly remarked, that " One reason why
philosophers seldom succeed in poetry may be
that abstract ideas are too familiar to their
* Dr. Priestley,
STYLE.
minds. They are perpetually employed in re-
ducing particular to general propositions, a
turn of thinking very unfavourable to poetry."
And you will observe that all ornamented dic-
tion, every thing that is called eloquence, ap-
proaches more or less to the nature of poetry.
SOURCES OF FINE COMPOSITION. 21
LETTER III.
Sources of fine Composition.
MY DEAR JOHN,
METAPHYSICAL writers have generalized and
classed the various sources whence the plea-
sures of the imagination, and the ornaments of
style are derived. They are all to be traced
into the human passions, for, as I observed, it
is by exciting correspondent emotions in their
minds that the imagery employed by any writer
affects and interests his readers. The same phi-
losophers have endeavoured to explain why the
excitement of moderate emotions, such as are
produced by the sight of a tragedy, should be
a source of pleasure. The best cause I can as-
sign for this is, that life itself consists chiefly in
action, and it is only when in some degree
occupied or engaged, that we feel the pleasure
of living. Violent action or agitation, on the
contrary, pains and fatigues. Hence the mo-
derate excitement of the passions on the sight of
22 SOURCES OF
a tragedy, or the hearing of a pathetic narra-
tive, gives pleasure, whereas the same event in
real life is productive of pain. Whether this
account, however, is consistent with truth and
nature or not, will make little difference as to
the. practical part of our subject. It is enough
that pleasure is derivable from the following
sources, and that what is captivating in writers
may in general be traced to one or other of
them: 1st, The marvellous; 2d, the new; 3d,
the sublime ; 4th, the pathetic ; 5th, the ridi-
culous.
1 . Our taste for the marvellous is chiefly to be
referred to that general principle of our nature,
which is so strong a principle of action, the
passion of admiration. *It may also be increased
by the same cause from which I have account-
ed for the pleasurable sensations excited by
tragedy. Almost every thing wonderful is con-
nected with something of the terrific, and we
know that terror moderately excited, or I should
perhaps say, rather excited by association than
reality, is not less productive of pleasure than
the pathetic. You must well remember the
pleasure which you, but a very few years since,
derived from the " Fairy Tales/' the " Arabian
FINE COMPOSITION. 23
Nights," the " Tales of the Genu," &c., and
that in general the more you were terrified the
greater was your enjoyment of the book.
You will always find pleasure from similar
productions, but less as you advance in life.
Your mind was more fervid, and less informed
when you read them first than it will be at the
period to which I refer. You will then be
more shocked with their improbability, for the
more this kind of imagery is believed in, the
more vivid is the impression which it makes.
Hence an obsolete system of mythology, such
as that of the heathen poets, has less effect upon
our minds than a modern well-wrought tale of
witchcraft or apparitions, which are more con-
nected with the faith lhat we profess ; and even
these had more effect, I dare believe, with our
ancestors than with us.
The taste which all mankind naturally enter-
tain for the marvellous is proved by the avidity
with which any extraordinary story, even in
the newspapers, is received, and the credit
which is given (o such. People are desirous
of their proving true, and almost displeased to
be undeceived.
A great part of the entertainment of our rural
24 SOURCES OF
ancestors used lo consist in hearing such won-
derful stories related while assembled in a so*
cial circle round a warm hearth. The tales
and ballads related or sung by the minstrels of
old, were chiefly of this description :
" Be mine to read the visions old,
" Which thy awakening bards have told ;
" And lest thou meet my blasted view,
" Hold each strange tale devoutly true."
The effect of the marvellous on the human
mind is charmingly depicted by that incom-
parable judge of human nature, Shakspeare, in
describing the manner in which Desdemona
was induced to love Othello.
" Her father lov'd me ; oft invited me ;
" Still question'd me the story of my life,
" From year to year, the battles, sif ges, fortunes,
"ThatlhavepassM:
" I ran it through, even from my boyish days,
" To the very moment that he bade me tell it.
" Wherein I spake of most disastrous chances,
" Of moving accidents, by flood, and field ;
" Of hair-breadth 'scapes i' the imminent deadly breach ;
" Of being taken by the insolent foe,
" And sold to slavery ; of my redemption thence,
" And 'portance in my travel's history,
" Wherein of antres vast, and desarts wild,
SfYLE. 25
17 Rough quarries, rocks, and hills whose heads touch
heaven,
" It was my hint to speak, such was the process;
" And of the cannibals that each other eat,
" The Anthropophagi, and men whose heads
" Do grow beneath their shoulders. These things to
hear,
" Would Desdemona seriously incline:
" But still the house affairs would draw her thence;
" Which ever as she could with haste dispatch,
" She'd come again, and with a greedy ear
" Devour up my discourse," &c.
II. The love of novelty is nearly allied to the
principle we have been discussing, and it will
be easily conceived to be a powerful instrument
in the hands of a skilful writer or speaker,
when we remember ho\y strong and how gene-
ral a passion curiosity is. The word itself has
supplied a name to a very voluminous class
of literary productions, the professed object of
which is to gratify their readers with some-
thing wore/ or new. This passion seems indeed
natural to creatures, who are in constant pur-
suit of happiness, and to whom possession brings
only disappointment; and perhaps it may not
be unphilosophically accounted for upon this
principle. The pleasure we derive from no*
VOL. i. c
26 STYLE.
velty is something analogous to that which we
derive from wit, and the more unexpected the
greater our pleasure.
It was characteristic of the eloquence of Mr.
Burke, that the novelty of his thoughts and al-
lusions always struck and engaged his hearers.
I have seen, in the midst of a grave debate, the
whole house agitated as by a shock of electri-
city, by some new and unexpected sally. These
were sometimes of a witty, and sometimes of
a serious description. But in either way, I be-
lieve there never was an orator of whom novelty
and originality of thought was so unequivo-
cally the attribute
If however novelty is so powerful an instru-
ment in the hands of genius, there is nothing in
which young and incompetent writers will so
much expose themselves as in attempting it.
Yet some authors of very secondary talents
have acquired much temporary and transient
fame, by an air tf novelty. Among the.se, I
cannot but rank the author of Tristram Shandy,
the Sentimental Journey, &c. In these most
unclassical productions, we see all regard to
connexion and arrangement thrown aside; the
reader is frequently left to help himself to a
STYLE. 27
f
meaning, or, if there is one, it is such as no two
men understand alike ; sentiment is strangely
mingled with attempts at wit, and both intro-
duced with little apparent design.
I was proceeding to treat, in the third place,
of the sublime, but I perceive that if I intro-
duced it here I should greatly exceed my li-
mits.
28 THE SUBLIME
LETTER IV.
III. The Sublime.
MY DEAR JOHN,
WHEN you recollect that an author, who
deservedly occupies the first place among cri-
tics, has written a whole treatise on the sublime,
you will probably wonder at my boldness, when
I presume to confine so important a subject
within the short limits of a letter. But you
will remember that these letters arc intended
only as an introduction to the more voluminous
writers on criticism. Longinus too extends his
notion of the sublime much further than I do,
indeed almost to all that is excellent in serious
composition.
Perhaps etymology is in general a better
guide to truth than definition. The title which
the invaluable treatise of Longinus bears is /
<r,v^ " of the lofty or high." To this you
know the Latin word sublimitas perfectly cor-
responds, and our word sublime : though I
TUB SUBLIME. 29
think the grand would express it better in. our
language. Perhaps Horace has nearly defined
it, in describing the character of a real poet
" Ingenium cui sit, cui mens divinior, atque os
" Magna soniluruffl) des nominis hujus honorem."
HOR. lib. i. sat. 4.
" Is there a man whom real genius fires,
" Whom the diviner soul of verse inspires;
" Who talks true greatness Let him boldlyxlaim
" The sacred honours of a poet's name."
FRANCIS.
The sensation of the sublime is experienced
when we survey a very large arid lofty moun-
tain, a vast extensive plain, a very wide and
rapid river ; and I believe it is felt by every
person when he first contemplates the expanded
ocean.
The works of art can sometimes give us the
sensation. I never find myself \\ithin the long
and lofty aisle of a fine Gothic cathedral, with-
out experiencing it ; and I conceive it would
be impossible to survey even one of the great
pyramids of Egypt, without a similar feeling.
The convulsions of nature inspire ideas of the
sublime. On feeling an earthquake, or survey-
SO THE SUBT-IME.
ing the eruption of a volcano, the sensation
must be the sublime, with a mixture of terror.
On viewing a thunder-storm at a distance,
something of the same kind is experienced.
"Who but rather turns
"'To heaven's broad fire his unconstrained view,
" Than to the glimmering of a waxen flame ?
" Who that from alpine heights, his lab'ring eye
" Shoots round the wide horizon, to survey
" The Nile or Ganges roll his wasteful tide,
" Thro' mountains, plains, thro' empires black with
shade,
" And continents of sand, will turn his gaze
" To mark the windings of a scanty rill
"That murmurs at his feet?" AKENSIDE,
Even ideal contemplations will sometimes
affect us in a similar manner. Such are the
ideas of infinite space and eternity.
" In vain do we pursue that phantom time,
too sinalf, and yet too mighty for our grasp ;
when shrinking to a narrow point it 'scapes our
hold, or mock's our scanty thought by swell-
ing out to all eternity: an object unpropor-
tioned to our capacity, as is thy being, O thou
antient cause ! Older than time, yet young with
fresh eternity !
THE SUBLIME. 31
" In vain we try to fathom (lie abyss of space,
the scat of thy extensive being 1 , of which no
place is empty, no void which is not full."
SHAFTSBURY.
The same sensation is excited in us by sen-
timents and passions. Striking instances of
magnanimity, generosity, fortitude, courage
and patriotism are sublime. Of these, per-
haps, the finest instance that ever was pointed
out is our Saviour's last prayer for his ene-
mies '" Father, forgive them, they know not
what they do."
Sublimity may exist either in the sentimenf,
or the expression. When in the former, it is
either displayed in the greatness and sublimity
of the subject itself, or in the circumstances
under which it is described. In the latter case,
sublimity of expression, it will chiefly depend
on the splendour and magnificence of the ima-
gery by which the subject is illustrated.
In the first case, where the grandeur of the
subject is the principal source of the sublime, a
brevity of language, combined, if possible, with
force and simplicity, is absolutely necessary, as
in the famous instance quoted by almost every
critic from Longinus to the present time : " And
32 THE SUBLIME.
God saidj let there be light and there was
light." But the whole of that chapter is in-
comparably sublime.
Innumerable instances are to be found in
Scripture of this species of the sublime, parti-
cularly in the Psalms and the books of the pro-
phets, and especially in Isaiah and the book of
Job. Such is that noble description of the Al-
mighty Power in the 104th Psalm :
" Who layeth the beams of his chambers in
the waters, who maketh the clouds his chariot,
who walketh upon the wings of (he wind."
I cannot believe the story which is related of
Dryden, that he said he would rather be the
author of the following translation by Stern-
hold and Hopkins, than of any poem in the
English language
Oa cherub and on seraphim
Full royally he rode,
And on the wings of mighty winds,
Came fhing all abroad."
If I am any judge of the false sublime, I find
it in the two first of these lines, where a truly
grand and magnificent idea is entirely degraded
by the meanness of the imagery and expres-
sion.
THE SUBLIME. 33
In the 6th and 7th verses of the same Psalm, is
a fine instance of the sublime, alluding, as I
apprehend, to the deluge
" Thou coveredst it (the earth) with the deep
as with a garment : the waters stood above the
mountains. At thy rebuke they fled, at the
voice of thy thunder they hasted away."
Such also is the fine expression of Isaiah
" And the heavens shall be rolled up as a
scroll."
And another in the Psalms
" He looketh on the earth and it trembleth ;
he touchcth the hills and they smoke."
An instance of this branch of the sublime as
applicable to human character, will be found
in Horace
" Et cuncta terrarum subacta,
" Praeter atrocem animum Catonis."
Lucan has the same thought
" Victrix causa Diis placuit, sed victa Catoni."
That species of the sublime, which arises
principally from the adjuncts and circum-
stances, is so frequently mixed with that which
is produced by the greatness and dignity of the
c5
34 THE SUBLlMfi.
subject r that it is difficult sometimes to separate
them. In the following passage m the 139th
Psalm, which I think the finest instance extant
of the sublime, I scarcely know whether to at-
tribute the effect to the dignity of the subject,
or to the grandeur of the adjuncts and circum-
stances
" Whither shall I go from thy spirit ?
" And whither shall I flee from thy presence?
" If I ascend the heavens, thou art there ;
" If I make my bed in the abyss, behold thou art there !
"If I take the wings of the morning,
" And dwell in the extreme parts of the ocean-;
" There also thy hand shall lead me,
"And thy right hand shall hold me."
The strong expressions of the two last lines*
have commonly escaped the notice of critics
But how forcibly do they impress us with the
idea of the omnipresence of God ? Wherever
we are, we arc in his actual custody and keep-
ing, in his hand: " There also shall thy hand
lead me, and thy right hand shall keep me."
Bishop Lowth, in his admirable lectures on
the poetry of the Hebrews, points out the fol-
lowing as an instance of the true sublime, and
J thi/ik it may class with the preceding
THE SUBLIME. 35
" Tell in high, harmonious strains,
" Tell the world Jehovah reigns !
" He who framed this beauteous whole ;
" He who fix'd each planet's place ;
" Who bade unnumbered orbs to roll, ,
" In destin'd course through endless space.
rt Let the glorious heavens rejoice,
" The hills exult with grateful voice;
" Let ocean tell the echoing shore,
" And the hoarse waves with humble voice adore !
" Let the verdant plains be glad !
" The trees in blooming fragrance clad !
" Smile with joy, ye desert lands,
" -And rushing torrents, clap your hands !
" Let the whole earth with triumph ring !
" Let all that live with loud applause,
" Jehovah's matchless praises sing.
" He comes ! he comes ! Heaven's righteous King,
" To judge the world by truth's eternal laws."
You will easily perceive lhat this is only a
paraphrase, or rather a translation from the
Psalms.
There is no author who will furnish you with
finer examples of this branch of the sublime
than Virgil. The description of the Storm in
the first book; the allegorical description of
Fame, or rather of Rumour ; the Sack of
Troy in the second book ; and almost the whole
36 THE SUBLIME.
of the Descent to the Infernal Regions in the
sixth, are pregnant with fine examples of the
sublime in description. Of the sublime in ex-
pression, the following lines afford, in a short
compass, a very fine instance, and yet with
very little pomp of imagery. They are from
the prophecy of Anchises of the future glories
of Rome.
" Excudent alii spirantia mollius sera,
" Credo equidem: vivos ducent de marmore vultus;
" Orabunt causas melius ; coelique meatus
" Describent radio, & surgentia sidera dicent ;
4t Tu regere imperio, populos, Romane, memento :
" Hs tibi erunt artes ; pacisque imponere morem,
" Parcere subjectis, &c debellare superbos."
JEN. lib. vi. v.
" The subject nations, with a happier grace,
" From the rude stone may ea 1 the mimic face,
" Shine at the bar, describe the stars on high,
" The motions, laws, and regions of the sky -
" Be this your nobler praise in time to come,
" These your imperial arts, ye sons of Rome ;
" O'er distant realms to stretch your awful sway,
" To bid those nations tremble and obey ;
*' To crush the proud, the suppliant foe to rear,
" To give mankind the peace, or shake the world with
war." PITX,
THE SUBLIME. S7
Critics have established a further distinction
with respect to the sublime, in what they call
the still sublime, and the sublime of passion.
The former however is the true sublime, though
we find this quality not unfrequently mingled
with each of the different passions. The fol-
lowing, from a work which yields not in subli-
mity to any thing in the English language,
without excepting the Paradise Lost, will serve
as a specimen of what I term the still sublime.
It will also serve as an example of the sublime
in expression, as the imagery and epithets are
exceedingly rich
" Night, sable goddess, from her ebon throne,
" In rayless majesty, now stretches forth
" Her leaden sceptre o'er a slumbering world.
" Silence how dead ! and darkness how profound t
'* Nor eye nor list'ning ear can object find.
" Creation sleeps. 'Tis as the general pulse
" Of Life stood still, and nature made a pause :
*' An awful pause, prophetie of her end.
" And let her prophecy be soon fulfill'd :
41 Fate, drop the curtain. I can lose no more.
NIGHT THOUGHTS,
x
Of the sublime of passion we have a very fine
instance in a speech of Othello
THE SUBLIME.
" Had it pleas'd Heaven
" To try me with afflictions ; had he rain'd
" AJ1 kinds of sores and shames on my bare head;'
" Steep 1 d me in poverty to the very lips ;
" Given. to captivity me and my utmost hopes:
" I should have found in some part of my soul
" A drop of patience"
In the same piny, and in the impassioned
scenes of Lear, many other fine examples will
be found.
An author, whose fine taste and brilliant ima-
gination will ever be admired, and to whose
memory his country has still stronger obliga-
tions, has written an elegant treatise on the dis-
tinction between the sublime and beautiful. The
pleasure which is afforded by the contemplation
of beauty appears a pure and unjmixcd pleasure
arising, from the gentler agitation, and is less vi-
vid than that produced by (he sublime. The
sublime also differs from the beautiful,* in being
only conversant with great objects. It differs
from the pathetic, in affording a more tranquil
pleasure. The sublime and beautiful are, how-
ever, frequently mixed, and seem to run iato
each other ; as in that enchanting simile of Ho-
THE SUBLIME. 39
mer, into which Mr. Pope has transposed more
of the beautiful than is in the original
" As when the moon, refulgent km p of night,
" O'er heaven's clear azure spreads her sacred light;
" When not a breath disturbs the deep serene,
" And not a cloud o'ercasts the solemn scene.
" Around her throne the vivid planets roll,
" And stars unnumbered gild the glowing pole;.
" O'er the dark trees a yellower verdure shed,
" And tip with silver every mountain's head;
" Then shine the vales, the rocks in prospect rise,
" A flood of glory bursts from all the skies.
" The conscious swains, rejoicing in the sight,
" Eye the blue vault, and bless the sacred light."
POPE'S ILIAD.
Of some descriptions also it is not easy to de-
termine whether they belong: to the sublime or
the pathetic. Such is the short delineation by
St. Luke, of the feelings of the multitude on the
sufferings and crucifixion of our Lord " And
all the people that came together (o that sight,
beholding the things which were done, smote
their breasts and returned,"
40 THE PATHETIC.
LETTER V.
IV. The Pathetic.
MY DEAR JOHN,
IN my last letter I intimated that the sublime
is often connected with the pathetic, though I
confess the greater passions assimilate more
readily with sublime ideas than the tender and
sympathetic.
The force of pathetic composition arises from
that fine sense which the Author of our nature
has implanted in us for the wisest and best of
purposes, which engages us as social beings to
partake in the feelings of others; to " rejoice
with those who do rejoice, and to weep with,
those who weep 3" or, as a heathen writer ex-
presses it,
" Mollissima corda
" Humano generi dare se natura fatetur,
" Quse lachrymas dedit." JUVENAL.
" Compassion proper to mankind appears,
" Which nature witnessed when she gave us tears."
TATE,
THE PATHETIC. 41
Ft is of little consequence whether the tale
that excites this sensation in us is real or ficti-
tious. It is the general sentiment that is in-
stantaneously called into action, and we do not
slop to consider and to reason upon it ; it is
sufficient if it is only natural.
As is the case with the sublime, there are two
principal circumstances which are productive
of this affection : First, when the story or sen-
timent is sufficiently striking of itself, by re-
ducing all the circumstances into as narrow a
compass as possible, and causing them to flash
at once upon the mind. Of this, Livy's ac-
count of the death of Lucretia may serve as an
example: in which the short sentence " Con-
clamant vir, paterque," has a great effect. An
injudicious writer would in this case have in-
troduced long and laborious speeches, and have
destroyed both nature and pathos.
The other mode of exciting pathetic feelings
is by dilating on the subject^ and bringing to
view every tender and pathetic circumstance.
For an historical example of this, I need only
refer to the description of Agrippiria's return
after the death of Germanicus, in Tacitus. A
charming example also may be found in the
! THE PATHETIC.
Song of Deborah and Barak, in the book of
Judges, where the mother of Sisera is described
as anxiously expecting his return :
" Through the window she looked and cried out,
" The mother of Sisera through the laUice ;
" Wherefore is his chariot so long in coming?
" Wherefore linger the wheels of his chariot ?
" Her wise ladies answer her;
j "Yea she returns answer to herself:
" Have they not found have they not divided the
spoil,
" To every man a damsel, yea a damsel or two?
" To Sisera a spoil of divers colours,
" A spoil for the neck, of divers colours of needle*-
worii."
It depends upon the taste and skill of the
writer to employ that mode of exciting pathetic
emotions which is best adapted to his subject-.
The circumstantial method, though the most
general, and indeed the most powerful, is very
apt, in unskilful hands, to become frigid de-
clamation. I never, on this account, could ad-
mire the French tragedies. Racine has less of
bombast than Corneillc, and Voliaire perhaps-
than either.
There are some circumstances, the anticnt
THE PATHETIC. 43
critics would call them common-places, "which
when judiciously resorted to, will be found
very productive of pathetic emotions.
hi. When innocent and helpless persons are
involved in ruin. To introduce an infant on
the stage in a tragedy, though a common trick,
is seldom destitute of effect. If however there
are many to participate in the misfortune, the
partnership in sorrow seems to lessen its weight.
The scenes between Arthur and Hubert in King
John, are exquisitely touching; and the pathos
in Othello is greatly heightened by the youth
and innocence of Desdemona, and her absence
from her father and her relations.
2d. A violent abruption from a state of en-
joyment :
" Now warm in love, now with' ring in my bloom,
" Lost in a convent's solitary gloom !
" There stern religion quench'd th' unwilling flame,
" There died those best of passions, love and fame."
POPE'S ELOISA.
3d. The recollection of past happiness, or
happiness that might have been attained but
for some intervening circumstance, is a fine
source of the pathetic. On this are founded
44: THE PATHETIC.
some of our best tragedies See the Orphan,
also the last act of the Fair Penitent
" Still as thy form before my mind appears,
" My haggard eyes are bath'd in gushing tears;
" Thy loved idea rushes to my heart,
" And stern despair suspends the lifted dart.
" O could I burst those fetters which restrain
" My struggling limbs, and waft thee o'er the main,
" To some far distant shore, where ocean roars
" In horrid tempests round the gloomy shores;
" To some wild mountain's solitary shade,
" Where never European faith betray'd."
THE DYING NEGRO.
4th. Absence from persons very dear. The
whole of that inimitable poem, Mr. Pope's
Eloisa, affords a fine example of this ; and par-
ticularly the following lines ;
" No fly me, fly me, far as pole from pole ;
" Rise Alps between us, and whole oceans roll !
" Ah ! come not, write not, think not once of me."
5th. Exile
" Methinks we wandering go
" Through dreary wastes, and weep each other's woe,
" Where round some mould'ring tower pale ivy creeps,
" And low-brow'U rocks hang nodding o'er the deeps."
ELOJSA.
THE PATHETIC. 45
Cth. Inattention to self in extreme distress,
and solicitude for others. Thus Lear to Kent
in the storm
" Prithee go in thyself; seek thine own ease
" Poor naked wretches, whereso'er you are,
<s That bide the pelting of this pity less storm,
" How shall your houseless heads, and unfed sides,
'" Your loop'd and windowed raggedness defend you
" From seasons such as these."
Such also is the exhortation of our Saviour :
" Daughters of Jerusalem weep rrot for me but
for yourselves and for jour children."
The Holy Scriptures, which I hope, both as
a man of virtue and of taste, you will never
cease to read, contain perhaps the very finest
instances extant of the pathetic. Who can
read aloud the parable of the prodigal son, and
not shed a tear ? Of Nathan's parable I have
already spoken.
The tender is a branch of the pathetic, in
which however misery or sorrow are not neces-
sary adjuncts. Here a relief from sorrow, or
expected sorrow, is a powerful instrument.
Thus Goldsmith, who in the tender excels al-
most every modern writer :
46 THE PATHETIC.
" Forbid it Heaven, the hermit cried,
" And clasp'd her to his breast ;
" The wond'ring fair one turn'd to chide,
" 'Twas Edwin's self that press'd.
EDWIN AND ANGELINA.
The tender however \vill sometimes be found
in a scene of perfect tranquillity ; and it must
be remarked that the expression of tenderness
is the great excellence in the fine Madonna's
of the Italian school of painting. In the Scrip-
ture, the finest examples of this will also be
found, as for instance, Isaiah xlix. 14, 15.
" But Zion said, the Lord hath forsaken me,
and my Lord hath forgotten me Can a wo-
man forget her sucking child, that she should
not have compassion on the son of her womb :
yea, she may forget, yet will I not forget
thee."
THE LUDICROUS. 47
LETTER VI.
V. The Ludicrous.
MY DEAR JOHN,
THE transition from the pathetic to the lu-
dicrous will appear rather violent, though, if
you take Dr. Hartley's opinion on the subject,
laughing and crying are more nearly allied
than is vulgarly supposed. u Laughter^ says
he, " is a nascent cry raised by pain, or the
apprehension of p'ain, suddenly checked, and
repeated at very short intervals." I do not,
however, press the doctor's opinion upon you ;
for really if I was called upon for an example
of the ridiculous, I do not know that I should
not quote this passage as soon as any of the no-
tions attributed to the mock philosophers, so
happily ridiculed by Butler who knew
" Where entity and quiddity,
" The ghosts of defunct bodies, lie ;
" Where truth in person does appear,
" Like words congeal' d in northern air,"
48 THE LUDICROUS.
" Who knew the seat of paradise,
" Could tell in what degree it lies
" What Adam dreamt of when his bride
" Came from the closet in his side," &c.
It may serve to shew you, however, the ge-
neral inanity of metaphysical speculations,
which I advise you by all means to avoid, and
to what lengths of folly human reason will go,
when it pretends to account for every thing.
" Though we discard, however, Dr. Hartley's
theory of the ridiculous, yet I think we may
fairly say that it always arises from a striking
contrast suddenly brought before the mind by
an unexpected combination or association of
ideas. Contrast alone, unless connected with
the terrific or some strong passion, has a, ten-
dency to excite risible emotions. Children
whose animal spirits are very active, and whose
perceptions are vivid, will frequently be dis-
posed to laugh, at seeing a man with oiie leg
much thicker than the other, or at an animal
with only one ear. One of the finest instances
of strong sublime contrast that I remember, was
when Mr. Burke, in one of his speeches in the
house, called the extravagant French reformers
" Architects of ruin ;" and Pope affords an in-
LUDICROUS.
'Stance of witty contrast in his ridicule of Ti*
mon's villa
" Lo! what liuge heaps of littleness around;
" The whole a laboured quarry above ground.'*
The contrast must not however be too vio-
lent, nor must it involve any thing of too seri-
ous a nature, for in that case, a different train of
ideas would be excited, which would destroy
the ridiculous effect. A better instance it is
impossible to give than the celebrated distich
from the great master in wit and humour, the
point and ridicule of which is wholly inde-
pendant of the double rhime.
" When .pulpit, drum ecclesiastic,
" Was beat with fist, instead of a stick/*
And again^
rf We grant, altho' he had much wit,
" He was very shy of using it;
" As being loth to wear it out,
" And therefore bore it not about,
'*' Unless on holidays or so,
" As men their best apparel do."
In these instances, the contrast is strong be-
tween a pulpit and a drum ; and wit and a suit
6f cloathes. Yet, in the first instance, both
(the pulpit and the drum) were made use of to
VOL. I. D
50 THE LUDICHOTJS,
excite a multitude to arms ; here was a curious
agreement found out, and both were beaten^
but the ridiculous contrast is again brought to
view, the one was beaten with a fat, the other
with a stick.
In the other quotation there is a mixture of
irony ; for it is meant to imply that Sir Hudi-
liras had no wit at all, but was in reality, as
described in another place,
" a tool
" Which knaves do work with, called a fool."
Yet the drollery is exquisite in the agree-
ment which the writer finds out between the
parsimony of his hero, and that of a miser
with respect to his holiday suit. The irony
is displayed particularly in the couplet :
" As being loth to wear it out,
" And therefore bore it not about,"
On the subject of irony I shall have some-
thing more to add, when I treat of the figures
of rhetoric.
Metaphysicians have established three rela-
tions as influencing the chain of our ideas upon
different occasions, there are 1st. Contiguity
THE LUDICROUS. 51
i>i time of place, 2d. Cause and effect. 3d.
Resemblance or contrariety.*
Under these heads may be correctly classed,
the various causes of that fanciful agreement
which produce risible emotions. I. Under
that of contiguity we may arrange,
1st. Bodily singularities, including a gro*
tesque dress or manner.
2d. Groups of contrasted figures, such as
an old popular caricature which I remember,
of " A Macaroni Alderman and his Rib."
The one a squat bloated figure dressed in the
extravagance of fashion, the other an extremely
tall and meagre female in a dress remarkably
prim and formal. I may instance another which
is yet popular, " A country Clown placed be-
tween a Counsellor and an Attorney."
3d. A confused assemblage of incongruous
ideas, such as often takes place in a play to
which you used to be partial, Cross Purposes;
and in the ross readings of the newspaper
columns. Of this kind of humour some ex-
cellent specimens were afforded by the writers
of the Rolliad, the Probationary Odes, &c.
4th. Mearrness and dignity brought together
* See the Economy of Nature, b. x. c. 4r
52 THE LUDICROUS.
in contact. Under this head we may class the
anticlimax, and what the writers of Martinus
*Scriblerus style the bathos one of the hap-
piest specimens of which is,
" And thou Dalhousie, the great god of war,
" Lieutenant-colonel to the earl of Mar."
Perhaps I might add a specimen from Mr.
Pope himself
" Grac'd as thou art with all the pow'r of words,
" So known, so honour" d in the house of Lords."
II. Under cause and effect we may place,
1st. Ironical reasoning, and much also of
-what is called analogical reasoning, which is
often as ridiculous as fanciful. As for in-
stance
" What does it signify (quoth Alberius)
whether my nephew exceeds in the cursus or
not ? Speed is often a symptom of cowardice,
witness hares and deer." MEM. OF MART.
SCRIB.
2d. Cause and effect not corresponding with
each other whence
3d. Ridiculous hyperbole and rant
" Behold a scene of misery and woe !
" Here Argus soon might weep himself quite blind,
" Ev'n though he had Briareus hundred hands,
** To wipe those hundred eyes."
THE LUDICROUS. 53
* He roar'd so loud, and look'd so wondrous grim,
" His very shadow durst not follow him."
4th. Much of what is called caricature
" Some have been beaten till they know
" What wood a cudgel's of by the blow ;
" Some kick'd, until they can feel whether
" A shoe be Spanish or neat's leather."
HUD. p. ii. 1. 2.
III. But of all the relations that of resem-
blance is the most fruitful of ludicrous ideas.
1st. Of these^ the more fanciful and unex-
pected the resemblance, the greater in general
will be the effect. Thus Butler describes the
horse of his hero ?
" The beast was sturdy, large, and tall,,
" With mouth of meal and eyes of wall ;:
" f would say eye, for h'ad but one,
" As most agree, though some say none.
" He was well stayM, and in his gait,
* Preserv'd a grave majestic state.
" At spur or switch no more he skipt,
" Nor mended pace, than Spaniard wlript;
" And yet so fiery, he would bound,
" As if he griev'd to touch the ground ;
" Thus Caesar's horse, who as fame goes,
" Had corns upon his feet and toes,
" Was not by half so tender hooft,
" Nor trod upon the ground so soft
TilE LUDICROUS.
" And as that beast would kneel and stoop
" (Some write) to take his rider up ;
" So Htidibras his ('tis well-known)
" Would often do to set him down."
The -whole spirit of this passage, you will
easily see, depends on the allusions. The ma-
jestic state of the horse, which scorned to mend
his pace, contrasted with the tenderness of his
feet, and the comparison with that of Caesar,
are highly ludicrous.
Contrariety, or contrast, is classed under the
same head of association, by logical writers, as
resemblance,, and of the witty application of
this we have a fine instance in the four last
lines which I have just quoted ; and in the foU
lowing from Swiffis verses on his death.,
" My female friends, whose tender hearts
11 Have better learn'd to act their parts,
" Receive the news in doleful dumps :
" The Dean is dead (pray what is trumps ?)
" The Lord have mercy on his soul !
" (Ladies I'll venture for the vole).
" Six deans they say must bear his pall,. .
" (I wish I knew what king to call).
" Madam, your husband will attend
" The fun'ral of so good a friend ?
w No madam, 'tis a shocking sight,
** And he's engag'd to -morrow night ;
THE LUDICROUS. 55
" My Lady Club would take it ill,
" If he should fail her "at quadrille.
" He lov'd the Dean (I lead a heart) ;
" But dearest friends, they say, must part.'*
The most fruitful source of the burlesque
and the mock-heroic is, when the allusion is
from the great to the mean or little.
" The Greeks renowned,, so Homer writes,
" For well-soaled boots, as well as fights." HUD.
The order is reversed, however, in some in-
stances of the mock-heroic, as in the Lutrin of
Boileau, and the charming Rape of the Lock*
" This nymph, to the destruction of mankind,
" Nourish'd two locks, which graceful hung behind
" In equal curls, and wt-11 corrspir'd t&deck
" With shining ringlets the smooth iv'ry neck.
" Love in these labyrinths her slaves detains,
" And mighty hearts are held in slender chains.
" With hairy springes we tlie birds betray,
" Slight lines of hair surprise the fiuny prey ;
" Fair tresses man's imperial race ensnare,
" And beauty draws us with a single hair."
In these lines, and in all the poem,- a slight
circumstance is magnified into something of
apparent importance. The card party is an-
admirable instance in point
5> 2J1E LUDICROUS*
" Behold four kings in majesty reverM,
" With hoary whiskers and a forked beard ;
" And four fair queens whose hands sustain a flower,
" Th' expressive emblem of their softer power ;
" Four knayes in garbs succinct, a trusty band,
" Caps on their heads, and halberts in their hand ;
4< And party-colour'd troops, a shining train,
" Draw forth to combat on the velvet plain."
I recommend to your perusal the whole de-
scription of the card party, in which the allu-
sion to a battle is finely supported.
I may add a more ludicrous example :
" The kettle-drum, whose sullen dub,
" Sounds like the hooping of a tub." HUD.
In all the instances of the ridiculous which I
Lave quoted, you will easily see that the sud-
denness of the combination forms the thief
merit of the witticism, as in the description of
the horse from Butler, where the author ap-
pears to correct himself.
" I should say eye, for h'ad but one,
" As authors write, though some say none."
A witty as well as most eloquent senator of
our own times, has often employed this stroke
of humour with infinite effect, appearing sud-
dently to correct himself, when he would in*
sinuate something in an indirect manner.
THE LUDICROUS. 57
Crftics are not entirely agreed in defining
the distinction between wit and humour. I
am inclined to think it is more accurate to class
risible objects as I have classed them, as de-
pending upon the different sources of mental
association. But if it was absolutely necessary
to make the distinction, I would call that wit
where the unexpected comparison or combine
tion is made in the very words, as in the pas-
sage of Hudibras, quoted by, I think, LortE
Kaimcs
" The sun had long since in the lap
" Of Thetis taken out his nap ;
" And, like a lobster boil'd, the morn
" From black to red began to turn."
Also what Dryden makes his renegado say of
priests, which by the way is stolen by Mr.
Jlume in one of liis essays
" And having found what Archimedes want-
ed, a new world to rest on, you move this
world as you please "
I would call that humour, on the contrary,
when the mind of the hearer or reader is only
led to make the comparison or combination,
itself. Thus when a ludicrous character is de-
picted, the reader's mind of itself opposes to it
D5
58
THE LUDICROUS.
the proper character. I may instance the two
following lines :
" And the gaunt mastiff, growling at the gate,
" Affrights the beggar whom he longs to eat."
Where a number of opposite ideas are imme-
diately excited without being expressed. I
may quote also the description of Hudibras's-
dagger
" It was a serviceable dudgeon,
" Either for fighting or for drudging.
" When it had stabb'd or broke a head,
" It would scrape trenchers, or chip bread ;;
" Toast cheese or bacon, though it were
" To bait a mousetrap, 'twould not care.
" 'Twould make clean shoes, or in the earth
" Set leeks, and onions, and so forth.
" It had been 'prentice to a brewer,
" Where this and more it did endure ;
" But left the trade as many more
" Have lately done on the same score."
During the nine last lines the mind is con-
stantly making a comparison between the low
uses to which it has been applied, and the pro-
per uses of a dagger.
This appears to me the proper cause of the
power of irony, thX'the reader's mind is con-
stantly making a Comparison between, the al-
THE LUDICROUS. 59
leg-ed motives, or character, and the real ones.
Take as an instance Arbuthnot's account of
what passed in London when the comet wa&
expected :
" If the reverend clergy shewed more con-
cern than others, I charitably impute it to their
great charge of souls ; and what confirmed me
in this opinion was, that the degrees of appre-
hension and terror could be distinguished to be
greater or less, according to their ranks and
degrees in the church."
To the same cause we may attribute often
the ludicrous effect of cant and low phrases,
namely, that the mind contrasts them with the
proper ones
" For which the stubborn Greeks sat down,
" So many years before Troy toivn." HUD,
" Sir Hudibras had but one spur,
" As wisely knowing could he stir
" To active trot one side of's horse,
" The other would not hang an arse."
This definition of wit and humour will ac-
cord with the two homely lines of Buckingham,,
when speaking of comedy
" Humour is all, wit should be only brought,
<f To turn agreeably some proper thought."
ESSAY ON POETRT,
60 THE LUDICROUS
There is an inferior species of wit, which re-
sults from confounding the proper and figura-
tive meaning of an expression, as in these lines
of Butler :
" While thus the lady talk'd, the knight
" Turn'd th' outside of his eyes to white,
" As men of inward light are wont
" To turn their optics in upon't."
This species of wit would scarcely stand the
test which Mr. Addison proposes for real wit,
that of being translated into another language.
It approaches indeed very near to the pun,.
which I need not inform you is a play upon,
words according, to the different senses in which
they are used. Of these we have many in-
stances in Shakspeare, such as Falstaff's ad-
dress to the prince, when he accosts him in the
character of king: "God save thy grace;
majesty. I should have said, for grace thou
wilt have none."
Even the chaste and correct Pope is not
above a pun
x " Here thou great Anna, whom three realms obey>
" Dost sometimes counsel take, and sometimes tea."
LANGUAGE. 62
LETTER VII.
Language. Perspicuity. -Purity*.
MY DEAB, JOHN,.
HAVING laid before you the principal mate-
rials or rather sources of good writing, I must
now call your attention to a subject, which I
fear you will think less interesting- and enter-
taining, the correct and elegant use of lan-
guage.
The only foundation of a good style, as far
as respects the use of words, is an extensive and
accurate knowledge of the language in which
we write. One of the principal advantages
resulting from a knowledge of the dead lan-
guages indeed is, that it acquaints us with the
etymology of the many words which are de-
rived from them,, and that is often the most
certain guide to their correct application. A
knowledge of the Saxon, which is not difficult
in attainment, should be added, as well as of
French, to make a man perfect master of the
62 LANGUAGE.
radicals of his own language. Yet even this
is not enough ; he must also carefully mark
the different senses in which words are used by
the best authors. Etymology will only lead
us to the literal sense ; but the figurative senses
are so various, that in some words the original
and literal meaning is almost forgotten.
Johnson's Dictionary, which is indeed the
best Thesaurus I ever saw of any language,
will greatly assist you in this respect. It ought
to lie on the table of every young writer. I
have often found great amusement in turning
over its leaves^ and observing the different uses
to which the same word has been applied ac-
cording to the genius of different writers. It
affords also an encouragement to this kind of
study (which would otherwise be what is called
dry)) by the beauty and utility of the quo-
tations which the author employs to illus-
trate his definitions. To Dr. Johnson every
subsequent English author owes unutterable
obligations. He has made straight the paths
of British literature, and has even strewed them
with flowers.
But a true command of language is at last
only to be gained by a diligent perusal of the
LANGUAGE. 63
best authors. Rules and precepts may enable
you to avoid some faults, but they never cant
give elegance and freedom ; that magic power
which calls up at once the most appropriate
terms, and arranges them in the best order.
On this account young writers should be wise
in their choice of books, and read none which
are not written in the best style, at least while
employed in the immediate study of composi-
tion. I have thought that I derived much ad-
vantage from accustoming myself before I sat
down ta compose, always to read a few pages
in some good writer, whose spirit I should wish
to catch, as best adapted to the subject on which
I was to write. I have heard it said of that
great master in the art of painting, Sir Joshua
Reynolds, that he always finished his most ex-
quisite paintings with some picture of the an-
cient masters near him, which harmonized with,
his subject, and not only kept his imagination
in correspondence with it, but even served to
invigorate and maintain the enthusiasm of
genius.
A young writer should however not peruse
cursorily, but study intensely the best authors.
When you read an animated and fine descrip-
PERSPICUTy.
tion,.it may be of service to lay down the book,
and pause and consider how you would have
tlescribed the same scene, or the same action ^
whether you would have chosen the same
figures or phrases, or placed the object in a
similar light.
Style may be divided into two kinds, the
plain and the ornamented. To a perfect style
of either description three qualities are indis-
pensibly necessary, perspiouit?/, purity and
harmony ; and the plainer the style the more
indispensible are these requisites.
" By perspicuity (says Quinctilian) care is
taken, not that the hearer may understand if he
will ; but that he must understand whether he
will or not." Many authors plead the nature
of their studies as an excuse for not being per-
spicuous ; but as writing clearly depends on
our ideas being clear, it can never be an ex?
cuse to say to the world, we do not understand
the subject of .which we mean to treat. Per-
spicuity will depend, in the first place, on the
choice of words, and secondly, on the arrange-
ment of them. As far as regards the choice of
words, obscurity results, in the first place,
From obsolete or afiected language, whicJu
PERSPICUITY. 65
is not generally understood. The following
phrases in our liturgy were, at the time it was
composed, good English ; but no man at pre-
sent could employ the words in the same sense.
" Prevent us, O Lord, in all our doings,"
&c. " O Lord, deal not with us //erour sins*,
neither reward us after our iniquities." In the
apostles' creed also^ " the quick and the dead'*
would be more intelligible than " the living
and the dead." Many abuses of words have
been introduced from the French idiom. Lard
Bolingbroke, for instance, says, " by the persons
I intend here," instead of I mean. Analogous
to this is the use of Latinisms, as integrity to
denote entireness ; conscience for consciousness i
" The conscience of approving one's self a be-
nefactor to mankind is the noblest recompense
for being so." SPECTATOR.
Again, obscurity proceeds from the use of
ambiguous or indefinite words. Examples of
this occur in the following sentences : " As for
such animals as are mortal (or noxious), we
have a right to destroy them." GUARDIAN^
No. 61. " The Christians rudely disturbed
the service of paganism ; and rushing in crowds
sound the tribunals of the magistrates, called
66 PERSPICUITl".
upon them to pronounce and inflict the sen-
tence of the law." GIBBON. Here it is not
easy to define what service is meant, whether
civil or religious. A similar ambiguity may
be found in the same author. Speaking of the
cruelty of Valentinian, the historian adds :
" The merit of Maximin, who had slaughtered
the noblest families of Rome, was rewarded
with the royal approbation and the prefecture
of Gaul. Two fierce and enormous bears, dis-
tinguished by the appellations of Innocence
and Uricanurea, could alone deserve to share
the favour of Maximin." IB. It is evident.
that we must have recourse to the context to
understand that these creatures were not the
favourites of Maximin, but of Valentinian.
The following are instances of ambiguity in
the use of the same word in different senses :
" Wealth and honour,, or what we impro-
perly call our interests, have now an ascendant
over us ; and the passion for each is rarely gra-
tified but at the expence of some virtue. And
thus it comes to pass, that though we set out
in. the world with a warm sense of truth and
honour j experience by degrees refines us out of
these principles." KURD'S SEJIM. v. iu s. 3.
PERSPICUITY. 67
*' That he should be in earnest it is hard to
conceive ; since any reasons of doubt which he
might have in this case would have been rea-
sons of doubt in the case of other men, who
may give wore, but cannot give more evident,
signs of thought than their fellow creatures."
BOLINGBIIOKE'S PHILOSOPHICAL. ESSAYS, i.
s. 9. Here the word more is first an adjective,
the comparative of many ; and then an adverb
and the sign of the comparative degree. It
should be thus reformed " Who may give
more numerous, but cannot," &c. " Who may
give more, but cannot give clearer signs,"
A writer on criticism has the following sen-
tence : " There appears to be a remarkable
difference betwixt one of the first of ancient
and of modern critics." OGILVIE. The em-
barrassment of this sentence would have been
entirely avoided, by inserting the words one of
thejirst a second time, which probably an ap-
prehension of offending the ear prevented..
The cases are so very numerous, in which an
author in the choice of words, or an imprudent
use of them, may darken the expression, that
it would be almost impossible to prescribe any
definite rules upon the subject. Perfection, ia
68 PERSPICUITY^
this respect, is only to be acquired by practice^
Possibly the following remarks may be of some
use to young writers.
1st. As I before advised, endeavour to in-
form yourself perfectly concerning the etymo-
logy and meaning of words ..
2d. Consult the best modern authors, and
observe their different applications. The ori-
ginal sense is not always a certain guide in the
use .of- common words ; though, if nicely at-
tended to, it will sometimes h^lp us to the rea-
sons of theit application.
3d. Be not too anxious for variety of expres-
sion. It is well observed by the Abbe Gfrard,.
that when a performance grows dull, it is not
so. much because the ear is tired by the fre-
quent repetition of the same sound, as because
the mind is fatigued by the frequent occur-
reace of the same idea. Lastly, We cannot
be too much on our guard against the vulgar
idiom. Most writers who affect ease and fami-
liarity in writing, are apt to slide into it :
" But ease in writing flows from art, not chance,
" As those move easiest who have learn'd to dance."
4th. That ambiguity, as well as inaccuracy,
PERSPICUITY. 69
is not uncommonly the effect of introducing
the vulgar phraseology into written composi-
tion, is evident from the very incorrect and
absurd use of the verb to lay, instead of the
neuter verb to lie. This solecism has arisen, I
presume, from confounding the past tense of
the latter with the present of the former verb.
Let it be observed, however, that when a noun
follows in the objective case, the verb active
(to lay) may be used : as, to lay down an em-
ployment ; and sometimes when the verb is re-
flected or neutralized ; as,
" Soft on the flow'ry herb I found one laid.'*
But, to say u Death lays upon her like an un-
timely frost," or to say " I have a work laying
by me," would be a gross and intolerable bar-
barism .
5th. There are certain elliptical forms of ex-
pression in common use which require care in
the use of them, least the sense should be ob-
scured to the reader, though to the writer it
may appear sufficiently clear. e. g.
" You ought to contemn all the wit in the
world against you." GUARDIAN.
70 PERSPICUITY.
In this sentence, it is remarked by a modern
critic, the author does not certainly mean that
all the wit in the world is actually exerted
against the person he addresses ; and therefore
he should have expressed himself thus : " You
ought to despise all the wit, however great it
may be, that can be employed against you."
" I beg of you (says Steele) never let the
glory of our nation, who made France tremble,
and yet has the gentleness to be unable to bear
opposition from the meanest of his own coun*
trymen, be calumniated in so imprudent a
manner, as in the insinuation that he affected
a perpetual dictatorship.'* It is difficult in
this sentence to find at first the antecedent to
the pronouns who, his, and he ; but on con-
sideration, it appears that the glory means the
Duke of Marlborough, and the difficulty is un-
ravelled. Had the ellipsis been filled up with
some such phrase as " the man whom we may
justly term the glory, &c." no ambiguity could
have occurred.
6th. There are in common use certain
phrases which are in themselves equivocal, and
consequently often produce obscurity. Such
^PERSPICUITY. 71
as, not the least, not the smallest, nothing Jess,
which are sometimes expressive of magnitude,
and sometimes of the contrary. e. g.
" Your character, &c. assure me, you will
not think that clergymen, when injured, hav6
the least right to your protection." GUAR-
DIAN, No. 80.
" He aimed at nothing less than the crown,"
which may imply that he was far from aiming
at ; or it may signify that nothing less would
satisfy him.
" I will have mercy and not sacrifice, 1 ' would
be better, " I will squire mercy," &c. Hos.
yii. 6.
u Our English is, among those dialects, one
that I think more capable of improvement
than any otlrer." MONBODDO ON LANGUAGE,
p. ii. b. 1, c. 7.
7th. Hypothetical or contingent expressions
often produce obscurity when intended to re-
present real facts. For instance, u If he be-
stowed the gold to relieve the more painful dis-
tress of a friend, the sacrifice is of some
weight." GIBBON, vol. iv. p. 265,
" The supine ignorance of the nobles was
incapable of discerning the tendency of such
72 PERSPICUITY.
representations ; they might sometimes chas-
tise, with words and blows, the plebeian refor-
mer; bathe was often suffered," &c. GIK-
ITON, p- 574\
The obscurity arising from bad arrangement
is, however, worse than that which arises from
the ill choice of words. Perspicuity is in-
jured^ in this respect, in the following in-
stances:
1st. By separating the adjective from its
proper substantive: " They chose to indulge
themselves in the hour of natural festivity."
Better " in the natural hour of festivity."
2d. By using the same pronoun in reference
to different persons or things in the same sen-
tence : " And they did all eat and were filled:
and they took up of the fragments that re*
mained twelve baskets full." By the last they
it is difficult to say who are meant, the multi-
tude or only the disciples.
3d. By the indiscreet or wrong placing of
the relative : " Solomon, the son of David,
who built the temple of Jerusalem, was the
richest monarch of his time." Again, " So-
lomon, the son of David, who was persecuted
by Saul, was the richest," &c. The who in
PERSPlCt'ITY. 73
the first sentence relates to Solomon, and in the
second to David, and yet is similarly situated.
It would be better therefore to give a different
turn to the sentence, and say " Solomon the
son of David, and the builder of the temple,"
&c. " Solomon, whose father David was per-
secuted," &c.
" The laws of nature are truly what my
Lord Bacon styles his aphorisms, laws of laws.
Civil laws are always imperfect, and often false
deductions from them) or applications of them;
nay, they stand in many instances in opposi-
tion to them." BOLINGBROKE.
<f The perception of the human mind of the
essential difference which lies in the nature of
things, will direct it to prize some as objects
good, and others to regard as evil." MACAU-
LEY ON MORAL TRUTH. The others in the
last member of the sentence may as well be in
apposition to it, and governed by the vcfb
direct as governed by the verb regard. The
ambiguity would be remedied by iterating the
word objects, or preserving the natural order.
A certain author, speaking of Porto Bello,
says : " This celebrated harbour, which was
formerly very well defended by forts, which
VOL. I. E
74f PERSPICUITY.
Admiral Vernon destroyed in 1740, seems to
afford an entrance 600 toises broad ; but is so
straitened with rocks that are near the surface
of the water, that it is reduced to a very narrow
channel." JUSTAMOND'S TRANS. OF RAY-
NAL, b. vii. Better thus : " This celebrated
harbour was defended, &c. it seems to afford,
&c." " This activity drew numbers of enter-
prising men over to Virginia, who came either
in search of fortune, or of liberty, which is the
only compensation for the want of it."-~-Ibid<
Here the two antecedents are so confounded,
that it requires a pause to distinguish them,
and the construction is very ungraceful as well
as obscure. One mode of avoiding ambiguity
hi this case will be, when two antecedents oc-
cur, putting one of them, if possible, in the
plural, and the other in the singular number.
A modern writer (MR. CUMBERLAND, Mem*
vol ii. p. 152.) uses the following expression :
" The Marquis Legarda, governor of Vittoria,
to whom I had a letter from Count D'Aranda,
the Marquis D'Allemanda, and other gentle-
men of the place, did us the honour to visit
us," &c. It is not clear whether the letter
might not have been signed by the Marquis
75
D*Allemanda, &c. The ambiguity might have
been avoided by saying, " I had a letter from
the Count D'Aranda to the Marquis Legarda,
and he and the (or he, as well as the) Marquis
D'Allemanda, &c. came to visit us."
Sdly. Obscurity is produced by separating
the adverb and the adjective, or the adverb
and the verb. Ex. "A power is requisite of
fixing the intellectual eye upon successive ob*
jects so steadily, as that the more may never
prevent us from doing justice to the less im-
portant." OGILVIE ON COMPOSITION, vol. i.
p. 94. " This subject is precisely of that kind
which a daring imagination could alone have
adopted." Ibid. Here it is not accurately de-
fined whether a daring imagination only could
have adopted, &c. or whether it could haye
adopted that subject only and no other. c< He
conjured the senate, that the purity of his reign
might not be stained by the blood even of a
guilty senator." GIBBON. The arrangement
would be more perfect, " by the blood of even
a guilty senator." " He atoned for the mur-
der of an innocent son, by the execution, per-
haps, of a guilty wife." Ibid. The doubt in
this sentence may apply to the reality of the
F/2
76 PERSPICUITY.
execution. " Their intimacy had commenced,
in the happier period, perhaps, of their youth
and obscurity."
4thly. The following are examples of am-
biguity arising from the wrong position of a
conjunction. The historian, speaking of an
impolitic edict of Julian, thus expresses him-
self: " He enacted that, in a time of scarcity,
it (corn) should be sold at a price which had
seldom been known in the most plentiful
years." GIBBON. A common reader would
infer from the above, that it was a standing
order, that corn should in every time of scarcity
be sold cheaper than in a time of plenty, which
does not appear from the context to be the in-
tention of the author.
" They were much more antient among the
Persians than Zoroaster, or Zerdusht." Bo-
LINGBROK.E. The conjunction here is per-
fectly equivocal, and the reader will certainly
mistake the sense, unless he previously knows
that Zoroaster and Zerdusht are the same.
tt At least my own private letters leave room
for a politician to suspect as much as a pene-
trating friend of mine tells me." SPECT. 43.
The conjunction is wrong placed here, and the
PERSPICUITY. 77
arrangement should be altered thus : " At least
my own private letters, as a penetrating friend
tells me, leave room," &c.
Speaking of parents misjudging of the con-
duct of schoolmasters, a modern author on edu-
cation adds : "It has broke the peace of many
an ingenious man, who had engaged in the care
of youth, and paved the way to the ruin of
hopeful boys." It is not perfectly clear whe-
ther the circumstances or the master " paved
the way," &c. It is impossible to decipher
the following sentence. Respecting the Penn-
sylvania marble, of which chimney-pieces,
tables, &c. are made, the historian adds :
" These valuable materials could not have
been found in common in the houses, unless
they had been lavished in the churches."
5thly. Perspicuity is injured very frequently
by the fear of concluding a sentence with a
trifling word ; but surely, however ungraceful,
at confused style is a much greater blemish.
" The Court of Chancery," says a respectable
author, " frequently mitigates, and breaks the
teeth of the common law." From this sentence
it might be inferred, that it mitigated the teeth.
Better, therefore : " frequently mitigates the
78 PERSPICUITY.
common law, and breaks the teeth of it," &t
61 its teeth."
Gthly. It is an old observation, that the de-
sire of brevity generally induces obscurity.
This is exemplified in many forms of expres-
sion, to which habit serves to reconcile us, but
which are in themselves really ambiguous.
Thus we speak of " the Reformation of Lu-
ther;" which, if the circumstance was not well
understood, might mean the reformation of the
man, instead of the reformation of the church.
7thly. An error opposite to this is long sen-
tences and parentheses. Long periods, how-
ever, seldom create obscurity, when the natural
order of thought is preserved; especially if
each division, clause, or member of the sen-
tence, is complete in itself. It is in general the
insertion of foreign matter, and parenthetical
sentences, that confuse a style.
It is impossible to indicate, or even to class,
the various causes of ambiguity or obscurity.
The few I have instanced may serve to awaken
attention to this important point ; a cleat
head and diligent study are the only certain
means of securing the beauty of perspicuity in
style.
79
But whatever value we may set upon this
great essential, there is not any excellence which
more recommends style than purity. This
quality is indeed commonly confounded with
elegance; though I think elegance implies
something more, and necessarily includes some
idea of ornament. There is no quality too,
which is more easily attained. Nature, or to
speak more properly, Providence, must give
genius ; by hard study knowledge is acquired ;
but a little attention, with polite reading and
polite company, will give purity of style.
A writer of some eminence, with whom I was
acquainted in my youth, Dr. Gilbert Stuart,
used to assert that the language of books, or
composition, was entirely difierent from the
language of conversation. Dr. Stuart was a
North Briton, and made the observation at the
time when the dialect of that country was much
less pure than it is at present. He therefore
must be understood as referring to a provincial
idiom, otherwise the observation is not true.
Polite conversation may be termed a loose and
free kind of composition ; or composition may
be regarded as conversation, pruned, correct-
ed, and refined. We should otherwise write
80 PURITY.
as in a dead language, and our style would* not
be natural and easy, but artificial and pedantic,
both of which I consider as offences against pu-
rity. On this occasion I shall pursue the same
order as before, and consider purity of style,
first, ^is it regards the choice of words ; and
secondly, as referring to arrangement.
The offences against purity of style, as far as
respects the choice of words, may be reduced
to the following heads : 1st. Obsolete, or un-.
common expressions. 3d. Vulgarisms. 3d.
Jargon, or cant.
1st. In an age of novelty we have very
little to apprehend from obsolete expressions.
Scarcely any person, who is at all conversant
with polite company, would use such expres-
sions as behoof^ behest, per adventure, sundry,
anon, whereof, erewhile, whereas, fantasy, Sec.
It is not a very easy matter to determine the
era of pure English ; but I think we should
not look further back than the Revolution.
Hooker, Bacon, Milton, Hobbes, and even
Temple, are scarcely to be considered as au-
thorities in this respect.
2d. Contrary to this, is the more fashionable
error of using affected language, and particu-
PURITY. 81
larly Gallicisms. This nation has txjen little
indebted to the literature of France ; and we
have no occasion to change the bullion of our
language for the tinsel of theirs. A modern
critic has, with great accuracy, collected a va-
riety of these newly imporled phrases: such as,
opiniatre, sortie, dernier resort , beaux arts, belles
lettres, politesse, delicatesse, hauteur, for opinia-
tive or positive, rally, last resort, liberal arts,
polite literature, politeness, delicacy, haughti-
ness. These he very properly calls " stray
words or exiles," that have no affinity to our
language, and indeed are no better than insects
of the day. It is of the utmost importance to
literature to adopt some standard of language ;
there is no setting bounds to the liberty of
coining words, if it is at all admitted ; and, in
that case, the invaluable productions of our an-
cestors will soon become unintelligible.
3d. But the more dangerous vice, because it
is the more common, is vulgarity. Some in-
stances of this, however, are to be found in very
approved authors, and seem to demonstrate
how necessary it is to be guarded against it.
Lord Kairnes speaks of the comedies of Aristo-
phanes *' wallowing in looseness and detrac-
E5
82 PURITY.
tion," (which is moreover a false metaphor;)
of " the pushing genius of a nation ; of a na-
tion being devoid of bowels," &c. The follow-
ing phrase is surely intolerably low for serious
composition : " To imagine that the gratifying
of any sense, or the indulging of any delicacy
in meat, drink, or apparel, is in itself a vice,
can never enter into a head that is not disor-
dered." HUME'S ESSAY ON REFINEMENT.
Dr. Beattie is not free from such expressions :
as a " long winded rhetorician, " screaming,
squalling" &c. Dr. Blair speaks " of the
subject in hand" of Milton having " chalked
out" a new road in poetry ; of Achilles " pitch-
ing upon Briseis. The following passages arc
from the same author : " It is strange how a
writer so accurate as Dean Swift should have
stumbled on so improper an application of this
particle," &c. " When we have arrived at
what we expected was to be the conclusion, un-
expectedly some circumstance pops out, which
ought to have been omitted." BLAIR'S LECT.
In turning over a few pages of Dr. Robert-
son, one of the most correct of our historians,
I find such phrases as the following:
" That by their presence they might be the
PUHITY. 83
better able to persuade their countrymen to fall
in with his proposals. A cause entrusted to
such able and zealous advocates could not well
miss of coming to a happy issue."
" He took hold of the regent by the propef
handle, and endeavoured to bring about a
change in his sentiments," &c.
" The love of the which is so natural to all,
that in every age they (improbable rumours)
have been swallowed without examination."
" But during these vigorous proceedings of
the protestants, they stood confounded, and at
gaze."
" Which must needs prove fatal to both ;"
" and that the matter would seem to be huddled
up /' and in Mr. Hume we meet with many
such, as " carrying matters with a high hand"
&c.
Mr. Burke, whose name every scholar and
every patriot must venerate, was far from being
choice in his expressions ; and I grieve to find
that our parliamentary oratory has even declined
since his time. Nothing indeed has a greater
tendency to debase eloquence than that taste for
the ludicrous which has been introduced into
the debates of parliament, where it seems la-t-
84 , PURITY.
terly to be the principal aim of the first speak-
ers to try who can best act the buffoon.
I shall select a few specimens of the vulgar
from a pamphlet of the incomparable author
"whom I have just mentioned, not to lessen his
fame, for that no effort of mine could do, was I
even inclined to act an invidious part ; but as a
caution to avoid faults into which genius itself
can glide.
" They pursue even such as me into the ob-
scurest retreats, and haul them before their re-
volutionary tribunals." LETTER TO A NOBLE
LORD.
" Astronomers have supposed that if a comet,
whose path intersected the ecliptic, had met the
earth, it would have whirled us along with
it, into God knows what regions of heat and
cold." IBID.
" At the same time a sort of national conven-
tion nosed parliament in the very seat of its au-
thority." IBID.
" These obscene harpies flutter over our
heads, and souse down upon our tables." IB.
" For this reason I proposed to reduce it (the
pension list,) lest, if left without a general li-
mit, it might eat up the civil list." IBID.
PURITY. 85
" No other of the crown funds did I meddle
with." IBID.
" In my speech to the electors of Bristol,
when I was put out of that representation." IB.
" Great and learned men thought that my
studies were not wholly thrown away" &c.
A great critic has indeed said that sometimes
a common expression is more significant than
what is deemed an elegant one ; and I am in-
clined to grant that the aptness of these words
renders it difficult always to reject them.
When, however, we meet with a low word, we
ought diligently to look for one synonimous to
it. It. would probably be a very improving
exercise to make a collection, as they occur, of
choice and elegant expressions, which may be
employed instead of the common and collo-
quial. Thus, for heaping up, we may use ac-
cumulating ; for shunned, avoided; for (o brag,
to boast; for their betters, their superiors ; for
handed down, transmitted; for I got rid of, I
avoided; for shut out, exclude; for set free, ex-
empted; for broke his word, violated his pro-
mise; for gave up, sacrificed; for stirred itp 9
excited; for an expedient fallen upon, devised";
- for pitched upon, chosen; for cry up, extol. A
86 PURITY.
polite writer, instead of saying he is pushed on,
will say urged or impelled; instead of going
forwards or go on, proceed; instead of you take
me, you understand; instead of / had as lief,
I should like as well; instead of a moot point,
a disputed point ; instead of by the bye, by the
way ; (though I do not much approve of ei-
ther;) instead of shut our ears, close our ears;
instead of fell to work, began. Some words it
will be better to omit, as, instead of saying,
" he has a considerable share of merit," say,
" he has considerable merit."
When an idiom can be avoided, and a phrase
strictly grammatical be introduced, the latter
will always be most graceful : for instance, it is
more elegant to say, " I would rather," than
" I had rather." This idiom j probably took
its rise from the abbreviation I'd, which in con-
versation stands equally for I would, or I had.
When a substitute cannot be found for a
mean word, it is better to reform the sentence
altogether, and to express it by periphrasis.
4th. Another fault, against which writers
who live at a distance from the metropolis ought
to be particularly on their guard, is the use of
provincial expressions. A student thus cir-
PURITY. 87
cumstanced should constantly compare the dia-
lect of his own country with that of the best
authors, and should endeavour to mark and
distinguish all the provincialisms. That this
observation is not without its use is evident,
when we find even such an author as Dr. Blair
employing such expressions as the following:
Vol. ii. p. 206. " The middle pitch is that
which he employs in common conversation, and
which he should use for ordinary in public dis-
course."
Ib. p. 225. " "We will read him without
pleasure, or most probably we shall soon give
oner to read him at all."
Ib. p. 62. " The representing them both as
subject," &c.
Ib. p. 109." Without having attended to
this we will be at a loss," &c.
Ib. p. 234. " There are few great occasions
of public speaking in which one will not de-
rive assistance from cultivated taste."
Purity of style, as far as respects arrange-
ment, is equally violated by affected stateliness,
and by negligence. Of the former kind are
the following instances :
1st. Placing the nominative case after the
88 PURITY.
verb. Ex. " Wonderful are the effects of this
passion in every view." " Not a little elegant
is this manner of writing." " The demands of
nature and necessity was he accustomed to
say." GIBBON.
2dly. The objective case in the beginning of
the sentence. " Varieties of national charac-
ter we observe imprinted on the physiognomy
of nations." And not unlike this is Mr. Gor-
don's very depraved construction in his transla-
tion of Tacitus : " At this time war there was
none."
Sdly. The objective case before the impera-
tive mood. i( How many nations have cer-
tainly fallen from that importance which they
had formerly borne among the societies of
mankind, let the annals of the world declare."
" Suppose a man (says a witty writer) should
gravely address a friend in such language as
this : Into the garden let us walk, of flowers
it is full, of fruit I think you are fond, on the
trees some peaches are to be found, apricots
this year I have none, to tea we shall return
what would he be thought ? He would be
thought a coxcomb and a pedant."
II. Negligence. I know nothing that more
PURITY. 89
enfeebles a style than beginning sentences with
connective particles, such as, and, though, but,
however, therefore, &c. It seems to put the
reader out of breath, and partakes, in some
measure, of the ungracefulness and confusion
of long sentences. K
It also destroys that compactness which gives
energy to style. These circumstances have
made it common to introduce the connective
as the second or third word of the sentence :
and the same reasons are almost equally forcible
against the use of relatives in the beginning of
sentences.
It has also been generally esteemed ungrace-
ful to conclude a sentence with a preposition
or a trifling word. The auxiliary verbs are
generally very bad conclusions. Ex. " If this
affects him, what must the first motion of his
zeal be ? ROBINSON'S ESSAY ON A SERMON.
" Youth and health are with difficulty made
to comprehend how frail a machine the human
body is, and how easily impaired by excesses."
Better : " How frail a machine is the human
body." HURD. v. 21. It gives force to a pe-
riod to complete the sense only with the last
word.
90 PURITY.
Lastly. There is often inelegance in placing
the adverb before the auxiliary verb, as in the
following instance : " The question stated in
the preceding chapter never has been fully con-
sidered." It would I think be better u has ne-
ver been fully," &c.
It would be impossible, in the limits of a
letter, to descend to a very minute detail. A
good taste, and the perusal of good authors,
must unite to form a good style in this parti-
cular. Pedantry, however, more frequently
misleads us than any other cause.
The style of female authors flows easier, and
is commonly more harmonious, than that of
professed scholars. One general rule may in-
deed be admitted : in narrative or plain didac-
tic composition, in those which are intended
merely to convey information, the natural order
of the words is to be preferred ; but, when pas-
sion or sublimity is the object, this order may
be departed from, and a sentence must never
conclude with a weak member or a trifling
word. As perspicuity demands that enough
shall be displayed in the first part of the sen-
tence to make the aim of it manifest ; so ele-
gance and vivacity demand a degree of energy
PURITY. 01
at the termination, in order to leave an impres-
sion on the mind. Sometimes, however, in
f ery animated expression, it has a good effect
to place the emphatic word the first in order,
as, u Blessed is he who cometh in the name of
the Lord." " Silver and gold have I none,
but such as I have I give thee." In this last
sentence, the eager expectation, and the im-
ploring look of the beggar naturally lead to a
vivid conception of what was in his thoughts ;
and this conception is answered by the form in
which the declaration of the apostle is couched.
92 HARMONY.
X.
i
LETTER VIII.
Harmony. Sentences.
MY DEAR JOHN,
THE third quality of a good style, whether
plain or ornamented, is harmony. The fable,
that a swarm of bees settled on the cradle of
Plato, as emblematical of the future sweetness
of his style, seems to have been invented, like
many other pretended presages, only to suit
the event. The sweetness and harmony of Plato
must, however, be allowed to be his greatest
excellence, and that quality seems principally
to have given him popularity and lasting fame.
But Plato is not the only author who has been
elevated into high reputation by his style. The
harmony of style must greatly depend upon
the writer possessing a fine and well-tuned ear,
and this no critical rules can furnish; yet it is
possible that, aided by the perusal of good au-
thors, they may contribute to the correcting of
a deficient ear, or the improvement of a good
HARMONY. 93
i
one. Without harmony of style the best mat-
ter will weary or disgust ; with it very indif-
ferent books have attracted at least a temporary
popularity. We have one author in our lan-
guage whose only excellence, I might almost
say, was the finest ear that perhaps ever fell to
the lot of any writer I speak of Lord Boling-
broke. The poverty and triteness of his matter
sink him beneath most of the writers of his age,
and yet it is almost impossible to read his pro-
ductions without being charmed : there is in
his periods the charm of magic.
I have not a doubt that the harmony of prose
compositions pleases upon the same principles
with those of verse; and that something like
a metrical arrangement may be traced in the
style of our best prose writers. This observa-
tion will be less clear and obvious to those who
are only acquainted with modern verse. There
so much has been given to the rhyme, that little
attention has been paid to the charm of num-
bers ; and there is a sameness in the measure
which inevitably tires the ear. The French
verse is all in dactyls ;* the English in iambics
* A dactyl is one long and two short syllables, marked
or trochaics. Even our blank verse has tod
much of monotony to please for any length of
time. This is not the case with the Greek and
Latin hexameter verses. In them there is such
a mixture of dactyls and spondees, that you
will scarcely ever find two succeeding lines
alike. This finely diversifies the measure, and
the ear is not wearied by an insipid sameness,
while the verse is sufficiently marked by the re*
currence of the same sound at the end of the
lines.
The harmony of prose numbers, I am well
convinced, depends on the judicious admixture
of long and short syllables, and the musical, or
perhaps metrical conclusion of the periods or
sentences. This is an arrangement made by
the ear, perhaps without the observation or
knowledge of the writer. A fine ear feels what
sounds would be agreeable if it heard them
pronounced, and naturally, and almost without
effort, moulds and forms the sentences in the
most pleasing manner. It might be not an un-
thus : tegrmne ? a spondee two long syllables, as f agl ; an
iambic a short followed by a long syllable" awake my
St. John," &c. A trochee a long and short one, as glitt'ring
atones and golden things," Sec.
HARMONY. 96
Improving exercise to a student, who is master
of Latin prosody, to examine occasionally the
usual metre of our best authors ; for almost
every one. will be found to have a metre pecu*
liar to himself. I remember when I was young,
I sometimes amused myself in this way. I
have no note of the instances, but the results I
perfectly recollect.
I found that many long syllables crowded
together rendered a style languid and heavy ;
and this I apprehend to be the reason why mo,-
nosyllables, if too numerous, are unpleasing
either in prose or verse*
A style abound ing in dactyls will seem rapid j
but it wants dignity. You will find the writ-
ings of Shaftsbury very much of this descrip*
tion.
Many verses in our common translation of
the Bible, and the reading Psalms, you will
find almost perfect hexameters. Macpherson's
Ossian is throughout metrical, and even mo-
notonous.
A familiar subject will accord well with dac-
tyls and anapestics. A grave uniform style
abounds most in trochees and iambics.
A rough and halting style is where, from a
96 HARMONY.
deficiency of ear, there is no musical arrange-
ment whatever. What are called round or full
periods will be found, I apprehend, to be those,
of which the conclusion consists of one or two
dactyls, followed by one or two long syllables.
Ex. " His empire was enfeebled by the extent
of his conquests ; and his foreign triumphs ter-
minated in a rebellion at home."
The serious writings of Mr. Addison resemble
in their metre those of Lord Bolingbroke, but
with this difference, that the style o/ the former
abounds more in short syllables, and is there-
fore less grave and sonorous. Swift had no
car, and his prose is therefore extremely defi-
cient in harmony ; he commonly concludes his
sentences with a trochee or an iambic, which
renders them mean, and destitute of majesty.
The verse of Swift, on the contrary, is fluent,
easy, and even harmonious. The reason I con-
ceive to be, that there is something more me-
chanical in verse than in prose; there are few
ears so unmusical as not to be able to compre-
hend the cadence of verse ; but the music of
prose is on a more varied scale.
A fault opposite to the harsh and dissonant,
for which all the wit and genius of Swift cannot
HARMONY. 97
compensate> is monotony. Though one of the
chief excellencies of Mr. Hume was his ear,
yet I think a reader of nice perceptions will find
his style exceedingly monotonous, as well as his
vocabulary scanty. He had more taste than
genius. A style to be perfect must be varied
in the sound as well as in the language, with a
happy mixture of long and short sentences,
and the periods not all rounded alike.
Harmony may also be consulted both in the
choice of words, and in the mode of placing
them. 1st. An attention to harmony demands
that we should reject, if we can find synonimous
terms, such long, heavy and compound words
as barefacedness, zcrongheadedness, tenderheart-
edness, &c.
2dly. We should be sparing in the use of
sucli as crowd together a number of short syl-
lables, and in which the accent is tlirown so far
back as to give an appearance of stammering
in the utterance, such as prirri&rily, cursorily,
summarily, peremptorily, peremptoriness, Sac.
3dly. Such as repeat the alike syllable in an
awkward and unmusical manner, as holily, far-
riery, sillily, &c.
In the collocation of words we should als
VOL. i. F
98 HARMONY.
carefully avoid an hiatus, if possible ; and I
conceive it may be generally done by a slight
inversion or transposition.
Swift, whose taste in prose composition I
never can approve, though I cannot sufficiently
admire his genius, was very angry with the
custom of abbreviating the eths in the third per-
son singular of verbs, and reducing them to a
plain s. The truth is however, that the 5 in these
instances is pronounced like z, which is not a
hissing, but a very musical letter ; and I may
appeal to any ear, whether has, and dies, and
lies, are not more harmonious than hath, dietk,
and lieth.
Whether it may not have arisen from an
early association I am uncertain ; from the
Scriptures being translated into this kind of
language, and its being used by old and vene-
rable writers ; but the use of the termination
eth in the third person seems to me only adapted
to solemn or sublime writing. It is well em-
ployed by the translator of Ossian, but is stiff
and pedantic in Shaftsbury and Swift.
Dr. Middle' on, instead of wishing with Swift
to abridge the number of monosyllables, adds
a very uncouth one to them, by cutting off the
HARMONY. 99
last syllable from the word often; and Mr.
Rowe, to soften the language) abridges the mo-
nosyllable l/icni, by taking away the th when
the preceding word ends with a consonant.
But in general I disapprove of all such abbre-
viations. They have a tendency to corrupt
the structure of our language, without im-
proving its harmony ; and are now properly
rejected by all good writers.
From what I have stated in the course of this
letter, you will perceive that there is a style na-
turally suited, even in point of harmony j metre,
or cadence to particular subjects. The grave
and solemn require an equal and majestic suc-
cession of sounds ; the more violent passions
may have longer and fuller periods with more
rapidity. But the notion of suiting the sound
to the sense, or rather mimicking the motions
or the sounds you describe, though attempted
by Pope, and recommended by Blair, is. ex-
tremely puerile, either in prose or verse. The
infelicity of Mr. Pope's imitations of this kind
ought to be a caution to others not to attempt
it. Had his lines
' When Ajax strives some mighty weight to throw,
" The line too labours, and the words move slow ;
F2
100 .HARMONY.
" Not so when swift Camilla scours the plain,
" Flies o'er th' unbending corn, and skims along the
been all the author meant them in this respect,
the merit would not have been great. It would
have only been like the declaimer who acts his
words. Such frivolous attempts are beneath
a man of great genius, who, if he has an ear,
and is really warmed with his subject, may ge-
nerally trust to the former to accompany the
latter with the appropriate words and sounds.
But though the rules of art cannot furnish
that important qualification a good ear, still the
ear is, I believe, capable of improvement in
style, as well as in vocal or instrumental music.
I would therefore recommend, as an exercise,
that you would occasionally compose one or
more sentences on any given subjects, and try
afterwards to alter the arrangement of the words
in different ways, till you find that which is
most sonorous, and most likely to please in de-
livery ; or if you would read over your dif-
ferent attempts to some friend who had a really
good ear, the exercise would be more perfect.
Another practice which will improve you,
not only in harmony, but in fluency and ele-
SENTENCES. 101
gance of style, is to read over carefully a short
passage in any good author, Addison, Johnson,
Robertson pr Gibbon ; close the book, and try
to express the ideas as nearly as you can in
their manner. Then compare your attempt with
the original.
I do not mean to advise you to play the part"
of a mere imitator, when you write from your-
self; for every author should have a style of
his own ; but by such exercises as these you
will acquire a command of language, and a
taste for beauty and harmony.
Before I proceed to the ornamental part of
style, properly so called, I wish to premise a
few words more connected perhaps with the
preceding subject. I might have introduced
what I have now to state under the head of
perspicuity, but that it is in &ome measure con-
nected also with harmony ; I mean the graceful
and elegant construction of a sentence. Aris-
totle's definition of a sentence is absurd, be-
cause it will apply to almost any thing as well
as a sentence, and does not give you an idea of
that which it is intended to describe. "It is,
says he, "a speech, or saying, which has a
beginning and end within itself." Dr. Blair is
102 SENTENCES.
much better, who calls it " a simple proposi-
tion or enunciation of thought ;" and Dr.
Lowth's, with some slight correction, will per-
haps be found the most perfect, and comes re-
commended by its plainness and simplicity:
u An assemblage of words, which in themselves
make a complete sense."
Though this is a good definition of a sen-
tence, yet it must not be understood to imply
that every sentence is confined to the expres-
sion of one single act, such as requires only
a noun and a verb, with possibly an objective
case, such as " He is gone to London." A
sentence may embrace several members, or little
sentences within it, subservient to the principal
and governing sense. These litter are called
compound sentences ; and such are the majo-
rity of those which occur in composition.
It is upon selecting properly what members
dught to be admitted into a sentence, and ar-
ranging them with judgment, that the diffi-
culty in this branch of composition depends ;
and you will find as much difference in this re-
spect between the sentences of a master in com-
position, and those of a 1 beginner or an unskil-
ful practitioner, as between the motions of the
SENTENCES. 103
most graceful stage dancer, and the arrantcst
clown.
The first rule that I shall lay down with re-
spect to the structure of a sentence, depends
immediately upon the definition I have just
adopted, that it shall contain one clear propo-
sition or enunciation of thought ; and therefore
you must be careful never to crowd those cir-
cumstances into one sentence, which would be
better dispersed into two or more : I select an
example from Sir William Temple's Essay on
Poetry.
" The usual acceptation," says he, " takes
profit and pleasure for two different things, and
not only calls the followers or votaries of them
by the several names of busy and idle men, but
distinguishes the faculties of the mind, that are
conversant about them, calling the operations
of the first wisdom, and of the other wit, which
is a Saxon word, used to express what the Spa-
niards and Italians call ingegno, and the French
esprit, both from the Latin ; though I think
wit more particularly signifies that of poetry,
as may occur in remarks on the Runic lan-
guage.
Nothing can possibly be more confused than
104 SENTENCES.
this sentence, which, to be rendered intelligible,
requires to be divided into at least two or three.
We have another in Lord Shaftsbury's rhap-
sody, where he treats of the sun's influence,
monstrous animals, and then of man, all in one
period.
" The sun," says he, " breaks the icy fet-
ters of the main, when vast sea-monsters pierce
through floating islands, with arms that can
withstand the crystal rocks ; whilst others, that
of themselves seem great as islands, are by their
bulk alone armed against all but man, whose
superiority over creatures of such stupendous
size and force, should make him mindful of his
privilege of reason, and force him humbly to
adore that great Composer of these wondrous
frames, and the author of his own superior wis-
dom."
From these, and other examples, which will
frequently occur in the course of your reading,
you will find that the complaint against long
sentences arises not so much from their length,
as from their perplexity ; from their implicat-
ing too many circumstances to admit of their
being clearly comprehended by the mind at one
view. This is often not the mere fault of dul-
SENTENCES. WO
ness, which naturally obscures every thing, but
it may arise from the exuberance of genius,
which is apt to comprize, at a single glance,
a vast variety of matter, and to imagine that
what is easily understood by itself must be
equally so by others.
A very little consideration will shew you that
the whole of the obscurity in the first sentence
which I have quoted from Sir William Temple
may be removed, and with scarcely any multi-
plication of words, by merely breaking it into
three ; for instance : '
" The usual acceptation takes profit and
pleasure for two different things, and calls their
respective votaries by the distinct names of the
busy and the idle. A similar distinction pre-
vails even with respect to the faculties of the
mind which are conversant about these different
objects, and the operations of the one are called
wisdom, those of the other wit. This last word
is of Saxon origin, and is used to express what
the Spaniards and Italians call ingenio, and
the French esprit, both from the Latin ; though
{ am of opinion that wit is more immediately
applicable to poetry," &c.
There is another sentence quoted by Dr. Blair
F5
106 SENTENCES.
from Swift's " Proposal for correcting the Eng-
lish Language," which is almost equally ob-
scure, and which might be rectified with equal
facility. After noticing the state of our lan-
guage under Cromwel, he adds : " To this suc-
ceeded that licentiousness which entered with
the Restoration, and from infecting our religion
and morals, fell to corrupting our language ;
which last was not like to be much improved
by those who at that time made up the court of
King Charles II. ; either such as had followed
him in his banishment, or who had been alto-
gether conversant in the dialect of these fanatic
times ; or young men who had been educated
in the same country ; so that the court, which
used to be the standard of correctness and pro-
priety of speech, was then, and I think has
ever since continued the worst school in Eng-
land for that accomplishment ; and so will re-
main, till better care be taken of the education
of our nobility, that they may set out into the
world with some foundation of literature, in
order to qualify them for patterns of polite-
ness."
I should perhaps propose some more exten-
sive alterations in this sentence was I to survey
SENTENCES. 107
it throughout wilh a critical eye; but the ob-
scurity, as well as the tediousness of a long pe-
riod, will be removed even by so simple an al-
teration as the following :
u To this succeeded that licentiousness which
entered with the Restoration, and in consequence
of which, not merely our religion and morals,
but even our language, was corrupted. Our
language indeed was not likely to be improved
by those who formed the court of Charles IL
That court consisted either of such as had fol-
lowed him into banishment, or had been alto-
gether conversant in the dialect of those fanatic
times ; or else of young men who had been
educated in the same country with himself.
Thus the court, which before had been the
standard of correctness and propriety of speech,
was then, and I tkink has ever since continued,
the worst school in England for that accom-
plishment. Such indeed I fear it will remain,
till better care is taken of the education of our
nobility, in order that they may enter upon life
with some foundation of literature, to qualify
them to appear as patterns of politeness."
The 2d rule that I propose, is to be careful
of the too frequent or indiscreet use of paren-
108 SENTENCES.
theses. They should always arise out of the
subject, and yet be so far unconnected with it,
that the sense inclosed within the brackets shall
be complete in itself, and such as might be
spared wi hout destroying the sense of the pe-
riod. A parenthesis should also be short, and
not consist of many members ; otherwise it vrill
become inevitably blended with the main sense,
or the latter will be even forgotten by the reader.
I have said parentheses should not be too
frequent ; yet in oratorical, or animated com-
position, they have sometimes both force and
beauty. Mr. Gibbon was a great master in the
use of them Two casually occur to my mindj
and therefore are not to be regarded as his best :
" The nobles were taught to seek a sure and in-
dependent revenue from their estates, instead
of adorning their splendid beggary by the op-
pression of the people, or (what is much the
same) by the favour of the court."
II The Christians and the Moslems enumerate
(and perhaps multiply) the illustrious victims
that were sacrificed to the zeal, avarice, or re-
sentment of the old man (as he was corruptly
styled) of the mountain."
3dly. "When it is practicable, let the sentence
SENTENCES. 109
close with the principal and emphatical words.
The genius of the English language admits of
very small transposition, and therefore we are
more confined in this respect than the Greeks
or Romans. Quinctilian recommends that the
principal word should be placed near the end
of a sentence ; and the antients generally ended
their periods with a verb.
In English we cannot observe the same rule.
We ought, however, to place important words
where they appear to most advantage : and
the most proper place seems to be the begin-
ning or end of a sentence. Of the proper dis-
position of the principal words, we have a fine
example from Lord Shaftsbury, comparing the
modern poets with the antients :
" And if whilst they profess only to please,
they secretly advise and give instruction, they
may now perhaps, as well as formerly, be
esteemed with justice the best and most honour-
able among authors."
By putting the sentence in a different order,
we shall be easily convinced how much beauty
is lost by bad arrangement.
" And if whilst they profess to please only,
they advise secretly and give instruction, they
110 SENTENCES.
may justly be esteemed the best and most ho-
nourable among authors now, perhaps as well
as formerly."
Here the adverbs only and secretly, being
put after the verbs, and the sentence ending
with a particle, makes the whole period dis-
agreeable, but they are disposed by the author
where they scarcely can be observed. We are
to remember, however, that particles may con
elude a sentence when they are words of im-
portance, as in this sentence of Lord Boling-
broke concerning his friends :
" In their prosperity they shall never hear of
me, in their adversity always."
Agreeably to this rule we ought to avoid such
words at the end of our sentences as only mark
the cases of nouns, e. g.
" Avarice is a crime which wise men are
often guilty of."
And a certain author speaking of the Trinity,
says,
" This is a mystery, which we firmly believe
the truth of, and humbly adore the depth of."
The fault and the correction of it are both
obvious ; it ought to have been expressed thus :
" This is a mystery, the truth of which we
SENTENCES. Ill
firmly believe, and the depth of which -we
humbly adore. v
Compound verbs should seldom be used at
the end of sentences ; and the pronoun it is ge-
nerally a very improper close.
4thly. We should endeavour to contrive that
the members of our sentences shall rise upon
one another, and beware of making the last sen-
tence the echo of the former.
This kind of arrangement is called a climax,
when, as we proceed, every member seems to
grow in importance. Cicero particularly stu-
died this grace of composition ; and there is a
fine example of it in his oration for Milo :
" Si res, si vir, si tempus ullum dignum fuit,
certe, haec in ilia causa, summa oinnia fuerunt."
We have another example in Lord Boling-
broke's idea of a Patriot King :
" This decency, this grace, this propriety
of manners and character is so essential to
princes in particular, that whenever it is ne-
glected, their virtues lose a great degree of
lustre, and their defects acquire much aggra-
vation. Nay more ; by neglecting this de-
cency and this grace, and for want of a suffi-
cient regard to appearances, even their virtues
112 SENTENCES.
may betray them into failings, their failings into
vices, and their vices into habits unworthy of
princes, and unworthy of men."
The finest instance of climax extant is, how-
ever, that of St. Paul, 2 Cor. xi. 22, &c.
" Are they Hebrews ? so ana I ; are they Is-
raelites ? so am I ; are they the seed of Abra-
ham ? so am I. Are they the ministers of
Christ ? (I speak as a fool) I am more : in la-
bours more abundant, in stripes above measure,
in prisons more frequent, in deaths oft."
The instance mentioned of Crassus by Cicero
in his treatise " De Oratore," is also worth your
attention. In examining a witness who ap-
peared against his client " Perhaps, said the
orator, the person spoke these words only in
a passion ?" The witness not making any re-
ply, he proceeded " Perhaps you did not
rightly understand him ?" The witness conti-
nuing silent, he adds " Perhaps you did not
hear it at all ?"
From all that has been said you will be pre-
pared for my 5th and last observation, which is,
that the most ungraceful circumstance in com-
position is what I may call a kind of appendix
to a sentence : something added after the na-
SENTENCES. 113
lural close, and which is frequently even of a
very trivial nature, or which might have been
included in the body of the sentence. Dr. Blair
very properly terms such sentences " more
than finished," and as I have his work before
me, and no better instances occur, I shall give
you the two that he has quoted. In the first
of these the words succeeding the natural close,
which is " indignation," might have been
omitted ; and in the second, you will see the
appended words are better included in the body
of the sentence.
Sir William Temple, speaking of Burnet's
Theory of the Earth, and Fontenelle's Plurality
of Worlds, observes :
" The first could not end his learned treatise
without a panegyric of modem learning in
comparison of the antient ; and the other falls
so grossly into the censure of the old poetry,
and preference of the new, that I could not read
either of these strains without some indigna-
tion ; which no quality among men is so apt
to raise in me as self sufficiency."
The other instance is from Swift's Letter to
a Young Clergyman :
" With these writings young divines are
114 SENTENCES.
more conversant than with those of Demos-
thenes, who by many degrees excelled the
other ; at least as an orator."
The proper correction of this sentence need
scarcely be pointed out :
" With these writings young divines are
niore conversant than with those of Demos-
thenes, who, at least as an orator, by many
degrees excelled the other."
Much has been said by critical writers, but
to little purpose, on the subject of long and
short sentences. I have already explained
why what are called long sentences are usually
faulty : it is because they are perplexed by in-
volving the matter of two or three, and this is
generally the case with Clarendon's " Periods
of a Mile," as they are well entitled by a judi-
cious modern poet. Sometimes they have an
appendix attached to them, and in old writers
frequently conclude with a by, a with, an of,
or some other insignificant word ; otherwise
where a sentence is clear, and strong, and well
compacted, it is never the worse for being long,
if kept within, the bounds of moderation. Mr.
Burke, who was a model of every grace and
excellence of composition, was remarkable for
SENTENCES. 115
the length of his periods ; but they were at the
same time full and sonorous.
If it were asked, however, to what species of
composition long or short sentences are most
adapted, I would say that long sentences are the
language of oratory, short sentences of conver-
sation. Grave and studied composition best ac-
cords with a length of period, and some degree
of inversion of language is then an excellence,
since it serves to dignify and raise it above the
level of colloquial discourse. For the gay and
familiar, short sentences are best adapted ; as
such composition is commonly an imitation of
common conversation. On this account Mon-
tesquieu's Spirit of Laws is a most ill-written
book. The number of short sentences tires ex-
cessively ; and they succeed each other so
rapidly, as not to leave impressions sufficiently
strong and distinct.
Composition purely didactic, however, in
which there is no appeal to the passions, ought
not to abound in very long sentences, nor should
there be much departure from the natural order
of the words. I would almost prescribe the
same rule for narrative, especially where there
is no description. Where, however, descrip-
116 SENTENCES.
tion is introduced, there is room for a display
of eloquence, and then the composition may
assume something of a rhetorical cast. For
reasons which I shall afterwards assign, I think
Mr. Hume's history very faulty ; but I cannot
deny him the praise of a clear and unaffected
style, which renders his narrative generally
intelligible and pleasant. Mr. Gibbon, on the
contrary, has more eloquence, and he describes
better than he narrates.
After all that I have urged on this topic, you
will derive more of practical improvement
from the careful perusal of good authors, than
from any rules that can be laid down. Take
Pope, Addison, Burke, Robertson, Johnson,
(particularly the preface to his dictionary) and
Gibbon ; and observe carefully how each of
these great writers has arranged his words, and
constructed his periods. You will find some-
thing characteristic in each with respect to the
harmony of their numbers, and the structure of
their sentences ; but though I advise you to
study them all, I do not recommend a servile
imitation of any. If I was to propose a model
for general use, it would be the style of Mr.
Addison ; for in copying, that you are copying
SENTENCES. 117
the expression of nature itself. He is sufficiently
pure though not faultless. He is always per-
spicuous, natural and easy. In harmony he
has never been excelled ; and his periods are.
constructed with the art, dexterity and prompti-
tude of a master workman. They are never
deficient in grace, though it must be allowed
that sometimes they want strength, but that
was not an object considering the nature of his
subjects. On this account Mr. Addison shewed
his judgment in not attempting the part of an
orator in parliament. His style was not adapted
to it. In fine, to use the words of an incompa-
rable critic, and biographer : " Whoever
wishes to attain an English siyle, familiar but
not coarse, elegant but not ostentatious, must
give his days and nights to the volumes of Ad-
dison."
US ORNAMENT.
LETTER IX.
Ornament. Amplification.
MY DEAR JOHN,
THE real ornaments of composition, whether
prose or poetry, can proceed only from genius,
from a mind rich in such ideas as are the fruits
of observation, active in forming combinations,
and nice in selecting such as are interesting and
beautiful, and adapted to the subject. This
observation will naturally recal to your me-
mory what I have advanced in my second let-
ter, that it is the clear and striking display of
a number of circumstances which are calculated
to exhibit a picture strongly to the mind, that
renders a style interesting and animated. Com-
pare the description of the storm in Virgil's first
jEneid, that of Milton's Death and Sin, or the
account of a battle by a Livy or a Gibbon,
with the narratives or descriptions of ordinary
writers, and you will soon perceive the magic
touch of genras.
ORNAMENT. 119
An historian, or even a poet, might have ex-
pressed or described the surprise of the north-
ern invaders at finding themselves transported
from a bleak and unfriendly region, to the ge-
nial climate of Italy, and yet not raise the emo-
tions -which Mr. Gray excites even in a few
lines
" With grim delight the brood of winter view,
" A brighter day, and skies of azure hue ;
" Scent the new fragrance of the breathing rose,
*' And quaff the pendant vintage as it grows."
Here even every epithet speaks something to
the purpose : the " grim delight," the " brood
of winter," the brightness of the day, and the
" skies of azure hue," the rose, and the grape,
so beautifully introduced, are all picturesque,
and have a finer effect than a formal descrip-
tion.
Again Shakspeare might have moralized, as
many a popular preacher does, upon the pro-
gress of human life from infancy to manhood,
and its subsequent decline and melancholy ter-
mination. He might have compared it to a
drama, remarked on the variety of characters
which we are called upon by Providence to as-
120 ORNAMENT.
sume ; and he might have concluded, like the
gentleman to whom I have alluded, with some
good common-place remark, as " he is a happy
man, who plays well the part which is assigned
him." But this would not attract and engage
the reader like the picture which he draws of
the different and almost contrasted characters
in which the same man may be appointed to
appear
" All the world's a stage,
" And all the men and women merely players ;
" They have their exits, and their entrances ;
" And one man in his time plays many parts,
" His acts being seven ages. At first, the infant,
" Mewling and puking, in the nurse's arms :
" And then, the whining school-boy, with his satchel,
" And shining morning face, creeping like snail
" Unwillingly to school : and then, the lover ;
" Sighing like furnace, with a woeful ballad
" Made to his mistress' eye-brow : then, a soldier ;
" Full of strange oaths, and bearded like the pard,
" Zealous in honor, sudden and quick in quarrel,
" Seeking the bubble reputation
" Even in the cannon's mouth : and then, the justice ;
" In fair round belly^ with good capon lin'd,
" With eyes severe, and beard of formal cut,
" Full of wise saws and modern instances,
" And so he plays his part : the sixth age shifts
AMPLIFICATION. 121
" Into the lean and slipper'd pantaloon ;
" With spectacles on nose, and pouch on side ;
" His youthful hose well sav'd, a world too wide
" For his shrunk shank ; and his big manly voice,
" Turning again towards childish treble, pipes
*' And whistles in his sound : Last scene of all,
" That ends this strange eventful history,
" Is second childishness, and mere oblivion ;
" Sans teeth, sans eyes, sans taste, sans every thing."
I select this well-known passage, because
from its being familiar to you, it will more
strongly impress upon your mind the doctrine
I wish to enforce.
I had read many accounts of the first cru-
sades, but I never saw them, till depicted by
the animating pencil of Gibbon.
" The 15th of August had been fixed in the
council of Clermont for the departure of the
pilgrims : but the day was anticipated by the
thoughtless and needy crowd of plebeians ;
and I shall briefly dispatch the calamities which
they inflicted and suffered, before I enter on
the more serious and successful enterprise of
the chiefs. Early in the spring, from the con-
fines of France and Lorraine, above sixty thou-
sand of the populace of both sexes flocked
round the first missionary of the cmsade 5 and
VOL. I. G
122 AMPLIFICATION.
pressed him with clamorous importunity to lead
them to the holy sepulchre. The hermit, as-
suming the character, without the talents or au-
thority, of a general, impelled or obeyed the
forward impulse of his votaries along the banks
of the Rhine and Danube. Their wants and
numbers soon compelled them to separate, and
his lieutenant, Walter the Pennyless, a valiant,
though needy soldier, conducted a vanguard of
pilgrims, whose condition may be determined
from the proportion of eight horsemen to fifteen
thousand foot. The example and footsteps of
Peter were closely pursued by another fanatic,
the monk of Godescal, whose summons had
swept away fifteen or twenty thousand peasants
from the villages of Germany. Their rear was
again pressed by an herd of two hundred thou-
sand, the most stupid and savage refuse of the
people, who mingled with their devotion a bru-
tal licence of rapine, prostitution, and drunken-
ness. Some counts, and gentlemen, at the head
of three thousand horse, attended the motions
of the multitude to partake in the spoil ; but
their genuine leaders (may we credit such fol-
Jy ?) were a goose and a goat, who were carried
in the front, and to whom these worthy Chris-
AMPLIFICATION. 125
tians ascribed an infusion of the divine spi*
rit."
Though brevity is a characteristic of the sa-
cred writers, yet theyare no strangers to that
kind of amplification which gives an energy
and an interest to their observations. Languor
and feebleness are the characteristics of old age,
but how beautifully is this expressed ia the fol-
lowing passage:
" Remember now thy Creator in the days of
thy youth, while the evil days come not, nor
the years draw nigh when thou shalt say I have
no pleasure in them.
u While the sun, or the light, or the moon,
or the stars be not darkened, nor the clouds re*
turn after the rain. In the day when the keepers
of the house shall tremble, and the strong men
shall bow themselves, and the grinders (rather
millers or men that grind,) cease because they
are few, and those that look out of the windows
be darkened, and the doors shall be shut in the
streets, when (he sound of the grinding is low,
and he shall rise up at the voice of the bird,
and all the daughters of music shall be brought
low ; also when they shall be afraid of that
which is high, and fears shall be in the
124: AMPLIFICATION.
and the almond tree shall flourish, and the
grasshopper shall be a burthen, and desire shall
fail : because man goeth to his long home, and
the mourners go about the streets."
From the first paragraph that I have quoted,
the style is highly figurative, expressive of the
failure of the senses, and of the animal powers.
The decay of sight is expressed by the light of
the sun and the moon and the stars (all ampli-
fication) being darkened. The loss of strength
by the " keepers of the house (the hands and
arms I believe) trembling ;" and " the strong
men," (the limbs) bowing themselves. " The
millers, or men that grind, ceasing because they
are few," evidently alludes to the loss of the
teeth ; and the failure of the sight is again de-
scribed under the figure of " those who look
out at the windows being darkened."
I cannot say that 1 understand the meaning
of the phrase " the almond tree shall flourish;"
but the expression " the grasshopper shall be
a burthen, and desire shall fail," is inexpres-
sibly beautiful, and the finest description, in few
words, that I ever saw of the extreme debility,
and helplessness of old age. The concluding
expression is so striking that it has become pro*
AMPLIFICATION. 125
rerbial, " because man goeth to his long home,
and the mourners go about the streets."
In poetry there is more exercise for the ima-
gination, and consequently more opportunity
for this kind of amplification than in any prose
.composition whatever. The poems of Gold-
smith, which, being of the descriptive kind,
afford the most ample scope, are almost entirely
composed of it. Take as an example, the
charming character of the village preacher
from the Deserted Village
" Near yonder copse, where once the garden smil'd,
" And still where many a garden flower grows wild,
" There, where a few torn shrubs the place disclose,
" The village preacher's modest mansion rose.
" A man he was to all the country dear,
" And passing rich with forty pounds a year ;
" Remote from towns he ran his godly race,
" Nor e'er had chang'd, nor wish'd to change his place;
" Unskilful he to fawn, or seek for pow'r,
" By doctrines fashion'd to the varying hour;
" Far other aims his heart had learn'd to prize,
" More "bent to raise the wretched than to rise.
" His house was known to all the vagrant train,
" He chid their wand'rings, but reliev'd their pain ;
" The long remember'd beggar was his guest,
*' Whose beard descending swept his aged breast;.
126 AMPLIFICATION.
" The ruin'd spendthrift, now no longer proud,
" Claim'd kindred there, and had his claims allow'd ;
" The broken soldier kindly bade to stay,
" Sat by his fire, and talk r d the night away ;
" Wept o'er his wounds, or, tales of sorrow done,
" Shoulder'd his crutch, and shew'd how fields were worx
" Pleas'd with his guests, the good man learn'd to glow,
" And quite forgot their vices in their woe;
" Careless their merits or their faults to scan,
" His pity gave ere charity began.
I cannot resist the temptation of adding th*
portrait of the schoolmaster
u Beside yon straggling fence that skirts the way,
" With blossom'd furze, unprofitably gay,
" There in his noisy mansion, skill'd to rule,
" The village master taught his little school :
" A man severe he was, and stem to view,
*' I knew him well, and every truant knew ;
" Well had the boding tremblers learn'd to trace
" The day's disasters in his morning face ;
" Full well they laugh'd, with counterfeited glee,
" At all hisjokes, for many a joke had he;
" Full well the busy whisper, circling round,
" Convey'd the dismal tidings when he frown'd;
" Yet he was kind, or if severe in aught,
" The love he bore to learning was his fault ;
" The village all declar'd how much he knew ^
" Twas certain he could write and cypher too
AMPLIFICATION. If
*' Lands he could measure, terms and tides presage,
" And ev'n the story ran that he could gauge :
" In arguing too, the parson own'd his skill,
" For ev'n though vanquish'd he could argue still ;
" While words of learned length, and thund'ring sound,
" Amaz'd the gazing rustics rang'd around ;
" And still they gaz'd, and still the wonder grew
" That one small head should carry all he knew."
You will easily see that these two characters
might have been delineated in few words ; but
the enumeration and display of all the little cir-
cumstances that serve to mark them, renders
the picture striking and perfect.
But though poetry affords the finest field for
this exercise of the fancy, so convinced were
the antients of its necessity to fine composition,
that they proposed certain topics or common
places to assist the memory in bringing forward
every thing that served to illustrate a subject.
Aristotle's Rhetoric, which I would have you
read as the curious effort of the most methodi-
cal understanding that ever existed, is chiefly
a collection of these topics. The topics, or
common places, they distributed into two kinds ;
general or metaphysical topics; ,or particular
topics. Of the first kind were happiness, vir*
128 AMPLIFICATION.
tue, Ihe profitable, the good, &c. &c. ; parti-
cular topics regarded men, places, or times.
Thus under the general topic or division hap-
piness, they would enumerate health, security,
power, nobility, friends, children, fame, suc-
cess, disposition, wealth, &c.
Under the particular topic person, they would
have regard to sex, age, fortune, education,
ability, family, offices,. &c.
Thus in descanting upon the excellence and
utility of any virtue, and to shew how it con-
tributed to happiness, by turning to that gene-
ral topic, the orator or the student would be
led to argue how far it was essential to health,
to security, to fame, &c.
Or in delineating a character, by glancing
his eye on his common-place book, he would be
led to declare what the person was as to birth,
fortune, education, ability, offices, connexions,
&c.
This method is however too mechanical to
be pursued by a person of genius, and none
but a person of genius will ever succeed in
amplification on any subject. Yet I think I
may recommend to you, when you are to write
on any subject, to sit down previously and
AMPLIFICATION".
consider it in all its parts, circumstances and
relations, and even to take notes of those topics
on which it may be proper to enlarge. la
short, though amplification may not be neces-
sary to plain didactic or narrative composition^
it may be fairly inferred that almost all the
beauties of fine, writing will proceed more or
less from a judicious application of this prin-
ciple.
I must repeat, however, that it depends en-
tirely on the taste and judgment of the author
to select such circumstances as are really strik-
ing, for nothing can be more stupid than an
amplified detail of trifling matters. It would
be a very instructive exercise, if a judicious
tutor in rhetoric was to give occasionally his
pupils, as themes on which to enlarge, some
general heads ; as some well-known character
in history, the imaginary description of a land-
scape, a battle, a garden, &c. Or you may
do the same for yourself, taking a subject from
Hume, Robertson, and Gibbon ; writing your
own thoughts upon it, and afterwards com-
paring your effort with that of the author. M .
Rollin produces some of these subjects to which
GO
ISO AMPLIFICATION.
I shall refer, in order to enable you to pursue
with more effect this excellent exercise of the
youthful mind.
" The Iheme is to display the religion and
piety of marshal Turenne, even in the midst of
battles and victories.
'* The writer must begin with a common-
place, to represent how difficult it is for a gene-
ral, at the head of a great army, neither to be
elate with pride, nor to consider himself infi-
nitely superior to the rest of mankind. Even
the aspect of the war r the noise of arms, the
cries of soldiers, &c. conspire to make him for-
get what he himself and what God is. It was
on such occasions, Salmoneus, Antiochus, and
Pharaohy had the presumption and impiety to
think themselves gods ; but it must be confessed
that religion and humility never appear more
illustrious, than when they render a man sub-
missive and obedient to God in such high for-
tunes.
" It was on such occasions that M. Turenne
gave the greatest proofs of his piety : he was
often seen to withdraw into woods, and, in the
midst of tfjc rain and dirt, prostrate himself
AMPLIFICATION. 131
before God. He ordered prayers to be said in
the camp every day, at which he assisted in
person with singular devotion.
" Even in the heat of battle, when success
appeared infallible, and news was brought him
of it from all quarters, he used to suppress the
joy of the officers, by saying.; * If God does
not support us, and finish his own work, we
may still be defeated.' *
This subject, as treated by M. Mascaron, in the
funeral oration of M. Turenne.
" Do not imagine that our hero lost those re-
ligious sentiments at the head of armies, and
in the midst of victories. Certainly, if there is'
any conjuncture in which the soul, full of it-
self, is in danger of forgetting God, it is in those
illustrious stations where a man becomes as a
god to others, by the wisdom of his condticf,
the greatness of his courage, the strength of his
arm, and the number of his soldiers; and, be-
ing wholly inspired with glory, inspires all be-
sides with love, admiration, or terror. Even
the externals of war, the sound of trumpets, the
glitter of arms, the order of the tioops, the si-
lence of the soldiers, their ardor in fight ; the
AMPLIFICATION.
beginning 1 , progress, and end of the victory ;
the different cries of the conquered and the
conquerors ; all these assail the soul on different
sides, which, deprived of all wisdom and mo-
deration, knows neither God, nor itself. It is
then the impious Salmoneus presumes to imi-
tate the thunder of God, and to answer the
thunderbolts of Heaven with those of the earth.
It was then the sacrilegious Antiochus worship-
ped nothing but his own strength and courage ;
and the insolent Pharaoh, swoln with the pride
of his power, cried out, I am my own maker.
But do religion and humility ever appear more
majestic, than when they keep the heart of
man, though in so exalted a point of glory, in
that submission and dependence which the crea-
ture ought to observe with regard to his God ?
" M. Turenne was never more sensible that
there was a God, than on those extraordinary
occasions, when others generally forget their
Creator. It was then his prayers were most
fervent. We have seen him retiring into woods,
where, in the midst of rain, with his knees in
the dirt, he adored that God in this humble
posture, before whom legions of angels tremble,
and prostrate themselves. The Israelites, to
AMPLIFICATION. 135
secure themselves of victory, ordered the ark
of the covenant to be brought into (heir camp :
and M . Turenne did not believe his could be
safe, if not fortified daily by the oblation of the
divine victim, who triumphed over all the
powers of hell. He assisted at it with a devo-
tion and modesty capable of inspiring awe in
those obdurate souls, on whom the sight of the
most tremendous mysteries makes no impres-
sion.
" Even in the progress of victory itself, and
in those moments of self-love, when a general
sees fortune declare in his favour, his piety was
watchful to prevent his giving the jealous God
the least offence, by too hasty an assurance of
conquering. Though the cries of victory echoed
round him ; though the officers flattered them-
selves and him also with assurance of success ;
he still checked all the extreme emotions of
joy, in which human pride has so great a share,
by these words, highly worthy of his piety :
Jf God does not support us, and accomplish his
work, we may still be defeated." ROLLIN.
The modesty of M. Turenne. His private life.
" No person ever spoke more modestly of
134 AMPLIFICATION.
himself than M. Turenne. He related his mosl
surprising victories, as if he had no share in
them. At his return from the most glorious
campaigns, he avoided praise, and was afraid
of appearing in the king's presence, for fear of
applause. It was then, in a private state,
among a few friends, he exercised himself in
the virlues of civil life. He conceals himself,
and walks without attendance or equipage : but
every one observes and admires him."
This theme extended by Flechier*
" Who ever performed such great exploits,,
and who more reserved in speaking of them 2
When he gained an advantage, he himself as-
cribed it to the enemy's oversight, and not to
his own abilities. When he gave an account
of a battle, he forgot nothing,, but its being
gained by his own conduct. If he related any
of those actions which had rendered him so fa-
mous, one would have concluded he had only
been a spectator, and might doubt whether he
himself or fame was mistaken. When he re-
turned from those glorious campaigns, which
immortalize him, he avoided all acclamations
of the people ; he blushed at his victories j he
AMPLIFICATION. 135
received applauses with the same air that others
make apologies, and was almost afraid of wait-
ing upon the king, being obliged, through re-
spect, to hear patiently the encomiums with
which his Majesty never failed to honour him.
" It was then, in the calm repose of a pri-
vate state, that this prince, divesting himself
of all the glory he had acquired in the field,
and shutting himself up with a small company
of chosen friends, practised in silence the vir-
tues of civil life : sincere in his words, plain in
his actions, faithful in friendship, exact in du-
ties, regular in his wishes, and great even in the
minutest things. He concealed himself; but
his fame discovers him. He walks without at-
tendance ; but every one images him riding in
a triumphal chariot. When people see him,
they count the number of the enemies he ha*
conquered, and not the attendants that follow
him. Though alone, they conceive him sur-
rounded with his attendant virtues and victories.
There is something inexpressibly great and
noble in this virtuous simplicity ; and the less
haughty he is, the more venerable he ap-
pears." ROLLIN
136 AMPLIFICATION.
The Queen of England's escape by sea.
" The queen was obliged to leave her king-
dom. She sailed out of the English ports in
sight of the rebel fleet, which pursued her close.
This voyage was far different from that she
had made on the same sea, when she went to
take possession of the sceptre of great Britain.
At that time every thing was propitious ; now
all the reverse."
" *The queen was obliged to leave her king-
dom. And indeed she sailed out of the Eng
lish ports in sight of the rebellious navy, which
chased her so close, that she almost heard their
cries and insolent threats. Alas ! how different
was this voyage from that she made on the same
sea, when, corning to take possession of the
sceptre of Great Britain, she saw the billows
smooth themselves, as it were, under her, to
pay homage to the queen of the seas ! Now
chased, pursued, by her implacable enemies;
who had been so audacious as to draw up an-
accusation against her : sometimes just escaped,
* The queen of England's funeral oration, by M. Bos-
suet.
AMPLIFICATION. 137
sometimes just taken ; her fortune shifting every
quarter of an hour, having no other assistance
but God, and her own invincible fortitude, she
had neither winds nor sails enough to favour
her precipitate flight." ROLLIN.
Perhaps the following instance from Mr.
Burke will be still more pleasing, and I am
sure it is more eloquent than those I have just
quoted. You will observe that he might have
said the whole in few words that Mr. Howard
evinced his philanthropy in foregoing every
comfort, and despising every danger, for the
sake of relieving the distresses of his fellow
creatures
" I cannot name this gentleman without re-
marking, that his labours and writings have
done much to open the eyes and hearts of man-
kind. He has visited all Europe not to sur-
vey the sumptuousness of palaces, or the state-
liness of temples ; not to make accurate mea-
surements of the remains of antient grandeur ;
nor to form a scale of the curiosify of modern
art ; nor to collect medals, or collate manu-
scripts : but to dive into the depth of dun-
geons ; to plunge into the infection of hospi-
tals; to survey the mansions of sorrow and
138 AMPLIFICATION.
pain ; to take the gauge and dimensions of mi-
sery, depression, and contempt ; to remember
the forgotten, to attend to the neglected, to vi-
sit the forsaken, and to compare and collate
the distresses of all men in all countries. His
plan is original ; and it is as full of genius as
it is of humanity. It was a voyage of disco-
very ; a circumnavigation of charity. Already
the benefit of his labour is felt more or less in
every country : I hope he anticipates his final
reward, by seeing- all its effects fully realized
in his own. He will receive, not by retail but
in gross, the reward of those who visit the prU
soner ; and he has so forestalled and monopo-
lized this branch of charity, that there will be,
I trust, little room to merit by such acts of
benevolence hereafter." ADDRESS TO THE
ELECTORS OF BRISTOL.
The beauty of this last quotation depends
not entirely on the lively detail of circumstances
connected with the subject, but on allusions to
matters really foreign to it ; and of these I shall
tr,eat in my succeeding letter.
FIGURATIVE LANGUAGE. 139
LETTER X.
Figurative Language. Comparisons and ^Si-
milies.
MY DEAR JOHN,
A VIVID imagination is not satisfied with
bringing before the reader's mind all the cir-
cumstances immediately connected with the
principal subject, and placing them in a strik-
ing point of view ; it borrows colours and forms
from other objects to diversify and adorn the
picture it draws
" The poet's eye in a fine frenzy rolling,
" Doth glance from heav'n to earth, from earth to hea-
ven;
" And, as imagination bodies forth
" The forms of things unknown, the poet's pen
" Turns them to shape," &c.
You will easily perceive that I am now go-
ing to speak of figurative language. It is called
figurative, because the author's meaning is ex-
pressed, not by the strict and proper phrases,
but under the image or appearance of some-
140 .FIGURATIVE LANGUAGE.
thing else. Thus figurative language, if taken
according to the literal sense of the words,
would usually mislead.
It is extraordinary, however, that what ap-
pears a deviation from nature or reason should
be so extremely common, that scarcely a sen-
tence occurs without some word in it used in a
figurative sense. Indeed if you will read with
attention Mr. Tooke's " Epea Pteroenta" (a
work which every one ought to read) you will
find that our most common particles are words
distorted from their natural and primitive mean-
ing. Dr. Blair used to remark on this subject,
that at the moment he was speaking on a di-
dactic subject, he was addressing his audience
in figurative language.
The origin of figures has been referred. to the
poverty of language ; but I rather consider
them either as the sport of the fancy, or as the
expression of passion or enthusiasm. We see
imagery, and especially from natural objects,
employed by the rudest and most savage na-
tions, not from necessity, but from choice.
The few specimens which we have had trans-
lated of Indian eloquence are abundantly figura-
tive, and no writings can be more conspicuous.
FIGURATIVE LANGUAGE. 141
in this respect than the earliest productions of
the Arabians. The writings of the Hebrews
proceed from a higher source than mere human
invention, yet we may easily conceive them, in
style and manner, adapted to the circumstances
of (lie age and the taste of the people. They
are highly figurative, and that most accurate
critic, Bishop L/owth, in his incomparable
" Lectures on the Sacred Poetry of the He-
brews," has shewn that their imagery was all
derived from those objects with which, from the
time and situation of the country and nation,
they were most familiar.
This branch of ornament is much more easily
reduced to rule and methodical arrangement
than that of which I have just been treating,
But though it is easy to class the different forms
of figurative language, still treatises on rhetoric
will afford you as little substantial aid in this
instance as in the former ; for however reluctant
the professor in this art may be, to own a truth
destructive of his very profession, still he must
confess with Butler ;
" That all a rhetorician's rules
'" Teach nothing but to name his tools.*'
142 FIGURATIVE LANGUAGE.
It is genius alone that can enable you to use
them ; and it is a mind copiously stored with
knowledge that can furnish the materials. The
only essential service that can be rendered to a
young writer in this way, is to caution him
against the indiscreet and indiscriminate use of
this species of ornament : for though its effect,
is fine in impassioned composition, and under
the direction of a good taste, nothing can be
more vapid, cold, and disgusting than a style
overcharged with common-place metaphors
arid comparisons.
Figurative language, it is obvious^ must de-
pend upon the principle of association, and of
the three relations cause and effect, contiguity,
and resemblance ; the latter is the most fertile
in the production of tropes and figures. That
fancy which is most excursive, and which is
the best stored with various knowledge, will be
the most active in forming the combinations
essential to figurative language. The various
knowledge which extended to the detail of al-
most every subject in nature, and in art, is most
conspicuous in Shakspeare, and in Butler ; and
among the moderns none have excelled Mr.
FIGURATIVE LANGUAGE. 143
Burke in the boldness and variety of his ima-
gery.
I shall not perplex you with the distinction
between tropes and figures ; but since I have
casually mentioned them, and since the words
will often occur in conversation, I shall observe
that in truth, each of these words is but a par-
tial mode of expressing the same thing. A trope 9
-foiro* in Greek, signifies no more than the turn-'
ing of a word from its original meaning. Fi-
gure, as I before observed, i when an idea
is expressed under the appearance of some-
thing else. The antient critics classed as tropes
the metaphor, metonymy, synecdoche, and
irony; the figures were almost innumerable.
Leaving then to Farnaby, and his brethren,
the many useless distinctions which the Greeks
have made as to what are called figures, I shall
proceed to treat of those forms of expression, in
the order which is suggested by the three rela-
tions of resemblance, contiguity, and cause and
effect.
From the relation of resemblance proceed the
comparison or simile, the metaphor, the alle-
gory, and the allusion ; on the other relations
COMPARISONS AND SIMILIES.
depend the metonymy, the synecdoche, the pe-
riphrasis, the prosopopeia, and probably the
apostrophe.
The comparison appears to be the first and
most natural of all the rhetorical figures. When
at a loss to explain our meaning, we are dis-
posed always to apply to the associating prin-
ciple to furnish an illustration. In this way,
a comparison may occur in the simplest and
plainest composition, even in a lecture on ex-
perimental philosophy.
But I wish rather to treat of them here as a
source of ornament, and when judiciously ap-
plied there is scarcely any ornament more
pleasing. I must observe, however, that the
mind of the author must be supposed to be in
a cool state, when it descends to this sport of
the imagination. Simiiies are not the natural
language of passion ; they will apply in descrip-
tion, in narrative, but will not serve to express
the vehement emotions of the mind; since then,
if the imagination is disposed to be excursive,
it will naturally drop the words expressing the
resemblance, and snatching the image forcibly
at once, express itself in metaphor.
COMPARISONS AND SIMIL1ES. 145
Hence you will perceive that the difference
between a simile and a metaphor is, thai in the
former the resemblance is brought before the
reader's view by comparing the ideas together,
and by words expressing a likeness ; a meta-
phor is a comparison without the words ex-
pressing resemblance. I may add, that a dis-
tinction might be established between the words
comparison and simile. The former is the ge-
neral word comprehending the whole class, or
when used in a limited sense, is more immedi-
ately appropriated to the most perfect of the
kind ; that in which the resemblance is minutely
traced through all the agreeing parts of the ob-
jects assimilated. The word simile seems chiefly
appropriated to poetry ; and I think implies a
slighter and more fanciful resemblance.
The Hebrew writings are unquestionably the
oldest that have been transmitted to us : their
imagery is almost exclusively derived from na-
tural objects ; this imparts to them a simplicity
which can be attributed to no other writings.
vSome of theij: comparisons are however remark-
ably bold, and some incomparably beautiful,
as you will see by consulting a work, which
VOL. I. H
146 COMPARISONS AND SIMILIES.
contributed beyond any other to the improve*
ment of my taste, Bishop Lowth's Lectures on
the Sacred Poetry of the Hebrews.
One imperfection, however, I have to remark
in the similies of the Hebrews, and of the Ori-
entals in general, that the resemblance is often
too fanciful and remote. Of this I shall pro*
duce an instance from the book of Job) c. vi.
v. 1520.
" My brethren have dealt deceitfully as a
brook, and as the stream of brooks they pass
away : which are blackish by reason of the ice,
and wherein the snow is hid. What time they
were warm they vanish : when it is hot they
consume out of their place. The paths of their
way are turned aside : they go to nothing and
perish. The troops of Tema looked, the com-
panions of Sheba waited for them. They were
confounded because they had hoped ; they came
thither and were ashamed."
The 133d Psalm consists of one of these fan-
ciful sirailies, but it is extremely beautiful. It
is somewhat amplified by Buchanan, and in
translating it I made use of a part of his ima*
gery.
COMPARISONS AND SlMlLlES. 147
Sweet is the love that mutual glows
Within each brother's breast ;
And binds in gentlest bonds each heart,
All blessing, and all blest.
Sweet as the odorous balsam ponrM
On Aaron's sacred head,
Which o'er his beard, and down his vest,
A breatliing fragrance shed.
Like morning dews on Sion's motmt,
That spread their silver rays;
And deck with gems the verdant pomp
That Herman's top displays.
Another particular may also be remarked,
which is, that the Hebrew similies are frequently
very short. The resemblance usually turns
upon a single circumstance, which they ex-
plain in few words, and seldom introduce any
matter at all foreign to the purpose.
The classical writers are more sparing of
their similies, and they introduce them with
greater pomp and fqrni. There is however a
disgusting sameness in those of the antient epic
poets. In their descriptions of battles, for in-
stance, the imagery of a lion, a bull, an eagle,
and others of the fiercer animals so commonl
148 COMPARISON'S AND SIMILIES.
occurs, that I am frequently more disposed to
pass over their similies than to stop and admire
them.
The modern writers are possessed of consi-
derable advantages, in this respect, and to these
they have not been inattentive. The more
extensive views which they possess of sciences,
and arts, and of the history of nature in parti-
cular, has opened to them a wider and more
varied field in poetical imagery. They now
decorate our gravest productions, and sur-
prize by their novelty and fanciful application.
A very beautiful comparison presents itself at
this moment to my memory, from the elegant
and lively sermons of Dr. Ogden. In one of
his discourses against slander " Censure," says
the preacher, "is in season so very seldom,
that it may be compared to that bitter plant,
which hardly comes to its maturity in the life
of a man, and is said to flower but once in a
hundred years."
The following is fanciful, yet perhaps the
transitory nature, as well as the splendour of
traditional fame, is well imagined under this
image " Then let us be renowned while we
may, and leave our fame behind us, like the
COMPARISONS AND SIMIL1ES. 149
last beams of the sun, -when he hides his red
head in the west." OSSIAN.
From yhat I have observed, it will follow,
that the author who possesses the greatest scope
of knowledge, if he has an active and lively
fancy, will have the greatest command of ima-
gery, and will produce the boldest and most
varied comparisons. Yet the metaphysical
poets of Charles the Second's reign, as they are
very properly termed by Dr. Johnson, were
guilty of such abuses that they disgust us with
the figurative style. Their imagery was not
select, nor under the regulation of good taste ;
without which even genius itself will be able to
effect but little. Several rules have therefore
been established with respect to the use of com-
parisons, which may serve to restrain the vi-
cious exuberances of youthful genius. i
1st. A comparison taken from a common or
vulgar object, should have something particu-
larly ingenious in it to render it tolerable. I
shall not name the poet from whom the follow-
ing distich is extracted, but you will be surprised
to know that he is of a very high reputation.
" The rage of jealousy then fired his soul,
ft And hi face kindled like a burning coal."
150 COMPARISONS AND SIMILIES.
Such nonsense as the following is scarcely ta
be endured " A good sermon, like a good
peach, is indeed a composition of rich material*..
which the maker has associated to bring it to its
proper flavour, but which the eater may re-
lish, and from which he may derive nourish-
ment without being obliged to learn chemistry,,
or knowing how to decompound, and reduce
the whole to its parts." ROBINSON'S TRANS-
LATION OP CLAUSE'S ESSAY, c. 4. NOTE.
Even Dr. Campbell, who has written so well
on the principles of rhetoric, is scarcely more
fortunate " A paraphrase," he observes, " is
like a torpedo, for it benumbs the sense ; and
the gospel, by this means, becomes like a wine
of a rich flavour, diluted in such a quantity of
water as renders it extremely vapid." The
same simile, by the way, lie has repeated in
another place.
Yon must however be aware that compari-
sons taken from low and mean objects are well
adapted to the burlesque.
2dly. They ought not ta be trite ; such as
comparing a violent passion to a tempest ; vir-
tue to the sun ; one in, distress to a flower droop-
ing its head.
COMPARISONS AND S1MILIES. 151
Sdly. Comparisons or similies ought to be
founded on a likeness neither too obvious nor
too remote : if the likeness is too obvious it dis-
gusts, if too remote it perplexes; in the one
case the reader easily perceives it, and there-
fore conceives the writer to be a person of in-
ferior genius ; in the other ease it savours of af-
fectation ami pedantry. Some of Milton's seem
of too obvious a kind, where he compares Eve
to a Dryad, and the bower of Paradise to the
arbour of Pomona. For there appears no art
or ingenuity in saying one arbour is like ano-
ther, or that a woman resembles a wood nymph.
4thly. They should not be drawn from ob-
jects quite unknown, for these, instead of throw-
ing light upon a subject, can only serve to ren-
der it more obscure.
Sthly. From what I have observed before,
neither this nor any other figure should be bor-
rowed from metaphysical ideas. But for the
incomparable exposure of this fault I refer you
to Dr. Johnson's Life of the poet Cowley*
152 METAPHORS.
LETTER XL
Metaphors,
MY DEAR JOHN,
1 OBSERVED in my last letter tiat a meta-
phor is a comparison, without the words indi-
cating resemblance. When a savage experi-
enced a sensation, for which he had as yet no
name, he applied that of the idea which most
resembled it, in order to explain himself. Thus
the words expressing the faculties of the mind
are taken from sensible images, as fancy from
phantasm : idea in the original language means
an image or picture ; and a way has always
been used to express the mode of attaining our
end or desire.
There is, however, as I have already express-
ed, another reason for the use of metaphorical
language, and which, in an advanced state
of society, is the most common ; that is, when
the mind is agitated, the associations are more
strongly felt, and the connected ideas will more
readily present themselves than at another time.
On this account a man in a passion will fre-
METAPHORS. 153
quently reject the words which simply express
kis thoughts, and for the sake of giving them
more force, will make use of images stronger,
more lively, and more congenial to the tone of
his mind.
The principal advantage which the metaphor
possesses over the simile or comparison, seems
to consist in the former transporting the mind,
and carrying it nearer the reality than the lat-
ter ; as when we say" Achilles rushed like a
lion," we have only the idea of a man going on
furiously to battle ; but when we say instead
of Achilles u The lion rushed on," the image
is more vivid. Thus also when Virgil calls the
Scipios " the thunderbolts of war," the idea is
more animated than if he had compared them
to thunderbolts. There is also more of brevity
in a style that abounds in metaphors, than in a
style which consists more of comparisons, and
therefore it proves a better vehicle for the pas-
sionate or sublime.
The rule which good writers seem to have
adopted respecting the distinct use of similies
or metaphors is this : Where the resemblance is
very strong and obvious, it may be expressed
by a simple metaphor, and it will in general be
H 5
154 METAPHORS.
expressed more forcibly ; but where the re-
semblance is not so obvious, it requires to be
more expanded, and then a comparison or si-
mile will neither appear formal nor pompous.
There is another observation concerning the
use of these figures, which is more common,
though I do not think the reason of it is gene-
rally understood. Comparisons, as I had oc-
casion to observe before, are unnatural in ex-
tremes of passion, though metaphors are not.
The truth is, the mind, when strongly agitated,
readily catches at slight associations, and me-
taphors therefore are instantaneously formed ;
but it is impossible that the imagination in that
state should dwell upon them with the formality
and exactness of a person making a compari-
son.
A metaphor is not always confined to a single
word. It may extend to a whole sentence,
though when much expanded, rhetoricians call
it by another name, an ALLEGORY. It is not
easy to say under which head we should rank
the following bold and animated figure :
" The swarm of monks that arose from the
Nile, overspread and darkened the face of the
Christian world." GIBBON'S HIST. c. 20,
METAPHORS.
Some metaphors, and particularly those
which consist of a single word, have become
so common that they are scarcely to be consi-
dered as figurative. Thus when we speak of
an arm of the sea, or of the /oof of a mountain,
we scarcely seem to speak figurative language ;
though these are in reality what may be called
hard metaphors.
The principal uses of metaphors are,
1st. As was intimated in speaking of the ad-
vantages they possess over comparisons, they
render a style more animated, by introducing a
gew ide% in which for the moment the original
seems to be lost or absorbed. In this way they
serve even to enrich a language, and most lan-
guages without them would be exceedingly li-
mited, at least in the application of words,
which would produce necessarily great stiffness
and formality.
2dly . They greatly vary and diversify a style,
and consequently relieve us from that tedious
uniformity which would be the result of a style
where every word was used in the literal sense.
. Sdly. They serve to enlarge and elevate our
subject ; for we can borrow a metaphor from
something which possesses the quality we mean
156 METAPHORS.
to ascribe to it, in a higher or more extensive
degree. Thus a huge dog, or even a man, de-
scribed under the metaphor of an elephant,
will appear to the imagination of the hearer as
greater perhaps than the object really is. A
" torrent of words" magnifies in imagination
the loudness and rapidity of the speaker : though
this metaphor, like some of those which I have
mentioned, is now so common, that its force as
a figure is greatly weakened. Sometimes even
a metaphor or comparison taken from an infe-
rior subject will have this effect, by impressing
the circumstance more strongly on the mind, by
means of a familiar idea. Thus, when in the
book of Job, leviathan is described as " making
the deep to boil like a pot," our notion of
the magnitude and strength of the animal is
not lessened, since we still carry in our minds
the idea of the ocean, and apply the simile of
the boiling cauldron only to the agitation occa-
sioned by his motions.
4thly. For these reasons they bestow dignity
on composition. How much nobler is it to say,
a the vault of heaven," than to use the com-
mon word, " the sky." So we say, "the
evening of life," for " old age." Thus the
METAPHORS. 157
expression, " Death spares neither the rich nor
the poor," is low, when compared with Ho-
race:
<f Pallida mors aequo pulsat pede pauperum tabernas
" Regumque turres."
" With equal pace impartial fate
" Knocks at the palace, as the cottage gate."
5thly. By metaphors, two objects are pre-
sented at the same time, without any confusion ;
as in the example already mentioned, we can, at
the same time, have a clear and distinct view of
the evening and of old age.
Gthly. They often afford us a more clear and
striking view of things; they place them in a
picturesque manner before our eyes ; so in that
example we easily call to mind, that as noon
succeeds to morning, and evening to noon, so
youth is followed by manhood, and that by old
age. The dark and silent evening too presents
us with a striking picture of the gradual decline
and deprivation of the faculties, both bodily
and mental, " When the grasshopper shall be
a burthen, and desire shall fail," &c.
Though however metaphors thus enliven and
diversify composition, much taste is required
158 METAPHORS,
in the employment of them. Young writers
especially are too apt to be enamoured of them,
and to use them in too great profusion, and
with too little discrimination and selection.
Nearly the same rules will apply to metaphors,
as I have endeavoured to establish with respect
to comparisons. I shall however subjoin a few
further practical instructions.
The first rule then that I would lay down is
not to be too profuse of them. By introducing
too many metaphors into one sentence, we red-
der it obscure, instead of more perspicuous. If
they are too gay also, they probably may not
suit the subject. Young authors are very apt
to fall into this mistake ; they commonly think
that composition the best that is crowded with
shining metaphors ; but, as Dr. Blair justly re-
marks, we should remember that they are only
the dress of the thoughts, and as the dress ought
always to be suited to the station of the person
who wears it, so language should be suited to
the nature of the subject and the sentiment.
We expect different language in argument and
description ; in the first clearness only, in the
other ornament also. When a man wears the
dress of a person above his rank he is always
METAPHORS. 159
accounted a vain coxcomb : so when mean sen-
timents are clothed in a pompous style, they
only serve to make them more ridiculous. We
have an example of Ihis (quoted by the author
to whom I have just referred) in Dr. Sraollet's
history, concerning the passing of a bill for
preventing clandestine marriages. " At length
it floated through both houses, on the tide of a
great majority v and passed safe into the port of
royal approbation."
2dly. They should not be taken from objects
which are mean, disgusting, or vulgar. These
inevitably debase a subject instead of exalting
it. So Cicero blames some orators of his time
for calling his fellow citizens " stercus curiae.""
Tillotson is sometimes guilty of this fault when
he speaks of " thrusting religion," " driving
a strict bargain with God." And, speaking of
the last judgment, he talks of the " heavens
cracking about our ears." See his sermon
preached before Queen Ann, when Princess of
Denmark. So Shakspeare alludes to a dunghill^
in his Henry the Fifth, when describing the
<ieath of those who fell in France, fighting
bravely in defence of their country. A simi-
lar one is introduced into one of the execrable
160 METAPHORS.
versions of the Psalms, which have been u done"
into English verse.
" And Sis'ra which at Endor fell,
" As dung to fat the ground."
Mr. Burke, though a writer of incomparable
fancy, is very faulty in this respect.
Sdly. Metaphors ought not to be " far
fetched," as it is sometimes, though not ele-
gantly, termed ; in other words, they should
be clear, easy, and natural. This circumstance
has not escaped the notice of Cicero, in his
book De Oratore, who says, they ought na-
turally to rise from the subject. In opposition
to this, Cowley is always searching where he
can find the most remote connexion ;* he fre-
quently uses metaphors where the reader cannot
trace the smallest resemblance ; these darken
the subject and bewilder by their perplexity,
instead of throwing light on what was obscure.
Thus when a common reader meets such a pas-
sage as this : " When the radical idea branches
out into parallel ramifications, how can a con-
secutive series be formed of senses in their na-
* See Johnson's Life of Cowley.
METAPHORS. 1 6.1
tuie collateral,'' he knows not what to think ;
he pauses, and is perplexed, but not instructed.
You will, perhaps, think I have selected this
example to show what perplexed figures may
be, or that it is taken from an author remark-
ably dull, neither of which is the case ; you
will find it in Dr. Johnson's preface to his Dic-
tionary of the English Language. There is a
metaphor equally harsh and obscure in Dr.
Armstrong's Poem on Health, where he speaks
of " tenacious paste of solid milk," which no
ordinary reader would be likely to take for a
cheese! Dr. Young is an author, many of
whose metaphors are new, striking, and ad-
mirably conducted, and yet he is very often
faulty in this respect. Mr. Addison, on the
contrary, excels in his metaphors ; they seem
always to arise naturally and unsought, from
the very series of thought ia which the sub-
ject engages him. Thomson is on the whole
a chaste writer, yet the metaphors in his Sea-
sons are often forced, and what some have call-
ed unideal : such as, " Showery radiance,
breezy coolness, moving softness, refreshing
breaths, dewy light, lucid coolness," &c.
4thly . We should never confound the figura*
162 METAPHORS.
tive and literal sense ; as when Penelope, in the
Odyssey, complains that her son had kft he*
without taking leave.
" Now from my fond embrace by tempests torn,
" Our other column of the state is borne:
" Nor took a kind adieu, nor sought consent," &c.
First Telemachus, in these lines, is made a co-
lumn, and that with propriety ; but that co-
lumn is blamed for not bidding farewel and sa-
luting, which changes the column again into a
person.
5thly. Metaphors should not be mixed or
confounded together. Thus Shakspeare speaks
of taking " arms against a sea of troubles,"
and of u war snarling at the very picked bone
of majesty," " charms dissolve apace, &c. Mr.
Addison himself has fallen into this mistake.
Jn his letter from Italy he says,
*' I bridle in my struggling Muse in vain,
" That longs to launch into a bolder strain."
Here the first line is proper enough ; but when
the Muse is changed from a horse to a ship, it
becomes improper. It has, therefore, been
given as a rule to be observed by orators, that
I
METAPHOilS. 163
they ought to figure to themselves the meta-
phors they employ as if painted before theiu^
and observe whether any thing would appear
improper or ridiculous, if the whole was drawn
by the pencil of an artist.
Gthly. They ought not to be crowded or
heaped one upon another. Horace is guilty of
this, in joining three metaphors in a few lines,
lib. ii. ode 1.
" Motum ex Metello consule civicum
" Bellique causas, et vitia et modos,
" Ludumque fortunae, gravesque
" Principum amicitias et arma
'* Nundum expiatis uncta cruoribus :
" Periculosae plenum opus ales
" Tractas: et incedis per ignes
" Suppositos cineri dolose."
" Of warm contentions, wrathful jars,
' * The growing seeds of civil wars ;
w Of double fortune's cruel games,
" The specious means, the private aims,
" And fatal friendships of the guilty great,
" Alas ! how fatal to the Roman state.
" Of mighty legions late subdued,
" And arms with Latian blood embru'd;
" Yet unatgn'd (a labour vast,
*' Doubtful the dice, and dire the cast)
164; METAPHORS.
" You treat adventurous, and incautious tread
" On fires with faithless embers overspread."
FRANCIS.
Under circumstances of great agitation, how-
ever, a flow of metaphors seems allowable, and
even natural. No critic, I believe, ever
found the following fine passage of Shakspeare
too redundant in metaphor :
" Can'st thou not minister to a mind diseased?
" Pluck from the memory a rooted sorrow ?
" Rase out the living tablets of the brain ;
" And, with some sweet oblivious antidote,
" Cleanse the foul bosom of that perilous stuff,
" That weighs upon the heart." MACBETH.
Tthly. They should not be too far pursued.
Cowley is often faulty in this respect Shafts*
bury also frequently pursues his metaphors too
far ; he is so fond of embellishing his style
with them, that when he has once found one to
please him, he can never think of parting with
it. This author, indeed, from his strained me-
taphors, and his inversion of language, is
scarcely better understood than if he had writ-
ten in Greek or Latin,
ALLEGORY. 165
LETTER XII.
Allegory. Allusion. Catachresif. Antithesis.
MY DEAR JOHN,
I HAVE already intimated that an allegory
is a metaphor protracted to some considerable
length. " When several kindred metaphors,"
Cicero observes, " succeed one another, they
alter the form of a composition ; and on that
account a succession of this kind is called by
the Greeks an allegory ; and properly, as far as
relates to the etymology of the word. Aristotle,
however, instead of considering it as a new
species of figure, has more judiciously com-
prised such modes of expression under the ge-
neral appellation of metaphors."
I confess I should myself be disposed to adopt
the sentiment of Aristotle, and to appropriate
the term allegory to another form of composi-
tion, which I shall have presently to mention.
Custom and authority have, however, decreed
'it otherwise, and we must therefore admit of
two kinds of allegory : the one the continued
metaphor ; the other, the continued narration
of a fictitious event, applied in the way of com-
parison to the illustration of the subject. These
latter kind of allegories are called by the Greeks
*nos, or apologues ; by the Latins fabulae, or
fables ; and by the Hebrews parables^ though
the word parable is also applied to a proverbial
speech or a pointed axiom. Such are the
fables of JSsop and Pilpay, the Indian Sage ;
such is the charming parable which I had oc-
casion to mention in my second letter, and the
still more charming narratives of our Saviour,
conveyed under the name of parables. Such,
in later times, is the Fairy Queen of Spenser,
which consists of a series of these allegories ;
and the very popular work among the common
people, " The Pilgrim's Progress*' of Bunyan.
The first of these kinds of allegory differing
only in length from the simple metaphor, there
is but little necessity, after what I have ob-
served on that subject in my last letter, to enter
into the many particulars concerning its use
or introduction. I must remark, however, thai
no figure is more delicate or difficult in the
hands of a young writer. If the great difficulty
ALLEGORY. 167
in the use of a metaphor is to preserve the allu-
sion in all its parts, how much must the diffi-
culty be increased in applying a series of me-
taphors to illustrate the same subject ? In short,
there is scarcely any error so common as this
of forgetting the figurative and resorting to the
literal sense, even in the best writers. In the
following passage of Shakspeare's King John,
the figures are grossly discordant. It relates
to the projected union of the King with Con*
stance
" For by this knot thou shalt so surely tie
" Thy now unsured assurance to the crown,
** That yon green boy shall have no sun to sip
" The bloom that promises a mighty fruit.'*
It is evident that there is no connexion be-
tween the tying of a knot and the sun's ripening
fruit; and to heighten the absurdity, the
" bloom that promises a mighty fruit," is not
on a tree but on a boy. Had the word branch
been used instead of boy> this latter incongruity
might have been avoided.
An allegorical couplet of Blackmore is for
a similar reason well ridiculed by the authors of
the art of scribbling in poetry
168 ALLEGORY.
" A waving sea of heads around them spread,
n And still pert streams the gazing deluge fed. 1 *
A crowd of people is not improperly com*
pared to a deluge, but when eyes are given to
this metaphorical sea, the illusion is destroyed,
and the effect is ridiculous.
The absurdity even of this is however ex*
ceeded by an allegorical sentence contained in
a public instrument at a time when better
writing might have been expected. " We can-
not but acknowledge, to our very great sorrow
and shame, that ourselves, though we hope
through our weakness and frailly, not out of
design, have very much contributed to those
provocations which have caused God to depart
from our Israel. But we see, when God's hour
is come, and the time of his people's deliver-
ance, even the set time at hand, he cometh,
skipping over all the mountains of sins and un-
worthiness that we daily cast in his way/' &c.-~
Monk and the Army's Address on re- assembling
the Long Parliament*
Even the ingenious and generally accurate
Gibbon, is not free from these vices of compo-
sition. In his last vol. p* 640, we read, " that
ALLEGORY. 169
Benedict the Fourteenth consecrated a spot
which persecution and fable had stained with
the blood of so many Christian martyrs." Here
it is evident that the two nouns, one in the
figurative, and the other in the literal sense,
are wholly inconsistent with each other, and
destroy the metaphor or allegory, which ever
it may be called ; though the author probably
meant this mode of expression for a beauty.
After these instances of faulty and imperfect
allegories, it is but right that I should give you
an example of a good one. It is from Prior's
Henry and Emma ; and it comes naturally from
the lips of an enamoured and virtuous female
" Did I but purpose to embark with thee
" On the smooth surface of a summer's sea,
" While gentle zephyrs play with prosperous gales,
" And fortune's favour fills the swelling sails :
" But would forsake the ship, and make the shore,
" When the winds whistle, and the tempests roar?
" No, Henry no ! one sacred oath has tied
'- Our lives, one destiny our fate shall guide,
" Nor wild nor deep our common way divide."
The following from Shakspeare is perhaps
faulty in confounding in some measure the li-
VOL. i. i
170 . ALLEGORY.
teral with the figurative meaning, as in the fifth
line. It is however very beautiful : the third
line is finely descriptive
" This is the state of man : To day he puts forth
" The tender leaves of hope, to-morrow blossoms,
" And bears his blushing honours thick upon him :
" The third day comes a frost, a killing frost ;
" And when he thinks, good easy man, full surely
" His greatness is a ripening nips his rooj,
" And then he falls, &c. HENRY vm.
As I have shewn you also that Mr. Gibbon
could commit an error in the construction of a
figure, it is but fair to shew you also what he
was capable of effecting when on his guard.
The example I quote is from the 21st chap, of
his history, a work to which I must often refer
when I wish to exhibit the force of a fine ima-
gination exerted in producing almost every
beauty of style. The historian, in speaking of
the speculative dissentions which existed in the
Christian church at the period he is describing,
adds, " It will not be expected, it would not
perhaps be endured, that I should swell this
theological digression, by a minute examina-
tion of the eighteen creeds, the authors of which.
ALLEGORY. 171
for the most part, disclaimed the odious name
of their parent Arius. It is amusing enough to
delineate the form, and to trace the vegetation
of a singular plant ; but the tedious detail of
leaves without flowers, and of branches with-
out fruit, would soon exhaust the patience,
and disappoint the curiosity of the laborious
student."
You will easily see that almost all the rules
respecting metaphors are applicable to this kind
of allegory. Dr. Blair, I must add> makes a
very judicious distinction between these alle-
gorical expressions and common metaphors.
Besides the difference in point of length, " a
metaphor," he observes, " always explains itself
by the words that are connected with it, as
when I say Achilles was a lion ; an able minis-
ter is the pillar of the state ; my lion and my
pillar are sufficiently interpreted by the men-
tion of Achilles and the minister, which I join
to them ; but an allegory is, or may be, allowed
to stand more unconnected with the literal mean-
ing, the interpretation not so directly pointed
out, but left to our own reflexion."
Though confounded under the same name,
Hie second species of allegory to which I al-
i V
172 ALLUSION.
luded differs greatly from that of which we have
been treating, that, I mean, which represents a
subject under the colour of a fictitious narra-
tive. The few successful attempts of this kind
extant, sufficiently evince that it is a species of
composition extremely difficult, and indeed it
is only tolerable in the hands of a writer of the
first order. Even Spencer, though abounding
in all the beauties of poetry, is scarcely read,
and never interests; yet I must make an ex-
ception in favour of the charming vision of
Mirza, and some others in the Spectator. I may
also recommend most of those in the Adven-
turer, from the fascinating pen of Dr. Hawks-
worth
You will perhaps think me hypercritical in
making a distinction between the metaphor,
and what I term an allusion. The latter is
however a slight reference to some well-known
fact or matter of history ; and I think can pro-
perly class neither under the head of metaphor
nor allegory. An instance which will at once
explain my meaning, presents itself to my me-
mory from a well-known song of Prior
" Obtain' d the chariot for a day,
; >" And set the world on fire."
CATACHRESIS. 173
A more beautiful instance is furnished by
Mr. Gibbon :
" They (the Jews) cultivated with ardour
the theological system of the Athenian sage.
But their national pride would have been mor-
tified by a fair confession of their former po-
verty, and they boldly marked, as the sacred
inheritance of their ancestors, the gold and
jewels which they had so lately stolen from
their Egyptian masters." GIBBON'S DECLINE
AND FALL, c. 24.
The following will probably be ranked as a
comparison :
"If it be the obscure, the minute, the cere-
monial part of religion for which we are con-
tending, though the triumph be empty, the dis-
pute is dangerous. Like the men of Ai we
pursue perhaps some little party that flies be-
fore us, we are eager that not a straggler may
escape ; but when we look behind, our city is
in flames." DR. OGDEN'S SERMONS.
The figure called catachresis, which I hope
I need not tell you means an abuse of words, is
commonly no more than a violent or over-
strained metaphor, as when -*ve say of a person
174 ANTITHESIS.
for whom we have little respect, " that he in-
flicted an obligation upon us." The vivid ima-
gination of Mr. Burke was very fond of this
figure : thus when he called the hair-brained
revolutionists of France " architecls of ruin,'*
it was certainly a catachresis; but it was a very
fine one.
All these figures you will easily perceive arc
derived from the relation of resemblance ; and
as metaphysicians have connected under one
head the relations of resemblance and contra-
riety, I think I may be allowed to conclude this
letter with the notice of an important figure
derived from this latter quality, I mean the
antithesis.
The antithesis in general, even the serious
kind, may be considered as a species of witti-
cism, and is therefore a much more favourite
figure with the moderns than with the antients.
For however inferior we may be to the classical
writers in other instances, in wit and humour
the moderns undoubtedly excel them. The
only antient writer that I know who is very fond
of the antithesis, is Seneca the rhetorician, in
whose compositions this figure is continually
'ANTITHESIS. 175
and disgustingly introduced. Great as is my
veneration for Dr. Johnson, I cannot help sus-
pecting that he early studied in the school of
Seneca, and that he there imbibed that predi-
lection for the antithesis so conspicuous in his
otherwise incomparable writings.
The French were among the first of the mo-
derns who cultivated the antithesis. The let-
ters of Voiture, which are very studied, and
not a little affected, are full of them. It is,
however, the language of compliment, and
what is called " a well turned compliment," is
often no more than a pointed antithesis. Thus
the writer, whom I just mentioned, tells his
friend Balzac, " that self-knowledge, which
was a cause of humility to other men, must
with him have a quite contrary effect."
Antitheses seern to have been introduced, at
least the abuse of them, into the English lan-
guage in the time of Charles II. With other
species of false wit they pervaded all the elo-
quence of the day. Even the pulpit was not
free from them, and we are often disgusted with
the harsh antithesis of South; take for example
one sentence
" These were notions not descending from
176 ANTITHESIS.
us, but born \vith us ; not our offspring, but
our brethren ; and (as I may so say) such as
were taught without the help of a teacher."
There are hardly any rules to be observed
respecting the introduction and the use of anti-
theses ; your own taste and discretion must be
your only guides. I may however in the first
place remark, that as they always appear the
effect of study, they are never natural in impas-
sioned language. On the stage, therefore, they
are seldom introduced with propriety, as they
are neither the suitable expression of passion,
nor can be supposed to occur naturally in con-
versation. As they do not accord with the pas-
sionate, and are efforts too minute for the su-
blime, it forms an objection against that ini-
mitable poem, the Night Thoughts, that it
abounds too much with this figure. The su-
blimity of the following lines is destroyed by
the epigrammatic turn
" Even silent night proclaims my soul immortal,
" Even silent night proclaims eternal day :
" For human weal Heaven husbands all events,
<f Dull sleep instructs, nor sport vain dreams in vain."
In those compositions, however, where we
expect the sport of fancy, and which may be
ANTITHESIS. 177
supposed to have cost the author some study,
the effect of a spirited antithesis is consider-
able ; and the less studied it appears the better.
The two following (both from the same author)
are natural and easy :
" The use of the dagger is seldom adopted
in public councils, as long as they retain any
confidence in the power of the sword." GIB-
BON'S HISTORY, c. 25.
" In the horrid massacre of Thessalonica, the
cruel Rufinus inflamed the fury without imi-
tating the repentance of Theodosius." IBID.
Writers of genius, it is true, sometimes unite
the pathetic, and even the sublime, with this
figure, as in the following instances from Dr.
Johnson -.
" Wherever the eye is turned it sees much
misery, and there is much which it sees not ;
many complaints are heard, and there are many
pangs without complaint." SERMONS.
In speaking of the pride of talents also
" The time will come, it will come quickly,
when it shall profit us more to have subdued
one proud thought, than to have numbered the
host of heaven." IBID.
We should observe, as a 2d rule, to be-
i5
178 ANTITHESIS.
ware of their too frequent introduction ; for a
reader may tire even of brilliancy. Beautiful
as the compositions of Dr. Johnson are, I have-
sometimes felt a sameness in them ; a number
of sentences ending in the same way, and read-
ing almost like a chapter in the book of Pro-
verbs. Mr. Gibbon is also too fond of anti-
theses ; the figure is indeed better suited to dis-
cussion than to narrative.
3dly. The antithesis should rather be in
things than in words, and should not only have
contrast but ingenuity to recommend it, A
late writer on education puts in opposition
" a. false quantity and a false assertion." This
is too much like a pun.
In few words the antithesis, like every figure,,
receives animation and elegance from the hand
of genius ; but nolhing can be more frigid than
a string of trite antitheses from a dull writer.
I would much rather have plain fact, and plain
truth, from such authors, than the affectation
of wit and elegance. The imitators of Dr.
Johnson have miserably failed, not because
they were unable to ape his manner, but be-
cause they wanted the solidity of his observa-
tion, and the brilliancy pf his fancy.
METONYMY. 179
LETTER XIII.
Metonymy. Synecdoche Periphrasis Per-
sonification. Apostrophe. Hyperbole.
Irony,
MY DEAR JOHN,
NOT to detain you much longer in the rudi-
ments of rhetoric,'! shall proceed without pre-
face to those figures, which are derived from
the other relations of cause and effect, and con-
tiguity.
You need not be informed that the word me-
tonymy implies a change of name, or, in other
Mords, the substitution of some characteristic
circumstance or quality for the name or word
by which a thing is usually known.
It is chiefly, I might almost say entirely,
from the relation of cause and effect that this
figure is derived. Thus the cause is put for the
effect, when the inventor's name is used for the
thing invented. Instead of a serious example,
take one that will amuse you better, from the
treatise on the Bathos
180 METONYMY.
" Lac'd in her Cosins* new appear'd the bride, \
" A bubble-boy f and Tompion% at her side, >
" And with an air divine her Colmar|j ply'd: j
" Then oh ! she cries, what slaves I round me see ;
" Here a bright red-coat, there a smart toupee."
Agreeably to this figure, the author's name
is employed to designate his works ; as when I
say " I have read Homer, Virgil, or Milton,"
for the works of Homer, &c. ; and this is so
common, that it is no harsh expression to say
J{ 1 have read such a writer."
" Trojani belli scriptorem, maxime Lolli,
*' Dum tu declamas Romae, Praenesle relegi."
HOR..EP. 2,
" While you my Lollius on some chosen theme,
" With youthful eloquence at Home declaim,
"I read the Grecian poet o'er again."
FRANCIS.
Again the effect or instrument is employed
for the cause as " the tongue (that is the elo-
queiwe of Cicero) defended the cause of virtue
and the republic;" " Pallida mors" (in Ho-
* Stays. f Tweezer case. + Watch. || Fan.
A head-dress. All names taken, I believe, from emi-
nent workmen or dealers in those articles.
SYNECDOCHE. 181
race) for death that makes pale. The adjunct
is used for the substantive, as when we speak
of the fasces for the magistrate ; and Virgil
says, " bibit Germania Tigrim," mentioning
the country for the inhabitants. In short, it
is unnecessary to multiply instances, as metony-
mies occur in every page of every book, and
in almost every sentence of conversation.
I need not remind you that the synecdoche
(orjigure of comprehension,) according to old
Farnaby, " takes the whole for the part, or the
part for the whole," as the genus for the species,
or the species for the genus ; and is of conse-
quence, evidently dependant on the same rela-
tion : thus a man is said to get his bread by
his labour, when bread is taken to signify the
whole of subsistence.
The circumstance which forms the principal
difficulty of translation is, that metaphors, me-
tonymies, and synecdoches, are often intrans-
iatable ; and the corresponding words are, in
the new language, often trite or obscure.
The periphrasis is a metonymy in which
more words than usual are employed, as when
we speak of " the Lover of Daphne," to de-
signate Apollo. Mr. Gibbon raises his style
\
182 PERIPHRASIS.
very beautifully by the use of this figure. It
is also common with the Orientals, as " the
son of Nouraddin," instead of the proper name
of the person.
One of the most animated figures, \\hen pro-
perly introduced, and managed with delicacy
and judgment, is the prosopopoeia or personifi-
cation. It has some alliance with the meta-
phor, but still more with the metonymy ; and
indeed seems in most cases to the latter what
the allegory is to the metaphor. Thus, when
we say " Youth and beauty are laid in the
dust," it is not easy/ to determine whether it is
a metonymy or a prosopopoeia. This figure is
the soul of poetry, and of lyric poetry in par-
ticular. It
" Gives to airy nothing
" A local habitation and a name."
In a production of an excellent poetess of
our own times, there is a very fine specimen of
this figure , as well as of most of the beauties of
poetry
" Loud howls the storm, the vex'd Atlantic roars,
" Thy genius, Britain, wanders on its shores !
" Hears cries of horror wafted from afar,
" The groans of anguish 'mid the shrieks of war!
PERSONIFICATION. 183
" Hears the deep curses of the great and brave,
" Sigh in the wind, and murmur in the wave !
" O'er his damp brow the sable crape he binds,
" And throws his victor garland to the winds."
Miss SEWARD'S MONODY ON MAJ. ANDRE.
In all the lyric poems of Collins, you will
find very fine examples of the prosopopoeia.
None perhaps more pleasing than the opening
of his Ode to Mercy
" O thou, who sifst a smiling bride
" By valour's arm'd and awful side,
" Gentlest of sky-born forms, and best adored
" Who oft with songs, divine to hear,
' Win'st from his fatal grasp the spear,
" And hid'st in wreaths of flow'rs his bloodless sword."
*' Thou, who, amidst the deathful field,
" By godlike chiefs alone beheld,
" Oft with thy bosom bare art found,
" Pleading for him, the youth who sinks to ground."
Here are two very fine pictures, the embodied
quality or character in two most interesting si-
tuations.
There is another striking instance in a con-
temporary poet, which is also accompanied
with a fine allusion. You will recollect the
lines are addressed to Mr. Gibbon
184 PERSONIFICATION.
" Humility herself, divinely mild,
*' Sublime religion's meek and modest child,
" Like the dumb son of Croesus, in the strife, -
" When force assail'd his father's sacred life,
*' Breaks silence, and with filial duty warm,
" Bids thee revere her parent's hallowed form !"
HAYLEY'S ESSAY ON HISTORY.
But though personification is particularly
adapted to poetry, yet this figure serves fre-
quently to adorn the works of the best prose
writers. I have seldom found a bolder instance
than one in Tacitus, An. 16. 21
" Trucidatis tot insignibus viris, ad postre-
mura Nero virtutem ipsam exscindere concupi-
vit, interfecto Thrasea," &c.
" After the slaughter of so many distin-
guished men, Nero meditated at length the
extirpation of virtue herself, by the murder of
Thrasea."
Dr. Ogden, who is so fertile in beauties that
lam obliged to have continual recourse to him,
will also furnish us with another example
" Truth (says he) is indeed of an awful pre-
sence, and must never be affronted with the
rudeness of direct opposition ; yet will she
consent for a moment to pass unregarded, while
PERSONIFICATION. 185
your respects are offered to her sister cha-
rity."
The use of the abstract for the concrete, as
treachery, for treacherous men ; modesty, for
modest men, &c. is a kind of personification,
and adds greatly to the animation of a dis-
course, as in this instance from Junius's Letters
" As for Mr. W n, there is something in
him which even treachery cannot trust."
Much of the spirit of Dr. Johnson's compo-
sitions depends upon this artful use of lan-
guage; and he is, I think, improperly ceil*
sured for it, by a gentleman, whose lively
talents and genuine humour have often en-
gaged and interested the first assembly in this
kingdom, and who favoured the public with
an excellent criticism in verse on that great
man's character and writings.
The 1st rule to be observed with respect to
the prosopopoeia is, that whenever it is intro-
duced,-^ the picture it presents should be com-
plete. For this reason the following example
is perfectly ridiculous
" Invidious grave, how dost thou rend in sunder
tl Whom love has knit, and sympathy made one."
BLAIR'S GRAVE.
186' PERSONIFICATION.
The idea of a grave rending in sunder, yon
see makes a very indifferent picture. I should
not however have quoted this poem, had it not
been made a subject of panegyric by a modem
critic, whose genius is at least equal to his ec-
centricity.
2dly. Mean and vulgar objects should never
be personified : for as the prosopopreia is a bold
figure, it should only be introduced to confer
dignity on a subject. It follows of course that
nothing vulgar or contemptible should be al-
lowed to disgrace the figure. For this reason
the following image from the poem I have just
quoted, is not only unpoetical, but disgust-
ing
. " O great man-eater f
" Whose every day is carnival, not sated yet !
" Like one whole days defrauded of his meals,
" On whom lank hunger lays his skinny hand."
Here are two personifications, and 'he ima-
gery, as well as the language in both, is"a&
mean and colloquial as possible. The same
want of dignity, and the same impropriety,
pervade all the imagery of this writer. For in-
stance
PERSONIFICATION. 187
" Now tame and humble, like a child that's whipt,
" S/mke hands with dust."
Here is another most extraordinary picture,
t( a man skaking hands with dust." Such
writers are of use, because they teach us bette
than any precept can, what to avoid.
Sdly. I do not subscribe to Dr. Blair's rule,
u that this figure should never be attempted
but when prompted by strong passion ;" for in
the happiest instances I have already -given,
there is no passion at all. Indeed it seems to me
more a figure of fancy than of passion, and it
is most happily introduced in those composi-
tions where the fancy sports most uncontrouied >
as in lyric productions. In very serious com-
positions, however, it is sometimes well in-*
troduced accompanied with passion ; but then
the effect will be destroyed if it appears arti-
ficial ; for all art is inconsistent with strong
emotion.
The apostrophe is a more animated prosopo*
pceia, where the object personified is addressed
in the second person. A real personage, how-
ever, may be addressed in an apostrophe, but
he must be supposed either dead or' absent;
which almost reduces it to a mere personifica-
188 APOSTROPHE.
tion. It is a figure more fit for poetry than
prose; and nothing can excuse it in the latter
but the very effervescence of passion. On this
account, though it may be tolerated in oratory,
it cannot be admitted in narrative or didactic
compositions. In truth, the French preachers,
who are very partial to this figure, render their
discourses sometimes exceedingly frigid, by its
too frequent and artificial introduction.
The apostrophe never was more properly and
naturally introduced than in Lear's address to
the elements, when discarded and turned out by
Regan. There is a peculiar beauty in this
part
" Spit fife, spout rain !
" Nor rain, wind, thunder, fire, are my daughters.
" I tax not you, ye elements, with unkindness, .
" I never gave you kingdom, called you children,
. " YOH owe me no subscription," &c.
That of Eve in the llth book of Paradise
Lost, v- 269, is also beautiful and proper
" O unexpected stroke, worse than of death !
" Must I thus leave thee, Paradise, thus leave
" Thee, native soil, these happy walks and shades,
" Fit haunt of Gods ? Where I had hope to spend,
HYPERBOLE. 189
" Quiet, though sad, the respite of that day
" That must be mortal to us both. O flowers
" That never will in other climate grow,
" My early visitation and my last
" At even, which I bred up with tender hand,
" From the first opening bud, and gave you names ; "
" Who now skall rear ye to the sun, or rank
" Your tribes, and water from th' ambrosial fount ?" &c.
I have already laid down one rule concern-
ing the use of this figure, which is, that it is
only adapted to impassioned expression, other-
wise its introduction is frigid, if not ridiculous.
I may add, as a second rule, that it should al-
ways be made with gravity and dignity. The
following instance is a breach of both these
rules
'" But tell us, why this waste,
" Why this ado in earthing up a carcase
" That's fall'n into disgrace, and to the sense
" Smells horrible? Ye Undertakers! tell us."
BLAIR'S GRAVE.
The hyperbole is nothing more than an excess
of figurative language ; the effect, when it is
natural, of passion. All the passions are inclined
to magnify their objects. Injuries seem greater
than they really are to those who have received
190 HYPERBOLE*
them ; and dangers, to those who are in fear.
The lover naturally makes a divinity of his mis-
tress ; valour and contempt are equally inclined
to degrade and diminish. This figure, there-
fore, in particular, requires passion to give it
force or propriety ; and if this is not the case,
it renders a style very bombastic and frigid.
Lucan is too fond of this figure. See the first
six lines of Howe's Lucan, where
" The sun -
" sicken'd to behold Emathia's plain,
" And would have sought the backward east again.'*
And in book vi. v. 329 :
" The missive arms fix'd all around he wears>
" And even his safety in his wounds he bears,
" Fenc'd with a fatal wood, a deadly grove of spears."
Nothing indeed can be more bombastic than
the whole description of this warrior's death.
The poet calls upon the Pompeians to lay siege
to him as they would to a town ; to bring bat-
tering engines, flames, racks, &c. to subdue
him. He is first compared to an elephant^
and again to a hunted boar ; at length-
" When none were left him to repel,
" Fainting for want of foes the victor fell.'*
HVPERBOLE. 191
above instances may serve to shew how
easily the hyperbolical style may slide into the
ridiculous. The last of them is only surpassed
by one which is quoted by the authors of the
Bathos
" He roar'd so loud, and look'd so wondrous grim,
*' His very shadow durst not follow him."
Or another from the same assemblage of hu*
mour. The poet is speaking of a frighted stag,
who
" Hears his own feet, and thinks they sound like more,
" And fears the hind feet will o'ertake the fore."
One more I cannot help transcribing. It is
the description of that elegant entertainment a,
bull-baiting, by Sir Richard Blackmore
" Up to the stars the sprawling mastiffs fly,
" And add new monsters to the frighted sky."
Nothing in short can be more fertile in the
ridiculous than the awkward attempts of bad
writers at the hyperbole. On this account, I
can give you no better rule with respect to the
use of it, than to employ it as little as possible.
Irony has been classed as a figure of rhetoric
by Farnaby, and Other writers of equal taste
192 IRONY.
and brilliancy ; but with deference to
high authorities, I would rather consider it as a
style of writing than as a figure of speech. Dr.
Priestley observes, that " all irony is humour,
but all humour is not irony." In other words,
irony is a species of humour, and if you will
attend to the definition of humour, which I at-
tempted in Letter VI. viz. that it depends upon
the same principle of contrast as wit ; but that
in humour, the mind of the reader or auditor is
left to make the comparison for itself, and form
the contrast ; you will find that it strictly ap-
plies to irony. This figure (if a figure we must
call it) generally consists in giving undeserved
praise, implying censure on the object ; or con-
veying censure under the appearance of praise;
but the former is the most common. I remem-
ber however a very pretty stroke of irony of
the latter kind. When the King of Prussia,
Frederic II. published his poem on the art of
war, he took no notice of Marlborough. On
this circumstance, the Monthly Reviewers re-
marked, " that they presumed his Majesty had
omitted the name of Marlborough, in the cata-
logue of distinguised commanders, because he
might deem him deficient in one branch of his
IRONY. 19S
profession, having never on any occasion evin-
ced his skill in conducting a retreat.*
The greatest master in irony is Swift ; and
his " Tale of a Tub" is the most complete spe-
cimen extant of ironical composition. To se-
lect examples would be to transcribe almost
half the book. Take therefore the first that oc-
curs in the " Dedication to Prince Posterity."
" To affirm that our age is altogether un-
learned, and devoid of writers of any kind,
seems to be an assertion so bold and false, that
I have been sometime thinking, the contrary
may almost be proved by uncontroulable de-
monstration. It is true indeed, that although
their numbers be vast, and their productions
numerous in proportion, yet are they hurried
so hastily off the scene, that they escape our
memory, and elude our sight."
" What is then become of those immense
bales of paper, which must needs have been
employed in such numbers of books ; can these
also be wholly annihilated, and so of a sudden
as I pretend ? What shall I say in return to so
invidious an objection ; it ill befits the distance
between your highness and me, to send you for
ocular demonstration to a jakes or am oven ;
VOL. I. K
194 IRONY.
to the windows of a bawdy-house, or to a sor-
did lanthern. Books, like men their authors,
have no more than one way of coming into the
world, but there are ten thousand to go out of
it, and return no more."
The force and delicacy of this irony may be
easily understood without a comment. The
sarcastic author, passes a most severe cen-
sure on his contemporaries, under the colour
of a very moderate and well-conducted de-
fence.
Let it be observed that more exaggerated
praise, even though it evidently appears extra-
vagant, and meant for ridicule, is not irony.
To constitute that, there must be a sarcastic
archness, which, if not actual wit, must very
nearly approach it, and must at least be hu-
mour. I shall conclude with the finest speci-
men of this figure extant in any language
" HERE continueth to rot
The Body of
FRANCIS CHARTRES,
Who with an INFLEXIBLE CONSTANCY,
And INIMITABLE UNIFORMITY of Life,
PERSISTED,
In spite of AGE and INFIRMITIES,
PARALEIPSIS. 195
In the Practice of EVERY HUMAN VICE,
Excepting PRODIGALITY and HYPOCRISY:
His insatiable AVARICE exempted him from the first,
His matchless IMPUDENCE from the second.
Nor was he more singular
In the undeviating Pravity of his Manners,
Than successful
In Accumulating WEALTH :
For, without TRADE or PROFESSION,
Without TRUST of PUBLIC MONEY,
And without BRIBE-WORTHY Service,
He acquired, or more properly created,
A MINISTERIAL ESTATE.
He was the only Person of his Time
Who could CHEAT without the Mask of HONESTY,
Retain his Primaeval MEANNESS
When possess'd of TEN THOUSAND a year ;
And having daily deserved the GIBBET for what he did,
Was at last condemn'd to it for what he could not do.
Oh Indignant Reader !
Think not his Life useless to Mankind ;
PROVIDENCE conniv'd at his execrable Designs,
To give to After-ages
A conspicuous PROOF and EXAMPLE,
Of how small Estimation is EXORBITANT WEALTH
In the Sight of GOD,
By his bestowing it on the most UNWORTHY of ALL
MORTALS.''
A figure which the Greeks call paraleipsis.
196 INTERROGATION,
borders upon irony, and is sometimes united
with it. From the name you will perceive that
it implies an affectation of omission, as when
an orator exclaims, u I refrain from touching
on the rapacity, the venality, the exceeding cor-
ruption of the person I accuse ; I confine my-
self to the point," &c. Cicero makes a very
free use of this figure ; and the late Mr. Burke,
who made that great master his model, was
particularly fond of it.
Dr. Blair has enumerated two or three other
forms of expression as figures of rhetoric ; and
that I may not leave this sketch imperfect, I
shall conclude this letter with a short notice of
them. The first of these is interrogation, of
which (he observes) we have many fine instances
in the poetical and prophetical parts of Scrip-
ture" God is not a man that he should lie,
nor the son of man that he should repent.
Hath he said, and shall he not do it ?" The
effect of this mode of expression will be very
evident, if the sense is preserved, and the words
thrown out of this interrogative form. u What
he hath said he will do, and what he hath
spoken he will make good." Also in St. Mat-
thew, ch. xi. v. 7 and 9. " And as they de-
EXCLAMATION. 197
parted, he began to say unto the multitude
concerning John. What went ye out into the
wilderness to see ? A reed shaken with the wind ?
but what went ye out for to see ; a man clothed
in soft raiment ? Behold they that wear soft
raiment are in kings' houses : but what went ye
out for to see ? A prophet, yea, I say unto you,
and more than a prophet."
Exclamation is a stronger figure than the
former. The best rule that can be given with
regard to it, is, that you should attend to the
manner in which the passion you describe
would naturally vent itself. The figure must
be seldom used, as it will appear very ridicu-
lous, unless where the passions of the hearers
are much inflamed.
The same author observes, that some writers
fill their books with points of admiration ! as '
if the points were sufficient to produce that
passion by a magical power, when their senti-
ments are perfectly frigid. Nearly allied to
this is another trick, which has been much em-
ployed by modern authors, i. e. filling their
writings with black lines, as if every sentence
was so important as to deserve applause. Dr.
Blair calk this a typographical figure, and it
198 VISION.
is well adapted to some contemptible writers,
and that herd of novelists, who have nothing
either in their matter or style to attract at-
tention. There was another custom used not
long ago, which modern writers have justly
laid aside ; they wrote every word which they
thought emphatic in Italic characters. Though
this may be very proper with respect to some
very energetic words, yet the too frequent use
of them only dazzles the sight, without inform-
ing the understanding.
Dr. Blair remarks also another figure, which
he calls vision, by which we describe a thing
that is past or absent as if passing immediately
before our eyes : by it we place things in a very
lively manner before our readers, an example
of which may be found in Cicero's fourth ora-
tion against Catiline. " Cum vero mihi pro-
posui regnantem Lentulum," &c. It is not
easy to give any rules concerning the manage-
ment of this figure ; it requires, indeed, great
caution, and its use ought to be almost exclu-
sively restricted to very passionate orations.
Repetition is another animated figure remark-
ed by the same writer ; by this we repeat the
most material words of a sentence, in order to
REPETITION. 199
fljake the impression the stronger. There is an
example of this in Virgil, when Orpheus la-
ments his lost wife Eurydice
" Te, dulcis conjux te, eolo in littore secunv
" Te, veniente die, te decedente canebat."
To the same purpose Mr Pope
" By foreign hands thy dying eyes were clos'd,
" By foreign hands thy decent limbs compos'd,
" By foreign hands thy humble grave adorn'd,
" By strangers honour'd and by strangers mourn'd."
The finest instance of this is, however, in St.
Paul's 2d Epistle to the Corinthians, ch. xi.
v. 22. " Are they Hebrews? So am I. Are
they Israelites ? So am I. Are they the seed
of Abraham ? So am I. Are they the ministers
of Christ ? (I speak as a fool) I am more ; in
labours more abundant, in stripes above mea-
sure, in prisons more frequent, in deaths oft."
I have already treated of the climax in a for-
mer letter ; all that is necessary to remark here
is, that it is commonly classed as a figure of
rhetoric.
200 GENERAL OBSERVATIONS
\
i
LETTER XIV.
'General observations on Composition.
MY DEAR JOHN,
I HAVE endeavoured to give you as correct
a notion as I can of all the figures of rhetoric
which deserve the name. To enter into the
minuteness of Farnaby would be trifling, and
only perplex. There was scarcely a form or
idiom of language for which the Greeks did
not invent a name ; and it is to be lamented
that much of their science consisted only in
giving names.
Even in what I have done, I fear you will
apply to me the remark of Butler, formerly
quoted. Yet let it be remembered, that it is
at least an accomplishment to know how literary
men, both ancient and modern, have specified
and defined the various modes of expression.
I shall have frequently to call your attention
to something of more importance than style, the
matter and form of the different species of com-
ON COMPOSITION. 201
position. Yet even here what has been ad-
vanced on the subject of style will not be found
useless. Independent of those qualities which
every good style ought to possess perspicuity,
purity, and harmony you will have to apply
much of what I have advanced to the different
kinds of composition of which we are now to
treat. It is evident that some will be improved
by an ornamental or florid style ; that in others,
figurative language must be sparingly employ-
ed, while on some subjects it would be an ab-
solute vice.
All kinds of composition may be classed un-
der two general divisions : prose, and poetry;
and it will be most natural and easy to treat in
the first instance of the former.
Prose compositions may again be arranged in
the following classes : 1st. Didactic and argu-
mentative; 2d. Oratorical; 3d. Narrative and
descriptive. The first will comprehend every
thing relating to moral, political, or natural
philosophy ; all treatises on the arts or sciences ;
all discussions or controversies, which do not
come under the second division of the oratorical
or declamatory. The second division will in-
202 GENERAL OBSERVATIONS
elude not only the three great branches of ora-
tory the senate, the bar, and the pulpit ; but
also much of controversy, political pamphlets,
and every thing that assumes a declamatory
form. The letters of Jimius, though under the
epistolary title, may be classed as political de-
clamations.
The last division will extend not only to
real but fictitious history, memoirs, books of
travels, and even many compositions which
rank as essays, but which are in reality either
narratives or descriptions. The three kinds
will be found sometimes blended in one pro-
duction, as in Thucydides and Livy will be
found almost as much of oratory as of mere
narrative ; though this is a style of composi-
tion which I would not recommend.
It is obvious, that in didactic or argumenta-
tive compositions, works of reasoning; a florid
or figurative style is very improperly intro-
duced : yet in what are called moral essays,
such as the Spectators, Ramblers, and Adven-
turers, a style moderately florid is far from mis-
placed . The truth is, these productions partake
more or less of the nature either of poetry or
ON COMPOSITION.
oratory. They are in a great measure works
of imagination, and therefore the ornaments of
fancy are not improperly bestowed upon them.
There are few productions of the narrative
kind which will not admit of ornament. The
antient historians are, however, rather more
chaste in this respect, except where they pro-
fessedly introduce an oration. Books of tra-
vels are mostly descriptive ; and description
admits of even more ornament than narrative.
It indeed approaches to poetry, and almost ad-
mits of equal licence.
But of all the different kinds of prose com-
position, oratory admits of the greatest variety
of ornament. It allows occasionally of almost
all the figures which are appropriated to poetry^
and of some almost peculiar to itself. It is,
therefore, to this branch of composition that the
art of rhetoric particularly applies ; and the
antient rhetoricians were mere teachers of ora-
tory.
In treating critically of the'difterent kinds of
composition, both prose and verse, I shall have
to enforce more particularly these observations.
In the mean time, as this letter is of a miscel-
laneous character, I shall conclude it ^ith a
204 GENERAL OBSERVATIONS
few practical rules, which you will find useful
in the acquisition of a good style ; some from
my own practice and observation, and some
from other authors.
1st. As we have been treating so* lately of
figurative language, ray first observation will
apply to it. Never be anxious to embellish
your compositions in this way. Never study
to find out comparisons or metaphors to adorn
your discourse. Figurative language, when it
is good, comes spontaneously from a lively
imagination, or from a mind richly stored by
the perusal of the best authors.
2d. Avoid common-place metaphors. No-
thing can be more disgusting than an accumu-
lation of trite and common allusions. The
plainest style is preferable ; and figures to be
pleasing should always have something inge-
nious and uncommon to recommend them.
Such a style as I have now been deprecating,
is always frigid, and commonly characterized
as fustian or bombast.
3d . To write well you should study to ac-
quire a clear idea of the subject. Some may
suppose that this has no connection with style ;
but the case is otherwise, for unless you under-
ON COMPOSITION. 205
stand what you write upon, you can never
make others understand you. When you are
to write, you are to reflect upon all the parts
of the subject ; and when you have acquired
a clear view of it, the words will come of
course, though probably they will admit of
much amendment. Do not however stop the
ardour of composition for the sake of a single
word or phrase, but leave it a blank when a
proper one does not occur, or rather take the
word that presents itself, and mark it to be af-
terwards corrected.
4th. You should often compose. No rules
are sufficient to form a complete and correct
writer without exercise and habit. I do not
mean that you should compose much ; on the
contrary, by writing too fast at first you may
contract bad habits, which will require much
trouble before they can be removed. Endea-
vour therefore to write well, rather than fast.
When you have done, lay by the composition
till you have forgotten your attachment to any
particular phrase in it, and afterwards survey
it with a critical eye ; you will then be more
able to prune redundances, and to smooth the
periods.
206 GENERAL OBSERVATIONS
5th. I again repeat, peruse the best authors
with a particular attention to their style. By
this means you will lay in a store of words,
and insensibly adopt their modes of expression.
Take care to mark every thing peculiar in their
manner, so that you may know how afterwards
either to adopt or to avoid it.
6th. There is no practice better than to
translate passages from good classical authors,
or to give the thoughts of a good writer in your
own language, and compare it afterwards care-
fully with the original. Take, for instance, a
passage from Addison or Blair ; read it three or
four times, and when you have made yourself
master of all the sentiments, lay aside the
book, and clothe them in your own language ;
then compare your own performance, after you
have rendered it as correct as possible, with the
original : by this means you will be able to dis-
cover your own faults.
7th. Avoid all servile imitation of others;
for by imitation you will be prevented from at-
tempting anything of your own, and your bar-
renness will at length be discovered. Never
transcribe passages from other writers as your
own : this effectually bars all efforts of genius,
ON COMPOSITION. 207
and exposes you to the ridicule of men of
learning.
8th. Always endeavour to adapt the style to
the subject; for nothing can be more ridicu-
lous than to clothe grave subjects in a vain and
gaudy dress ; or embellish dry reasoning, which
must convince only by strength of argument.
In oratorical compositions you must also adapt
your discourse to the generality of your au-
dience : nothing can be more absurd than to
use extravagant phrases, or unknown words,
before an unlearned multitude ; the ignorant
may admire, but the learned will smile.
9th . Give at all times more attention to your
thoughts than to your words. We may learn
almost mechanically a few fine phrases ; but in
a man of true genius alone the sentiments are
grand and noble.
I do not mean, however, to discourage you
from the cultivation of a good style. The re-
mark of Quinctilian, " that a clear conception
will generally be attended with correct expres-
sion" is so far true, that we know the knowledge
of words ahvays accompanies the knowledge
of things ; and as almost all our knowledge is
acquired by means of words, we cannot have
GENERAL OBSERVATIONS, &C.
the one without the other. Otherwise the at-
tainment of arts and sciences appears to me a
perfectly distinct branch of study, and I can
conceive a man master of even a practical
art, such as chemistry or mechanics, and to
want names for his ideas. However, thus far
is certain, that the elegant part of speaking or
writing is at least a distinct study, and there-
fore not tc be neglected ; though it will be
found of little value without a sound know-
ledge of things.
DIDACTIC COMPOSITION 209
LETTER XV.
Didactic Composition Analysis and Synthesis.
^
MY DEAR JOHN,
IN my last letter I promised to conduct you
from words to things ; from style to the matter
and arrangement of composition. In pursuing
the order also which I before pointed out, we
are to consider didactic composition.
I do not know a greater difficulty than that
which presents itself to a young writer with re-
spect to the method or arrangement which he
is to pursue in an essay or discourse on any gi-
ven subject. Ideas crowd upon his mind; he
sees the subject in various points of view ; but
he is uncertain what observation ought first to
be introduced to the notice of his reader, or in
what light his subject will appear the clearest,
and to the most advantage. Here the rules of
art may occasionally deliver him from some
embarrassment ; and at least a general process
210 ANALYSIS.
may be laid down as the means of investigating
truth, or communicating knowledge.
Logicians have established, and I think not
improperly, two methods in which didactic or
argumentative disquisitions are to be conduct-
ed. These methods are analysis and synthesis.
The analytical method is when we proceed
from particulars to the establishment of some
general truth. Thus Derham, in his physico
theology, ascends from the investigation of the
several parts of nature, to the proof that they
must be the work of an all powerful and intel-
ligent being. Dr. Clarke, on the contrary, in
his admirable w r ork on the being and attributes
of God, commences with a simple proposition,
that " something must have existed from eter-
nity ; he proceeds to shew what must have
been the nature and attributes of such a being,
and by the force of this one fundamental axiom,
establishes all the principles which are the basis
of natural, I might add of revealed religion.
A similar method is adopted in Warburton's
Divine Legation, a work however which I never
admired. The foundation of this work is laid in
a kind of syllogism, though I confess I cannot
see that the consequence flow.s naturally from
ANALYSIS.
the major and the minor. It is, 1st. That the
doctrine of a future state is necessary to the
well-being of civil society, and therefore was
taught by the wisest legislators of antiquity.
2d. That this doctrine makes no part of the
Mosaic dispensation. 3dly. That therefore the
law of Moses is of divine original.
The learned author has, in my opinion, failed
in the proof of all his propositions ; but it is
enough to remark at present, that he branches
this syllogism out into five volumes, adducing
an infinite number of authorities and facts un-
der each of the separate heads.
The analytical method is the only mode in
which truth is to be investigated ; for this rea-
son it is the method adopted in algebraic in-
vestigations, and in those of experimental phi-
losophy, where the author, from comparing the
number of particular observations, and tracing
the analogy between them, arrives at a general
conclusion.*
* In this manner truths of the greatest importance are
gradually laid open to persons whose curiosity is deeply
interested in the process. Nor is the full design of the
philosopher perceived by his antagonist, until the conclu-
sion, which he aims to establish, strikes at last with irre-
212 SYNTHESIS.
Where a science is to be taught, on the con-
trary, the synthetic seems the most commodious
method, and it is therefore that which is adopt-
ed by geometricians. With these, therefore, a
theorem or proposition is laid down, and is then
proved or demonstrated. Sermons, except
those which follow the order of the text, and
a majority of what are called moral essays, are
in the synthetical form ; though it is not often
that we find either 6f these modes separately
pursued.
In works where it is the object of the writers
to take their readers by surprise, and to estab-
lish a false conclusion, they find the analytical
method to answer their purpose the best ; for
the chain of reasoning ascending from particu-
lars to generals is often complicated, and the
connexion of it with the conclusion is not easily
discovered. Dr. Priestley observes, that the
most valuable part of Mr. Hume's " Inquiry
concerning the Principles of Morals," is nearly
the same as that part of Mr. Hutchinson's mo-
ral philosophy, which corresponds to it, and
sistible evidence upon the mind. OGILVIE ON COMPO-
SITION.
SYNTHESIS. 213
may most properly be termed analytical. In
order to determine the foundation of virtue, he
considers particularly every thiiig that is ac-
knowledged to gain the esteem of mankind,
examining upon what common property their
encomiums turn, and in what manner their ap-
probation is bestowed ; and having found that
nothing is the object of esteem but what is use-
ful to society, and that the several virtues are
classed in the first and second rank of import-
ance, according as they are more or less essen-
tial to the well-being of society, he concludes
that public utility is the foundation of all moral
virtue.
In Dr. Hartley's observations on man, on the
contrary, the argument is strictly synthetical,
and even geometrical. The author begins with
definitions and axioms, such as are employed
by geometricians ; he lays down formal pro-
positions, and advances such proof as the na-
ture of the cas>e will admit. He deduces formal
corollaries from almost every proposition ; in
the scholia he explains the nature of his proofs,
and shews in what manner evidence is reflected
from one part to another.
I do not know any study more improving to
2J4 DIDACTIC COMPOSITION.
young persons than to mark and consider the
manner in which a great author conducts a dis-
quisition ; for there is frequently not less force
and power in the arrangement than in the mat-
ter and arguments themselves.
The Republic of Plato is a very celebrated
work ; and a short abstract, or rather outline, of
it, may possibly entertain you. The work is
in dialogue ; but as there is only one principal
speaker, Socrates, it may be regarded as a dis-
quisition. The professed intention of the au-
thor is to describe and define the nature of jus-
tice ; this he does by a fanciful analogy, in the
tracing of which he pursues the analytical me-
thod. He founds an imaginary city, and shews
the advantage of each person practising some
art which may be useful to the community,
and practising that alone. He then divides his
city into three classes : 1st. Those Mho pursue
the arts of husbandry, mechanics, &c. 2d.
The military, or a few chosen for the defence
of the rest. 3d. The magistrates and counsel-
lors, who are to administer the laws and regu-
late the police. This therefore is the order of
the city ; but if one class (says he) should in-
fringe on the proper business of the other, if
DIDACTIC COMPOSITION. 215
the artizans or soldiers, being unskilled in the
arts of governing, should pretend to rule, con-
fusion and the dissolution of the state is the ne-
cessary consequence ; and this constitutes the
political nature of injustice.
In like manner man is endued with certain
faculties, appetites and passions, the end of
which is the general good of the whole ; and
these may be divided into three classes the
appetitive, the irascible, and the reasonable;
answering to the three classes constituted in the
city. The rational is the governing and con-
sultive power, and the irascible is the defensive,
and is properly the guard and confederate to
it. If, then, at any time the appetitive should
assume the superiority, or the irascible part
would subject every thing to his sway, the har-
mony is broken, and the man, of consequence.
Will act Unjustly, &C. Apt* /*t p us ioix y v^nt-re
rn en nn xai xaAXo* xai EV(I ^ux* 1 *' *** (l * ^E vo<ror re. MI ttivxpt
xai <*ff0mia. u For virtue (says he) is the health
and beauty, and sound constitution of the soul ;
vice, on the contrary, is disease, and barrenness,
and debility." REP. book iv.
Though I read much of Plato in my youth,
I do not recommend to you to spend much
216 DIDACTIC COMPOSITION.
time upon him* I remember he was far from
satisfying either my friend Gilbert Wakefield
or myself, when we read him. He abounds too
much in minute and metaphysical distinctions,
which are of little value, and can only be ac-
counted in general a most elegant and ingeni-
ous trifler. Yet candour ought to make allow-
ances for the age in which he lived. He was a
divine, while totally ignorant of a true system
of theology ; and a moralist in a time when hu-
man nature was depraved by the grossest pre-
judices and perversions. Had the light of
Christianity but dawned upon his mind, he
would have been the first of philosophers. He
would probably not have lost himself in the
mist of idle speculation, but would have pur-
sued the star which drew the sages from the
East; like (hem he would have worshipped,
not with an idolatrous adoration, but " in spi-
rit and in truth."
If 1 recollect rightly, the analytical method
is pursued in almost all the dialogues of Plato.
It seems indeed the only method that can be
followed with success whenever the Socratic
mode of reasoning (that which draws a conclu-
sion from the concessions of your adversary) i*
DIDACTIC COMPOSITION.
employed. It is often a very pleasing method
of inculcating truth, for the curiosity of the
hearer or reader becomes frequently deeply in-
terested in the process. The full design of the
speaker is not perceived until the conclusion he
aims to establish strikes with irresistible force
upon the mind.
But however useful the analytical method
may be where a prejudice is to be removed, or
a new truth presented to the mind, still in works
purely didactic or preceptive, the synthetic is
the simplest, and the most readily compre-
hended.
In all disquisitions, or argumentative or di-
dactic works, method and arrangement is of al-
most as much importance as eitlier the matter
or the style. The lucidus ordo is recommended
by the earliest critics ; and the remark of Pliny
ought to be impressed upon the mind of every
young writer, that " Even barbarians can ex*
press themselves with force and brilliancy ; but
to arrange with propriety, and dispose with
elegance the parts of a work, is the task only of
the learned."* Never therefore sit down to
* " Utinam ordo saltern & transitus & figurae simul
spectarentur. Nam invenire praeclare & emmciare mag-
V'OL. I. L
218 DIDACTIC COMPOSITION.
write before you have well digested in your
mind the plan and order of what you intend.
It is even useful to commit to writing a sketch
of the method in which you mean to pursue
your subject. This is indeed necessary to per-
fection in any art ; for a good painter always
makes certain of a good and correct outline or
design, before he sits down to fill up the various
lights and shades of the picture.
The talent of methodizing, and that of eli-
citing detached, though brilliant thoughts, are
talents entirely different. The latter is the ope-
ration of fancy, with little assistance from the
reasoning power ; the former is the act of a
mind of large powers, and of extensive views
of things.
There are two modes of composing, which
are occasionally adopted according to the na-
ture of the work, or the genius of the author.
The first is when a number of thoughts, which
have occurred at different times, but relating
to the same subject, have been carefully noted
down, and are afterwards arranged and po-
lished at the leisure of the writer. The other
nific6, interdum barbari solt-nt. disponere apte, varte
msi eruditis negatura est. PLINY, EF. L. 3. r. 13.
DIDACTIC COMPOSITION.
mode is, when the writer having, with much
reading and reflection, made himself master of
the subject, prosecutes the work in a connected
order, and writes what spontaneously occurs to
his mind. Each of these modes supposes a
plan ; but in the former case the plan seems to
arise out of the materials which have been ori-
ginally collected, perhaps without much regard
to method, and is formed by diligently com-
paring and digesting them in the order in which
they will appear to most advantage. In the
other case, the writer follows a plan already
conceived, and perhaps even laid down upon
paper. Treatises composed in this way, there-
fore, are more connected, and the parts har-
monize with each other much better than in the
former case.
In large works, however, and especially in
compilations, it is necessary to make collec-
tions, though it should not be done without a
regard to order ; for there is scarcely any mind
so rich as to be entire master of every part of a
considerable branch of science.
The style of didactic or argumentative com-
positions should in general be plain and simple.
Something will- however depend upon the na-
L2
220 DIDACTIC COMPOSITION,
ture of the subject. In works on natural ci
experimental philosophy, or of deep reasoning
upon any subject ; where, in short, instruction
is more the object than amusement, the style
cannot be too simple. In moral and political
treatises on the other hand, some scope may be
allowed to the imagination, and they will even
be the better for some ornament, provided the
writer does not indulge in too florid a style.
By simplicity I would not be understood to re-
commend inelegance. In the most simple style,
perspicuity, purity, and even harmony, are as
much to be regarded as in the most laboured
and rhetorical, and perhaps more so. The
style of an orator or declaimer may be com-
pared to the full dress of a modern lady of
taste and fashion ; that of the philosopher
should have all the neatness of a young and
beautiful quaker.
ORATORY. 221
LETTER XVI.
Oratory. Parts of an Oration.
MY DEAR JOHN,
ORATORICAL compositions might have been
comprehended under the preceding division,
for they are in general either didactic or argu-
mentative. But the form and style of orations ;
their intention and object, which is an address
in part, at least, to the passions, have, from the
first cultivation of letters, placed them in a dis-
tinct class ; and this division may, as I before
intimated, be' allowed to include many politi-
cal declamations, which have not been spoken,
and even some compositions on more serious
subjects, but which in their style and manner
partake more of oratory than of any other art
or science.
What has been already observed respecting
the synthetical and analytical modes of exposi-
tion will also apply to rhetorical compositions ;
but in these last the directions of critics are ra-
ORATOHY.
ther more minute, as they divide every oration
into parts, and the detail and explanation of
these will serve in some measure to aid you in
what I mentioned as not the least difficult part
of composition, the arrangement.
The most antient writers on rhetoric and ora-
tory have agreed in dividing an oration or dis-
course into five parts.
1st. The exordium, or introduction.
2d. The narrative (narratio) or what we
should in modern language call a statement of
the facts.
3. The division of the arguments.
4th. The argumentative, which is generally
the most important part of a discourse.
5th. The peroration, or conclusion,
This order or arrangement one of the fathers
of the art affirms to be the very order of nature.
" This mode of addressing an audience (says
he) is dictated by nature herself; that we should
say something introductory, that we should
next explain the subject, that we should pro-
ceed to the proof or argument, either in confir-
mation of our own allegation, or in refuting
what our adversary urges to the contrary ;
lastly, that we should conclude by a perora*
ORATORY. 223
tion,'"* the meaning of which last word im-
plies that it should be something concilia-
tory.
To these Dr. Blair adds, before the perora-
tion " the pathetic parts ;" but this arrange-
ment seems chiefly applicable to a sermon. It
has been represented as a trick with some popu-
lar preachers to say something pathetic imme-
diately before the conclusion of their sermon to
make the audience weep ; but such orators, if
indeed they are orators, are not to be imitated.
When a person remarked to Swift lhat a ser-
mon which" they had just heard " was very
moving,' he replied, " Yes, I am sorry for ft,
for the man is my friend."
But I have a more general reason for reject-
ing this arrangement of Dr. Blair. The pa-
thetic is a quality rather than a part of a dis-
course, and it may be applicable to any part,
frequently to the narrative as much as any
other, though I will admit that it is introduced
with most effect towards the conclusion, for the
* " Ut aliquid ante rera dicamus, delude ut rem ex-
ponamus ; post ut earn probemus, nostris praesidiis con-
firmandis, contrariis refutandis ; deinde ut concludatnus,
atque ita peroremus. Hoc dicendi genus natura ipsa
pnescribit." DE. OK. 1. 3. c. 13.
EXORDIUM.
orator should seem io warm as he advances ;
but still to prescribe that whatever is pathetic
in an oration should be introduced in a parti-
cular place, would be to bind genius down to
mechanical rules ; and what an audience always
expected would soon cease to have effect.
It will not be necessary to be very diffuse
in treating of the several parts of an oration. I
shall therefore proceed in the order I have laid
down, and first to the exordium.
This pant of every discourse, as Cicero ob-
serves, is certainly founded on nature and com-
mon sense. Was any man to address his supe-
rior, whom he did not know, he would not be-
gin his suit abruptly, without knowing whether
the party addressed was well affected to him,
but would endeavour first to render him pro-
pitious to what he was going to advance. Thus,
in the beginning of an oration, we should en-
deavour to render our hearers well disposed,
both to the speaker and the subject.
The introduction, says Cicero, must make
the hearers docile or tractable ; that is, it must
render them attentive to what is to be said;
but if the subject is of sufficient importance to
interest the hearers, or concerns them in a par-
ticular manner, it may sometimes be omitted.
EXORDIUM. 225
The critics distinguish two kinds of introduc-.
tions, one of which they call principium, and
the other insinuatio. The first is a plain expli-
cation of the orator's motives; the second is
adopted when the judges are supposed to be
not well affected towards the orator or his client,
and then he must endeavour to remove all pre-
judices, in order that his discourse may have
its full effect ; of (his kind we have an instance
in Cicero's oration against Milo, and one still
better in his oration against the Agrarian law.
An introduction, says Cicero, should not be
taken from common-place topics, and such as
may be applied with equal propriety to a num-
ber of different subjects ; as that " a desire of
happiness is the desire of all men." It should
indeed be immediately connected with the sub-
ject, and lead, but not abruptly, to it. The
beginning of the first letter of Junius I have al-
ways considered as a beautiful exordium.
" The submission of a free people to the
executive authority of government, is no more
than a compliance with laws, which they them-
selves have enacted . While the national ho-
nour is firmly maintained abroad, and while
justice is impartially administered at home, the
L5
226 EXORfiltJM.
obedience of the subject will be voluntary,
chearful, and I might almost say unlimited. A
generous nation is grateful even for the preser-
vation of its righ(s ? and willingly extends the
respect due to the office of a good prince into
an affection for his person. Loyalty, in the
heart and understanding of an Englishman, is
a rational attachment to the guardian of the
laws. Prejudices and passion have sometimes
carried it to a criminal length ; and what-
ever foreigners may imagine, we know that
Englishmen have erred as much in a mistaken
zeal for particular persons and families, as they
ever did in defence of what they thought most
dear and interesting to themselves. It naturally
fills us with resentment to see such a temper in-
sulted and abused."
The style of an exordium should be clear
and correct. At first an audience are generally
attentive to the speaker, and when they are not
warmed with the discourse or subject, are more
disposed to criticism. All appearance of art or
inflated language must then be avoided ; for in
an introduction nothing hurts more than osten-
tation. On this account an appearance of mo-
desty has always been thought requisite in an,
BXOHDIUM. 227
exordium.* Most men entertain too high an
opinion of themselves to be pleased with those
who assume any thing of an overbearing ap
pearance ; wherefore bo cautious never to pro-
mise too much at first, for if your argument
proves dull after yqu have raised expectation,
the hearers will feel disappointment, and will
consequently be displeased instead of concili-
ated. Every public speaker should bear in his
mind the artful demeanour of the wise Ulysses
in the contest with Ajax, as described in the
13th book of Ovid's Metamorphoses
...' " Donee Laertius heros
" Adstitit ; atque oculos paulum tellure moratos
" Sustulit ad proceres ; expectatoque resolvit
" Ora sono: neque abest facundia gratia dictis,
'* Si mea cum vestris valuisset vota, Pelasgi,
" Non foret ambiguus tanti certaminis haeres :
" Tuque tuis arniis, nos te potirenur, Achille!"
" A murmur from the multitude,
" Or somewhat like a stifled shout ensued
" Till from his seat arose Laertes' son,
" Look'd down awhile, and paus'd ere he begun ;
* " Atque commendatio tacite si nos infirmos & im-
pares, &cc. Est enim naturalis favor pro laborantibus; &
Judex religiosus libentur patronem audit quem justiciae suae
ninimum timet." QUINCT. 1. 4, c. 1.
228 NARRATIVE.
" Then to th' expecting audience rais'd his loot,
" And not without prepared attention spoke :
". Soft was his tone, and sober was his face ;
" Action his words, and words his action grace.
" If Heaven, great chiefs, had heard our common
prayer,
" These arms had caused no quarrel for an heir,
" Still great Achilles had his own possess'd,
" And we with great Achilles had been bless'd",
DRYDEN.
In your introduction never anticipate any
thing that would be more properly introduced
afterwards ; this takes away the grace of no-
velty, and the force of what should follow.
Lastly, The introduction should bear a pro-
portion both in length and kind to the dis-
course. Dr. Blair remarks, that a long intro-
duction before a short discourse is as improper
as a large portico before a small house ; it must
also be proportionate in kind, for as a finely
adorned portico before a mean building, so is
a flowery introduction to a flat discourse.
Learned men have generally found the greatest
difficulty in making introductions; for it is not
easy to be plain and simple without being some-
what dry and uninteresting.
The second part is the narrative or explica
NARRATIVE. 229
tion. Narrative is chiefly necessary for popu-
lar assemblies, and for the bar, to state those
circumstances which ought tp be well under-
stood. In sermons the word explication is
used ; it serves the same purpose as the narra-
tion, and in these is justly reckoned among the
most difficult parts of a discourse.
In narration all superfluous circumstances
must be omitted, and the best way is to repre-
sent things in a picturesque manner. Of this
we have an excellent example in Swift's Essay
on the Fates of Clergymen ; the style should be
simple but elegant. In a sermon the same rule
must be observed. The explication should be
clear, concise, and correct ; the language plain
but elegant. You must observe what light the
context throws upon your discourse, and con-
sider in what it differs from similar subjects.
The third part of a discourse is the statement
or division of the argument. This generally
follows the narrative, ihough sometimes it as
properly goes before it. Some critics have been
of opinion that a formal division of orations is
unnecessary and improper, as it checks the pas-
sions, and breaks the unity of a discourse ; but,
in truth, it is only a faulty division that breaks
.DIVISION.
the unity : a proper division is not only con-
sistent with unity, but even renders it more con-
spicuous. It also allows a resting-place to the
mind, where it can reflect on what has been
said, and look forward to what is to come : ac-
cording to Quinciilian, it is like a man travel-
ling upon a road which is marked with stones
tt every mile end ; this makes his journey seem
shorter than if he was always uncertain how fai
he had to go. It however depends upon the
occasion, the subject, and the taste of the ora-
tor, whether any formal division should be pro-
posed or not. In cases where it is adopted the
following rules are recommended by writers on
rhetoric
1st. In a good discourse the heads should be
distinct, and none of them included in another.
2dly. The divisions should be ranged in
their natural order ; you should first begin with
the most simple, and then proceed to things of
greater importance.
Sdly. They should exhaust the subject,
otherwise the division is imperfect. You must
therefore consider into what parts OF divisions
the subject most naturally resolves itself.
4thly . The heads should be expressed in con-
DIVISION.
cise terms ; you should avoid all circumlocu-
tions. The setting forth of the main part of
your subject in a concise manner enables the
hearers to comprehend it more easily.
Sthly. The heads ought not to be multiplied
unnecessarily, as this enfeebles the discourse.
Fourth. The argumentative part is by far the
most important, being really in itself the end
and object for which every oration is framed.
The antient orators have established two divi-
sions under this head ; the one in which you
adduce the proofs and evidence on your own
side the question ; the other in which you meet
and refute the objections of your adversary.
Which of these ought to come first in an ora-
tion must depend upon circumstances. In ge-
neral I should say that in an opening discourse,
or in the first upon any question, as when a
member introduces a motion in either house of
parliament, he should first establish the proofs
in his own favour, and then proceed to en-
counter whatever objections he might conceive
likely to be urged against him. In a rep/y, on
the contrary, he should first meet the objec-
tions of his adversary, and then proceed to
establish his own argument.
232 ARGUMENTATION.
To attempt to establish rules respecting this
part of an oration, would be trifling with your
understanding. The arguments must depend
upon the nature of the case, and the genius of
the orator. There are indeed no rules to pro-
duce a strong reasoner; this is beyond the
reach of logic or of any other science ; it must
be the effect of nature and of study. The an-
tients, it is true, endeavoured to supply every
deficiency of argument by common-place to-
pics, such as I formerly mentioned, to be used
according to the nature of the discourse ; these
were called loci, and hence orations were classed
into the demonstrative, the deliberative, and the
judicial. Under the first they considered all
the qualities that could attend any person from
his birth to his death, for which he could be
praised or blamed. Under the second they
considered the honesty, propriety, &c. of an
action. Under the third they arranged all ar-
guments concerning the relations, accidents,
and consequences of things. I am far, how-
ever, from thinking these sufficient for all the
purposes of an orator, or that they can be suited
to the circumstances of every subject. This
method may produce declaimers, but can never
ARGUMENTATION. 233
form a good orator; they may, however, be
consulted with advantage, especially by law-
yers ; and you will find them in Aristotle, Ci-
cero in his book De Inventione, his Topica,
the 2d De Oratore, and Quinctilian. Any per-
son who inclines to see them in English may
consult Dr. Ward's System of Oratory.
The arrangement of your arguments must
also depend upon the subject, the audience and
the object to be achieved, and must be alto-
gether under the regulation of your own taste
and judgment. You will pursue the analyti-
cal or synthetical method according to circum-
stances. In other respects the following in-
structions may be useful :
1st. When you prepare the argumentative
part of your discourse, place yourself in the si-
tuation of a hearer, and consider what arguments
would have the greatest effect in convincing
yourself. As human nature is every where
much the same, so it is most probable these ar-
guments will have much the same effect on
others.
2d. You must never rest satisfied with pleas-
ing your audience ; they may be pleased when
they are persuaded there is not a sentence of
ARGUMENTATION.
truth In your oration. In this part therefore of
the discourse the speaker should particularly .
labour to convince, and reserve the entertain-
ing part for the peroration.
Sdly. The topics of your discourse should
never be blended in a confused manner ; this
is so evident that the mention of it is sufficient.
4thly. Your arguments should be so ar-
ranged as to support each other ; if you are
doubtful of your cause, and have but one argu-
ment of any strength, place that one in the
front, and enlarge upon it, in order to preju-
dice your hearers in your favour; for if you
begin with those that have but little or no force,
they will immediately conclude that your rea-
soning is weak and feeble ; but if your subject
is clear, and your case a good one, commence
with those arguments that are more feeble, and
make them grow in strength, or, in technical
language, rise in a climax ; if you have any cir-
cumstances which seem trifling, but which yet
cannot be conveniently omitted, Cicero judi-
ciously advises to put them in the middle,
where they will be least observed ; when your
arguments are all weak and feeble, the best way
is to take them in a mass, as they will be more
ARGUMENTATION. 235
strong than when they are separate ; but if they
are clear and convincing, it is best to take them
separately, that each of them may appear in
its clearest light, and have its full eifect.
5tbly. Never extend an argument to too great
a length ; this only burdens the memory with-
out influencing the judgment ; it takes from
the vis and acumen, which is the best charac-
teristic of talent ; and rather let your hearers
suppose that something is left to their own
fancy and judgment, than that you have en-
tirely exhausted the subject.
The last part of an oration is the peroration
or conclusion. This, like all the others, will
vary according to the subject, the circunx-
tances, and the genius of the speaker. The
best in general, the most useful, and at the same
time most common, is a short and forcible re-
capitulation of the principal arguments, with
the inference which the speaker intended to be
deduced from them. Men of genius will how-
ever by no means confine themselves to this one
description of peroration. The vivacity of
their imaginations will, as frequently as the
circumstances of the case, induce them to take
a different course. If an appeal can in this
236 PERORATION.
part of the oration be made to the passions of
the audience, it seldom fails of a happy effect.
Put the subject should completely authorize it,
for nothing is more truly disgusting than af-
fected pathos ; and it should not be abruptly
introduced, but should be a continuation of
something of the same description which pre-
ceded. Bishop Sherlock is very happy in his
perorations ; and I do not know a finer passage
than that which is quoted by Bishop Lowth in
his Grammar, and afterwards by Dr. Blair, as
an example of the prosopopeeia " Go to your
natural religion," &c.
Dr. Ogden has also displayed a happy ta-
lent in this as well as in every braiish of the
rhetorical art. I transcribe almost at random
the conclusion of his thirteenth sermon on the
Articles of the Christian Faith.
"Let this suffice. Embrace the offer of
life ; fly from the wrath to come. You know
not the plan of infinite government, what the
order of God's universe admits, what eternal
wisdom counsels, or supreme rectitude requires.
Say not within yourselves, If he desires that I
should be happy, he can make me so. He can
do every thing that is right and fit to be done ;
PERORATION. 237
and nothing more. He desires you to be hap-
py, and it is therefore he does so much, and,
for any thing you know, all he can do, to ef-
fect it. He is your friend and your father:
but, in this respect, like your parents upon
earth ; he can only lament over your calami-
ties, if you resist his goodness, and are resolved
to perish in spite of all the efforts of omnipo-
tence.
" For your own sake, and for the sake of
those who love you, not only on earth, but
above, the blessed angels, the Holy Trinity, re-
turn to yourself, to a sound mind, to the exer-
cise of piety, and the practice of all virtue :
there is joy in heaven over one sinner that re-
penteth."
I cannot however give you a finer instance
of a spirited peroration, than the conclusion of
Mr. Burke's address on the hustings at Bristol,
when he declined the election in 1780, and with
this I shall conclude ray letter ; only adding
one observation, that the short address from
which it is extracted is one of the most precious
specimens of eloquence that aatieui or modern
times have recorded
" It has been usual for a candidate who de
238
clines, to take his leave by a letter to the she*
riffs ; but I received your trust in the face of
day, and in the face of day I accept your dis-
mission. I am not I am not at all ashamed
to look upon you ; nor can my presence dis-
compose the order of business here. I humbly
and respectfully take my leave of the sheriffs,
the candidates, and the electors, wishing heartily
that the choice may be for the best, at a time
which calls, if ever time did call, for the ser-
vice that is not nominal. It is no plaything
you are about. I tremble when I consider the
trust I have presumed to ask. I confided per-
haps too much in my intentions. They were
really fair and upright ; and I am bold to say,
that I ask no ill thing for you, when, on part-
ing from this place, I pray, that whoever you
choose to succeed me, may resemble me ex-
actly in all things, excepting my abilities to
serve, and my fortune to please you."
ORATORY. 239
LETTER XVII.
Different kinds of Oratory. Eloquence of the
Senate. Of the Bar.
MY DEAR JOHN,
ALL orations may be arranged under two di-
visions. 1st. Those which are precomposed,
and delivered either from memory, or read aloud
to the audience ; and 2dly, those which are
spoken on the occasion, with little of previous
study, at least with respect to the style or lan-
guage, and this kind of eloquence is what we
call extempore.
We have reason to believe that the most
finished orations of the antients were precom-
posed, and committed to memory. We have
the frank acknowledgment of Pliny the younger,
that their ornamental eloquence, their pane-
gyrics, come under this description ; and we
find from the same authority r that it was even
common to read them, previous to their de-
livery, to a select company of friends, for the
benefit of their criticisms. The confession of
Cicero* that, he had by him a volume of Ex-
ordiums ready precomposed, from which he
ivas accustomed to select, leads me to suspect
that many of his orations were in the same pre-
dicament. If I am not mistaken, the pleadings
before the French parliament were always pre-
composed, and read by the advocates. The
form of their trials, in which the evidence was
all reduced to writing, and taken before notaries
previous to the pleading before the court, en-
tirely favoured this kind of eloquence. The
French preachers also committed their sermons
to memory ; and I have been assured that in
the national assembly, and the convention,
many, even of the first orators, either read their
speeches or delivered them from memory.
A modern writer (Mr. Hume) has instituted
a comparison between antient and modern elo
quence, infinitely indeed to the disadvantage of
the latter. I suspect he was scarcely sufficient
master of the languages to read the antients
with that kind of relish that results from fami-
liarity, and therefore incautiously took their
* Ad Atticum, lib. xvi. et, 6.
OltATORY. 241
praises at second hand ; and I am also inclined
to believe that he had not heard the best effu-
sions of our senatorial oratory. That he had
never stood before the glorious torrent of Lord
Chatham's eloquence, or witnessed the varied
and enchanting flow of Mr. Burke's incompa-
rable genius.
Granting however for the present Mr. Hume's
conclusion to be just, there are many reasons
why the exertions of antient genius should be
almost exclusively directed to oratory. The
art of printing had not given that facility to
the diffusion of sentiment, which at present ex-
ists. It was by oral effusions alone that the an-
tients could hope to arrive at fame and distinc-
tion. Their philosophers taught in this man-
ner, and their statesmen openly deliberated in
public assemblies. Even the history of Hero-
dotus was recited at the Olympic games. The
occasions too for the employment of eloquence
were more frequent 'than with us. Every citi-
zen of the free states of antiquity might address
the assembly of the people upon any public
occasion. The law was not a laborious study
exclusively confined to those who are edu-
cated to the profession ; and, as justice was ad-
VOL. i. M
242 ORATORY.
ministered generally on the Vague and simple
principles of natural equity, not according to
forms, statutes, and precedents, any man might
in a little time become completely acquainted
with all that was necessary to accomplish him
for a pleader. The science of the antients too
was neither extensive nor profound, so that
genius was not distracted by a variety of pur-
suits. From all these circumstances we can-
not wonder that oratory was cultivated in the
antient world with ardour and success.
But indeed I cannot in honesty and candour
subscribe to the truth of Mr. Hume's position,
that the antients were every thing, and that we
are nothing in this art. Whether the antients
excelled or not in extempore speaking, this at
least we know, that the specimens of their elo-
quence which have been transmitted to us are
studied compositions. Now to compare these
with any unpremeditated effusion which we
may happen to hear in the British senate, is
scarcely lair; and yet I declare I have heard
speeches there whi< h would not lose in a com-
parison uith the best of Cicero or Demosthenes.
The vehement and impressive oratory of Mr.
Fox, the wit and pathos of Mr. Sheridan ; and
ORATORY. 243
the choice and polished elocution of Mr. Pitt,
might vie with any tiling to be found in these
celebrated models of eloquence.
But we have even a fairer and more certain
criterion. Let any unprejudiced critic com-
pare those specimens which the masters of elo-
quence among ourselves have condescended to
publish, with the productions of the antients,
and let him determine for himself. I protest I
find more genius and fancy, more knowledge
of human nature, and a far greater proportion
of wit, in the published speeches of Mr. Burke,
than in any ot the works ot the antient orators ;
and if chaste and correct eloquence is what he
requires, I can only advise him to hear the pre-
sent Chancellor of the Exchequer,* even when
he speaks without premeditation ; or to peruse
a speech which was published some years ago
by himself, or some of his friends, on the abo-
lition of the slave trade.
1 am not wishing to depreciate the antients,
who certainly have cultivated eloquence with
a success which could scarcely have been ex-
pected at so early a period ; but I cannot endure
* This was written during Mr. Pitt's adniiuistratiou.
244 ORATORY.
that the merit of the moderns should be wantonly
underrated, through a blind veneration for the
excellent of former times. Rely upon it, there
is no theatre more favourable for the exertions
of eloquence than a British house of commons,
nor any, where it has been more successfully
studied or employed.
The occasions, as I have just mentioned, were
more frequent, for the exertion of eloquence,
among the antients than among ourselves. Ex-
cept a particular opportunity which a public
meeting of the people may casually present,
the only theatres of oratory are the parliament,
the bar, and the pulpit. In the two former the
orations are chiefly, if not altogether, extem-
pore. In the latter the practice is at present
almost exclusively confined to studied compo-
sitions.
In the remainder of this letter f shall endea-
vour to propose a few rules for parliamentary
eloquence, and I shall also briefly consider the
eloquence of the bar, which will include all that
is to be offered on the subject of extempore
oratory.
1st. I should be sorry to discourage any
ORATORY. 245
young man of genius from attempting to speak
in parliament; ~ but to use a parliamentary
phrase, I would caution him against " com-
mitting himself" too soon. A laugh once raised
against a modest man perhaps disarms him for
ever. Yet a young member must not be too
fastidious. Mr. Gibbon, when he first entered
the house of commons undoubtedly intended to
speak ; and I cannot doubt but if he could have
subdued the first impulse of modesty, he would
have spoken incomparably ; but the fact was,
that waiting too long for a fit occasion to dis-
play his talents, he sunk into utter indolence
or despair ; and thus the senate of Great Bri-
tain was deprived of a genius, which nvould
probably have been its brightest ornament.
Dr. Johnson (who was indeed an older man)
felt more confidence in himself, and regretted
that Lord North, at the solicitation of Mr.
Thrale, had not afforded him an opportunity of
displaying his talents. I have not a doubt but
he would have acquitted himself admirably^;
for the style of Dr. Johnson in conversation was
as pointed, and nearly as correct as in his pub-
lications. Lord Chesterfield, who knew man-
kind, and the houses of parliament in particu-
246 ORATORY.
lar, better than most men, advises his son to
feel his way ; to make short speeches at first,
and principally in committees, where formal
speeches are not expected ; and thus to acquire
confidence by degrees, before he launched out
on any great or momentous occasion.
2dly. A young member of parliament should
endeavour to make himself -well acquainted
with every subject which is likely to come under
discussion ; and if his mine! is full upon the
question, it is very likely he will feel a momentary
impulse to enter into the debate, especially if
any pause should take place. At all events,
by studying diligently the different topics of
deba(e, he enables himself to discharge his duty
properly if he gives only a silent vote, and is
accomplishing his mind for future occasions.
3dly. It is practice that makes a fluent ora-
tor. Practice' cannot give genius, it is true;
but (if I may be allowed a vulgarism) there
is a ready knack, both of writing and speaking,
which men of very moderate talents often and
easily acquire. Debating societies have their
disadvantages, and there are two in particular
against wliich young men ought to be guarded.
They are apt to generate a love of disputing,
ORATORY. 247
the most disagreeable quality, without excep-
tion, with which a young man can enter so-
ciety. The applause also which superficial
speakers receive there, is apt to generate a be-
lief that a command of words is the only ne-
cessary accomplishment. Otherwise by af-
fording an opportunity of practice, debating
societies certainly contribute more than any
means I know of towards fluency and readiness,
which are no mean qualifications in an orator.
But it is only to a mind which is well stocked
with useful knowledge that they will afford
this improvement. The person who goes ig-
norant into one of these seminaries, unless he
compensates by ardent study for his former de-
ficiencies, will come out, under the most fa-
vourable circumstances, only a noisy and fluent
dunce.
4thly. Any man before he rises to speak in
a popular assembly should have formed a com-
plete plan of his intended discourse ; whether
in speaking he adopts divisions or not, he will
find his memory greatly assisted by dividing in
his mind his intended harangue into its several
parts, and methodically arranging them. 1
have seen the first of our parliamentary orators
248 OKATORY. .
have in their hands little memorandums,
I could perceive contained the heads of their
discourses. In a reply the proper arrangement
is always to follow the course of your adver-
sary's argument ; and hence those speakers who
are not great masters of method and arrange-
ment, often shine more in a reply than in an
opening speech. J am far from advising that
you should study the words or phrases you are
to employ before-hand, this would only serve
to confuse and em harass you. The language
of an orator must be strictly his own, such as in
general he would employ upon ordinary occa-
sions, but as select as the rapidity of utterance
will allow.
5thly. In the course of an oration never he-
sitate about the choice of a word. Take that
which presents itself rather than look for terms
more uncommon and refined ; for if the mind
is once diverted from the matter to the words,
your discourse will be deranged, and fail in a
lucid order, which is a greater deficiency than
an indifferent style; and it is also probable
that even your enunciation will be perplexed
and stammering.
6thly . From the two preceding rules you will
ORATORY.
249
easily perceive of what immense importance it
is to an orator to accustom himself even in com-
mon conversation to polished language, and a
very nice choice of expression. He must never
permit himself to use a vulgarism on the most
common occasion, but must carefully eradicate
all such noxious weeds from his vocabulary. A
little attention to this chastity and correctness
of expression will soon render it easy and habi-
tual. No other words but the best will present
themselves to your mind ; and on the contrary,
I am convinced that unless a man has previously
cleared his usual dialect from low and vicious
expressions, they will obtrude themselves when-
ever he speaks in public, whatever may be his
caution and attention,
In treating thus of extempore oratory, as far
as applies to the eloquence of the senate, I have
anticipated much of what I should otherwise
have had to advance on that of the bar, for the
same rules will apply to both, and I shall only
have to add one or two remarks exclusively ap-
plicable to the latter.
I am far from agreeing with Mr. Hume and
Dr. Blair, that the English bar affords not a
fine theatre for oratory. They certainly, in
M 5
250 ORATORY.
forming this conclusion, reasoned under some
disadvantage, for they had only before their
view the Scottish bar, where the trial by jury is
allowed only in criminal cases. The observa-
tion of Dr. Blair is therefore perfectly just in
this case. " Speakers at the bar," says he,
" address themselves to one or a few judges,
and those too, persons generally of age, gravity,
and authority of character. There they have
not those advantages which a mixed and nu-
merous assembly affords for employing all the
arts of speech." This is strictly true from the
view which presented itself to this writer ; but
in England, where in three of the principal
courts, as well as in all the inferior judicatures
of the kingdom, almost every cause is tried by
a jury of twelve men, selected by ballot, surely
the very finest opportunity for the display of
oratory is afforded, and especially as the advo-
cate addresses them under peculiar advantages,
with some ideas of superior learning and supe-
rior dignity.
The English advocate too has conducted the
cause from its commencement, and examined
the evidence ; he is therefore not only made mas-
ter of the whole argument, but, if possessed of
ORATORY. 251
feeling, must have acquired some warmth and
ardour in the cause. Grant that he is in some
degree confined by the precision of our laws,
still it is matter of fact on which he has prin-
cipally to address a jury, and the less of tech-
nical language he mingles in it the greater will
be its effect. It would indeed perhaps be
better if oratory had less influence than it is
known to have in our courts of justice. It is
somewhat checked by the sedate character of
the people of England, and by the feeling of
jurymen that they are bound by their oaths ;
but still it is found to be of so much intrinsic
consequence, that the barrister who possesses
this talent finds that it infallibly conducts to
fame and fortune.
1st. The most important rule that I can lay
down to the practitioner at the bar, is to make
himself perfect master of the science of the law.
Without this he can never speak with courage
and confidence ; and he will also be in danger
of incurring the ridicule of his adversary, and
perhaps the contempt of the court. A know-
ledge of the law will also supply the means of
eloquence, or at least a substitute for it ; for a
252 ORATORY.
sound lawyer is always heard with attention,
whether he is what is called eloquent or not.
2d. The next requisite is a perfect knowledge
of the cause in which he is engaged. This is
indeed a duty he owes not less to his client than
to his own reputation, for he actually defrauds
the man from whom he receives a fee, unless
he exerts himself to the very utmost of his
ability.
3dly. Though warmth and vehemence may
be occasionally admitted, and sometimes re-
quired, yet a counsel will commonly have most
weight with a jury, who addresses them as ra-
tional beings, and seems at least to labour to
convince their judgment. In the beginning of
his oration he should always appear cool and
temperate, but always in earnest, otherwise
they will have less confidence in his assertions.
The plan and order which I laid down in my
last letter is strictly applicable to judicial ora-
tory, and every address to a jury must consist
of; 1st, an exordium, in which he must endea-
vour to conciliate their favour ; 2d, a statement
of facts or narrative, in which the pleader re-
capitulates or anticipates the principal parts of
ORATORY. 253
the evidence ; Sdly, it will be in general better
and clearer to a jury, if he points out the pro-
per divisions of his argument, as more of me-
thod is expected from a pleader than in a mere
declamatory address ; 4thly, the argumentative
part is indispensable, that being the peculiar
business of an advocate; 5thly, the peroration
or conclusion should be always remarkably clear
and lucid, and if the subject admits of the pa-
thetic, this is the part in which it will com-
monly be introduced to the greatest advantage.
254 ELOQUENCE.
LETTER XVIII.
Rise and progress of Eloquence.
MY DEAR-JOHN,
IT would be a very pleasing exercise to trace
the history of eloquence from its first rude ori-
gin through the various ramifications of human
genius ; to mark the powers, the character of
the different men in the different ages of so-
ciety, who have successfully employed this
fascinating art. It would be pleasing even to
pursue the science as long as the records of ci-
vilized man permit ; and to trace the progress
of oratory from Pericles to Pitt. But our ma-
terials for such a critical investigation are very
few. The best effusions of oratory are E*timpoT
(winged words). Unfortunately for us they are
not
" Congealed in northern air."
Not only we lose the music, the cadence, the
action with which they were graced, but even
ELOQUENCE. 5J65
the substance of very few of these productions
are transmitted to us. Of the orations of De-
mosthenes, a very small number have outlived
the depredations of time. Cicero, who for
some years spoke almost daily in public, and
who was the most diligent of men, has commit-
ted to writing a very small proportion of his nu*
merous orations ; even the eloquence of our
own great and distinguished orators, St. John,
Pulteney, Pitt, Fox, and Sheridan, are only to
be traced in those meagre and imperfect regis-
ters, the volumes of Parliamentary Debates, in
which you are presented rather with the lan-
guage of an illiterate reporter, than with that
of the accomplished statesman and orator, whose
speech he undertakes to detail.
That oratory was not only practised, but
studied with considerable effect from almost the
earliest periods, is evident from the specimens
which stand recorded almost as soon as lan-
guage became stationary in writing. The ora-
tory of the Hebrews is of a peculiar kind, short
and sententious, like their poetry. But in (he
Book of Job, in the speeches of Moses and of
Samuel, we have some beautiful examples of
the sublime and the pathetic in oratory. The
256 ELOQUENCE.
speeches in Homer would be admired even if
they were not in measure ; and I am inclined
to the opinion that the Iliad is not less indebted
for its celebrity to the eloquence than to the
poetry it contains. This, it will be said, was
the work of the poet only, and is neither to be
ascribed to the characters from whose mouths it
is supposed to issue, nor to the period in which
they existed. This I will readily grant ; but as
the Iliad is universally acknowledged to be a
minor, or dramatic representation of the age at
least in which the poet lived, two inferences
will necessarily follow That it was then cus-
tomary to address public assemblies in the man-
ner of the heroes of Homer ; and that no incon-
siderable progress must have been made in elo-
quence as an art. In truth, I do not know any
production that a young rhetorician may study
with more profit than the oratorical parts of
Homer, and particularly the debate of the con-
tending chieftains in the first book of the Iliad .
From the time of Homer to that of Pericles,
we have however nothing like a regular and au-
thentic oration on record. That the eloquence
of Pericles was unrivalled we cannot doubt, for
it is asserted that he governed Athens (and he
ELOQUENCE.
governed it almost despotically) not less by his
eloquence, than by his policy and power. Yet
we dare not pronounce that the charming spe-
cimens of the eloquence of this great man to be
found in Thucydides are genuine. I appre-
hend them myself to be the fabrication of the
historian ; for they carry with them decidedly
the marks of his peculiar style.
But though we have not any oratorical pro-
ductions of this period before us, we know that
immediately after the time of Pericles, the art
of oratory was publicly professed and taught.
It was reduced to a method almost mechanical.
For the topics or common places, which I have
so frequently mentioned, were introduced at this
period ; and these masters in rhetoric pretended
to be able to make any person an orator by
pursuing a certain course of study. Gorgias of
Leontium accumulated an immense fortune by
teaching rhetoric, but we have only a short
fragment of his preserved by Hermogenes. It
would be unfair, from so slight a specimen, to
decide on an author's character ; but as far as
we may judge from it, his reputation was higher
than his merits.
About the same period, it appears, there arose
258 ELOQUENCE.
at Athens a set ef men, who, having applied
themselves to oratory, made a profession of it
as public pleaders or orators. Lysias was one
of these, and appears to have been a lawyer by
profession, though some have asserted that he
only composed orations for those who were prac-
tising lawyers. His eloquence is therefore al-
most exclusively forensic. Thirty-four of his
orations are transmitted to us ; they are acute,
clear and methodical ; no bad models for a prac-
titioner at the bar, if we did not enjoy the ad-
vantage of hearing better almost every day in
Westminster-hall .
Isocrates, of whose orations there are twenty-
one extant, was somewhat posterior to Lysias.
He was a professed rhetorician ; and his pro-
ductions are indeed rather to be considered as
essays than orations. When I read them as a
young man I was delighted with them, they
abound so much in sentiment and moral obser-
Tation. In more mature age, however, I found
the latter exceedingly trite, and the whole too
studied and artificial. The style appears, as far
as we are judges of style in a dead language, to
be very chaste, though not animated. Isocrates
is said to have been the first who studied a
ELOQUENCE. 259
musical cadence, and has brought it to great
perfection. He ivas so nice in this particular,
that he spent no less than ten years in com-
posing one oration, still extant, the Panegyric.
Cicero was a great admirer of Isocrates, and
seems to have imitated him.
Isaeus (ten of whose orations are still extant)
was master (o Demosthenes, who, by the assist-
ance of a surprising genius, united with inde-
fatigable labour and industry, made so much
advantage of his precepts, that he has always
been esteemed, by the best judges, the first of
Grecian orators. I need not repeat to you the
common tale, that he retired inlo caves, that
he might study without being disturbed, and
that he kept pebbles in his mouth to correct a
defect in his speech. He is said also to have
hung a naked sword over his shoulders, to pre-
vent him from using an ungraceful motion, to
which he had habituated himself. From this
we learn how much natural disadvantages may
be balanced by diligent application and study ;
and it is a proof also how ardently oratory was
studied at this period in the Grecian republics.
I never did enter into the very exaggerated
praises which have been bestowed upon De-
260 ELOQUENCE.
mosthenes, and which have exalted him into
something more than a man. Yet it would be
uncandid and unjust not to confess that in his
person oratory was carried to a very high de-
gree of perfection, especially when we consider
the early period at which he flourished. The
power which he attained, and the situation
which he occupied in the state of Athens, prove
him to have been possessed of no uncommon
force in persuading and guiding a popular as-
sembly. But it is fortunate that we have still
superior evidence to which to resort ; we have
his own written orations. They are to be cri-
ticised as studied compositions, since they are
not pretended to have been taken down as he
spoke them, but were made public by himself.
Demosthenes, therefore, arguing from the speci-
mens he has left us, must be regarded as a close
and correct reasoner, master of a flowing, ele-
gant, and harmonious style, as far ,as we are
judges of these qualities in a dead language ;
and with occasionally a very fine and brilliant
thought, though in this he is inferior to many
of the moderns, and particularly to Mr. Burke.
He had but little of wit, though he occasionally
affects it, particularly in the celebrated oration
ELOQUENCE. 261
against ./Eschines. One excellence however I
cannot too much commend in Demosthenes, nor
can I in this respect too strongly recommend
his example to young orators. His arguments
all tend to a single point, and are concentrated,
like the dispersed rays of light when reflected
from a concave mirror, so as to bear altogether
with their united force upon the object he has
in view. He never excurses into too large a
field, never loses sight of his subject. This, I
think, was the characteristic excellence of Mr.
Fox's oratory. Other speakers greatly excel-
led Mr. Fox in choice of words, in voice, ad-
dress and manner ; but no man equalled him
in the selection, force, and happy arrangement
of his arguments.
Cicero, wh'o is the only orator of antiquity
who will bear a comparison with Demosthenes,
and who perhaps possessed more genius, at least
more imagination, was more diffuse, and con-
sequently feebler than his Grecian rival. I
think Quinctilian, in his celebrated comparison
between Cicero and Demosthenes, says, " to
the one nothing can be added, from (he other
nothing can be taken away." The latter cha-
racter, which applies strictly to Demosthenes,
ELOQUENCE.
you will easily perceive implies more judgment
in him, and speaks him the more forcible ora-
tor; such indeed he must have been, though
the beauties of Cicero, when separately consi-
dered, will perhaps attract the highest admira-
tion.
Though so accomplished an orator, Demos-
thenes was certainly a very bad general, and not
a much better politician. He had moreover
the misfortune never to be obeyed by his versa-
tile countrymen but when he happened to give
bad advice ; and the jarring and inconsistent
councils of a discordant republic, soon gave
way before the persevering and .steady policy of
Philip of Macedon. With Demosthenes, there-
fore, fell Ihe liberties of his country, and with
him perished the eloquence of Greece. Those
who succeeded were a race of sophists, and pe-
dantic rhetoricians, who tuigh' the art merely
in the schools, and never introduced it (indeed
they never had an opportunity after their coun-
try was enslaved) upon great or public ques-
tions.
Oratory was however studied as a fine ant,
under these masters, long after it ceased to be
useful in Greece ; and even the Romans, when
ELOQUENCE. 263
they became civilized, and applied to literature,
regarded rhetoric as one of the most important
lessons to which they could attend under their
more polished teachers of Greece.
There never was a finer field for eloquence
than was opened at Rome. Her government
was popular; her judicature popular. With
oratory their statesmen influenced the senate ;
with a public harangue their generals le:l on
their armies to battle and to conquest. I can-
not therefore believe, with the French critics
and Dr. Blair, that they were greatly inferior
in this art to their Grecian rivals.
The Romans, it is true, were a military na-
tion ; but though this circumstance is but little
favourable to the cultivation of the more pro-
found sciences, can a nobler scope be afforded
for that manly and erergetic eloquence, which
great projects and great undertakings naturally
dictate ? It might want something of that ele-
gance and polish which Greece, where every
pleasing and ornamental art was known to flou-
rish, could boast. Their manner of speaking
might be, 10 use the wrds of Cicero, somewhat
" asperum & horridum;" but can it be be-
lieved that it was deficient in dignity, aud iu
264 ELOQUENCE*
vigour ? I am not prepared therefore to sub*
scribe to the opinion that Cicero was the only
orator that Rome could boast. I shall not
quote as authentic documents, the orations
which are found in Livy ; but if we may judge
from the effects, the orations of the Gracchi
must have been exceedingly powerful. Scipio
appears to have been not less of an orator than
a soldier. The two Cato's might not be polished
speakers, but they certainly commanded at-
tention in the senate. With respect to Caesar,
Hortensius, and even Anthony, we have the
testimony of Cicero himself, and after such an
authority we have no right to think meanly of
their talents.
After the accession of Augustus, there was
scarcely any thing deserving of the name of
eloquence in that poor shadow of popular au-
thority, which was called the senate of Rome.
The few specimens which are extant, evince
that the history of Rome, under the emperors,
consisted chiefly of studied panegyrics, or ora-
tions on state occasions, like the declamations
of the French academy, which nobody reads.
They might be indeed sufficiently ornamented
and polished ; but they want interest, because
ELOQUENCE. 265
we know they were mere artificial composi-
tions, without a relation to any great under-
taking or transaction of public life. The best
specimen extant of these, is the panegyric of
the younger Pliny on the Emperor Trajan.
We have also some examples extant of that
kind of eloquence which was taught in the
schools of rhetoric, particularly the Contro-
versiae, as they are called, of Seneca the rhe-
torician, the father of the famous philosopher
of that name. They are altogether artificial,
full of antitheses and studied ornament. Yet
much as I admire the genius of Dr. Johnson,
whoever looks into these orations, will find that
our great wrifet was not unacquainted with the
Controversiae of Seneca.
After the preaching of Christianity a new
style of oratory was introduced, of the high-
est importance as to the subject, but less ani-
mated than the eloquence of debate, because of
a more didactic nature. The Epistles of Paul,
however, and even some of the later Fathers,
contain specimens of eloquence superior to any,
I will affirm, to be found in the compositions of
either Cicero or Demosthenes.
A late French writer, the unfortunate Mar*
VOL. i. N
266 ELOQUENCE.
quis de Condorcet, in a posthumous work, af-
fects to speak lightly of the writings of the Fa-
thers. His remarks, however, only prove his
ignorance, and shew that, like the rest of his
superficial and contemptible sect, he had the ef-
frontery to censure writings that he never read.
They shew that he has never perused the sweet
and flowing orations of Chrysostom ;* the ani-
mated addresses of Gregory Nazianzen ; the
unequal, but sometimes sublime compositions
of St. Augustine ; the strong and nervous pe-
riods of Tertullian ; and of Lactantius, who
abounds in all the learning of the times, and in
every beauty of composition. The criticisms
even of Dr. Blair, on these writers, prove that
he was not much more conversant with them
than Condorcet himself. It is, perhaps, suf-
ficient to say, that the most eloquent preacher
of the present times confessedly formed his
style altogether on that of the antient Fathers.
The only countries in modern Europe where
we can expect to find eloquence cultivated are
France and England. The French have na-
turally a sprightly genius, and a taste, though
not a correct one, for <he polite arts. The Eng-
* The golden-mouthed.
ELOQUENCE. 267
lish have had a great advantage, both from their
genius and the nature of their government ;
they have both however produced very great
men in many different professions, and some
orators who might justly contend with either
Demosthenes or Cicero.
In England, however, as well as in Greece
and Rome, the highest efforts of eloquence seem
confined to the great assembly of the nation.
There are, no doubt, some good speakers who
plead at the bar, but none of their orations are
transmitted to posterity, while we read those of
the antients with pleasure. The sermons of
the English writers are inferior to none in good
sense and reasoning, but they appear in general,
deficient in spirit and animation.
In the writings of Bossuet, Bourdaloue, and
Masillon, we see a much higher kind of elo-
quence aimed at than by any English preacher ;
but these are as lamentably deficient in matter
as the English are in style ; and, if we except
a few sermons of Masillon, there are not many
of them of much value.
I shall conclude this letter with a short com-
parison between two of the most finished orators
that ever graced the British or any other senate.
268 ELOQUENCE.
It was written several years ago, when I was in
the habit of attending the debates of the house
of commons, and was originally published in a
periodical publication, in the conducting of
which I had some share.
" Both Mr. Pitt and Mr. Fox are strictly
what may be termed business speakers. They
argue like men of business, rather with a view
of influencing their hearers, than of conciliating
applause to themselves. They vary less from
the question, and indulge their imaginations
less than Mr. Burke or Mr. Sheridan ; and the
superior force of their eloquence is the best
panegyric on this species of oratory. Though
agreeing in this one essential, the oratory of
these great men is however in a variety of cir-
cumstances materially different. A brief com-
parison, therefore, of their excellencies and de-
fects, whether instructive or not, cannot, I
think, fail to prove entertaining, at least to
country readers.
" The first obvious difference which excited
my attention was, that the one is the most ele-
gant, the other the most impassioned speaker I
have ever heard. The one carries the under-
standing along with him, and while we are the
ELOQUENCE. 269
captives of his ingenuity, we imagine we are
following the light of our own reason ; the other
leads us no less forcibly by our passions ; and
if Mr. Pitt addresses the head, every sentence
of Mr. Fox demonstrates his influence over the
heart. The one interests, the other convinces.
The one conducts you over a pleasant cham-
paign and luxuriant meadow ; the other forces
you along with him, be the ground ever so un-
even, be the path ever so rough and interrupt-
ed. It is something extraordinary that the
younger man should be distinguished by the
greater extent and variety of his knowledge
but such undoubtedly appears to be the fact ;
and to account for it, we perhaps must have re-
course to the different education and habits of
the two orators. Thus Mr. Pitt is diffuse, and
surprises by the multitude of his ideas, and by
the variety of lights in which he exhibits the
subject. Mr. Fox, on the other hand, is con-
cise and energetic ; his proofs are arranged to
the utmost advantage, and all of them tend im-
mediately to the very point : he introduces but
few arguments, few ideas, but these are gene-
rally the very strongest, and placed in the
strongest light. In short, it is impossible to
#70 ELOQUENCE.
hear the two speakers without recollecting (he
observation of Quinctilian in his celebrated pa-
rallel between Cicero and Demosthenes : " To
the one, nothing can be added ; from the other,
nothing can be taken away." But if it be
granted, that from indolence, from the variety
of his avocations, or perhaps from not possess-
ing the means, Mr. Fox appears deficient of
information on any occasion, what he wants in
knowledge, he amply compensates for in inge-
nuity. He catches almost instantaneously the
slightest hint, and an argument which appears
of no force when treated by a minor speaker, in
his hands appears both interesting and import-
ant. Mr. Pitt generally comes well prepared
to speak upon the business of the day : to Mr.
Fox, preparation seems unnecessary, since even
from the casual intimation of his adversaries,
he is able to produce matter sufficient, eitlier
for attack or defence.
" I have intimated that neither of them are
very florid speakers ; and I cannot help think-
ing it rather an extraordinary circumstance, in.
Mr, Pitt particularly, that though fresh from
the schools, we find in his speeches no classical
allusions, no embellishments from antient li-
ELOQUENCE. 271
tcraturc, no pomp of erudition ; he seldom
quotes, but rather produces the ideas of other
men in his own words, contrary to the fashion-
able practice of cloathing our own thoughts in
the peculiar phraseology of books. In point
of wit, I do not think either of them deficient,
though they are prudent in the use of it. Mr.
Fox seldom descends from the earnestness and
dignity of his declamation to light or trivial
remarks ; and yet Mr. Pitt's oratory is not dis-
graced by that elegant irony, that polished ri-
dicule, in which he sometimes indulges himself
and his hearers. The candid of all parties
agree in allowing to Mr. Pitt the happiest
choice of words that graces any senator in either
house ; but I confess I was surprized to find the
editor of Bellcndenenus attribute, in unquali-
fied terms, this excellence to Mr. Fox. The
style of Mr. Pitt is in general so correct, that the
auditor is almost induced to fancy he hears the
studied composition of some masterly writer.
The language of Mr. Fox is indeed generally
forcible and expressive, but it is by no means
so elegant, select, and harmonious, as that of
his more finished rival. If fluency be a mark
ELOQUENCE.
of genius, in this too Mr. Pitt has the advan-
tage. His words flow rapidly, but easily, with-
out difficulty or hesitation ; on the contrary,
Mr. Fox frequently hesitates, sometimes recals
his words, and seems dubious which to make
choice of; and though a very rapid speaker,
his rapidity appears rather the effect of passion
than imagination. With respect to manner,
Mr. Pitt at first appears to have greatly the ad-
vantage ; but Mr. Fox compensates in vivacity
for his want of elegance, and though less grace-
ful, is perhaps more interesting than Mr. Pitt.
Mr. Pitt's voice is a full tenor, and his modu-
lation is harmonious. Mr. Fox's is a treble,
and his enunciation is affected by an occasional
lisp. He soon teaches us, however, to forget
these defects. His is both the language and
the expression of nature, and without gratify-
ing the eye, or charming the ear of his audi-
tors, he commands their affections.
" Such appears to me to be the general cha-
racter of each of these distinguished speakers.
I have seen each of them occasionally bear
away the palm from his competitor, and I have
observed each fall greatly below the standard
ELOQUENCE. 273
of his own merit, when defending a bad cause ;
a decisive proof that ingenuity and command
of words will not alone form an orator, but that
there must be a good foundation of truth and
argument ; or the most splendid harangue is
but blossom without fruit ; a mere shadow of
eloquence without substance or effect."
274 ELOQUENCE OF THE PULPIT..
LETTER XIX.
Eloquence of the Pulpit;.
MY DEAJl JOHN,.
IN this country there is only one department*
of eloquence which admits of a precomposcd
discourse,, and that is the eloquence of the pul-
pit. I have formerly remarked that we have
reason to believe the antients frequently, if not
g-enerally, composed their public orations bei
fore-hand,, and recited them cither from me-
mory or from notes; and all those orations,
which were pronounced in the rhetorical
schools, cither as. exercises, or displays of talent v
were composed with great study awl care. I
have observed that the French advocates, before
the Revolution, were also in the habit of com-
mitting all theijr pleadings to writing. But in
our senate, and at our bar, where skilful de-..
baters are of more value and weight than mere
ilcclaimcrs, where argument has more forjqq
ELOQUENCE OF THE PULPIT. 275
than ornament, such a practice would be ridi-
culed as formal and pedantic.
The practice therefore of prccomposing a po-
pular address, is with us confined almost ex-
clusively to the pulpit. The principles which
have been already advanced on the subject of
didactic composition, and also relative to the
parts of a discourse, will almost all apply to
what is called a Sermon, which you see literally
means a discourse, from the Latin Sertno.
'Whatever there is peculiar to this form of
composition will appear further, if we take a
short view of (he origin and progress of pulpit
eloquence.
In the primitive church, from the earliest
period, a custom prevailed, which may indeed
be ultimately traced to. the Jewish, though the
time of its introduction into the latter is net
clearly ascertained. One of the most distin-
guished members of the congregation (usually
the bishop or presbyter) read a portion of scrip-
ture, selected for the service of the day r . and
proceeded wi4h a general explanation or ex-
position of what had been read, concluding
with a practical exhortation. These exhorta-
tions were brief and unadorned, and were some-
ELOQUENCE OF THE PULPIT.
times followed by further expositions of Scrip-
ture from others of the society, who professed
to speak under the influence of the Holy Spi-
rit.*
It is probable that what at first consisted of a
few short, and perhaps unconnected sentences,
would gradually, and by those who possessed
fluency of thought, and facility of expression,
be made to assume a more regular form. Ori-
gen (who lived in the beginning of the third
century,) was the first who introduced long ex-
planatory discourses into Christian assemblies ;
and preaching began in his time to be formed
upon the nice model of Grecian eloquence.
Sometimes two or three sermons were preached
in the same congregation by the presbyters and
bishops in succession. Many of these dis-
courses were extempore, but many were also
precomposed. The sermons on these occasions
were necessarily short, as the time allotted for
public worship was only two hours. It was
probably upon some of these occasions that the
short sermons of St. Augustin were composed,
many of which may be pronounced distinctly
* Gregory's History of the Christian Church, Cent. I.
ELOQUENCE OF THE PULPIT. 277
in eight minutes, and some in less. Those of
Chrysostom are however much longer, and some
of them are evidently laboured compositions.
As the institution of preaching commenced in
the explication of Scripture, it still retained,
through many revolutions of the public taste,
some respect to its origin ; and, with a few ex-
ceptions, a portion of the sacred writings al-
ways constituted the basis of the discourse,
though latterly it was reduced almost to the
form of a motto, which had frequently little
connexion with the principal subject; and
hence have originated our modern Essay Ser-
mons.
During the dark ages, from the ignorance of
the clergy, preaching was almost laid aside.
After the Reformation it was chiefly extempore;
but in England many complaints were made of
those who were licensed to preach, I presume
on account of the doctrines they advanced ;
and to enable them to justify themselves, many
of the clergy began to write and read their ser-
mons. The ease which this practice afforded,
and the correctness it induced, has continued it
in the church of England ever since.
This short view of the origin and progress of
278 ELOQUENCE OF THE PULPIT.
this species of eloquence will easily furnish us
Midi the precise rules which are exclusively
applicable to it.
That sermon is most useful and most agree-
able to the nature of the institution which serves
to elucidate the Holy Scriptures, and to clear
away the difficulties \\hich may occur to com-
mon readers. A sermon however ought always
to have a practical tendency ; and though ex-
planatory of Scripture, the minuteness of phi-
lological or metaphysical speculations ought to
be carefully avoided. Discourses which cuter
deeply into difficult doctrinal points are seldom
of much use, and are fitter for the closet than
for a public assembly. Sermons ought to be
calculated to interest and engage as welt as to
instruct. " Propose one point in a discourse
(says Mr. Paley) and stick to it j a hearer never
carries away more than one impression." Let
one virtue be recommended, or one doctrinal
point be explained ; it is impossible to con-
dense the whole duties of a man, or the whole
system of Christian doctrine into a single ser-
mon.
. A sermon should never wander from the text ;
and those arc the best which follow exactly the
ELOQUENCE OF THE PULPIT. 279
natural division of the text ; but this cannot al-
ways be done, particularly when the text is
short, or contains one single proposition. A
few easy and natural divisions will assist the
memory, but many subdivisions perplex and
confuse it ; the exordium should be always na-
tural and easy, not affected, nor yet trite, and
directly leading to the object of the discourse.
The conclusion should be animated, and skil-
fully adapted to interest and awaken the feel-
ings of the audience. It should therefore be
always practical, and consist of an exhortation
to make a right use of the doctrine which has
been detailed, or to profit by the example
which has been exhibited.
The style of sermons should be clear and
plain. It should neither admit of low cant, nor
vulgar phraseology ; nor yet of difficult or fo-
reign words, such as Latinisrns, or technical
phrases of any kind, not even those appropriate
to divinity as a science. Rhetorical flourishes,
or metaphysical expressions, are of little use.
As Mr. Paley remarks, " they cost the writer
much trouble, and produce small advantage
to the hearer." Above all faults of style the
exclamation ought to be avoided : it is al-
280 ELOQUENCE OF THE PULPIT.
ways frigid, and can scarcely fail to offend a
sensible ear.
The delivery of a sermon should correspond
with what I have just uttered with respect to the
style. It should correspond with the gravity
and the dignity of the character which is as-
sumed by the preacher. Those who attempt
to act their sermons, as Dr. Warburton ex-
presses it, degrade themselves into buffoons.
That violence and inequality of enunciation,
which sometimes becomes a player, as expres-
sive of the stronger passions he represents, is
offensive and improper in a teacher. Nor less
disgusting is the attempt to speak in a kind of
recitative, begging, pathetic tone, without at
all adapting the voice to the nature of the sub-
ject. Whoever employs these poor devices,
will indeed excite the pity of the well-informed
part of his audience but it will be for the
preacher himself.
An easy, temperate, and harmonious elocu-
tion (with some regard to emphasis, particu-
larly where a peculiar phrase requires that it
should be impressed upon the mind) will al-
ways be more generally pleasing, than any kind
of affectation. Few can excel in the higher re-
ELOQUENCE OF THE PULPIT. 281
quisitcs of oratory ; few can become orators ;
but all may be correct and agreeable speakers
(at least with few exceptions,) if they will not
be too ambitious for distinction.
It has been debated, whether sermons may
be most advantageously delivered from written
notes, memory, or perfectly extempore. Dr.
Beattie decides in favour of written sermons.
Indeed there is scarcely any extempore dis-
course which is not too diffuse for the time usu-
ally alloted for the pulpit, that might not in
fact be comprised in much fewer words, and
which does not abound in impertinencies, tau-
tologies, or solecisms. Yet a good extempore
discourse has more effect in a common audience
than a written one. A practice which has been
much exclaimed against, but I think without
reason, is that of preaching from printed ser-
mons. If it does not beget habits of indolence
in young clergymen, and is only the effect of
modesty at their first entrance into public life,
it is rather commendable than otherwise ; but
they should be cautioned when they do pilfer,
rather to take from approved writers, than from
obscure, or old authors, as is frequently done
to escape detection ; and it may be observed,
ELOQUENCE OF THE PULPIT.
that he who is unqualified to compose is com-
monly unfitted to select.
The style of the French writers I do not, in
general, admire ; they are, it is true, animated,
while the English are rational and full of argu-
ment ; but both these should be united to form
a perfect preacher. The French have but few
thoughts, and these placed in a variety of
lights, which renders them sometimes feeble,
but they are, perhaps, more warm and persua-
sive. There are some protestant preachers of
the French, and particularly Saurin, who may
be read with advantage. Amongst their popish
divines, Bourdaloue is the most admired in
France, but he is sometimes dull and verbose.
Flechier is more ornamental ; but the most dis-
tinguished is Masillon, bishop of Clermont, who
is really an elegant and nervous writer, and one
who well understood the human heart.
In England, before the Ilesloration, the
preachers were much addicted to scholastic and
casuistical theology, and abounded in divi-
sions. After the Restoration they became more
correct and rational ; but the puritans still re-
tained something of the old style, united with a
considerable share of enthusiasm. The oppo-
LOQUK*CE OF THE PCLPlT.
sition between them caused those of the estab-
lishment to run into the other extreme, and the
majority of them became mere moral and in-
sipid preachers.
There is however a great number of excellent
sermons in our language. Among the old au-
thors I prefer Jeremy Taylor. He is classical,
pathetic, and, for the time he lived in, elegant
in his style. English preaching was, however,
but in its infancy at that period : he admits,
therefore, many thoughts and allusions into his
discourses, which would excite a stare, if not a
smile, in a modern audience ; and if any divine
should wish to adopt them, he must have some
confidence in his own taste, and some expertness
in the art of abridging. Dr. Barrow possessed
a more varied stock of learning than perhaps
any divine of our church. He has written on
almost every subject of divinity or ethics ; and
,1 know few books to which I would rather choose
to refer the student of theology, than to his Ser-
mons on the Christian Faith. Though his ge-
nius was mathematical, I confess there appears
rather a want of method in some of his dis-
courses. His style is in general plain and
Chaste, His periods are not full, but run.
284 ELOQUENCE OF THE PUL.PIT.
smoothly from the tongue ; and his language,
for the most part, preserves one even tenor. He
is a great magazine of sentiment and informa-
tion, and may be resorted to by young preach-
ers, with great advantage.
Dr. Tillotson's sermons have been admired.
They are however, in general, too polemical,
and the language is too loose and unharmoni-
ous. It has few well-turned periods, and is
sometimes as slovenly as common conversation.
The sermons of this good and learned man eon-
tain, however, some passages exquisitely beau-
tiful.
I can, I confess, read South with more plea-
sure than the last mentioned author, though I
do not pretend to apologize for his buffoonery.
He is keen, pointed, sarcastic. He is a great
judge of human nature, which he does not al-
ways view in the most favourable light. He is
always animated, keeps alive our attention by
the energy of his arguments, the acuteness of
his wit, and the terseness and compression of
his style. He seldom affects the pathetic, and
never succeeds in it.
Bishop Atterbury is perhaps the most ele-
gant and classical writer among our divines.
ELOQUENCE OF THE PULPIT. 285
His discourses have all the flow and elegance
of Cicero, with the chasteness and purity of
Demosthenes. His style is animated, yet not
too highly ornamented ; and his allusions are
original, classical, and splendid. The sermon
on (he character of the Scorner is as animated
a philippic as any in the compass of the whole
of the Roman oratory ; that on Paul before Fe-
lix is admirably pathetic.
Some of Bishop Sherlock's are, in my opi-
nion, among the very best and most interesting
sermons in the English language. His know-
ledge of human nature is perhaps superior to
that of all the preceding writers. His arrange-
ment is correct and striking ; his subjects well-
chosen, his arguments forcible and ingenious.
In general I think his doctrinal are inferior to
his moral discourses.
Dr. Clarke's are curious and critical, and
ought to be read by every divine ; he is one of
the best expositors of Scripture that I know.
Dr. Jortin's are nearly of the same kind. They
contain a fund of excellent matter, of keen re-
marks, and original thought. Both these writers
.are, however, rather curious than popular ; and
are rather to be considered as repositories of
28C ELOQUENCE OF THE PULPIT*
matter, which may be occasionally resorted to,
than as affording any discourses for immediate
use.
The sermons of Seed, and those of Dr. Ogden,
are both highly ornamented ; and yet the orna-
ment is of a quite different kind. The style of
the former is diffuse ; that of the latter is the
most condensed I have ever examined. With
respect to the time which these sermons would
require in delivering, the former ought to be
abridged, and the latter perhaps dilated; but
what modern architect dare lift up a trowel
against the work of a Jones or a Palladio ?
The present age has produced some excellent
sermons. The principal are Dr. Blair's, Mr.
Hewlett's, and the present Bishop of London.
Some of the first are better adapted to the clo-
set than the pulpit ; but many of them contain
admirable delineations of human character.
The two last authors are too well known to be
affected either by my commendation or dis-
praise, if indeed the latter could with any pro-
priety be applied to them. I have heard it
remarked that Dr. Blair's seem calculated for
any time, and for almost any religion ; those of
Bishop Porteous arc adapted exactly to the
ELOQUENCE OF THE PULI'IT. 287
present time, and the present state of reli-
gion.
Should you wish for more information on
this subject, you will find it in an Essay on the
Composition and Delivery of a Sermon, pre-
fixed to a volume of Sermons which I published
some years ago; which you will conclude has
furnished many of the hints for this letter ; and
in that you will find all the authorities for
what I have advanced on the origin and pro-
gress of pulpit eloquence.
KVD OF vot. i.
T. Gillet, Primer, Crowa-ourt, Fleet-stl*et.
si UUUA. is JL^UH on me last
date stamped below
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