University of California • Berkeley THE LIBRARY OF THE UNIVERSITY OF CALIFORNIA GIFT OF Mrs. Domenico Saudino L^ M^ /fern* L > AN ABRIDGMENT OF LECTURES OK RHETORIC. by HUGH BLAIR, d. d. REVISED AND CORRECTED. PRINTED BY L THOMAS Etf E. T. ANDREWS. Sold at their Bookftore, N > 45. Newbury Street ; by faid Thomas, in Worcefler ; by O. Pen him an ?5T Co. in 'Troy ; and by Thomas, Andrews, fcf Butler, in Baltimore* MAT, 1803. Advertifcment. rnr-i ± HE want of a fyftem of Rhetoric upon a concife plan, and at an eafy price will, it is prefumed, render this little volume acceptable to the public. To colled: knowledge, which is fcattered over a wide extent, into a fmall compafs, if it has not the merit of originality, has at leaft the advantage of being ufeful. Many, who are terrified at the idea of travelling over a ponderous volume in fearch of informa- tion, will yet fet out on a fhort journey ia purfuit of fcience with alacrity and profit* Thofe for whom the following Eflays are principally intended, will derive peculiar benefit from the brevity, with which they are conveyed. To youth, who are en- gaged in the rudiments of learning; whofe time and attention muft be occupied by a variety of fubjedts, every branch of fcience fhould be rendered as concife as poflible. Hence the attention is not fatigued, nor the memory overloaded. IV ADVERtlSEMENT. That a knowledge of Rhetoric forms a very material part of the education of a polite fcholar muft be univerfally allowed. Any attempt therefore, however imper- fed:, to make fo ufeful an art more gen- erally known, has claim to that praifc which is the reward of good intention. With this, the Editor will be fufficiently fatisfied ; fince being ferviceable to others is the moft agreeable method of becoming contented with ourfelves. CONTENTS. Introduction page On Tap I Criticifm. Genius* Pleafures of Tajle. Sublim- ity in Objects - r Sublimity in Writing - - - - 14 Beauty and other Pleafures of Tafle - - 23 Origin and Progrefs of Language - - g 1 Rife and Progrefs of Language and of Writing 39 StruElure of Language - 44 Siruclure of Language. EngUJh Tongue - 49 Style, Perfpicuity and Precifion - - rg Structure of Sentences Co The fame Subjecl - - - • 65 StruBure of Sentences. Harmony - » 71 Origin and Nature of Figurative Language - 78 Metaphor - - - - - . 83 Hyperbole— Apoftrophe - - • gg Perfonif cation and Apojlrophe - - - go Comparifon, Antithefts, Interrogation, Exclama- tion* and other Figures of Speech - - 04 Antithefis - - - - - m m Interrogation and Exclamation - - og Vifion and Climax » - - • QO General Characlers of Style. Dijfufe, Concife— Feeble* Nervous— Dry, Plain, Neat, Elegant, Flowery - i00 Style. Simple, Ajfecled, Vehement. Direclions for forming a proper Style » • - I q£ A2 Vi CONTENTS. FACE Critical Examination of Mr. Addifon's Style in No. 411 cfthe Speclator - - * 113-. Eloquence. Origin of Eloquence. Grecian Elo- quence. Demofihenes - - - 123 Roman Eloquence. Cicero. Modern Eloquence, 128 Eloquence of Popular AJfemblies - - 134 Eloquence of the Bar - - « * 1 3 7 Eloquence of the Pulpit - - -. 143 ConduEl of a Difcourfe in all its Parts. Introduc- tion) Divi/totty Narration^ and Explication - 148 The Argumentative Part of a Difcourfe >, the Pa- thetic Part > and the Peroration - - 155 Pronunciation or Delivery - - - 160 Means of improving in Eloquence - - 169 Comparative Merit of the Ancients and Moderns 176 Hiflorical Writing . - - - 179, Philofcphical Writing and Dialogue - - 1 84 Epifolary Writing - - n - 185 Fitlithus Hiflory - - -. - 1 86 Nature of Poetry. Its Origin and Progrefs— Fer/if cation - - - - 1 8 8 Englifh Verffication - - - - 189 Paf oral Poetry - - - - 192 Lyric Poetry - - - - - 197 DidaBic Poetry - - - - - 199 Defcriptive Poetry ■» - « - 202 The Poetry of the Hebrews - - - 206 Epic Poetry - - - - - 2ip Homtr's Iliad and Odyffey - - - 215 The JEneid of Virgil - - - 219 Lucaris Pharfalia - - - -32,1 CONTENTS. M tAGZ Taffo's Jerufalem - - - - 224 The Luftad of Camoens - 226 The Telemachus of Fenelon - - - 228 The Henriade of Voltaire - 229 Milton's Paradife Loft - - - - 231 Dramatic Poetry. Tragedy ... 234 Greek Tragedy ----- 245 French Tragedy - • - -247 EngUfh Tragedy - - - * 248 Comedy ------ 250 Ancient Comedy - - - - - 253 Spani/h Comedy - - - - 255 prench Comedy - - - - - 256 £nglijh Comedy - - * * -257 INTRODUCTION. A PROPER acquaintance with the circle of Liberal Arts is requifite to the ftudy of Rhetor- ic and Belles Lettres. To extend the knowl- edge of them muft be the firft care of thofe, who wifli either to write with reputation, or fo to exprefs themfelves in public, as to command attention. Among the ancients it was an cffential principle, that the orator ought to be converfant in every department of learning. No art indeed can be contrived, which can ftamp merit on a compofition, rich or fplendid in ex- preffion, but barren or erroneous in fentiment. Oratory, it is true, has often been difgraced by attempts to eftabiifh a falfe criterion of its value. "Writers have endeavoured to fupply want of matter by graces of compofition ; and courted the temporary applaufe of the ignorant, inftead of the lafting approbation of the difcerning. But fuch impofture muft be fhort and tranfitory. The body and fubftance of any valuable compo- fition muft be formed of knowledge and fcience. Rhetoric completes the ftru&ure, and adds the polifh ; but firm and folid bodies only are able to receive it. X INTRODUCTION. Among the learned it has long, been a con- tefted, and remains (till an undecided queftion, whether Nature or Art contribute moft toward excellence in writing and difcourfe. Various may be the opinions vith refpect to the manner, in which Art can molt effe&ually furnifli aid for fuch a purpofe ; and it were prefumption to aflfart, that rhetorical rules, how juft foever, are fufficient to form an orator. Private ap- plication and itudy, fuppofing natural genius to be favourable, are certainly fuperior to any fyitem of public inltra£tion. But, though rules and inftru&ions cannot effect every thing which is requifite, they may be of confiderable ufe. If they cannot infpire genius, they can give it direction and affiltance. If they cannot make barrennefs fruitful, they can correct redundan- cy. They prefent proper models for imitation ; they point out the principal beauties which ought to be ftudied, and the chief faults which ought to be avoided ; and confequently tend to enlighten Tafte, and to conduct Genius from unnatural deviations into its proper channel. Though they are incapable of producing great excellencies ; they may at leaft ferve to prevent confiderable miftakes. In the education of youth, no obje£t has ap-. peared more important to wife men in every age, than to excite in them an early relifh for tha INTRODUCTION. Xi entertainments of Tafte. From thefe to the difcharge of the higher and more important du- ties of life the tranfition is natural and eafy. Of thofe minds, which have this elegant and liberal turn, the mod pleafing hopes may be entertain- ed. On the contrary, entire infenfibility to elo- quence, poetry, or any of the fine arts, may juftly be confidered as a bad fymptom in youth j and fuppofes them inclined to low gratifications, or capable of being engaged only in the com- mon purfuits of life. Improvement of Tafte feems to be more or lefs conne&ed with every good and virtuous dilpofition. By giving frequent exercre to the tender and humane paflions, a cultivated tale in- creafes fenfibility ; yet at the fane time it tends to foften the more violent and angry emotions. Ingenuas didicijfe jideliter artes JEmollit mores , nee fait ejfe feros* Thefe polifli'd arts have humamz'd mankind, Soften'd the rude, and calm'd the boifterous mind. Poetry, Eloquence and Hiftory continually exhibit to our view thofe elevated fentiments and high examples, which tend to nourifh in our minds public fpirit, love of glory, contempt of external fortune, and admiration of every thing truly great, noble, and illuftrious. T A S T E. X ASTE is * the power of receiving pleafurc u or pain from the beauties or deformities of Nature u and of Art." It is a faculty common in fome de- gree to all men. Through the circle of human na- ture, nothing is more general, than the relifh of Beau- ty of one kind or other ; of what is orderly, propor- tioned, grand, harmonious, new, or fprightly. Ncr does there prevail lefs generally a difrelifh of what- ever is grofs, difproportioned, disorderly, and difcord- ant. In children the rudiments of Tafte appear very early in a thoufand inftances ; in their partiality for regular bodies, their fondnefs for pidtures and ftatues, and their warm attachment to whatever is new or aftonifhing. The mod ffcupid peafants receive pleafure from tales and ballads, and are delighted with the beautiful appearances of nature in the earth and heavens. Even in the deferts of America, where hu- man nature appears'in its mod uncultivated date, the favages have their ornaments of drefs, their war and their death fongs, their harangues and their orators. The principles of Tafte mud therefore be deeply founded in the human mind. To have fome difcern- ment of Beauty is no lefs efTential to man, than to poflefs the attributes of fpeech and reafon. B ^ TASTE. Though no human being can be entirely devoid of this faculty, yet it is poffeffed in very different degrees. In fome men only faint glimmerings of Tafte are vifible ; the beauties, which they relifh are of the coarfeft kind ; and of thefe they have only a weak and confufed impreffion ; while in others Tafte rifes to an acute discernment, and a lively enjoyment of the mod refined beauties. This inequality of Tafte among men is to be af- cribed undoubtedly in part to the different frame of their natures ; to nicer organs, and more delicate in- ternal powers, with which fome are endued beyond others ; yet it is owing ftill more to culture and edu- cation. Tafte is certainly one of the mod improvea- ble faculties of our nature. We may eafily be con- vinced of the truth of this affertion by only reflecting on that immenfe fuperiority, which education and improvement give to civilized above barbarous nations in refinement of Tafte ; and on the advantage, which they give in the fame nation to thofe, who have ftudi- ed the liberal arts, above the rude and illiterate vulgar. Reafon and good fenfe have fo extenfive an influence on all the operations and decifions of Tafte, that a completely good Tafte may well be confidered, as a power compounded of natural fenfibility to beauty and of improved underftanding. To be fatisfied of this, we may obferve, that the greater part of the produc- tions of Genius are no other than imitations of na- ture ; reprefentations of the characters, actions, or manners of men. Now the pleafure we experience from fuch imitations or reprefentations is founded %n mere Tafte y but to judge, whether they be proper- TASTE. 2 ly executed, belongs to the underftanding, which com- pares the copy with the original. In reading, for inftance, the JEneid of Virgil a great part of our pleafure arifes from the proper con- duct of the plan or (lory j from all the parts being- joined together with probability and due connexion ; from the adoption of the characters from nature, the correfpondence of the fentiments to the characters, and of the ftyle to the fentiments. The pleafure, which is derived from a poem fo conducted, is felt or enjoyed by Tafte, as an internal fenfe ; but the dif- eovery of this conduit in the poem is owing to reafon ; and the more reafon enables us to difcover fuch pro- priety in the condu£t, the greater will be our pleafure. The conftituent9 of Tafle, when brought to its meft perfect ftate, are two, Delicacy and CorreQnefs. Delicacy of Tafte refers principally to the perfection of that natural fenfibility, on which Tafte is founded. It implies thofe finer organs or powers, which enable us to difcover beauties, that are concealed from a vul- gar eye. It is judged of by the fame. marks, that we employ in judging of the delicacy of an external fenfe. As the goodnefs of the palate is not tried by ftrong flavours, but by a mixture of ingredients, where, not- withftanding the confufion, we remain fenfible of each ; fo delicacy of internal Tafte appears by a quick and lively fenfibility to its fined, moft compounded,, or moft latent objects* Corre&nefs of Tafte refpecls the improvement this faculty receives through its connexion with the un- derstanding. A man of correct Tafte is one, who is never impofed on by counterfeit beauties ; who carries always in his own mind that ftandard of good fenfe,, 4 T A S T li. "which he employs in judging of every thing. He el* timates with propriety the relative merit of the feveraL beauties, which he meets in any work of genius ; re- fers them to their proper clafFes 5 affigns the principles as far as they can be traced, whence their power of pl.ea.0ng is derived ; and is pleafed himfelf precifely in that degree, in which he ought, and no more, Tade is certainly not an arbitrary principle, which is fubjedt to the fancy of every individual, and which admits no criterion for determining, whether it be true or falfe. Its foundation is the fame in every hu- man mind. It is built upon fentiments and percep- tions, which are infeparable from our nature ; and which generally operate with the fame uniformity, a3 our ether intellectual principles. When thefe fenti- ments are perverted by ignorance or prejudice, they may be rectified by reafon. Their found and natural (late is finally determined by comparing them' with the general Tade of mankind. Let men declaim as much as they pleafe, concerning the caprice and un- certainty of Tade ; it is found by experience, that there are beauties, which if difplayed in a proper light, have power to command lading and univerfal admira- tion. In every composition, what interefts the imag- ination, and touches the heart, gives pleafure to all ages and nations. There is a certain itring, which being properly druck, the human heart is fo made, as to accord to it. Hence the univerfal. tediraony, which the mod im- proved nations of the earth through a long feries of £ges have concurred to bedow on fome few works of genius ; fuch as the Iliad of Homer, and the iEneid •f Virgii. Hence the authority, which fuch works* CRITICISM. 5 have obtained, as ftandards of poetical compofition ; fince by them we are enabled to collect, what the fenfe of mankind is with refpecl: to thofe beauties, which give them the higheft pleafure, and which therefore poetry ought to exhibit. Authority or prejudice may in one age or country give a fhort-lived reputation to an indifferent poet, or a bad artift ; but, when foreign- ers, or pofterity examine his works, his faults are dif- covered, and the genuine Tafte of human nature is feen. Time overthrows the iilufions of opinion, but eftablifhes the decifions of nature. CRITICISM. GENIUS. PLEASURES OF TASTE. SUBLIMITY IN OBJECTS. 1 RUE Criticism is the application of Tafle and of good fenfe to the feveral fine arts. Its dcf^gn is to diilinguilh, what is beautiful and what is faulty in every performance. From particular inftances it afcends to general principles ; and gradually forms rules or conclufions concerning the feveral kinds oi Beauty in works of Genius. Criticifm is an art, founded entirely on experience y on the obfervation of fuch beauties* as have been found to pleafe mankind mod generally. For exam- ple, Ariftotle's rules concerning the unity of action in dramatic and epic compofition were not firft dis- covered by logical reafoning, and then applied to po- etry ; but they were deduced from the practice of Homer and Sophocles. They were founded upon ob- B a v> GETS 1 U Si ferving the fuperior pleafure, which we derive from- the relation of an action, which is one and entire^ beyond what we receive from the relation of fcatter- ed and unconnected facts. A fuperior Genius indeed will of himfelf, unin- £t rutted, compofe in fuch manner, as is agreeable to the moil: important rules of Criticifm ; for, as thefe rules are founded in nature, nature will frequently fuggeft them in practice. Homer was acquainted with no fyftem of the art of poetry. Guided by Genius alone, he compofed in verfe a regular (lory, which all fucceeding ages have admired. This how- ever is no argument againft the ufefulnefs of Criti- cifm. For fince no human genius is perfect, there is no writer, who may not receive afliftance from critical obfervations upon the- beauties and faults of thcfe, who have gone before him. No rules indeed can fup~ ply the defects of genius, or infpire it, where it is wanting ; but they may often guide it into its proper channel ; they may correct its extravagancies, and teach it the mod juft and proper imitation cf nature. Critical rules are intended chiefly to point out the faults, which ought to be avoided. We muft be in- debted to nature for the production of eminent beauties. Gekius is a word, which in common acceptation 1 extends much farther, than to objects of Talle. It fignifies that talent or aptitude, which we receive from nature, in order to excel in any one thing what- ever. A man is faid to have a genius for mathe- matics as well as a genius for poetry \ a genius for war. for politics, or for any mechanical employment* PLEASURES OF TASTE* J Genius may be greatly improved by art and ftudy ;. but 'by them alone it cannot be acquired. As it is a higher faculty than Tafte, it is ever, according to the common frugality of nature, more limited in the fphere of its operations. There are perfons, not un- frequently to be met, who have an excellent Tafte in feveral of the polite arts ; fuch, as mufic, poetry, painting, and eloquence ; but an excellent performer in all thefe arts is very feldom found ; or rather is not to be looked for. A univcrfal Genius, or one who is equally and indifferently inclined toward fever- al different profeflions and arts, is not likely to excel in any. Although there may be fome few exceptions-, yet in general it is true, that, when the mind is whol- ly directed toward fome one object exclufively of ethers, there is the faired profpect of eminence in that, whatever it may be. Extreme heat can be pro- duced, only when the rays converge to a fingle point. Young perfons aie highly interefted in this remark ; lince it may teach them to examine with care, and to purfue with ardour that path, which nature has mark- ed out for their peculiar exertions. The nature of Tafte, the nature and importance of Criticifm, and the dirtinction between Tafte and Ge- nius, being thus explained ; the fources of the Pleaf- uves of Tafte fhail next be confidered. Here a very extenfive field is opened \ no lefs, than all the PJeaf- nres of the Imagination, as they are generally called, whether afforded us by natural objects,; or by imita- tions and defcriptions of them. It is not however neceffary to the purpofe of the prefent work, that all thefe be examined fully 5 the pleafure, which we re- ceive from difcourfe or writing, being the principal » PLEASURES OF TASTE; object of them. Our defign is to give fome opening*, into the Pleafures of Taiie in general, and to infill more particularly upon Sublimity and Beauty. We are far from having yet attained any fyftem concerning this fubje£l. A regular inquiry into it was firffc attempted by Mr. Addifon in his Eilay on the Pleafures of the Imagination. By him thefe Pleafures are ranged under three heads, Beauty, Gran- deur, and Novelty, His fpeculations on this fubje£t, if not remarkably profound, are very beautiful and- entertaining ; and he has the merit of having difcov- cred a track, which was before untrodden. Since his time the advances, made in this part of philofophic* al criticifm, are not confiderable ; which is owing doubtlefs to that thinnefs and fubtilty, which are- difcovered to be properties of all the feelings of Taile* It is difficult to enumerate the feveral objects, whick give pleafure to Tafte •, it is more difficult to define all thofe, which have been difcovered, and to range them in proper claiTes \ and, when we would proceed far- ther, and inveftigate the efficient caufes of the pleafure,. which we receive from fuch objects, here we find our- felves at the greateft lofs. For example, we all learn by experience that fome figures of bodies appear more beautiful than others ; on farther inquiry we difcoverr that the regularity of fome figures and the graceful variety of others are the foundation of the beauty,, which we difcern in them ; but* when we ondeavour to go a ftep beyond this* and inquire, why regularity and variety produce in our minds the fenfation of beauty; i\ny reafon, we can affign, is extremely im- perfect:. Thofe hrft. principles of internal feniatiotl mature appears to have ftudioufly congealed. SUBLIMITY IN OBJECTS C* ft is fomc confolation, however, that, although ther eiTicient caufe is obfcure, the final caufe of thofe fenfa~ tions lies commonly more open y and here we mull. obferve the ftrong impreflion, which the powers of. Tafte and Imagination are calculated to give us of the benevolence of our Creator. By thefe powers he hath widely enlarged the fphere of the pleafures of human- life \ and thofe too of a kind the mod pure and inno- cent. The neceiTary purpofes of life might have been SUBLIMITY IN OBJECTS. tion and irrefiftible force of that mafs of waters; Wherever fpace is concerned, it is evident, that am- plitude or greatnefs of extent in one dimenfion or other is neceflary to grandeur. Remove all bounds from any obje£r, and you immediately render it fub- lime. Hence infinite fpace, endlefs numbers, and e- ternal duration fill the mind with great ideas. The moil copious fource of fublime ideas feems to be derived from the exertion of great po\Ver and force* Hence the grandeur of earthquakes and burning moun- tains j of great conflagrations ; of the boifterous ocean 5 of the tempeftuous (lorm •, of thunder and lightning j. and of all the unufual violence of the elements. A ftream, which glides along gently within its banks, is a beautiful object *, but, when it rufhes down with the impetuofity and noife of a torrent, it immediately be- comes a fublime one. A race-horfe is viewed with pleafure $ but it is the war-horfey " whofe neek is u clothed with thunder/' that conveys grandeur in its idea. The engagement of two powerful armies, as it is the higheft exertion of human flrength, combines various fources of the fublime ; and has confequently been ever confidered, as one of the mod flriking and magnificent fpeftacles, which can be either prefented to the eye, or exhibited to the imagination in defcrip- tion. All ideas of the folemn and awful kind, and evert bordering on the terrible, tend greatly to afiift the fub- lime \ fuch as darknefs, folitude,. and filence. The firmament, when filled with ftars, fcattered in infinite numbers and with fplendid profufion, frrikes the im- agination with more awful grandeur, than when we. tehold it enlightened by all the fplendour of the ftm. SUBLIMITY IN OBJECTS, II The deep found of a great bell, or the (hiking of a great clock, is at any time grand and awful ; but when heard amid the filence and ftillnefs of night, they be- come doubly (o. Darknefs is very generally applied for adding fublimity to all our ideas of the Deity. " He maketh darknefs his pavilion ; he dwelleth in " the thick cloud." Thus Milton — How oft amid Thick clouds and dark does heaven's all-ruling Sire Choofe to refide, his glory unobfcur'd ; And with the majefty of darknefs round Circles his throne * Obfcurity is favourable to the fublime. The de- fcriptions given us of appearances of fupernatural beings, carry fome fublimity ; though the conception, which they afford us, be confufed and indiftin£h Their fublimity arifes from the ideas, which they al- ways Gonvey, of fuperior power and might connected with awful obfcurity. No ideas, it is evident, are fo fublime, as thofe derived from the Supreme Being, the mod unknown, yet the greateft of all objects ; the in- finity of whofe nature and the eternity of whofe du- ration, added to the omnipotence of his power, though they furpafs our conceptions, yet exalt them to the higheft. Diforder is alfo very compatible with grandeur ; nay, frequently heightens it. Few things, which are exaclly regular and methodical, appear fublime. We fee the limits on every fide ; we feel ourfelves con- fined 5 there is no room for any confiderable exertion of the mind. Though exaft proportion of parts en- la SUBLIMITY IN OBJECTS. ters often into the beautiful, it is much difregarded in the fublime. A great mafs of rocks, thrown together by the hand of nature with wildnefs and confufion, ftrikes the mind with more grandeur, than if they had been adjufted to each other with the moil accurate fymfnetry. There yet remains one clafs of Sublime Obje&s to be mentioned, which may be termed the Moral or Sentimental Sublime, arifing from certain exertions of the mind ; from certain affe£tions and actions of our fellow creatures. Thefe will be found to be chiefly of that clafs, which comes under the name of Magnanimity or Heroifm ; and they produce an ef- fect very fimilar to what is produced by a view of grand objefls in nature, filling the mind with admi- ration, and raifing it above itfelf. Wherever in fome critical and dangerous fituation we behold a man un- commonly intrepid, and refting folely upon himfelf ; fuperior to paflion and to fear ; animated by fomc great principle to contempt of popular opinion, of felfifh intereft, of dangers, or of death ; we are there iiruck with a fenfe of the fublime. Thus Porus, when taken by Alexander after a gallant defence, be- ing afked, in what manner he would be treated ; an- fwered, " Like a King ;" and Csefar chiding the pilot, who was afraid to fet out with him in a ftorm, * c Quid times ? Csefarem vehis," are good inflances of the Sentimental Sublime. The fublime in natural and in moral objects is pre- fented to us in one view, and compared together, in the following beautiful paflage of Akenfide's Pleafures of the Imagination* SUBLIMITY IN OBJECTS. 1 3 3Look then abroad through nature to the range Of planets, funs, and adamantine fpheres, Wheeling, unfhaken, thro' the void immenfe; And fpeak, O Man ! does this capacious fcene, With half that kindling majefty, dilate Thy ftrong conception, as when Brutus rofe Refulgent from the ftroke of Casfar's fate Amid the crowds of patriots ; and his arm Aloft extending, like eternal Jove, When guilt brings down the thunder, call'd aloud On Tully's name, and fhook his crimfon fteel, And bade the father of his country hail ! For lo ! the tyrant proftrate on the duft; And Rome again is free. It has been imagined by an ingenious Author, that terror is the fource of the fublime •, and that no ob- jects have this character, but fuch as produce impref- fions of pain and danger. Many terrible objecls are indeed highly fublime ; nor does grandeur refufe alli- ance with the idea of danger. But the fublime does not confifl wholly in modes of danger and pain. In many grand objects there is not the lead coincidence with terror ; as in the magnificent profpect of widely extended plains, and of the (tarry firmament ; or in the moral difpofitions and fentiments, which we con- template with high admiration. In many painful and terrible objects alfo, it is evident, there is no fort of grandeur. The amputation of a limb, or the bite of a fnake, is in the higheft degree terrible ; but they are deftitute of all claim whatever to fublimity. Lt feems j.uft to allow that mighty force or power, whether attended by terror or not, whether employed in pro- tecting or alarming us, has a better 'title, than any C 14 SUBLIMITY IN WRITING. thing yet mentioned," to be the fundamental quality of tfie fublime. There appears to be no fublime ob- ject, into the idea of which ftrength and force either enter not directly, or are not at lead intimately aflb- ciated by conducting our thoughts to fome aftonifhing power, as concerned in the production of the objsct. SUBLIMITY IN WRITING. 1 HE foundation of the Sublime inCompofition mud always be laid in the nature of the object de- fcribed. Unlefs it be fuch an object:, as, if prefented to our fight, if exhibited to us in reality, would excite ideas of that elevating, that awful, and magnificent kind, which we call Sublime ; the defcription, how- ever finely drawn, is not entitled to be placed under this clafs. This excludes all objects, which are merely beautiful, gay or elegant. Befides, the object mud not only in itfelf be fublime, but it mud be placed before us in fuch a light, as is bed calculated to give us a clear and full impreflion of it ; it mud be defcribed with drength, concifenefs, and fimplicity. This de- pends chiefly upon the lively impreflion, which the poet or orator has of the object, which he exhibits ; and upon his being deeply affected and animated by the fublime idea, which he would convey. If his own feeling be languid, he can never infpire his reader with any drong emotion. Indances, which on this fubject are extremely neceflary, will clearly (how the importance of all thefe requifites. SUBLIMITY IN WRITING. *S It is chiefly among ancient- authors, that we are to look for the mod ftriking inftances of the fublime. The early ages of the world and the uncultivated (late of fociety were peculiarly favourable to the emotions of fublimity. The genius of men was then very prone to admiration and aftonifnment. Meeting continually new and ftrange objects, their imagination was kept glowing, and their paffions were often raifed to the utmofl. They thought and exprcfled themfelves bold- ly without reftraint. In the progrefs of fociety the genius and manners of men have undergone a change more favourable to accuracy, than to ftrength or fub- limity. , Of all writings, ancient or modern, the facred fcriptures afford the moil ftriking inftances of the fublime. In them the defcriptions of the Supreme Being are wonderfully noble, both from the grandeur of the object, and the manner of reprefenting it. What an aflemblage of awful and fublime ideas is pre- fented to us in that paffage of the eighteenth Pfalm, where an appearance of the Almighty is defcribed ! " In my diftrefs I called upon the Lord •, he heard my u voice out of his temple, and my cry came before ? him. Then the earth fhook and trembled ; the a happy piflurefque circumftance in the de- fcription. The boldnefs, freedom, and variety of our blank verfe are infinitely more propitious than rhyme, to all kinds of fublime poetry. The fulled proof of this is afforded by Milton \ an author, whofe genius led him peculiarly to the fublime. The firft and fecond books of Paradife Loft are continued examples of it. Take for inilance the following noted defcription of Satan, after his fall, appearing at the head of his in- fernal hofts : -He, above the reft, In fliape and gefture proudly eminent, Stood, like a tower ; his form had not yet loll All her original brightnefs, nor appeared I.efs than archangel ruin'd, and the excefs Of glory obfeur'd : As when the fun, new rifen,, Looks through the horizontal mifty air, Shorn of his beams ; or, from behind the m«cn, In dim eclipfe, difaftrous twilight ftieds 4^n half the nations, and with fear of change Perplexes monarchs. Darken'd fo, yet flione Above them all th' archangel, Here various fources of the fublime are joined to- j r ; the principal objefl fupcrlatively great ; a high, fuperior nature, fallen indeed, but raifmg itfeif againft diflrefs > the grandeur of the principal objefi 20 SUBLIMITY IN WRITING. heightened by connecting it with fo noble an idea, zz that of the fun fuftering an eclipfe ; this picture, (haded with all thofe images of change and trouble, of darknefs and terror, which coincide fo exquifitely with the fublime emotion ; and the whole exprefTed in a flyle and verification eafy, natural, and fimple, but magnificent. Befide fimplicity and concifenefs, ftrength is effen~ tially necelfary to fublime writing. Strength of de- fcription proceeds in a great meafure from concifenefs ; but it implies fomething more, namely, a judicious choice of circum fiances in the defcription ; fuch as will exhibit the object in its full and mod ftriking point of view. For every object has feveral faces, by which it may be prefented to us, according to the circumftances with which we ' furround it *, and it will appear fuperlatively fublime, or not, in pro- portion as thefe circumftances are happily chofeii, and of a fublime kind. In this, the great art of the writer confifts ; and indeed the principal difficulty of* fublime defcription. If the defcription be too general, and divefted of circumftances; the objeci is fhewn in a faint light, and makes a feeble impreffion, or no impreffion, on the reader. At the time, if any trivial or improper circumftances be mingled, the whole is degraded. The nature of that emotion, which is aimed at by fublime defcription, admits no mediocrity, and cannot fubfift in a middle ftate ; but muft either highly trans- port us •, or, if unfuccefsful in the execution, leave us exceedingly difgufted. We attempt to rife with the writer ; the imagination is awakened, and put upon the ftretch \ but it ought to be fupported \ and, if in SUBLIMITY IN WRITIKGT. 2T flie midft of its effort it be dcferted unexpectedly, it falls with a painful fhock. When Milton in his bat- tle of the angels defcribes them, as tearing up moun- tains, and throwing them at one another \ there are in his defcription, as Mr. Addifonhas remarked, no cir- cumftances, but what are truly fublime : From their foundations loos'ning to and fro, They pluck'd the feated hills with all their load, Rocks, waters, woods ; and by the fliaggy tops Uplifting, bore them in their hands.- This idea of the giants throwing the mountains, which is in itfelf fo grand, Claudian renders burlefque and ridiculous by the fingle circumftance of one of his giants with the mountain Ida upon his mould- ers, and a river, which flowed from the mountain,, running down the giant's back, as he held it up in that poflure. Virgil, in his defcription of mount iEtna, is guilty of a flight inaccuracy of this kind. After fev- eral magnificent images, the poet concludes with per- fonifying the mountain under this figure, " Erutflans vifcera cum gemitu," — u belching up its bowels with a groan j* which, by- making the mountain refemble a fick or drunken per- fon, degrades the majefty of the defcription. The debating efFe£l of this idea will appear in a flronger light, from obferving what figure it makes in a poem of Sir Richard Blackmore ; who, through an extrava- gant perverfity of tafte, felecled it for the principal circumftance in his defcription ; and thereby, as Dr. Arburthnot humoroufly obferves, reprefeuted tli£ mountain as in a fit of the cholic* 22 SUBLIMITY IN WRITING. iEtna and all the burning mountains find Their kindled ftores with inbred ftorms of wind Blown up to rage, and roaring out complain, As torn with inward gripes and torturing pain ; Labouring, they call: their dreadful vomit round, And with their melted bowels fpread the ground. Such inftances fliow how much the fublime de- pends upon a proper fele&ion of circumftances \ and with how great care every circumstance mud be avoid- ed, which, by approaching in the fmalleft degree to the mean, or even to the gay or trifling, changes the tone of the emotion. What is commonly called the fublime ftyle, is for the moft part a very bad one, and has no relation whatever to the^ true Sublime. Writers are apt to im- agine that fplendid words, accumulated epithets, and a certain fweiling kind of expreffion, by rifmg above what is cuftomary or vulgar, conftitute the fublime j yet nothing is in reality more falfe. In genuine in- ftances of fublime writing nothing of this kind appears- H God faid, Let there be light ; and there was light." This is ftriking and fublime j but put it into what is commonly called the fublime ftyle : ""The Sovereign " Arbiter of nature, by the potent energy of a fingle " word, commanded, the light to exift j* and, as Boi- leau juftly obferved, the ftyle is indeed raifed, but the thought is degraded. In general it may be obferved, that the fublime lies in the thought, not in the ex- preffion 5 and, when the thought is really noble, it will generally clothe itfelf in a native majefty of lan- guage. The faults, oppofite to the Sublime, are principally two, the Frigid and the Bombaft. The Frigid confift* BEAUTY AND OTHER PLEASURES GF TASTE. 23 in degrading an object or fentiment, which is fublime in itfelf, by a mean conception of it ; or by a weak, low, or puerile defcription of it. This betrays entire abfence, or at lead extreme poverty of genius. The Bombaft lies in forcing a common or trivial objeG out of its rank, and in labouring to raife it into the fub- lime ; or in attempting to exalt a fublime objecT be- yond all natural bounds. BEAUTY AND OTHER PLEASURES OF TASTE. BEAUTY next to Sublimity affords the higheft pleafure to the imagination. The emotion, which it raifes, is eafily diftinguifhed from that of fublimity. It is of a calmer kind ; more gentle and foothing ; does not elevate the mind fo much, but produces a pleafing ferenity. Sublimity excites a feeling, too violent to be lading ; the pleafure, proceeding from Beauty, admits longer duration. It extends alfo to a much greater variety of objects than fublimity ; to a variety indeed fo great, that the fenfations which beautiful objects excite, differ exceedingly, not in de- gree only, but alfo in kind, from each other. Hence no word is ufed in a 'more undetermined fignification than Beauty. It is applied to almoft every external object, which pleafes the eye or the ear j to many of the graces of writing ; to feveral difpofitions of the mind ; nay, to fome objects of abftracl: fcience. We fpeak frequently of a beautiful tree or flower j a 24 BEAUTY AND OTHER beautiful poem ; a beautiful character ; and a beau- tiful theorem in mathematics. Colour feems to afford the fimplefl: inftance of Beau- ty. AfTociation of ideas, it is probable, has fome in- fluence on the pleafure, which we receive from col- ours. Green, for example, may appear more beautiful from being connected in our ideas with rural fcenes and profpedls ; white with innocence ; blue with the ferenity of the fky. Independently of aflbciations of this fort, all that we can farther obferve refpefting colours is, that thofe, chofen for Beauty, are common- ly delicate, rather than glaring. Such are the feathers of feveral kinds of birds, the leaves of flowers, and the fine variation of colours, mown by the iky at the rifmg and fetting of the fun. Figure opens to us forms of Beauty more complex and diverfified. Regularity firft offers itfelf as a fource of Beauty. By a regular figure is meant one, which we perceive to be formed according to fome certain rule, and not left arbitrary or loofe in the con- struction of its parts. Thus a circle, a fquare, a tri- angle, or a hexagon, gives pleafure to the eye by its regularity, as a beautiful figure ; yet a certain graceful variety is found to be a much more powerful principle to his work perfons really fpeaking, and by words* , which he puts into their mouths, reprefents the con- verfation which they might be fuppofed to hold ; fo far his art may be called imitative ; and this is the cafe in all dramatic competition. But in narrative or: deferiptive works it cannot with propriety be fo call- ed. Who, for example, would call Virgil's defcrip- ticn of a tempeft in the firft JEneid an imitation of a ftorm ? Tf we heard of the imitation of a battle, we might naturally think of fome mock fight, or repre- sentation of a battle on the ftage •, but fhould never imagine it meant one of Homer's defcriptions in the Iliad. It muft be allowed at the fame time, that imita- tion and defcriptbn agree in their principal effe£t, that. ORIGIN AND PROGRESS OF LANGUAGE. J* of recalling by external figns the ideas of things which we do not fee. But, though in this they coin- cide, yet it mould be remembered, that the terms themfelves are not fynonimous •, that they import dif- ferent means of producing the fame end $ and con- fequently make different imprefiions on the mind. ORIGIN AND PROGRESS OF LANGUAGE, X O form an adequate idea of the Origin o£ Language, we muft contemplate the circumftances of mankind in their earlieft and rudeft ftate. They were then a wandering, fcattered race ; no fociety among them except families 5 and family fociety alfo very imperfe£t, as their mode of living, by hunting or paf- turage, muft have feparated them frequently from each other. In fuch a condition, how could any one fet of founds or words be univerfally agreed on, as the figns of their ideas ? Suppofing that a few, whom chance or neceflity threw together, agreed by fome means upon certain figns \ yet by what authority could thefe be fo propagated among other tribes or families, as to grow up into a language ? One would imagine that men muft have been previoufly gathered together in confiderable numbers, before language could be fixed and extended •, and yet on the other hand there feems to have jc-ti an abfolute neceflity of fpeech previous to the formation of fociety. For by what bond could a multitude of men be kept to- gether, or be connected in profecution of any com- mon intereft, before by the afliftance of fpeech they jjj ORIGIN AND PROGRESS OF LANGUAGE* could communicate their wants and intentions to each other ? So that, how fociety eould fubfift previoufiy to language, and how words could rife into language be* fore the formation of fociety, feern to be points at- tended with equal difficulty. When we confider far- ther that curious analogy which prevails in the con- struction of almoft all languages, and that deep and fubtile logic, on which they are founded ; difficulties increafe fo much upon us, on all fides, that there feems to be no fmail reafon for referring the origin of all language to divine infpi ration. But ? fuppoiing language to have a divine original, we cannot imagine that a perfect fyitem of it was at once given to man. It is much more natural to fup- pofe that God taught our firfl parents only fuch lan- guage as fuited their prefent oceafions ;• leaving them* as he did m other refpecls, to enlarge and improve it as their future neceffities fhould require. . Confequent-- ly, thofe rudiments of fpeeeh mud have been poor and narrow - 9 and we are at liberty to inquire, in what manner, and by what Reps, language advanced to the ftate in which we now find it. Should we fuppofe a period exifted before words- were invented or known j it is evident that men could have no other method of communicating their" feelings, than by the cries of paffion, accompanied by fuch motions and geftures, as were farther expreffive of emotion* Thefe indeed are the only figns which, nature teaches all men, and which are under flood by all. One, who faw another going into fome place, where he himfelf had been frightened, or expofed to danger, and who wifhed to warn his neighbour of the danger^ could contrive no other method of doing ify ORIGIN AND PROGRESS OF LANGUAGE. $$ than by uttering thofe cries, and making thofe geftures* which are the figns of fear ; as two men at this day would endeavour to make themfelves understood by each other, if thrown together on a defolate ifland, ignorant of each other's language. Thofe exclama- tions, therefore, by grammarians called interjections, uttered in a ftrong and paffionate manner, were un- doubtedly the elements of fpeech. When more enlarged communication became requi- fite, and names began to be applied to objefts •, how can we fuppofe men proceeded in this application of names, or invention of words ? Certainly by imitating, as much as they could, the nature of the obje£t nam- ed by the found of the name given to it. Asa paint- er, who would reprefent grafs, mult employ a green colour ; fo in the infancy of language one, giving a name to any thing harfh or boifterous, would of courfe employ a harfli or boifterous found. He could not do other wife, if he de fired to excite in the hearer the idea of that obje£t which he wifhed to name. To imagine words invented, or names given to things, without any ground or reafon, is to fuppofe an e£Fe£fc without a caufe. There mud always have been fome motive which led to one name, rather than another ; and we can fuppofe no motive, which would more generally operate upon men in their firft efforts to- ward language, than a defire to paint by fpeech the objedts which they named in a manner more or lefc complete, according as it was in the power of the hu- man voice to efFe£t this imitation. "Wherever objects were to be named, in which found, noife, or motion was concerned, the imitation fey words was fufficiently obvious. Nothing was more 34 ORIGIN AND PROGRESS OF LANGUAGE. natural, than to imitate by the found of the voice the quality of the found or noife which any external ob- ject produced ; and to form its name accordingly. Thus in all languages we difcover a multitude of words, which are evidently conflrucied on this prin- ciple. A certain bird is called the Cuckoo, from the found which it emits. "When one fort of wind is faid to whiji/e, and another to roar ; when a ferpent is faid to hifs ; a Hy to buzz, and falling timber to trap ; when a ftream is faid to Jlow^ and hail to rattle ; the refemblance between the word and the thing fig* rufied is plainly difcernible. But in the names of objects which addrefs the fight only, where neither noife nor motion is concerned ; and flill more in terms, appropriated to moral ideas, this analogy ap- pears to fail. Yet many learned men have imagined that, though in fuch cafes it becomes more obfcure, it is not altogether loll ; and that in the radical words of all languages there may be traced fome degree of correfpondence with the objects fignified. This principle however of a natural relation between words and objects, can be applied to language only in its moft fimple and early (later Though in every tongue fome remains of it may be traced, it were ut- terly in vain to fearch for it through the whole con- ftruclion of any modern language. As terms increafe in every nation, and the vaft fields of language is fill- ed up, words by a thoufand fanciful and irregular methods of derivation and compofition deviate wide- ly from the primitive character of their roots, and lofe all refemblance in found of the things fignified* This is the prefent ftate of language. Words, as we now ufe them, taken in general, may be confidered ORIGIN AND PROGRESS OF LANGUAGE. 35 as fymbols, not imitations ; as arbitrary or indituted, not natural figns of ideas. But there can be no doubt that language, the nearer we approach to its rife among men, will be found to partake more of a nat- ural expreflion. Interjections, it has been mown, or paffionate~ex- clamations, were the elements of fpeech. Men la- boured to communicate their feelings to each other fey thofe expreffive cries and gedures, which nature taught them. After words, or names of objects, be- gan to be invented, this mode of fpeaking by natural (igns could not be all at once difufed. For language' in its infancy mud have been extremely barren ; and there certainly was a period among all rude nations, when coiiverfation was carried on by a very few words, intermixed with many exclamations and earn- ed geftures. The fmall (lock of words which men then poiTefled, rendered thofe helps entirely neceiTary for explaining their conceptions ; and rude, unculti- vated individuals, not having always ready even the few words which they know, would naturally labour to make themfelves underdood by varying their tones of voice, and by accompanying their tones with the moll expreffive gediculations. To this mode of fpeaking, neceffity gave rife. But we mud obferve that, after this neceffity had in a great degree ceafed, by language becoming in procefs of time more extenfive and copious, the ancient man- ner of fpeech dill fubfifted among many nations ; and, what had arifen from neceffity, continued to be ufed for ornament. In the Greek and Roman languages, a mufical and gediculating pronunciation was retained in a very high degree. Without attending to this, we 36 01UG1N AND FR0GKESS OF LANGUAGE. fhall be at a lofs in understanding fevcral paflages of the Claflics, which relate to the public fpeaking and theatrical entertainments of the ancients. Our mod- ern pronunciation would have feemed to them a life- lefs monotony. The declamation of their orators and the pronunciation of their actors upon the ftage ap- proached to the nature of recitative in mufie ; was capable of being marked by notes, and fupported by instruments ; as feveral learned men have proved. With regard to gefture, the cafe was parallel ; for ftrong tones and animated geftures always go togeth- er. The action both of orators and players in Greece and Rome was far more vehement than that to which we are accuftomed. To us, Rofcius would ap- pear a madman. Gefture was of fuch confequence on the ancient ftage, that there is reafon for believing that on fome occafions the fpeaking and the acting were divided \ which, according to our ideas, would form a ftrange exhibition. One player fpoke the words in the proper tones, while another expreffed the corres- ponding motions and geftures. Cicero tells us, it was a conteft between him and Rofcius, whether he could exprefs a fentiment in a greater variety of phrafes, or Rofcius in a greater variety of intelligible fignificant geftures. At laft, gefture engroffed the ftage entirely £ for under the reigns of Auguftus and Tiberius, the favourite entertainment of the public was the Panto*- mime, which was carried on by gefticiilation only. The people were moved, and wept at it as much as at tragedies ; and the paflion for it became fo violent* that laws were made for reftraining the fenators from ftudying the pantomime art. Now, though in decla- mations and theatrical exhibitions both tone and gef- ORIGIN AND PROGRESS OF LANGUAGE. 37 tiure were carried much farther than in common dif- courfe ; yet public fpeaking of any kind mud in every country bear ibme proportion to the manner which is ufed in converfation ; and fuch public entertain- ments could never be relifhed by a nation whofe tones and geftures in difcourfe were as languid as ours. The early language of men, being entirely compof- *cd of words defcriptive of fenfible objects, became of neceflity extremely metaphorical. For, to fignify any defire or paffion, or any acT: or feeling of the mind, they had no fixed exprefTion which was appropriated to that purpofe 5 but were obliged to paint the emo- tion or paffion, which they felt, by alluding to thofe fenfible objects which had mod connexion with it, and which could render it in fome degree vifible to others. But it was not neceflity alone, that gave rife to this pictured ftyle. In the infancy of all focieties, fear and furprife, wonder and aftonifhment, are the moft frequent paflions of men. Their language will nec- eiTarily be affecled by this character of their minds. They will be difpofed to paint every thing in the ftrongeft colours. Even the manner, in which the firft tribes of men uttered their words, had confiderable influence on their ftyle. Wherever ft-rong exclama- tions, tones, and geftures are connected with conver- fation, the imagination is always more exercifed ; a greater effort of fancy and paffion is excited* Thus the fancy, being kept awake and rendered more fprightly by this mode of utterance, operates upon ftyle, and gives it additional life and fpirit. As one proof among many, which might be pro- duced, of the truth of thefe obfervationsj we (hall E 3$ ORIGIN AMD PROGRESS OF LANGUAGE. transcribe a fpeech from Coklen's Hiftory of the Five Indian Nations, which was delivered by their Chiefs, when entering on a treaty of peace with us, in the following language. " We are happy in having buri- ** ed under ground the red axe, that has fo often been 41 dyed in the blood of our brethren. Now in this €i fort we inter the axe, and plant the tree of peace. €( We plant a tree, whofe top will reach the fun ; and €i its branches fpread abroad, fo that it (hall be feen u afar off. May its growth never be ftifled and chok- €( ed ; but may it (hade both your country and ours *' with its leaves ! Let us make fa ft its roots, and ex- c< tend them to the utrnoft of your colonies. If the €< flench ffiould come, to (hake this tree, we fhould *' know it by the motion of its roots reaching into our f< country. May the Great Spirit allow us to refl in €t tranquillity upon our mats, and never again dig up and uttering at the fame* time a pafiionate cry. Sup- pofing him to have acquired words, the firft word which he would utter would be the name of that ob- ject. He would not exprefs himfelf according to our order of conduction, " Give me fruit £' but accord- ing to the Latin order, " Fruit give me," " Fructum " da mini," for this plain reafon, that his attention was wholly directed toward fruit, the object defired. Hence 40 RISE AND PROGRESS OP we might conclude a priori y that this was the order in which words were moft commonly arranged in the' infancy of Language ; and accordingly we find in reali-- ty that in this order words are arranged in moft of the ancient tongues, as in the Greek and Latin ; and it is faid likewife in the Ruffian, Sclavonic, Gaelic andi fevcral American tongues. The modern languages of Europe have adopted a- different arrangement from the ancient. In their profc compofitions very little variety is admitted in the col- location of words ; they are chiefly fixed to one order^ which may be called the Order of the Underftandingo They place firft in the fentence the perfon or thing, which fpeaks or ads ; next, its aft ion ; and laftly, the objecT of its aftion. Thus an Engliih writer, paying a compliment to a great man, would fay, " It is im* " poflible for me to pafs over in fJence fo diftingui(h> u ed mildnefs, fo lingular and unheard of clemency, 11 and fo uncommon moderation, in the exercife of ■? fupreme power." Here is firft prefented to us the perfon who fpeaks, *\ It is impofiible for me $* next, what the fame perfon is to do, " to pafs over infilence ;" and laftly, the obje£l which excites him to aftion, " the mildnefs, clemency, and moderation of his pat* u ron." Cicero, from whom thefe words are tranflat- cd, reverfes this order. He begins with the obje£t \ places that firft, which was the exciting idea in the fpeaker's mind, and ends with the fpeaker and his ac- tion. " Tantam manfuetudinem, tarn inufitatam in- " auditamque clementiam, tantumque in fumma po- H teftate rerurn omnium modum, tacitus nullo modo u prxterire poflum." Here, it muft be obferved, the Latin order is more animated ; the English more cleaf and diflinft. LANGUAGE AND OF WRITING. 41 Our language naturally allows greater liberty for franfpofition and inverfion in poetry, than in profe. Even there however this liberty is confined within nar- row limits, in companion with the ancient languages. In this reipeft, modern tongues vary from each other. The Italian approaches the neareit in its character to the ancient tranfpofition •, the Englifh has more in* verfion than the reft ; and the French has* the leaft of all. - Writing is an improvement upon Speech, and con- fequently was pofterior to it in order of time. Its .-rafters are of two kinds, figns of things, and figns of words. Thus the pictures, hieroglyphics, and fym- bols, employed by the ancients, were of the former fort ; the alphabetical characters, now employed by Europeans, of the latter. Pictures were certainly the firft. attempt toward writing, Mankind in all ages and in all nations have been prone to imitation. This would foon be em- ployed for defcribing and recording events* Thus, to fignify that one man had killed another, they painted the figure of one man lying on the ground, and of another {landing by him with a hoilile weapon in h hand. When America was firft difccvered, this was the only kind of writing with which the Mexicans were acquainted. It was however a very imperfect mode of recording fafts ; fince by pictures exter- nal events only could be delineated. Hieroglyphical characters may be confidered as the fecond ftage of the Art of Writing. They confift of certain fymbols, which are made to (land for invifible objefts on account of their fuppofed refemblance of* the objefts themfelves. Thus an eye reprefented E 2 „ 4* RISE AND PROGRESS OF knowledge ; and a circle, having neither beginning nor end, was the fymbol of eternity. Egypt was the country where this kind of writing was mod ftudied r and brought into a regular art. By thefe chara&ers all the boafted wifdom of their priefts was conveyed* They pitched upon animals to be the emblems o£ moral objects, according to the qualities with which they fuppofed them to be endued. Thus imprudence was denominated by a fly ^ wifdom, by an ant ; and vi£lory, by a hawk. But this fort of writing was in the higheft degree enigmatical and confufed ; and confequently a very imperfect vehicle of knowledge. From hieroglyphics fome nations gradually advanc- ed to fimple arbitrary marks, which flood for obje&s* * hough -without any refemblance of the obje£k fignifi- ed. Of this nature was the writing of the Peruvians. They ufed fmall cords of different colours ^ and by knots upon thefe, of different fizes and varioufly rang- ed, they invented figns for communicating their thoughts to one another. The Chinefe at this day ufe written chara£lers of this nature. They have no al- phabet of letters or fimple founds of which their words are compofed ; but every fingle chara&er, which they ufe, is expreffive of an idea \ it is a mark, which (igaifies fome one thing or objeft. The num- ber of thefe chara£lers rnuft confequently be immenfe* They are faid indeed to amount to feventy thoufand. To be perfectly acquainted with them is the bufmefs of a whole life ; which muft have greatly retarded among them the progrefs of every kind of fcience. It is evident that the Chinefe chara£ters, like hiero- glyphics, are figns of things, and not of words- For we are told, that the Japan efe, the Tonquinefe, and LANGUAGE AND OF WRITING, 45 the Corceans,. who fpeak different languages from each other, and from the inhabitants of China, ufe however the fame written characters with them, and thus correfpond intelligibly with one another in writ- ing, though mutually ignorant of each Others' lan- guage. Our arithmetical figures, 1, 2, 3, 4, &c. are an example of this fort of writing. They have no dependence on words ; each figure reprefents the number for which it (lands ; and confequently is equally underftood by all nations, who have agreed in the ufe of thefe figures. The firft ftep, to remedy the imperfection, the ambiguity, and the tedioufnefs of each of the methods- of communication, which have been mentioned, was the invention of figns, which fhould ft and not direct- ly for things, but for words by which things were named and diftinguifhed. An alphabet of fylla- bles feems to have been invented previoufly to an alphabet of letters. Such a one is faid to be retained at this day in ^Ethiopia and fome countries of India. But at belt it mud have been imperfect and ineffectual ; fi nee the number of characters, be- ing very confiderable, muft have rendered both read- ing and writing very complex and laborious. To whom we are indebted for the fublime and re- fined difcovery of letters, is not determined. They were brought into Greece by Cadmus, the Phoenician, „ who, according to Sir Ifaac Newton's Chronology, was contemporary with king David. His alphabet contained only fixteen letters. The reft were after- ward added, according as figns for proper founds were found to be wanting. The Phoenician, Hebrew, Greek, and Roman alphabets agree fo much in the figure, names, and arrangement of the letters, as 44^ STRUCTURE 02 LANGUAGE amounts to clem on lira tion, that they were denvecY originally from the fame fource. The ancient order of writing was from the right hand to the left. This method, as appears from fome very old infcriptions, prevailed even among the Greeks. They afterward ufed to write their lines alternately from the right to the left, and from the left to the right. The inscription on the famous Sigsean monu- ment is a fpecimen of this mode of writing, which continued till the days of Solon, the celebrated Legis- lator of Athens. At length, the motion from the- left hand to the right, being found more natural and convenient, this order of writing was adopted by all: the nations of Europe. Writing was firii exhibited on pillars and tables of ft one 5 afterward on plates of the fofter metals. As it became more common, the leaves and bark of cer- tain trees were ufed in fome countries ; and in oth- ers, tablets of wood, covered with a thin coat of foft wax, on which the imprefiion was made with a ftylus of iron, parchment;, made of the hides of animals, was* an invention of later times. Paper was not invented before the fourteenth century. STRUCTURE OF LANGUAGE. x HE common divifion of Speech into eight- parts, nouns, pronouns, verbs, participles, adverbs, pre- pofitions, interjections, and conjunctions, is not very accurate ; fmce under the general term of nouns it comprehends both fubftantives and adjectives, which STRUCTURE OF LANGUAGBr 4 J ate parts of fpeech eflentially diftincT:. Yet, as we a* e moft accuftomed to this divifion, and, as logical exa&nefs is not necefiary to our prefent defign, we (hall adopt thefe terms, which habit has made fa- miliar to us» Subftantive nouns are the foundation of Grammar* md the moft ancient part of fpeech. When men had advanced beyond fimple interjections or exclamations of paflion, and had begun to communicate their ideas to each other, they would be obliged to affign names to objects by which they were furrounded. Where- cver a favage looked, he beheld forefts and trees. To diftinguifh each by a feparate name would have beers endlefs. Their common qualities, fuch as fpringing from a root, and bearing branches and leaves, would fugged a general idea and a general name. The ge- nus, tree, was afterward fubdivided into itsfeveral fpe- cies of oak, elm, afh, &c. upon experience and obfer- vation, Still however only general terms were ufed in fpeecfu For oak, elm, and afh, were names of whole clafies of objects, each of which comprehended an immenfe number of undiftinguifhed individuals. Thus, when the nouns man, lion, or tree, were mentioned in con- verfation, it could not be known, which man, lion, or tree, was meant among the multitude, comprehended under one name. Hence arofe a very ufeful contriv- ance for determining the individual object: intended, by mean of that part of fpeech called the Article. In Englifli, we have two articles, a and the ; a is more general, the more definite. The Greeks had but one, which agrees with our definite article the. They fup- plied the place of our article a by the abfence of their i6 STRUCTURE OF LANGUAGE. article ; thus Aydfvwos fignifies a man, b A*9p;r^ the man. The Latins had no article \ but in the room of it ufed the pronouns hie, ille, iite. This, however, feems a defecr, in their language \ fmce articles cer- tainly contribute much to perfpicuity and precifion. To perceive the truth of this remark, obferve the different imports of the following expreilions : " The " fon of a king, the fori of thqking, a for* of the king's." Each of thefe three phrafes has a feparate meaning,, too obvious to be mifunderitocd. But, in Latin* u filius regis" is entirely undetermined ; it may bear either of the three fenies mentioned. Befide this quality of being defined by the article* three affections belong to nouns, number, gender and cafe, which deierve to be confidered. Number, as it makes a noun fignificant of one or more, is fingular or plural -, a diftindtion found in all tongues, which mull have been coeval with the ori- gin of language, fince there were few things, which, men had more frequent neceCky of expreiling, than the diftindtion between one and more. In the He- brew, Greek, and fome other ancient languages, we find not only a-plural, but a dual number \ the origia of which may very naturally be accounted for, as fep- arate terms of numbering were yet undiscovered, and one, two, and many, were all, or at lead the principal numeral diitindtions, which men at firfl had any occa- fion to make. Gender, which is founded on the diftindtion of the two fexes, can with propriety be applied to the names of living creatures only. All other nouns ought to be of the neuter gender. Yet in moft langua:: the fame diftindtion Is applied to a great number of STRUCTURE OF LANGUAGE. 47 inanimate obj efts. Thus, in the Latin tongue, enfis^ a fword, is mafcuKne ; fagiita^ an arrow, is feminine ; and this afiignation of fex to inanimate objeds often appears entirely capricious. In the Greek and L: tin, however, all inanimate objefts are not diftributed into mafculine and feminine ; but many of them are chfT- ed, where all ought to be, under the neuter gender ; as,yk\v//», a rock ; mare^ the fea. But in the French and Italian tongues, the neuter gender is wholly unknown, all their names of inanimate objects being put upon the fame footing with thofe of living creatures, and dittrib- uted without referve into mafculine and feminine. In theEnglifh language, all nouns, literally ufed, that are the names of living creatures, are neuter ; and ours is, perhaps, the only tongue (except the Chinefe, which is faid to referable it in this particular) in which the diftinction of gender is philofophically applied. Case denotes the date or relation which one ob- ject bears to another, by fome variation of the name of that object, ; generally in the final letters, and by fome languages in the initial. All tongues however do not agree in this mode of exprefuon. Declenfion is ufed by the Greek and Latin ; but in the Englifli, French, and ftaftah, it is not found ; or, at mod, it exifts in a very imperfect, (late. Thefe languages exprerfc the relations of objects by prepofitions, which are the names of thofe relations prefixed to the names of objects. Englifli nouns have no cafe, except a fort of genitive, commonly formed by adding the letter s to the noun ; as, when we fay " Pope's Dunciad," meaning the Dunciad of Pope. Whether the moderns have given beauty or utility to language, by the abolition of cafes, may perhaps be doubted. They have, however, certainly rendered it 4B STRUCTURE OF LANGUAGE. more fimple, by removing that intricacy which arofc from different forms of declenfion, and from the ir- regularities of the feveral declenfions. But in obtain- ing this fimplicity, it muft be confeffed, we have filled language with a multitude of thofe little words, call- ed prepofitions, which, by perpetually occurring in every fentence, encumber fpeech ; and, by rendering it more prolix, enervate its force. The found of modern language is alfo lefs agreeable to the ear, being depriv- ed of that variety and fweetnefs, which arofe from the length of words, and the change of terminations, ©ccafioned by cafes in the Greek and Latin. But per- haps the greateft difad vantage we fuftain by the abo- lition of cafes, is the lofs of that liberty of tranfpofi- tlon, in the arrangement of words, which the ancient languages enjoyed. Pronouns are the reprefentatives of nouns, and are £ubje£t to the fame modifications of number, gender, and cafe. We may obferve, however, that the pro- nouns of the firft and fecond perfon, / and thou, have no diftin&ion of gender in any language ; for, as they always refer to perfons prefent, their fex muft be known, and therefore needs not to be marked by their pronouns. But, as the third perfon may be abfent, or unknown, the diftin&ion of gender there becomes requifite 5 and accordingly in Engliih it hath all three genders, he, Jhe, it. Adjectives, a$,jlrong, weak, handfome, ugly, are the plaineft and mod fimple in that clafs of words, which are termed attributive. They are common to all lan- guages, and muft have been very early invented ; fince obje&s could neither be diftmguHhed nor treated of in difcourfe, before names were afligned to their dif* ferent qualities. STRUCTURE OF LANGUAGE. 49 STRUCTURE OF LANGUAGE. ENGLISH TONGUE. WF all the parts of fpeech, Verbs are by far the inoft complex and ufeful. From their importance we may juftly conclude, that they were coeval with the origin of language ; though a long time muft have been requifite to rear them up to that accuracy which they now poffefs. The tenfes were contrived to mark the feveral diftin&ions of time. We commonly think of no more than its three great divifions, the pad, the prefenr, and the future ; and we might fuppofe that, if verbs had been fo contrived as merely to exprefs thefe, no more was neceflary. But language proceeds with much greater fubtilty. It divides time into its fever- al moments ; it regards it as never Handing ftill, but always flowing ; things paft, as more or lefs diftant ; and things future, as more or lefs remote by different gradations. Hence the variety of tenfes in almoft every language. The prefent may indeed be always regarded as one indivifible point, which admits no variety - 9 " I am," "fum." But it is not fo with the paQ:. Even the pooreft language has two or three tenfes to exprefs its varieties. Ours has four. 1. A paft action may be reprefented as unfinifhed, by the imperfect tenfe j u I was walking, ambulabamP 2. As finiihed by the perfect tenfc, " I have walked." 3. As finiihed fome time fince, the particular time being left undetermin- ed j " I walked, ambulavi f this is what gramma* F JO STRUCTURE OY LANGUAGE. % rians call an aorift or indefinite pail. 4. As finiflied before fomething elfe, which is alio paft. This i^ the plufquamperfeft ; " I had walked, ambulaveram. *' I had walked before you called upon me.'* Our language, we mull perceive with pleafure, has an ad- vantage over the Latin, which has only three varia- tions of paft time. The varieties in future time are two ; a fimple or indefinite future ; " I fhall walk, ambulabo $* and a future having reference to fomething elfe, which is like wife future ; H I mail have walked, ambulavero \ " I (hall have walked, before he will pay me a vifit." Befide tenfes, verbs admit the diftinflion of voices, viz. the a£Hve and paffive ; as, " I love, or I am loved." They admit alfo the diftin£tion of modes, which are intended to exprefs the perceptions and volitions of the mind under different forms. The indicative mode fimply declares a prepofition ; " I write ; I have " written." The imperative requires, commands, or threatens ; " Write thou ; let him write." The fub- ]un£Hve expreffes a propofition under the form of a condition, or as fubordinate to fomething to which reference is made \ " I might write ; I could write ; * ( I (hould write, if the matter were fo." This expref- fion of the perceptions and volitions of the mind in fo many various forms, together with the diftin&ion of the three perfons, i, thou> and he y conftitutes the con^ jugation of verbs, which makes fo great a part of the Grammar of all languages. Conjugation is reckoned moft perfe£i in thofe lan- guages, which, by varying the termination, or the initial fyllable of the verb, exprefles the greateft number of important circumftances without the help of auxiliary STRUCTURE OF LANGUAGE. $t Verbs. In the Oriental tongues verbs have few tenfes 5 but their modes are fo contrived, as to exprefs a great variety of circumftances and relations. In the Hebrew they fay in One word, without the aid of an auxiliary, not only, " I taught," but, " I was taught ; I " caufed to teach ; I was caufed to teach -, I taught lc myfelf." The Greek, which is commonly thought to be the mod perfect of all languages, is very regular and complete in the modes and tenfes. The Latin, though formed on the fame model, is not fo perfect ; particularly in the paiTive voice, which forms mod of the tenfes by the aid of the auxiliary " fum" In modern European tongues, conjugation is very defec- tive. The two great auxiliary verbs, to have and to be % with thofe other auxiliaries, which we ufe in Englifh, doyfljall, willy may> and can> prefixed to a participle, or to another verb in the infinitive mode, fuperfede in a great meafure the different terminations of modes and tenfes which formed the ancient conjugations. The other parts of fpeech, as they admit* no varia- tion, will require only a fhort difcuflion. Adverbs are for the mod part an abridged mode of fpeech, expreffing by one word what might, by a cir- cumlocution, be refolved into two or more words be- longing to other parts of fpeech. " Here," for in- ftance, is the fame with " in this place." Hence ad- verbs feem to be lefs neceflary, and of later introduc- tion into fpeech, than feveral other clafTes of words ; and accordingly mod of them are derived from other words, formerly eftablifhed in the language. Prepofitions and conjunctions ferve to exprefs the relations which things bear to one another, their mu- tual influence, dependence, and coherence 5 and fo to 52 ENGLISH TONGUE. join words together, as to form intelligible propofitions* Conjunctions are commonly employed for connecting fentences, or members of fentences *, as, and, becaufe, and the like. Prepofitions are ufed for connecting words •, as, of, from, to, &x. The beauty and ftrength of every language depend in a great meafure on a proper ufe of conjunctions, prepositions, and thofe relative pronouns, which ferve the fame purpofe uf eonneding different parts of difcourfe. Having thus briefly confidered the Structure o£ Language in general, we will now enter more particu* larly into an examination of our own Language. The Englifb, which was fpoken after the Norman Conqueft, and continues to be fpoken now, is a mix- ture of the ancient Saxon and the Norman French, to- gether with fuch new and foreign, words, as commerce and learning have, in a fucceflion of ages, gradually introduced. From the influx of fo many dreams, from' a junction of fo many diffimilar parts, it natur- ally follows, that the Englifh, like every, compounded language, mult be fomewhat irregular. We cannot cxpeft from it that complete analogy in ftruelure, which may be found in thofe fimpler languages, which were formed within themfelves, and built on one foundation. Hence our fyntax is fhort, fmce there are few marks in the words themfelves which (how their relation to each other, or point out either their con- cordance or their government in a fentence. But, if thefe be difadvantages in a compound language, they are balanced by the advantages which attend it ; par- ticularly by the number and variety of words by which fuch a language is commonly enriched. Few languages are more copious than the Englifh. In all. ENGLISH TONGUE. 53 grave fubje£ls efpecially, hiftorical, critical, political, and moral, no complaint can juftly be made of the barrennefs of our tongue. We are rich too in the lan- guage of poetry ; our poetical ftyle differs widely from profe, not with refpe£t to numbers only, but in the very words themfelves ; which proves what a com- pafs and variety of words we can felecl and employ, fuited to different occafions* Herein we are infinite- ly fuperior to the French, whofe poetical language, if it were not diftinguifhed by rhyme, would not be known to differ from their ordinary profe. Their language, .however, furpaffes ours in expreffing what- ever is delicate, gay, and amufing. It is, perhaps, the happieft language for converfation in the known world ; but for the higher fubje£ts of. compofition, the Englifh is juftly confidered as far fuperior to it. The flexibility of a language, or its power of be- coming either grave and itrong, or eafy* and flowing, or tender and gentle, or pompous and magnificent, as occafions require; is a quality of great importance in fpeaking and writing. This depends on the co- pioufnefs of a language ; the different arrangements of which its words are fufceptible ; and the variety and beauty of the founds of its words. The Greek poffeffed thefe requifites in a higher degree than any other language. It fuperadded the graceful vari~ ety of its different dialects ; and thereby readily at- fumed every kind of character, an author could wifh, from the mod fimple and familiar, to the moft majef- tic. The Latin, though very beautiful, is inferior in this refpeft to the Greek. It has more of a fixed character of ftatelinefs and gravity •, and is fupported. by a certain fenatorial dignity, of which it is difficult 54 English tongue; for a writer to diveft it. Among modern tongues, the Italian poflefies much more flexibility than the French ; and feems to be on the whole the mod per- fe£l of all the modern diale£ts which have arifen out of the ruins of the ancient. Our language, though unequal to the Italian in flexibility, is not deftitute of a confiderable degree of this quality. Whoever confiders the diverfity of ftyJe in foine of our bell wri- ters, will difcover in our tongue fuch a circle of ex- preflion, fuch a power of accommodation to the vari- ous taftes of men, as redounds much to its honour. Our language has been thought to be very deficient in harmony of found ; yet the melody of its verifica- tion, its power of fupporting poetical numbers, with- out the affiftance of rhyme, is a fufficient proof, that it is far from being unharmonious. Even the hiding found, of which it has been accufed, obtains lefs fre- quently, than has been fufpe&ed. For in many words, and in the final fyllables efpecially, the letter s has the found of % y which is one of the founds on which the ear refts with pleafure ; as in has, thefs, ioves, hears, &c. It mull however be admitted, that fmoothnefs is not the diftinguifhing property of the Englifh tongue. Strength and expreffivenefs, rather than grace and mel- ody, conflitute its character. It pofiefTes alfo the prop- erty of being the moftfimple of all the European dialeds- in its form and confiru£lion. It is free from the intrica- cy of cafes, declenfiens, modes, and tenfes. Its words are fubjeft to fewer variations from their original form, than thofe of any other language. Its nouns have no diftin£tion of gender, except what is made by nature \ and but one variation in cafe. Its adje£Hves admit no change, except what exprefies the degree of ENGLISH TONCUE". $J comparifon. Its verbs, inftcad of the varieties of an- cient conjugation, admit only four or five changes in? termination. A few prepofitions and auxiliary verbs cfTe£r, all the purpoies of fignificancy ; while the principal words for the mod part preferve their form unaltered. Hence our language acquires a fimplicity and facility, which are the caufe of its being frequent- ly written and fpoken with inaccuracy. We imag-*- ine that a competent fkill in it may be acquired with- out any ftudy ; and that in a fyntax fo narrow and limited as ours, there is nothing which requires at- tention. But the fundamental rules of fyntax are common to the Englim and to the ancient tongues * 9 and regard to them is absolutely requifite for writing or fpeaking with propriety. Whatever be the advantages or defects of our lan- guage, it certainly deferves, in the higheft degree, our ftudy and attention. The Greeks and Romans in the meridian of their glory, beftowed the higheft cultivation- on their refpeclive languages. The French and Italians have employed much ftudy upon theirs *, and their ex- ample is worthy of imitation. For, whatever knowl- edge may be gained by the ftudy of other languages, it can never be communicated with advantage, unlefs by thofe who can write and fpeak their own language with propriety. Let the matter of an author be ever fo good and ufeful, his compofitions will always furTer in the public efteem, if his expreflion be deficient in purity or propriety. At the fame time, the attainment of a correct and elegant ftyle is an object which de- mands application and labour. If any onefuppofe he can catch it merely by the ear, or acquire it by a perufal of feme of our good authors, he will be much difappointed. The many grammatical errors, the 56 STYLE, PERSPICUITY, AND PRECISION,* many impure expreffions, which are found in authors who are far from being contemptible, demonftrate that a careful ftudy of our language is previoufly requifite for writing it with propriety, purity, and elegance. STYLE, PERSPICUITY,. AND PRECISION; OTYLE is the peculiar manner in which a marr exprefTes his thoughts by words. It is a picture of the ideas in his mind, and of the order in which^ they there exift.. The qualities of a good ftyle may be ranged under' two heads, perfpicuity and ornament. It will readily be admitted, that perfpicuity is the fundamental qual- ity of a good ftyle. Without this, the brighteft orna- ments only glimmer through the dark, and perplex, inftead of pleating the reader; If we be forced to fol- low a writer with much care; to paufe, and to read over his fentences a fecond time, in order to underftand^ them fully, he will not pleafe us long! Men are too* indolent to relifh fo much labour. Though they may pretend to admire an author's depth, after they have difcovered his meaning, they will feldom be inclined t to look a fecond" time into his book*. Perfpicuity requires attention firft to fingle words and phrafes, and then to the conftruction of fentences. When confidered with refpedl to words and phrafes, . it requires thefe three qualities, purity, propriety, and precifion. Purity and propriety of language are often ufed indifcriminately for each other j and indeed they are STYLE, PERSPICUITY, AND PRECISION. 57 very nearly -allied. A diftin£tion, however, obtains between them. Purity is the ufe of fuch words and conftruQions as belong to the idiom of a particu- lar language, in oppofition to words and phrafes which are imported from other languages, or which are obfolete, or newly coined, or employed without proper authority. Propriety is the choice of fuch words as the beft and mod eftablifhed ufage has appropriated to thofe ideas which we intend to exprefs by them. It implies a corre£t and hap- py application of them, in oppofition to vulgar or low expreffions, and to words and phrafes lefe (ignifi- cant of the ideas we intend to convey. Style may- be pure, that is, it may be ftrictiy Engiifh without ScotticifmsorGa!lieifms,or ungrammatical expreffions- of any kind, and. yet be deficient in propriety. The words may be illy feledted ; not adapted to the fub- ject, nor fully expreffive of the author's meaning. He took them indeed from the general mafs of Eng~ lifh words ; but his choice was made without (kill. But ftyle cannot be proper without being pure \ it is the union of purity and propriety, which renders it graceful and perfpicuous. The exa£t meaning of precifion may be learnt from the etymology of the word. It is derived from u pra-~ " cidere? to cut ofF y and fignifies retrenching all fu- perfluities, and pruning the expreffion in fuch manner, as to exhibit neither more nor lefs than the ideas intended to be conveyed. Words, employed to exprefs ideas, may be faulty in three refpe&s. They may either not exprefs the ideas which the author means, but fome others which are only related , or they may exprefs thofe ideas* but 5 8 STYLE, PERSPICUITY, AND PRECISION not completely ; or they may exprefs them together with fomething more than he intends. Preciilon is oppofed to thefe three faults \ but particularly to the la ft, into which feeble writers- are very apt to fall. They employ a multitude of words to make them- feives underftood, as they think, more diftmcT;- ly \ but they only confound the reader. The image, as they place it before you, is always feen double. When an author tells us of his hero's courage in the day of battle ; the expreflkm is precife, and we underftand it fully. Butlf, from a defire of multiplying, words, he praife his courage and fortitude ; at the moment he joins thefe words together, our- idea begins to waver. He intends to exprefs one quality more ftrongly ; but he is in fact expreffing two. Courage refills danger y fortitude fupports pain. The occasions of exerting thefe qualities are different ; and, being led to think of both together, when only one of them mould engage attention, our view is ren- dered unfteady, and our conception of the object: indiftinct.. The great fource of a loofe ftyle, the oppofite of precifion, is the injudicious ufe of words, called fynon- imous. Scarcely in any language are there two words that convey precifely the fame idea ; and a perfon, perfectly acquainted with the propriety of the lan- guage, will always be able to obferve fomething by which they are diftinguifhed. In our language many inftances may be given of difference in meaning among words, reputed fynonimous •, and, as the fubject is important, we mall point out a few of them. Surprifed } afloni/Ioedy amazed, confounded. "We are furprifed at what is new or unexpected ; we are aC- tonifhed at what is vaft or great -, we are amazed at STYLE, PERSPICUITY, AND PRECISION. 59 *?hat is incomprehenfible ; we are confounded by what is (hocking or terrible. Pride, vanity. Pride makes us efteem ourfelves 5 -vanity makes us defire the efteem of others. Haughtinefs, difdain. Haughtinefs is founded on a high opinion of ourfelves \ difdain on a low opinion of others. To weary, to fatigue. Continuance of the fame thing wearies us ; labour fatigues us. A man is wearied by {landing •, he is fatigued by walking. To abhor, to deteft. To abhor imports fimply ftrong diflike ; to deteft imports likewife ftrong dilapproba- tion. We abhor being in debt \ we deteft treachery. To invent, to dif cover. We invent things which are new ; we difcover what is hidden. Galilseo invented the telefcope •, Harvey difcovered the circulation of the bfood. Entire, complete. A thing is entire, when it wants none of its parts ; complete, when it wants none of the appendages which belong to it. A man may occupy an entire houfe ; though he have not one com- plete apartment. Enough, f iff cient. Enough relates to the quantity, which we wifli to have of a thing. Sufficient relates to the ufe that is to be made of it. Hence enough commonly fignirles a greater* quantity than fufficient does. The covetous man never has enough ; though he has what is fufricient for nature. Thefe are a few among many inftances of words in our language, which by carelefs writers are apt to be miftaken for fynonimous. The more the diftin&ion in the meaning of fuch wo"rds is regarded, the more accurately and forcibly (hall we fpeak and write. (SO STRUCTURE OF SENTENCES. STRUCTURE OF SENTENCES. jnL PROPER conftru&ion of fentences is of fuch importance in every fpecies of compofition, that we cannot be too ftri£fc or minute in our attention to it. For, whatever be the fubjecT:, if the fentences be* conftru&ed in a clumfy, perplexed, or feeble manner ; the work cannot be read with pieafure, nor even with jprofit. But by attention to the rules which relate to this part of ftyle, we acquire the habit of expreffing ourfelves with perfpicuity and elegance ; and, if a dif- order happen to arife in fome of our fentences, we immediately fee where it lies, and are able to recti- fy it. The properties mod eflential to a perfect fentence are the four following. i. Clearnefs. 2. Unity. 3. Strength. 4. Harmony. Ambiguity is oppcfed to clearnefs, and arifes from two caufes ; either from a wrong choice of words, or a wrong collocation of them. Of the choice of words, as far as regards perfpicuity, we have already fpoken. Of the collocation of them we are now to treat. From the nature of our language a capital rule in the ar- rangement of our fentences is, that words or mem- bers mod nearly related, mould be placed as near to each other as poffible, that their mutual relation may clearly appear. This rule is frequently neglefted even by good writers. A few in (lances will fhow both its importance and application. In the pofition of adverbs, which are ufed to qualify the Cgnification of fomething which either precedes STRUCTURE OF SENTENCES. 6 1 cr follows them, a good deal of nicety is to be obferv- ed. " By greatnefs," fays Addifon, " I do not only " mean the bulk of any fmgle objeft, but the large- u nefs of a whole view." Here the place of the ad- verb only makes it limit the verb mean. " I do not on- " ly mean." The quefticn may then be afked, What does he more than mean ? Had it been placed after bulky dill it would have been wrong, for it might then be a(ked, "What is meant befide the bulk P Is it the colour, or any other property ? Its proper place is after the word objeEt : " By greatnefs I do not mean the " bulk of any fingle objeft only ;" for then, when it is afked, What docs he mean more than the bulk of a fingle objeft ; the anfwer comes out precifely as the author intends, " the largenefs of a whole view." " Theifm," fays Lord Shaftefbury, " can only be oppof- 11 ed to polytheifm or atheifm." It may be afked then, Is theifm capable of nothing elfe, except being oppofed to polytheifm or atheifm ? This is what the words literally mean through the improper collocation of only. He ought to have faid, " Theifm can be oppof* " ed only to polytheifm or atheifm." Inaccuracies of this kind occafion little ambiguity in common dif- courfe, becaufe the tone and emphafis, ufed by the fpeaker, generally make the meaning perfpicuous. But in writing, where a perfon fpeaks to the eye, he ought to be more accurate ; and fo to connedl adverbs with the words they qualify, that his meaning cannot be miflaken on the firft infpe&ion. When a circumftance is jnterpofed in the middle of a fentence, it fometimes requires attention to place it in fuch manner as to dived it of all ambiguity. For inftance, " Are thefe defigns," fays Lord BoJing- G 4>2 STRUCTURE OF SENTENCES* broke, " which any man, who is born a Briton, in any " circumftances, in any iituation, ought to be afhamed tl or afraid to avow ?" Here we are in doubt, whether the phrafes, " in any circuinjlances y in anyjituation" be connected with " a man born in Britain }" or with that man's " avowing his defigns." If the latter, as feems mod likely, was intended to be the meaning, the ar- rangement ought to be this, " Are thefe defigns, which " any man, who is born a Briton, ought to be alham- u ed or afraid in any circumftances, in any fituation, u to avow ? w Still more attention is retjuifite to a proper difpofi- tion of the relative pronouns iuho y which) what, nvhqfe ; and of all thofe particles which exprefs the connex- ion of the parts of fpeech. As all reafoning depends upon this connexion, we cannot be too accurate with regard to it. A fmali error may obfcure the meaning of a whole fentence •, and even where the meaning is apparent, yet if thefe relatives be mifplaced, we always find fomething awkward and disjointed in the ftrufture of the period. The following pafTage in Bifli- op Sherlock's Sermons will exemplify thefe obferva- tions : " It is folly to pretend to arm ourfelves againft " the accidents of life, by heaping up treafures which H nothing can prote£l us againft, but the good provi- they ap- pear in fo difunited a view, that the fenfe and connex- ion are nearly loft. The fentence is reftored to its proper unity by conftrufting it thus : u Having come " to anchor, I was put on (bore, where I was faluted " by all my friends, who received me with the great- " eft kindnefs." The fecond rule is, never crowd into one fentence ideas, which have fo little connexion, that they might well be divided into two or more fentences. Violation of this rule never fails to difpleafe a reader. Its effect indeed is fo difgufting, that of the two it is the fafeft extreme, to err rather by too many (hort fentences, than by one, that is overloaded and confufed. The following fentence from a tranflation of Plutarch will 64 STRUCTURE OF SENTENCES- juftify this opinion : " Their march," fays the author, fpeaking of the Greeks, " was through an uncultivat- he refufed the honour of it," is. better than. " being content with deferving a triumph, he refufed " the honour of it." It is one of the mod u.feful exer-* cifes, on reviewing what we h#ve written, to contract that circuitous mode of expreffion, and to cut off thofe ufelefs excrefcences which are ufually found in a firft draught, But we mud be cautious of prun- ing fo clofely, as to give a hardnefs and drynefs to the ftyle. Some leaves rauft be left to fhelter and adorn, the fruit As fentences fhould be cleared of fuperfluous words, fo alfo of fuperfluous members. Oppofed to this is the fault we frequently meet, the laft member of a period being only a repetition of the former in a dif«. ferent drefs. For example, fpeaking of beauty, " The " very firft difcovery of it," fays Addifon, " ftrikes " the mind with inward joy, and fpreads delight. " through all its faculties." In this inftance fcarcely ?.ny thing is added by the fecond member of the fen- tence to what was expreffed in the firft. Though the flowing ftyle of Addifon may palliate fuch negligence, yet it is generally true, that language, divefted of this, prolixity, is more ftrong and beautiful. The fecond rule for promoting the ftrength of a, fentence is, pay particular attention to the ufe of cop-, ulatives, relatives, and particles, employed for tranfi- tion and connexion. Some obfervations on this fub« jeCt, which appear ufeful, Avail be mentioned.. STRUCTURE OF SENTENCES. 6f What is termed fplitting of particles, or feparating a prepofition from the noun which it governs, is ever to be avoided. For example, "Though virtue bor- u rows no afliftance from, yet it may often be ac- " companied by, the advantages of fortune." In fuch inftances we fufFer pain from the violent feparation o£ two things, which by nature are clofely united. The ftrength of a fentence is much injured by art unneceflary multiplication of relative and demon- ftrative particles. If a writer fay, " there is nothing: vici" exprefles with more fpirit the rapidity of conqueft, than if conne£k- particles had been ufed. When, however, we. wifh to prevent a quick transition from one object to. another ^ and when enumerating objects which we to appear as diftinct from each other as nofli-.. 88 STRUCTURE OF SENTENCES. ble ; copulatives may be multiplied with peculiar ad- vantage. Thus Lord Bolingbroke fays with proprie- ty, " Such a man might fall a victim to power ; but u truth, and reafon, and liberty, would fall with him." The third rule for promoting the ftrength of a fen- tence is, difpofe of the principal word or words in that part of the fen tence, where they will make the mod itriking impreffion. Perfpicuity ought firft to be ftudi- ed ; and the nature of our language allows no great liberty of collocation. In general the important words are placed at the beginning of a fentence. Thus Mr. Addifon : " fays Quintilian^ u ne deer ef cat oratio % et fcrtior fubjungatur aliquid infir- ** tnius" A weaker affertion fhould never follow. a. STRUCTURE OF SENTENCES. 6f ftronger one ; and, when a fentence confifls of two members, the longed mould in general be the con- cluding one. Periods, thus divided, are pronounced more eafily ; and, the fhorted member being placed firft, we carry it more readily in our memory, as we proceed to the fecond, and fee the connexion of the two more clearly. Thus to fay, " When our paflions " have forfaken us, we flatter ourfelves with the belief 11 that we have forfaken them," is both more grace- ful and more perfpicuous, than to begin with the longed part of the propofition ; " We flatter our,- " feives with the belief that we have forfaken our paf- " fions, when th^y have forfaken us," The fifth rule for condru&ing fentences with ftrength is, avoid concluding them with an adverb, a prepofition, or any infignificant word. By fuch con- clufions dyle is always weakened and degraded. Some- times, indeed, where the drefs and fignificancy reft chiefly upon words of this kind, they ought to have the principal place allotted them. No fault, for ex- ample, can be found with this fentence of Boling- broke : c< In their profperity my friends (hall never f< hear of me 5 in their adverfity always ;" where never and always, being emphatical words, are fo plac- ed as to make a drong impreihon. But, when thefe inferior parts of fpeech are introduced, as circum- dances, or as qualifications of more important words, they fliould always be difpofed of in the lead confpic- uous parts of the period. We fliould always avoid concluding a fentence or member with any of thofe particles which diftinguilh the cafes of nouns ; as, of, to, from, ivith, by. Thus it is much better to fay, " Avarice is a crime, of which JO STRUCTURE OF SENTENCES. u wife meo are often guilty," than to fay, c< Avarice " is a crime which wife men are often guilty of." This is a phrafeology which all correct writers fhun. A complex verb, compounded of a Cm pie verb and a fubfequent prepofition, is alfo an ungraceful con- clufion of a period ; as, bring about, char up, give over, and many others of the fame kind ; inflead of which,. if a fimpie verb be employed, it will terminate the fentence with more flrength. Even the pronoun it, especially when joined with fome of the prepofitions, us, ivitb it, in it, to it, cannot without violation of grace be the conclufion of a fentence. Any phrafe, which exprefTes a circumftance only, cannot conclude a fentence without great inelegance. Circumftances indeed are like unfhapely {tones in a building which, try the fkill of an artift where to place them with the lead offence. We fhould not crowd too many of them together ; but rather interfperfe them in dif- ferent parts of the fentence, joined with the principal words on which they depend. Thus, for inftance, when* Dean Swift fays, " What I had the honour of in the other u the work. Homer hurries us v/ith a commanding 4i impetuofity -, Virgil leads us with an attractive maj- "efty. Homer fcatters with a generous profufion ; " Virgil beftows with a careful magnificence. Homer, €l like the Nile, pours out his riches with a fudden u overflow \ Virgil, like a river in its banks, with a " conftant dream. When we look upon their ma- u chines, Homer feems like his own Jupiter in his ter* 4i rors, (baking Olympus, fcattering lightnings, and fir- 11 ing the heavens. Virgil like the fame power in his " benevolence, counfelling with the gods, laying plans u for empires, and ordering his whole creation." Peri- ods, thus conftru6led, when introduced with propriety, and not too frequently repeated, have a fenfible beau- ty. But, if fuch a conftru&ion be aimed at in every fentence, it betrays into a diiagreeable uniformity, and produces a regular jingle in the period, which tires the ear, and plainly difcovers affectation. STRUCTURE OF SENTENCES. HARMONY. JliAVING confidered fentences with regard to their meaning under the heads of Perfpicuity, Unity, and Strength ; we (hall now confider them with refpefl: to their found. In the harmony of periods two things are to be con- fidered. Firft, agreeable found or modulation in gene- ral without any particular exprefiion. Next, the found +)1 HARMONY OF SENTENCES. fo ordered as to become expreffive of the fenfe. The flrft is the more common •, the fecond the fuperior beauty. The beauty of mufical conftru£tion depends upon the choice and arrangement of words. Thofe words are mod pleafing to the ear, which are compofed of fmooth and liquid founds, in which there is a proper intermixture of vowels and confonants without too many harfh confonants, or too many open vowels in fuccedion. Long words are generally more pleafing to the ear than monofyllables ; and thofe are the moft mufical, which are not wholly compofed of long and fhort fyllables, but of an intermixture of them ; fuch as delight^ amufe, velocity, celerity, beautiful, impetuoftty. If the words, however, which compofe a fentence, be ever fo well chofen and harmonious ; yet, if they be unfkilfully arranged, its mufic is entirely loft. As an inilance of a mufical fentence, we may take the fol- lowing from Milton : " We fhall condu£l you to a 11 hill-fide, laborious indeed at the firft afcent ; but " elfe, fo fmooth, fo green, fo full of goodly profpefts " and melodious founds on every fide, that the harp " of Orpheus was not more charming. 5 ' Every thing in this fentence confpires to render it harmonious. The words are well chofen •, laborious, fmooth, green, goodly, melodious, charming ; and fo happily arranged, that no alteration can be made without injuring the melody. There are two things on which the mufic of a fen- tence principally depends ; thefe »«re, the proper dif* tribution of the feveral members of it, and the clofe or cadence of the whole. HARMONY OF SENTENCES. 7J Fit ft, the diftribution of the feveral members mould be carefully regarded. Whatever is eafy to the or- gans of fpeech, is always grateful to the ear. While a period advances, the termination of each member forms a paufe in the pronunciation ; and thefe paufes fhould be fo diftributed, as to bear a certain mufical proportion to each other. This will be beft illuftrat- cd by examples. " This difcourfe concerning the eafi- " nefs of God's commands does all along fuppofe and u acknowledge the difficulties of the firft entrance up- €t on a religious courfe y except only in thofe perfons " who have had the happinefs to be trained up to relig- w ion by the eafy and infenfible degrees of a pious and u virtuous education." Thisfentence is far from be- ing harmonious owing chiefly to this, that there is but one paufe in it, by which it is divided into two mem- bers ; each of which is fo long as to require a confid- erable ftretch of breath in pronouncing it. On the contrary, let us obferve the grace of the following paf- fage from Sir William Temple, in which he fpeaks farcaftically of man. " But, God be thanked, his " pride is greater than his ignorance ; and, what he f< wants in knowledge, he fupplies by fufficiency. M When he has looked about him as far as he can, " he concludes there is no more to be feen \ when he n is at the end of his line, he is at the bottom of the M ocean ; when he has fhot his beft, he is fure none " ever did, or even can fhoot better, or beyond it. " His own reafon he holds to be the certain meafure u of truth ; and his own knowledge of what is poffi- ble in nature/' Here every thing is at once eafy to the breath, and grateful to the ear. We mud how- H G( 74 HARMONY OF SENTENCES. ever obferve, that if compofition abound with fen- fences, which have too many refts, and thefe placed at intervals apparently meafured and regular, it is apt to favour of afTe&ation. The next thing which demands attention, is the clofe or cadence of the period. The only important rule, which can here be given, is this, when we aim at dignity or elevation, the found fhould increafe to the laft ; the .longeft members of the period, and the fulleft and moft fonorous words mould be referved for the conclufion. As an inftance of this, the following fentence of Addifon may be given. " It -fills the mind " with the largeft variety of ideas ; converfes with it$ u objects at the greateft diftance ; and continues the €t longeft in action without being tired or fatiated with cc its proper enjoyments." Here every reader muft be fenfible of beauty in the juft diftribution of the paufes, and in the manner of rounding the period, and of bringing it to a full and harmonious clofe. It may be remarked, that little words in the conclu- fion of a fentence are as injurious to melody, as they are inconfiftent with ftrength of expreftion. A mufic- al clofe in our language feems in general to require either the laft fyllable, or the laft but one, to be a long fyllable. Words which confift chiefly of fliort fylla- ties, as contrary^ particular •, rctrofpecl> feldom terminate a fentence harmonioufly, unlefs a previous run of long fyllables have rendered them pieafing to the ear. Sentences, however, which are fo conftru&ed as to make the found always fwell toward the end, and reft either on the laft or penult fyllable, give a difcourfe the tone of declamation. If melody be not varied, the ear is foon cloyed with it. Sentences conftrufted in the HARMONY OF SENTENCES* 75 fame manner, with the paufes at equal intervals, (hould never fucceed each other. Short fentences muft be blended with long and fwelling ones, to render dit- courfe fprightly as well as magnificent. We now proceed to treat of a higher fpecies of harmony ; the found adapted to the fenfe. Of this we may remark two degrees. Firft, the current of found fuited to the tenor of a difcourfe. Next, a pecu- liar refemblance effected between fome object and the founds that are employed in defcribing it. Sounds have in many refpecls an intimate corres- pondence with our ideas j partly natural partly pro- duced by artificial aflbciations. Hence any one modu- lation of found continued, ftamps on flyle a certain character and expreflion. Sentences, conftructed with Ciceronian fulnefs, excite an idea of what is import- ant, magnificent, and fedate. But they fuit no vio- lent paflion, no eager reafoning, no familiar addrefs. Thefe require meafures briiker, eafier, and often more abrupt. It were as abfurd to write a panegyric and an invective in a flyle of the fame cadence, as to fet the words of a. tender love-fong to the tune of a war- like march. Beiide the general correfpondence of the current of found with the current of thought, a more particular expreflion of certain objects by refembling founds may be attempted. In poetry this refemblance is chiefly to be fought. It obtains fometimes indeed in profe competition ; but there in an inferior degree. The founds of words may be employed for repre- fenting chiefly three clafies of objects 5 firft, other founds ; fecondly, motions 5 and thirdly, the emotions and paffions of the mind. 7 prefented at the fame time to our view, without con- fufion ; the principal idea together with its acceffory, which gives it the figurative appearance. When, for example, inftead of " youth," we fay, " the morning 14 of life •" the fancy is inftantly entertained with all the correfponding circumftances between thefe two objects. At the fame inftant we behold a certain pe- riod of human life, and a certain time of the day fo connected, that the imagination plays between them with delight, and views at once two fimilar obje£t& without embarraffment. Figures are alfo attended with the additional advan- tage of giving us a more clear and ftriking view of the principal object, than if it were exprefled in Am- ple terms, and freed from its acceffory idea. They exhibit the object, on which they are employed, in a pi£lurefque form ; they render an abftracl conception in feme degree an object of fenfe ; they furround it with circumftances, which enable the mind to lay hold of it fteadily, and to contemplate it fully. By a well ©F HGURATIVE LANGUAGE* $5 adapted figure, even convi£tiort is aflifted, and a truth is imprefled upon the mind with additional livelinefs and force. Thus in the following pafiage of Dr. Young : " When we dip too deep in pleafure, we " always ftir a fediment, that renders it impure and " noxious." When an image prefents fuch a refem- blance between a moral and fenfible idea, it ferves like an argument from analogy, to enforce what the au- thor advances, and to induce belief. All tropes being founded on the relation which one obje£t bears to another, the name of the one may be fubftituted for that of the other - 9 and by this the vivacity of the idea is generally increafed. The rela- tion between a caufe and its effecT: is one of the firfl: and mod obvious. Hence the caufe is fometimes fig- uratively put for the effect. Thus Mr. Addifon, wriu ing of Italy, fays, Bloflbms, and fruits, and flowers together rife,, And the whole year in gay confufion lies* Here the " whole year" is plainly meant to fignify the productions of the year. The efFecT: is alfo often put for the caufe ; as " grey hairs" for " old age," which produces grey hairs ; and " made" for the u trees," which caufe the (hade. The relation be- tween the container and the thing contained is fo in- timate and apparent, as naturally to give rife to tropes* -Me irapiger haufit Spumantero pateram, et pleno fe proluit anro. Where it is obvious, that the cup and gold are put for the liquor, contained in the golden cup. The name of a country is often ufed to fignify its inhabit- 3 2 ORIGIN OF NATURE, &C- ants. To pray for the affiftance of Heaven is the fame" with praying for the affiftance of God, who is in heav- en. The relation between a fi gn and the thing figni* fied is another fource of tropes. Thus, - Cedant arma togas ; concedat laurca linguae. Here the " toga," which is the badge of the civil profeffions, and the " laurel," that of military honours, are each of them- put for the civil and military charac- ters them felves. Tropes, founded on thefe feveral re- lations of caufe and effecT:, container and contained^ fign and thing fignified, are called by the name of me- tonomy. When a trope is founded on the relation between an antecedent and its consequent, it is called a meta- lepfis j as in- the Roman phrafe, " futt," or M vixitV* to fignify that one was dead. " Fuit Ilium et ingens c< gloria Teucrum" exprefles that the glory of Trojr is no more. When the whole is put for a part, or a part for the whole ; a genus for a fpecies, or a fpecies for a genus ; the fingular number for the plural, or the plural for the fingular ; in general, when any thing lefs, or any thing more, is put for the precife object meant ; the figure is then termed a Synecdoche. We lay, for in- ftance, " A fleet of fo many fail" inftead of fo many u fhips j" we frequently ufe the " head" for the " per- " fon," the " pole" for the " earth," the " waves" for the "Tea." An attribute is often ufed for its fubjecl: ; as, " youth and beauty" for the " young and beautiful^" and fometimes a fubjecl: for its attribute. But the re- lation, by far the moft fruitful of tropes, is fimilitudeji which is the fole foundation of metaphor. METAPHOR. 83 METAPHOR. Mi ETAPHOR is founded entirely on the Tefemblance which one obje£t bears to another. It is therefore nearly allied to fimile or comparifon ; and is indeed a comparifon in an abridged form. When we fay of a great minifler, " he upholds the u ftate, like a pillar, which fupports the weight of u an edifice," we evidently make a comparifon ; but, when we fay of him, he is f< the pillar of the ftate/* it becomes a metaphor. Of all the figures of fpeech none approaches fo near to painting, as metaphor. It gives light and ftrength to defcription *, makes intellectual ideas in fome de- gree vifible, by giving them colour, fubftance and fenfi- ble qualities. To produce this effecl:, however, a del- icate hand is requifite ; for by a little inaccuracy we may introduce confufion inftead of promoting perfpi- cuity. Several rules therefore muft be given for the proper management of metaphors. The firft rule refpecling metaphors is, they mull be fuited to the nature of the fubjecr. ; neither too numer- ous, nor too gay, nor too elevated for it ; we muft neither attempt to force the fubjecl: by the ufe of them into a degree of elevation, not congruous to it ; nor on the contrary fuffer it to fall below its proper digni- ty. Some metaphors are beautiful in poetry, which would be unnatural in profe ; fome are graceful in orations, which would be highly improper in hiftoric- al or philofophical compofition. Figures are the drefs of fentiment. They mould confequently be adapted to the ideas which they are intended to adorn. $4 METAPHOR. The fecond rule refpefls the choice of obje&s, whence metaphors are to be drawn. The field for figurative language is very wide. All nature .opens her ftores and allows us to co!le£t them without re- ftraint. But we muft beware of ufing fuch allufions as raife in the mind difagfeeable, mean, low, or dirty- ideas. To render a metaphor perfeft, it muft not only be apt, but pleafing ; it muft entertain as well as en- lighten. Dryden therefore can hardly efcape the im- putation of a very unpardonable breach of delicacy, when he obferves to the Earl of Dorfet, that " fome " bad poems carry their owners' marks about them ; " fome brand or other on this buttocky or that ear $ u that it is notorious who are the owners of the cattle." The mod pleafing metaphors are derived from the frequent occurrences of art and nature, or from the civil tranfa&ions and cuftoms of mankind. Thus, how expreflive, yet at the fame time how familiar, is the image which Otway has put into the mouth of Metel- lus in his play of CaiusMarius, where he calls Sulpicius That mad wild bull, whom~Marius lets loofe On each occafion, when he'd make Rome feel him, To tofs our laws and liberties in the air. In the third place, a metaphor mould be founded on a refemblance, which is clear and finking, not far fetched, nor difficult to be difcovered. Harfh or forc- ed metaphors are always difpleafing, becaufe they per- plex the reader, and inftead of illuftrating the thought, render it intricate and confufed. Thus, for inftance, Cowley, fpeaking of his rniftrefs, exprefies himfelf in the following forced and obfcure verfes ; METAPHOK. 85 Wo to her ftubborn heart ; if once mine come Into the felf-fame room, Twill tear and blow up all within, Like a grenado, {hot into a magazine. Then fhall love keep the aflies and torn parts Of both our broken hearts ; Sliall out of both one new one make ; From her's the alloy, from mine the metal take 5 For of her heart he from the flames will find But little left behind ; Mine only will remain entire ; No drofs was there, to perifh in the fire. Metaphors, borrowed from any of the fcienees, ef- pecially from particular profeflions, are almoft always faulty by their obfcurity. In the fourth place, we muft never jumble meta* phorical and plain language together ; never con(irii£t a period fo, that part of it mull: be underftood meta- phorically, part literally ; which always produces con- fufion. The works of OlTian afford an inftance of the fault we are now cenfuring. u Trothal werit forth u with the ftream of his people, but they met a rock ; " for Fingal ftood unmoved ; broken, they rolled back u from his fide. Nor did they roll in fafety \ the 11 fpear of the king purfued their flight." The meta- phor at the beginning is beautiful ; the u ftream," the " unmoved rock," the " waves rolling back brok- " en," are expreffions in the proper and confident lan- guage of figure ; but in the end, when we are told, " they did not roll in fafety, becaufe the fpear of the u king purfued their flight," the literal meaning is in- judicioufly mixed with the metaphor ; they are at the fame moment prefented to us as waves that roll> and as men that may be purfued and wounded by a fpear, I 86 METAPHOR. In the fifth place, take care not to make two differ- ent metaphors meet on the fame objcft. This, which is called mixed metaphor, is one of the grofTeft abufes of this figure. Shakefpeare's expreffion, for example, e Fit haunt of gods ; where I had hope to fpend Quiet, though fad, the refpite of that day, "Which muft be mortal to us both ? O flowers! That never will in other climate grow, My early vifitation, and my laft At even, which I bred up with tender hand From your firft opening buds, and gave you names : Who now fhall rear you to the fun, or rank Your tribes, and water from the ambrofial fount ? This is the real language of nature and of female paffion. In the management of this fort of perfonification two rules are to be obferved. Firft, never attempt it, un- lefs prompted by ftrong paffion, and never continue it when the paffion begins to fubfide. The fecond rule is, never perfonify an object which has not fome dig- nity in itfelf, and which is incapable of making a prop- er figure in the elevation to which we raife it. To addrefs the body of a deceafed friend is natural ; but to addrefs the clothes which he wore, introduces low.- apostrophe:. 93 and degrading ideas. So likewife, addretTing the fev- eral parts of the body, as if they were animated, is not agreeable to the dignity of paflion. For this reafon the following paflage in Pope's Eloifa to Abelard is liable to cenfure. Bear fatal name ! reft ever onreveal'cl, Nor pafs thefe lips, in holy filence feal'd. Hide it, my heart, within that clofe difguife, Where, mix'd with God's, his lov'd idea lies ;. O, write it not, my hand ! — his name appears Already written — Wot it out, my tears. Here the name of Abelard is firft perfonified y which, as the name of a perfon often (lands for the perfon himfelf 3 isexpofed to no objection. Next, Eloifa perfonifies her own heart ; and, as the heart is a dig- nified part of the human frame, and is often put for the mind, this alfo may pafs without cenfure. But, when (lie addrefies her hand, and tells it not to write his name, this is forced and unnatural. Yet the fig- ure becomes dill worfe, when (lie exhorts her tears to blot out what her hand had written. The two laft lines are indeed altogether unfuitable to the tendernefs which breathes through the reft of that inimitable poem* Apostrophe Is an addrefs to a real perlbn ; but one who is either abfent or dead, as if he were pre- fent, and lxftening to us.. This figure is in boldnefs a degree lower than perfonification ; fince it requires Iefs effort of imagination to fuppofe perfons prefent who are dead or abfent, than to animate infenfible beings, and direel our difcourfe to them. The poems of Offian abound in beautiful inftances of this figure. 54 COMPARISON, u Weep on the rocks of roaring winds, O Maid of " Iniftore. Bend thy fair head over the waves, thou " fairer than the ghoit of the hills, when it moves in a " fun-beam at noon over the filence of Morven. He is. " fallen ! Thy youth is low •, pale beneath the fword " of Cuchuiiin." COMPARISON, ANTITHESIS, INTERROGA- TION, EXCLAMATION, AND OTHER FIG- URES OF SPEECH. A. COMPARISON or fimile is, when the re- femblance between two objects is exprefTed in form, and ufually purfued more fully than the nature of a metaphor admits. As when we fay, " The actions of " princes are like thofe great rivers, the courfe of u which every one beholds, but their fprings have been u feen by few." This fhort inftance will {how that a happy comparifon is a fort of fparkling ornament which adds luftre and beauty to difcourfe. All comparifons may be reduced under two heads * r explaining and embellifoing comparifons.. For, when a writer compares an objecl: with any other thing, it al- ways is, or ought to be, with a view to make us un- derhand that object; more clearly, or to render it more pleafing. Even abftraft reafoning admits explaining comparifons. For inftance, the diftinction between the powers of fenfe and imagination is in Mr. Harris's Hermes illuftrated by a fimile : " As wax," fays he, u would not be adequate to the purpofe of fignature, ** if it had not the power to retain as well as to re- COMPARISON. f> J 4t ceive the impreffion ; the fame holds of the foul 44 with refpecT: to fenfe and imagination. Senfe is its u receptive power, and imagination its retentive. Had €i it fenfe without imagination, it would not be as wax, w but as water ; where, though all impreflions be in- u ftantly made, yet as foon as they are made, they are li loft." In comparifons of this kind, perfpicuity and ufefulnefs are chiefly to be fludied. But embellifhing comparifons are thofe which mod frequently occur. Refemblance, it has been obferved, is the foundation of this figure. Yet re- femblance mud not be taken in too flrict. a fenfe for actual fimilitude. Two objects may raife a train of concordant ideas in the mind, though they refemble each other, flridtly fpeaking, in nothing. For exam- ple, to defcribe the nature of foft and melancholy mu- fic, Offian fays, " The mufic of Carryl was, like the " memory of joys that are paft, pleafant and mourn- H ful to the foul." This is happy and delicate ; yet no kind of mufic bears any refemblance to the mem- ory of paft joys. "We (hall now confider when comparifons may be in- troduced with propriety. Since they are the language of imagination, rather than of paffion, an author can hardly commit a greater fault, than in the midft of paflion to introduce a fimile. Our writers of trage- dies often err in this refpecT:. Thus Addifon in his Cato makes Fortius, juft after Lucia had bid him fare- well forever, exprefs himfelf in a ftudied comparifon. Thus o'er ijhe dying lamp the unfteady flame Hangs quivering on a point, leaps off by fits, And falls again, as loth to quit its hold. Thou mufl not go ; my foul rti.Il hovers o'er thee, And can't get loofe. $6 COMPARISON. As comparifon is not the ftyle of ftrong paflion, foj when defigned for embellifhment, it is not the lan- guage of a mind totally unmoved. Being a figure of dignity, it always requires fome elevation in the fub- je£t, to make it proper. It fuppofes the imagination to be enlivened, though the heart is not agitated by paffion. The language of fimile lies in the middle region between the highly pathetic and the very hum- ble ftyle. It is however a fparkling ornament j and muft confequently dazzle and fatigue, if it recur too often. Similes even in poetry (hould be employed with moderation ; but in profe much more fo ; oth- erwife the ftyle will become difguftingly lufcious, and the ornament lofe its beauty and effe£L We {hall now confide? the nature of thofe objedls fr.om w T hich comparifons {hould be drawn. In the firft place, they muft not be drawn from things which have too near and obvious a refemblance of the obje£t with which they are compared. The pleas- ure we receive from the a& of comparing, arifes from the difcovery of likenefles among things of dif- ferent fpecies, w r here we fhould not at firft fight ex- pe£l a refemblance. But, in the fecond place, as comparifons ought not to be founded on likenefles too obvious, much lefs ought they to be founded on thofe which are too faint and diftant. Thefe, inftead of affifting, ftrain the fan- cy to comprehend them, and throw no light upon the fuhjeft. In the third place, the obje& from which a compar- ifon is drawn, ought never to be an unknown obje£t f nor one of which few people can have a clear idea. Therefore G miles, founded on philofophical difcov* ANTITHESIS. 97 series, or on any thing, with which perfons of a partic- ular trade only, or a particular profeflion, are acquaint- ed, produce not their proper effect. They fhould be drawn from thofe illuftrious and noted objects, which moil readers have either feen, or can ftrongly conceive. In the fourth place, in compofitions of a ferious or elevated kind, fimiles fhould never be drawn from low or mean objects. Thefe degrade and vilify j whereas fimiles are generally intended to ernbellifh and dignify. Therefore, except in burlefque writings, or where an ■object is meant to be degraded, mean ideas fhould never be prefented. ANTITHESIS is founded on the contrad or oppo- sition of two objedts. By contrail, objects oppofed to each other, appear in a ftronger light. Beauty, for inftance, never appears fo charming as when contrafi- ed with uglinefs. Antithesis therefore may, on many occafions, be ufed advantageoufly to ftrengthen the impreflion which we propofe that any objedl fhuuld make. Thus Cicero, in his oration for Milo, reprcfent- ing the improbability of Milo's defigning to take away the life of Clodius, when every thing was unfavorable to fuch defign, after he had omitted many oppori uni- ties of effecting fuch a purpofe, heightens our convic- tion of this improbability by a fkilful ufe of this fig- ure. " ®)uem igitur cum omnium gratia interficere nolti- 11 it ; hunc voluit cum aliquorum querela P ®hiem jurc % " quern loco, quern tempore, quern impune, nm cjl unfits ; " hunc injuria, iniquo loco, alieno tempore, periculo capitis^ Dean Swift is an eminent example. A neat ftyle is next in order n y and here we are ad- vanced into the region of ornament ; but not of the rnoft fparkling kind. A writer of this character fliows by his attention to the choice of words, and to their graceful collocation) that he does not defpife the beau- ty of language. His fentences are always free from, the incumbrance of fuperfluous words ; of a moderate length 5 inclining rather to brevity, than a fwelling ftrudlure ; and doling with propriety. There is varie- ty in his cadence ; but no appearance of ftudied har- mony. His figures, if he ufe any, are fhort and ac- curate, rather than bold and glowing. Such a ftyle may be attained by a writer, whofe powers of fancy or genius are not great, by induftry and attention. This fort of ftyle is not unfuitable to any fubjecl: whatever. A familiar epiflle, or a law paper on the dried; fubje£r, may be written with neatnefs ; and a fermon, or a philosophical treatife in a neat ftyle, is read with fatif- faftion. An elegant ftyle implies a higher degree of orna- ment than a neat one ; pofTefling all the virtues of or- nament without any of its excefles or defects. Com- plete elegance implies great perfpicuity and propriety ^ 1 0(5 STYLE— SIMPLICITY purity in the choice of words •, and care and flail irf their arrangement. It implies farther the beauties of imagination fpread over ftyle as far as the fubjeft per- mits ; and all the illuftration which figurative language adds, when properly employed. An elegant writer in fhort, is one who delights the fancy and the ear, while he informs the understanding 5 who clothes his ideas in all the beauty of expreflion, but does not overload them with any of its mifplaced finery* A florid ftyle implies excefs of ornament. In a young compofer it is not only pardonable, but often a promifing fymptom. But, although it may be allowed to youth in their firft eflays, it mud not receive ths fame indulgence from writers of more experience. In them judgment filoulcl chaften imagination, and reject every ornament which is unfuitable or redundant* That tinfel fplendor of language which fome writers perpetually afFefr, is truly contemptible. With fuch it is a luxuriancy of words, not of fancy. They for- get that unlefs founded on goodfenfe andfolid thought, the mofl florid ftyle is but a childifh impofition on the public. STYLE. SIMPLE, AFFFCTED, VEHEMENT. DIRECTIONS FOR FORMING A PROPER STYLE. SIMPLICITY, applied to writing, is a term very commonly ufed *, but, like many other critical terms, often ufed without precifion. The different meanings of the word fimplicity are the chief caufe •f this inaccuracy. It is therefore neceflary to (how* SIMPLICITY. I07 In what fenfe fimplicity is a proper attribute of ftyle. There are four different acceptations, in which this *erm is taken. The firft is fimplicity of compofition, as oppofed to 4oo great a variety of parts. This is the fimplicity of plan in tragedy, as difti'nguifhed from double plots -and crowded incidents ; the fimplicity of the Iliad in .oppofition to the digreflions of Lucan ; the fimplici- ty of Grecian architecture in oppofition to the irregu- lar variety of the Gothic. Simplicity in this fenfe is =the fame with unity. The fecond ienfe is fimplicity of thought in oppo- sition to refinement. Simple thoughts are thofe which flow naturally ; which are fuggefted by the fubje£fc or occafion ; and which, when once fuggefted, are eafily underftood by all. Refinement in writing means a lefs obvious«and natural train of thought, which, when carried too far, approaches to intricacy, and difpleafes us by the appearance of being far fought. Thus Par- nell is a poet of much greater fimplicity in his turn of thought than Cowley. In thefe two fenfes fimplicity has no relation to ftyle. The third fenfe of fimplicity regards ftyle, and is oppofed to too much ornament, or pomp of language. Thus we fay Mr. Locke is a fimple, Mr. Harvey a florid .writer. A fimple ftyle, in this fenfe^ coincides with a plain or neat ftyle. The fourth fenfe of fimplicity alfo refpecls ftyle ; but it regards not fo much the degree of ornament • employed, as the eafy and natural manner, in which our language exprefles our thoughts. In this fenfe fimplicity is compatible with the higheft ornament. Homer, for example, pofiefles this fimplicity in the I OS 9IMFLICITY— ^AFFECTATION. greateft perfeftion 5 and yet no writer has more orna- ment and beauty. This fimplicity is oppofed not to ornament, but to affe&ation of ornament ; and is a fuperior excellence in compofition. A fimple writer has no marks of art in his expref- fion ; it appears the very language of nature. We fee not the writer and his labour, but the man in his own natural chara£ter. He may be rich in expreflion 5 he may be full of figures and of fancy ; but thefe flow from him without effort ^ and he feems to write in this manner, not becaufe he had ftudied it, but becaufe it is the mode of expreffion mod natural to hirii. With this charafter of ftyle a certain degree of negligence is not inconfiftent ; for too accurate an attention to words is foreign to it. Simplicity of ftyle, like fim- plicity of manners, (hows a man's fentiments and turn of mind without difguife. A more ftudied and arti- ficial mode of writing, however beautiful, has always this difadvantage, that it exhibits an author in form, like a man at court, where fplendor of drefs and the . ceremonial of behaviour conceal thofe peculiarities which diftinguifh one man from another. But read- ing an author of fimplicity is like converfing with a perfon of rank at home and with eafe, where we fee his natural manners and his real chara£ter. With regard to fimplicity in general, we may ob- ferve, that the ancient original writers are always moil eminent for it. This proceeds from a very obvious caufe ; they v/rote from the dictates of genius, and ' were not formed upon the labours and writings of others. Of affe£tation, which is oppofed to fimplicity of ftyle, we have a remarkable example in Lord Shaftefbury. AFFECTATION. 10^ Though an author of confiderable merit, he exprefles nothing with fimplicity. He feems to have thought it vulgar, and beneath the dignity of a man of quality, to fpeak like other men. Hence he is ever in buf- kins *, full of circumlocutions and artificial elegance. In every fentence we fee marks of labour and art 5 nothing of that eafe which exprefles a fentiment com- ing natural and warm from the heart. He abounds with figures and ornament of every kind ; is fome- times happy in them 5 but his fondnefs for them is too vifible ; and, having once feized fome metaphor or al- lufion, that pleafed him, he knows not how to part with it. He poffeffed delicacy and refinement of tafte in a degree that may be called exceflive and fickly ; but he had little warmth of pafllon 5 and the coldnefs of his character fuggefted that artificial and (lately man- ner which appears in his writings. No author is more -dangerous to the tribe of imitators than Shaftefbury j who, amid feveral very confiderable blemifhes, has many dazzling and impofing beauties. It is very poffible however for an author to write with fimplicity, and yet without beauty. He may be free from affectation, and not have merit. Beautiful fimplicity fuppofes an author to poffefs real genius ; and to write with folidity, purity, and brilliancy of im- agination. In this cafe, the fimplicity of his manner is the crowning ornament ; it heightens every other beauty •, it is the drefs of nature, without which all beauties are imperfect. But, if mere abfence of affec- tation were fufficient to conftitute beauty of ftyle, weak and dull writers might often lay claim to it. A diftinftion therefore mult be made between that L IIO DIRECTIONS ?0R FORMING A PROPER STYLE. Cmplicity which accompanies true genius and is en- tirely compatible with every proper ornament of ftyle, and that which is the effect of careleffnefs. Another character of ftyle, different from thofe al- ready mentioned, is vehemence. This always implies ftrength ; and is not in any refpect incompatible with fimplicity. It is di ft ingui fried by a peculiar ardour ; it is the language of a man whofe imagination and paf- Cons are glowing and impetuous ; who, neglecting in- ferior graces, pours himfelf forth with the rapidity and fulnefs of a torrent. This belongs to the higher kinds of oratory ; and is rather expected from a man who is fpeaking, than from one who is writing in his clofet. Demofthenes is the mod full and perfect ex- ample of this kind of ftyle. Having explained the different characters of ftyle, we (hall conclude our obfervations with a few direc- tions for attaining a good ftyle in general. The firft direction is, ftudy clear ideas of the fub- jecr, on which you are to write or fpeak. What we conceive clearly and feel ftrongly, we naturally exprefs with clearnefs and ftrength. We fhouid therefore think clofely on the fubjecl:, till we have attained ^ full and diftincT: view of the matter which we are to clothe in words ; till we become warm and interefted In it ; then, and then only, (hall we find expreffion begin to flow. Secondly, to the acquifition of a good ftyle, frequen- cy of compofing is indifpenfably neceflary. But it is not every kind of compofing that will improve ftjte. By a carelefs and hafty habit of writing, a bad ftyle will be acquired ; more trouble will afterward be neceffa- ry to unlearn faults, than to become acquainted with SECTIONS FOR FORMING A PROPER STYLE. 1 1 t the rudiments of compofition. In the beginning there- fore we ought to write flowly and with much care. Fa- cility and fpeed are the fruit of practice. We mud be cautious, however, not to retard the courfe of thought, nor cool the ardour of imagination, by paufing too long on every word. On certain occafigns a glow of com- pofition muft be kept up, if we hope to exprefs our- felves happily, though at the expenfe of fome inac- curacies. A more fevere examination muft be the work of correction. What we have written mould belaid by fome time, till the ardour of compofition be paft \ till partiality for our expreffions be weakened, and the expreffions themfelves be forgotten ; and then, reviewing our work with a cool and critical eye, as if it were the performance of another, we (hall difcover many imperfections which at- firft efcaped us. Thirdly, acquaintance with the ftyle of the bed au- thors is peculiarly requifite. Hence a juft tafte will be formed, and a copious fund of words fupplied on every fubje£t. No exercife perhaps will be found more ufeful for acquiring a proper ftyle, that tranflating fome paffage from an eminent author into our own words. Thus to take, for inftance, a page of one of Addifon's Spectators, and read it attentively two or three times, till we are in full pofieffron of the thoughts it contains ; then to lay afide the book ; to endeavour to write out the pafiage from memory as well as we can •, and then to compare what we have written with the ftyle of the author. Such an exercife will fhew us our defects ; will teach us to correct them 9 and, from the variety of expreffion which it will ex- hibit, will conduit us to that which is moft beautiful. 112 DIRECTIONS FOR FORMING A PROPER STYLE.. Fourthly, caution mufl be ufed againft fervile imi* Nation of any author whatever. Defire of imitating, hampers genius, and generally produces ftifFnefs of expreflion. They who follow an author clofely, com- monly copy his faults as well as his beauties. No one will ever become a good writer or fpeaker, who has not fome confidence in his own genius. We ought carefully to avoid ufmg any author's peculiar phrafes, und of transcribing paifages from him. Such a habit will be fatal to all genuine compofkion. It is much better to have fomething of our own, though of mod- erate beauty, than to fhine in borrowed ornaments, which will at Jaft betray the poverty of our genius. Fifthly, always adapt your ftyle to the fubjedt, and jikewife to the capacity of your hearers, if you are to ifeak in public. To attempt a poetical ftyle, when it fliouid be our bufinefs only to reafon, is in the higheft degree awkward and abfurd. To fpeak with elaborate pomp of words before thofe who cannot comprehend them, is equally ridiculous. When we are to write or fpeak, we fhould previously fix in our minds a clear idea of the end aimed at •, keep this fteadily in view, and adapt our ftyle to it. Laftly, let not attention to ftyle engrofs us fo much as to prevent a higher degree of attention to the dioughts. This rule is more neceflary, fince the pref- c.it tafte of the age is directed more to ftyle than to thought. It is much more eafy to'drefs up trifling and common thoughts with fome beauty of expreflion, than to afford a fund of vigorous, ingenious, and ufe- ful fentiments. The latter requires genius , the for- mer may be attained by induftry. Hence the crowd of writers who are rich in ftyle, but poor in fentimcntt CRITICAL EXAMINATION, &C. U3 Cuftom obliges us to be attentive to the ornaments of ityle, if we wifh our labours to be read and admired. But he is a contemptible writer, who looks not beyond the drefs of language ; who lays not the chief ilrefs upon his matter, and employs not fuch ornaments of ftyle to recommend it, as are manly, not foppifh. CRITICAL EXAMINATION OF Mr. ADDISON's STYLE IN No. 411 OF THE SPECTATOR. XlAVING fully infifted on the fubjeft of lan- guage, we (hall now commence a critical analyfis of the (tyle of fome good author. This will fuggeit ob- fervations, which we have not hitherto had occafion to make, and will (how in a practical light the ufe o£ thofe which have been made. Mr. Addifon, though one of the moft beautiful wri- ters in our language, is not the moft correct 5 a cir- cumftance which makes his compofition a proper fub- ject of criticifm. We proceed therefore to examine No. 411, the firfl of his celebrated eflays on the pieaf- ures of the imagination in the fixth volume of the Spectator. It begins thus : Our fight is the moji perfecly and moft delightful of all our fenfes. This fentence is clear, precife and fimple. The au* thor in a few plain words lays down the propofition, which he is going to illuftrate. A firft fentence fhould feldom be long, and never intricate. He might have faid, our fight is the mojl perfeft and the mojl delightful. But in omitting to repeat the par* 114 CRITICAL EXAMINATION tide the, he has been more judicious ; for, as between perfecl and delightful there is no contrail, fuch a repe- tition is unneceffary. He proceeds : // Jills the mind with the largejl variety of ideas, con* verfes with its objecls at the greatefl difance, and contin- ues the longejl in aclion, without being tired or fatiated with its proper enjoyments* This fentence is remarkably harmonious, and well conftrudted. It is entirely perfpicuous. It is loaded with no unneceffary words. That quality of a good fentence, which we termed its unity, is here perfectly preferved. The members of it alfo grow, and rife above each other in found, till it is conducted to one of the moil harmonious clofes which our language admits. It is moreover figurative without being too much fo for the fubjecT:. There is no fault in it what- ever* except this, the epithet large, which he applies to variety, is more commonly applied to extent than to- number. It is plain, however, that he employed it to avoid the repetition of the word great, which occuro immediately afterward. The fenfe of feeling can, indeed, give us a notion of ex- ienfton^fldape^ and all other ideas that enter at the eye y ex- cept colours ; but, at the fame time, it is very much flraiU ened and confined in its operations, to the number, bulk, and difance of its particular objects. But is not every fenfe confined as much as the fenfe of feeling, to the number, bulk, and diftance of its own objects ? The turn of expreflion is alfo very inaccurate, requiring the two words, with regard, to be inferted after the word operations, in order to make the fenfe clear and intelligible. The epithet particular feems to be ufed kiftead of peculiar \ but thefe words, though often of MR. Addison's style. tr$ confounded are of very different import. Particular is oppofed to general ; peculiar (lands oppofed to what is pofieffed in common with others* Our fight feems dtfigned to fupply all thefe defecls, and may be corfidered as a more delicate and diffuftve kind of touch that fp reads itf elf over an infinite multitude of bodies , comprehends the largejl figures, and brings into our reach fome of the mojl- remote parts of the univerfe. This fentence is perfpicuous, graceful, well arrang- ed, and highly mufical. Its ccnftruo~tion is fo fimilar to that of the fee on d fentence, that, had it immediate- ly fucceeded it, the ear would have been fenfible of a faulty monotony* But the interpofition of a period prevents this effect. It is this ftnfe which furnifhes the imagination with its ideas ; fo that, by the pleafures of the imagination or fancy , (which I jhill ufe promifcuoifly) I here mean fuch as arife from vifible objetls, either when we have them atlu- all; in our view, or when we call up their ideas into our minds by paintings, fiatues, defcriptions, or any the like cccq/ion. The parenthefis in the middle of this fentence is not clean It fhould have been, terms which Jfhallufe promifcucufy ; fince the verb ufe does not relate to the pleafures of the imagination, but to the terms, fancy ivad imagination, which were meant to be fynonimous. To call a painting or a ftatue an occafon is not accu- xate ; nor is it very proper to fpeak of calling up ideas by occafions. The common phrafe any fuch means, would have been more natural. We cannot indeed have afingle image in the fancy, that Aid not make its firfl entrance through the fight. ; but we \e the power of 'retaining, altering, and compounding thofe * l6 CRITICAL EXAMINATION images which we have once received, into all the van. of pi Bur e and vifion that are mojl agreeable to the imagina- tion ; for, by this faculty, a man in a dungeon is capable- of entertaining him/elf with fcenes and Ian dj capes more beautiful than any that can be found in the whole compafs of nature* , In one member of this fentence there is an inaccu- racy in fyntax. It is proper to fay, altering and com-- pounding thofe images which we have once received, into all the varieties of piclure and vifton. But we cannot with propriety fay, retaining them into all the vari- eties \ yet the arrangement requires this confrru£tion This error might have been avoided by arranging the pafiage in the following manner : " We have the pow- u er of retaining thofe images which we have once * f received \ and of altering and compounding them u into all the varieties of picture and vinon." The latter part of the fentence is clear and elegant. There are few words in the £ngli/h language, which are employed in a more loofe and uncircumfcribed fenfe than: thofe of the fancy and the imagination. Except when fome affertion of confequence is ad- vanced, thefe little words, it is and there are, ought to be avoided, as redundant and enfeebling. The two- firft words of this fentence therefore fhould have been omitted. The article prefixed to fancy and imagination ought alfo to have been omitted, fince he does not mean the powers of the fancy and the imagination, but the words only. The fentence fhould have run thus % u Few words in the Englifh language are employed in " a more loofe and uncircumfcribed fenfe than fancy w and imagination." OF MR. ADDISON S STYLE. 1 1'/ I therefore thought it necejfary to fix and determine the notion of thefe two words , as I intend to make ufe of them hi the thread of my following /peculations, that the reader tnay conceive rightly what is the fubjetl which I proceed upon. The words fix and determine, though they may ap- pear fo, are not fynonimous. We fix what is loofe ; we determine what is uncircumfcribed. They may be viewed, therefore, as applied here with peculiar del- icacy. The notion of thefe words is rather harfh, and is not fo commonjy ufed, as the meaning of thefe words. As I intend to make ufe of them in the thread of my /peculations is evidently faulty. A fort of metaphor is improperly mixed with words in their literal fenfe. The fubjetl which I proceed upon is an ungraceful clofe of a fen- tence •, it ihould have been, the fubjetl upon which I proceed. 1 mufi therefore defire him to remember, that by the pleafures of imagination, I mean only fuch pleafures as arife $riginally from fight, and that I divide thefe pleafures inta two kinds. This fentence begins in a manner too fimilar to the preceding. I mean only fuch pleafures— the adverb only is not in its proper place. It is not intended here to qualify the verb mean, but fuch pleafures -, and ought therefore to be placed immediately after the latter. My defign being, firfil of all, to dijeourfe of thefe primary- pleafures of the imagination, which entirely proceed from fuch objecls as are before our eyes ; and, in the next place % to J peak of thofe fecondary pleafures of the imagination which fiowfrom the ideas of vifible objecls, when the objecls are vot atlually before the eye } but are called up into our mem* m II 8 CRITICAL EXAMINATION ories, or formed hito agreeable vifions of things, thai are' either abfertt or f Bilious, Neatnefs and brevity are peculiarly requifite in the divifion of a fubjecT:. This fentence is fomevvhat clogged by a tedious phrafeology. My defign being, firfl of all) to difccurfe—in the next place to J peak of—- fiich cbjecls as are before our eyes— things that are either abfent or ficlitious. Several words might have been omitted, and the flyle made more neat and compact, jThe pleafures of the imagination, taken in their full ex- tent > are not fo grofs as thofe offenfe, nor fo refined as thcfe tfthe unci erf an ding. This fentence is clear and elegant. Ihe loft are indeed more preferable, becaufe they arc founded on fome new knowledge or improvement in the mind §f man : yet it mujl be confeffed, that thofe of the imagi~ nation are as great and as tranfporting as the other. The phrafe, more preferable, is fo palpable an inaccu- racy, that we wonder how it could efcape the obfer- vation of Mr. Addifon. The propofition, contained in the lafl member of this fentence, is neither clearly nor elegantly expreiTed. It mujl be confejfed, that thofe $f the imagination are as great and as tranfporting as the other. In the beginning of this fentence he had called tht pleafures of the underftanding the lafl ; and he concludes with obferving, that thofe of the imagina- tion are as great and tranfporting as the other. Be- fide that the other makes not a proper contrail with the lafl, it is left doubtful whether by the other are meant the pleafures of the underftanding, or the pleafures of fenfe j though without doubt it was in- tended to refer to the pleafures of the underftanding $nly, 1J 9 A beautiful profpecl delights the foul as much as a demon* ftration ; and a defcription in Homer has charmed more readers than a chapter in Arijlolle. This is a good illu ftration of what he had been afllrt- ing, and is exprefled with that elegance, by which Mr. Addiibn is diftinguifhed. Bc/tdes, the pleaf ure s of the imagination have this advan- tage above thofe of the under/landing, that they are more obvious, and more eafy to be acquired. This fentence is unexceptionable. It is but opening the eye, and the fcene enters. Though this is lively and piefcurefque, yet we mud -remark a fmall inaccuracy. A fcene cannot be faid to -enter ; an aclor enters ; but a fcene appears or prefents Hfelf. The colours paint them five* on the fancy , with very lit- tle attention of thought or application of mind in the beholder. This is beautiful and elegant, and well fuited to i'hofe pieafurcs of the imagination of which the au- thor is treating. We are finicky we know not how y with the fymmetry of any thing we fee ; and immediately ajfent to the beauty of an objecl t without inquiring into the particular caufes and occafions of it. We ajfent to the truth of a propofition ; but cannot with propriety be faid to ajfent to the beauty of an objeSl* In the conoluCwriy particular and ocenfions are fuperfluous words ; and the pronoun it is in fome meafure am- biguous. A man of a polite imagination is let into a great many fleafnres that the vulgar are not capable of receiving. The term polite is oftener applied to manners, than to the imagination* The ufe of that inftead of which 120 CRITICAL EXAMINATION is too common with Mr. Addifon. Except in cafes where it is neceilary to avoid repetition, which i- pre* ferable to that) and is undoubtedly fo in the prefent inftance. He can converfe with a picture, and find an agreeable companion in a fiat tie. He meets with afecret refrefhment in a defcription ; and often feels a greater fatisfaclion in the prof peB of fields and meadows, than another does in the poffeffion. It gives him, indeed r , a kind of property in every thing he fees j and makes the mofi rude uncultivated parts of nature adminifier to his pleafures : fo that he looks upon the world) as it were 9 in another light, and dij covers in it a multitude of charms that conceal themfelves from the generality of mankind* This fentence is eafy, flowing, and harmonious. We mud however obferve a flight inaccuracy. It gives him a kind of property — to this it there is no an- tecedent in the whole paragraph. To difcover its connexion, we muft look back to the third fentence preceding, which begins withtf man of a polite imaginat- ion. This phrafe, polite imagination^ is the only ante- cedent to which it can refer ; and even this is not a proper antecedent, fince it flands in the genitive cafe as the qualification only of a man, There are, indeed, but very few who know how to be idle and innocent, or have a relifh of any pleafures that are net criminal \ every divetfion they take, is at the expenfe offome one virtue or another, and their very firfi fiep out ofbifinefs is into vice or folly. This fentence is truly elegant, mufical, and correct. A man fhould endeavour, therefore, to make the fphere of his innocent pleafures as wide as poffible, that he may retire into them with fafety, and find in them fuch a fat^ isfaclion as a wife man would not blufih to take* OP MR. APBISOn's STYLE* 121 This alfb is a good (cntcncc and expofed to no objection. Of this nature are thofe of the imagination, which do not require fueh a bent of thought as is neccffary to our more fe- rious employments ; nor, at the fame time,fuffer the mind to Jink into that indolence and remiffnefs, which are apt to accompany our more fenfual delights , but, like a gentle ex- ercife to the faculties, awaken them from Jloth and idlenefs t without putting them upon any labour or difficulty. The beginning of this fentence is incorreft. Of this nature, fay-s he, are thofe of the imagination. It might be afked, of what nature ? For the preceding fentence had not defcribed the nature of any clafs of pleafures. He had faid that it v/as every man's duty to make the fphere of his innocent pleafures as extenfive, as poffi- ble, that within this fphere he might find a fafe retreat and laudable fatisfaclion. The tranfition therefore is loofely made. It would have been better, if he had faid, "This advantage we gain, 5 ' or " this fatisfaftion we enjoy," by means of the pleafures of the imagination. The reft of the fen- tence is correct. We might here add, that the pleafures of the fancy are more conducive to health than thofe of the underfl an dingy which are worked out by dint of thinking, and attended with too violent a labour of the brain. Worked out by dint of thinking is a phrafe which bor- ders too nearly on the ftyle of common conrerfation, to be admitted into polifhed compofition. Delightful fcenes, whether in nature ', paintings or poetry % have a kindly influence on the body, as well, as the mind 9 and not only ferve to clear and brighten the imagination^ M 112 CRITICAL EXAMINATION, &C. but are able to difperfe grief and melancholy, and to fet the animal fpirits in pleafing and agreeable motions. For this re of on, Sir Francis Bacon, in his EJfay upon Healthy has not thought it improper to prefcribe to his reader a poem or a profpecl, where he particularly dijfuades him from knotty and fubtile difquifitions , and advifes him to purfue ftudies that fill the mind with fplendid and illuflrious ebjecls } as hi/lories, fables, and contemplations of nature. In the latter of thefe two periods a member is out of its place. Where he particularly dijfuades him from knotty and fubtile difquifitions ought to precede has not thought it improper to prefcribe, iofc. I have in this paper y by way of introduction, fettled the notion of thofe pleafures of the imagination, which are the fubjetl of my prefent undertaking, and endeavoured, by fev- eral confiderations to recommend to my readers the purfuit cf thofe p leaf u res ; I Jhall in my next paper examine the fever al fources from whence thefe pleafures are derived. Thefe two concluding fentences furnifti examples of proper collocation of circumflances. We former- ly fhowed that it is difficult fo to difpofe them, as not to embarrafs the principal fubjeft. Had the follow- ing incidental circumflances, by way of introduction- by fever al confiderations— 'in this paper — in the next pa- per, been placed in any other fituation, the fentence would have been neither fo neat, nor fo clear, as it is on the prefent conftru&ion. ELOQUENCE. 123 ELOQUENCE. ORIGIN OF ELOQUENCE. GRECIAN ELOQUENCE. DEMOSTHENES. ELOQUENCE is the art of perfuafion. Its mod eflential requifites are folic! argument, clear method, and an appearance of fincerity in the fpeaker, with fuch graces of ftyle and utterance, as command at- tention. Good fenfe mud be its foundation. With- out this, no man can be truly eloquent ; fince fools can perfuade none but fools. Before we can perfuade a man of fenfe, we muft convince him. Convincing and perfuading, though fometimes confounded, are of very different import. Conviction affects the un- derstanding only 5 perfuafion the will and the practice. It is the bufinefs of a philofopher to convince us of truth ; it is that of an orator to perfuade us to act: conformably to it by engaging our affections in its fa- vour. Conviction is, however, one avenue to the heart 5 and it is that which an orator mud firft at- tempt to gain ; for no perfuafion can be (table, which is not founded on conviction. But the orator mud not be fatisficd with convincing - y he muft addrefs himfelf to the paflions ; he mull: paint to the fancy, and touch the heart. Hence, befide folid argument and clear method, all the conciliating and interefting arts of compofition and pronunciation enter into the idea of eloquence. Eloquence may be confidered, as confiding of three kinds or degrees. The firfl and lowed is that which aims only to pleafe the hearers. Such in general is 124 "iKLCNtTJENCE. the eloquence of panegyrics, inaugural orations, ael- drefies to great men, and other harangues of thi3 kind. This ornamental fort of compofition may innocently amufe and entertain the mind ; and may be mixed at the fame time with very ufeful fentiments. But it mud be acknowledged, that, where the fpeaker aims only to fliine and to plcafe, there is great danger of f art being drained into oftentation, and of the compa* Ction becoming tirefome and infipid. The fecond degree of eloquence is, when the fpeak*. er aims, not merely to pleafe, but alfo to inform, to inftruft, to convince ; when his art is employed in removing prejudices agairid himfelf and his caufe ; in felecting the moll proper arguments, dating them with the greated force, arranging them in the bed order, exprefling and delivering them with propriety and beauty: thereby difpofing us to pafs that judg- ment, or favour that fide of the caufe, to which he. feeks to bring us. Within this degree chiefly is em- ployed the eloquence of the bar. The third and highed degree of eloquence is that by which we are not only convinced, but interefted 3 agitated, and carried along with the fpeaker; ourpaf- fions rife with his ; we (hare all his emotions \ we love, we hate, we refent, as he infpires us \ and are prompt-, e'd to refolve, or to acT;, with vigour and warmtho Debate in popular aiTembiies opens the mod extenfive field to this fpecies of eloquence ; and the pulpit alfo admits it. This high fpecies of eloquence is always the off- fpring of paffion. By paffion we mean that date of mind, in which it is agitated and fired by fome objedi in view. Hence the univerfally acknowledged powet ORIGIN OF ELOQTJENCE. 1 25 of enthufiafm in public fpeakers for affe&ing their audience. Hence all fludied declamation and laboured ornaments of ftyle, which .(how the mind to be cool and unmoved, are inconfiftent with perfuafive elo- quence. Hence every kind of affectation in gefture and pronunciation detracts fo much from the weight of a fpeaker. Hence the neceflity of being, and of be- ing believed to be, difinterefted and in earned, in or- der to perfuade. In tracing the origin of eloquence it is not neceflary to go far back into the early ages of the world, or to fearch for it among the monuments of Eaftern or Egyptian antiquity. In thofe ages, it is true, there was a certain kind of eloquence ; but it was more nearly allied to poetry, than to what we properly call oratory. While the intercourfe of men was infre- quent, and force was the principal mean employed in deciding controverfies, the arts of oratory and perfuafion, of reafoning and debate, could be little known. The firft empires were of the defpotic kind. A fingle perfon, or at moil a few, held the reins of government. The multitude were accuftomed to blind obedience •, they were driven, not perfuaded. Con- fequently none of thofe refinements of fociety, which make public fpeaking an obje£l of importance, were introduced. Before the rife of the Grecian Republics we per- ceive no remarkable appearances of eloquence, as the art of perfuafion ; and thefe gave it fuch a field, as it never had before, and perhaps has never had again fince that time. Greece was divided into many little ftates. Thefe were governed at firft by kings ; who being for their tyranny fucceflively expelled from their Ms Il6 DEMOSTHENES, dominions, there fprung up a multitude of democrat* ical governments, founded nearly upon the fame plan 3 animated by the fame high fpirit of freedom, mutually jealous, and rivals of each other. Among thefe Athens was mod noted for arts of every kind, but efpecially for eloquence. We fhall pafs over the orators, who flourifhed in the early period of this republic, and take a view of the great Demofthenes, in whom eloquence fhone with unrivalled fplendour. Not formed by na- ture either to pleafe or perfuade, he ftruggled with^ and furmounted, the moft formidable impediments. He fhut himfelf up in a cave, that he might ftudy with lefs diftraftion. He declaimed by the fea-fliore, that he might be ufed to the noife of a tumultuous afTembly ; and with pebbles in his mouth, that he might corrett a defefl: in his fpeech. He pra£tifed at home with a naked fword hanging over his fhoulder, that he might check an ungraceful motion, to which he was fub)e£t. Hence the example of this great man affords the highefl: encouragement to every iludent of eloquence j fince it (how* how far art and application availed for -acquiring an excellence, which nature ap<*. peared willing to deny. No orator had ever a finer field than Demofthenes. in his Olynthiacs and Philippics, which are his capital: orations i and undoubtedly to the greatnefs of the fub-- je£t, and to that integrity and public fpirit, which, breathe in them, they owe much of their merit. The obje£t is to roufe the indignation of his countrymen; ?.gamfl Philip of Macedon, the public enemy of the lib-- erties of Greece ; and to guard them again ft the infi- dious mcaiures,by wliich that crafty prince endeavour- ed to lav them afleen to danger* To attain this end, wo DEMOSTHENES. IZf fee Kim ufing every proper mean to animate a people, diftinguifhed by juftice, humanity, and valour j but in many inftances become corrupt and degenerate. He boldly accufes them of venality, indolence, and indif- ference to the public caufe ; while at the fame time he reminds them of the glory of their anceftors, and of their prefent refources. His cotemporary orators, who were bribed by Philip, and perfuaded the people to peace, he openly reproaches, as traitors to their coun- try. He not only prompts to vigorous meafures,but lays down the plan of execution. His orations are ftrongly animated, and full of the impetuofity and fire of public fpirit. His compontion is not diftinguiflied. by ornament and fplendour. It is energy of thought, peculiarly his own, which forms his chara£ter, and fets him above all others. He feems not to attend to words, but to things. We forget the orator, and think of the fubjeft. He has no parade ; no ftudied intro- ductions ; but is like a man full of his fubjeft, who*,, after preparing his audience by a fentence or two for hearing plain truths, enters diredly on bufinefs. The ftyle of Demofthenes is ftrong and concife, though fometimes. harfh and abrupt. His words are very expreffive, and his arrangement firm and manly.. Negligent of litde graces, he aims at that fublime which lies in fentiment. His a&ion and pronunciation were uncommonly vehement and ardent. His chara&er is of the auftere^ rather than of the gentle kind. He is always grave, ferious, paffionate -, never degrading himfelf, nor attempting any thing like pleafantry. I£ his admirable eloquence be in any refpe£fc faulty, it is in this, he fometimes borders on the hard and dry. lie may be thought to want fmoothnefs and grace y. 128 RGMAN ELOQUENCE. which is attributed to his imitating too clofely the manner of Thucydides, who was his great model for ftyle, and whofe hiftory he tranfcribed eight times with his own hand. But thefe defedts are more than com- penfated by that mafterly foice of mafculine eloquence, which, as it overpowered all who heard it, cannot in the prefent day be read without emotion. ROMAN ELOQUENCE. CICERO. MODERN ELOQUENCE. .HAVING treated of eloquence among the Greeks, we now proceed to confider its progrefs among the Romans ; where we (hall find one model at lead of eloquence in its moil fplendid form. The Romans derived their eloquence, poetry, and learning, from the Greeks ; and were far inferior to them in genius for all thefe accomplifhments. They had neither their vivacity, nor fenfibility *, their pafficns were not fo eafily moved, nor their conceptions fo lively •, in com- parifon with them they were a phlegmatic people. Their language refembled their character ; it was reg- ular, firm and (lately \ but wanted that expreffive fim- plicity, that flexibility to fuit every different fpecies of compofition, by which the Greek tongue is peculiarly diftinguifhed. Hence we always find in Greek pro- ductions more native genius \ in Roman, more regu- larity and art. As the Roman government, during the republic, was of the popular kind, public fpeaking early became the mean of acquiring power and diftin&ion. But in CICERO. I2£ the tmpolimcd times of the Rate their fpeaking hardly deferved the name of eloquence. It was but a fhort time before the age of Cicero, that the Roman orators rofe into any reputation. CrafTus and Antonius feem to have been the moft eminent ; but, as none of their works are extant, nor any of Hortenfius's, who was Cicero's rival at the bar, it is not necefTary to trans- cribe what Cicero faid of them, and of the character of their eloquence. The object, moft worthy of our attention, is Cicero himfelf $ whofe name alone fuggefts every thing fplen- did in oratory. With his life and character in other refpects we are not at prefent concerned. "We (hall view him only as an eloquent fpeaker -, and endeavour to mark both his virtues and defects. His virtues are eminently great. In all his orations art is confpicuous. He begins commonly with a regular exordium, and with much addrefs prepofTeffes the hearers, and ftudies, to gain their affections. His method is clear, and his arguments arranged with great propriety. In clearnefs of method he has advantage over Demoflhenes. Every thing is in its proper place : he never attempts to move before he has endeavoured to convince ; and in mov- ing, particularly the fofter paflions, he is very fuccefs- ful. No one ever knew the force of words better than Cicero* He rolls them along with the greateft beauty and pomp ; and in the ftructure of his Sentences is eminently curious and exact. He is always full, and flowing ; never abrupt. He amplifies every things yet, though his manner is on the whole diffufe, it is often happily varied, and fuited to the fubject. When a great public object: roufed his mind, and demanded indignation and force, he departs confiderably frora I30 CICERO. that loofe and declamatory manner, to which he a£ other times is addi&ed, and becomes very forcible and vehement. This great orator, however, is not without defers. In mod of his orations there is too much art. He feems often defirous of obtaining admiration, rather than of operating convidlion. He is fometimes there- fore fhowy, rather than folid ; and diffufe, where he ought to be urgent. His periods are always round and fonorous j they cannot be accufed of monotony, for they poiTefs variety of cadence ; but, from too great fondnefs for magnificence, he is fometimes defi- cient in ftrength. Though the fervices which he performed for his country, were very confiderable, yet he is too much his own panegyrifl. Ancient manners, which impofed fewer redraints on the iide of decorum, may in fome degree excufe, but cannot entirely juftify his vantiy. Whether Demodhenes or Cicero were the mod perfect orator is a quedion, an which critics are not agreed. Fenelon, the celebrated Archbifhop of Cam- bray, and author of Telemachus, feems to have dated their merits with great judice and perfpicuity. His judgment is given in his reflections on rhetoric and poetry. We fhall tranflate the pafTage, though not, it is feared, without lofing much of the fpirit of the original. " I do not hefitate to declare," fays he, " that " I think Demodhenes fuperior to Cicero. I am per- " fuaded, no one can admire Cicero more than I do. u He adorns whatever he attempts. He does honour u to language. He difpofes of words in a manner pe- " culiar to himfelf. His dyle has great variety of f [ character. Whenever he pleafes, he is even concife fcOMAN ELOQUENCE. I33 ** and vehement ; for inftance, againft Catiline, againft Ai Verres, againft Anthony. But ornament is too vifi- u ble in his writings. His art is wonderful, but it is €i perceived. When the orator is providing for the * f fafcty of the republic, he forgets not himfelf, nor in exhibiting clearly the point in debate ; what we ad* xnit ; what we deny ; and where the line of divifioa begins between us and the adverfe party. Next, it fhould appear in the order and arrangement of all the parts of the pleading* A clear method is of the high* eft confequence in every fpecies of oration ; but in thofe intricate cafes, which belong to the bar, it is infinitely effential. Narration of fa£ts fhould always be as concife as the nature of them will admit They are always very aeceffary to be remembered ; confequently unneceffary ■minutenefs in relating them overloads the memory* [Whereas, if a pleader omit all fuperfluous circum* 142 ELOCJUEKCE OF' THE BAR, fiances in his recital, he adds flrength to the matet fafts 5 gives a clearer view of what he relates, and makes the impreffion of it more lading. In argu- mentation, however, a more diiTufe manner fee ens requilite at the bar than on feme other occafions. For in popular afTembiies, where the fubject of debate is often a plain qireftion, arguments gain flrength by concifenefs. But the intricacy of law points frequent- ly requite* the arguments to be expanded and placed hi different lights, in order to be fully apprehended. Candour in flating the arguments of his adveifarjr cannot be too much recommended to every pleader. If he difguife them, or place them in a falfe light, the artifice will foon be difcovered j and the judge and the hearers will conclude, that he either wants dis- cernment to perceive, or faimefs to admit the flrength of his opponent's reafoning. But, if he ftate with ac- curacy and candour the arguments ufed again ft him, before he endeavour to combat them, a ftrong preju- dice is created in his favour. He will appear to have entire confidence in his caufe, fince he does not at- tempt to fupport it by artifice or concealment. The judge will therefore be inclined to receive more readi- ly the impreffions made upon him by a fpeaker who appears both fair and penetrating. Wit may fometimes be fervkeable at the bar, par- ticularly in a lively reply, by which ridicule is thrown on what an adverfary has advanced. But a young pleader fhould never reft his flrength on this dazzling talent. His office is not to excite laughter, but to produce conviction ; nor perhaps did any one . ever rife to an eminence in his profeffion by being a witty ' lawyer. *tX><^J£NCE OF THE PULPIT. 1 43 Since an advocate perfonates his client, he muft plead his caufe with a proper degree of warmth. He muft be cautious however of proftituting his earneft- jiefs and fenfibility by an equal degree of ardcur on every fubjeel:. There is a dignity of character, which it is highly important for every one of this profeffion to fupport. An opinion of probity and honour in a pleader is his mod powerful inftrument of perfuafion. He mould always, therefore, decline embarking in saufes which are odious and manifefdy unjuft ; and, when he fupports a doubtful caufe, lie fhould lay the chief ftrefs upon thofe arguments which appear to him to be mod forcible ; referving his zeal and in- dignation for cafes where injuftice and iniquity arc flagrant. ELOQUENCE OF THE FULPIT. XxAVING treated of the eloquence of popu- lar aflemblies, and of that of the bar, we {hall now confider the ftrain and fpirit of that eloquence which is fuited to the pulpit. This field of public fpeaking has feverai advantages peculiar to itfclf. The dignity and importance of its fubje&s muft be allowed to be fuperior to any other. They admit the higheft em- bellifhment in defcription, and the greatefl warmth and vehemence of expreflion. In treating his fubjeel the preacher has alfo peculiar advantages. He fpeaks not to one or a few judges, but to a large afiembly. He is not afraid of interruption. He choofes his fub- jeel; at kifure ; and has all the alMance'of the mod 144 ELOQUENCE OF THE PULPIT. accurate premeditation. The difadvantages, "however, which attend the eloquence of the pulpit, are not in* confiderable. The preacher, it is true, has no conten- tion with an adverfary ; but debate awakens genius, and excites attention. His fubjecls, though noble, are trite and common. They are become fo familial: to the public ear, that it requires no ordinary genius in the preacher to fix attention. Nothing is more difficult than to beftow on what is common the grace of novelty. Befides, the fubjeft of the preacher ufu- ally confines him to abftracl: qualities, to virtues and vices ; whereas, that of other popular fpeakers leads them to treat of perfons ; which is generally more in- terefting to the hearers, and occupies more powerful- ly the imagination. We are taught by the preacher to deteft only the crime ; by the pleader to deteft the criminal. Hence it happens that, though the number of moderately good preachers is great, fo few have arrived at eminence. Perfe&ion is Very diflant from modern preaching. The objecT:, however, is truly noble, and worthy of being purfued with zeal. To excel in preaching, it is necefTary to have a fix- ed and habitual view of its objecft. This is to per- fuade men to become good. Every fermon ought therefore to be a perfuafive oration. It is not to dif- cufs fome abilrufe point, that the preacher afcends the pulpit. It is not to teach his hearers fomething new, but to make them better; to give them at once clear views and perfuafive impreilions of religious truths. The principal charafteriftics of public eloquence, as diftinguifhed from the other kinds of public fpeak- ing, appear to be thefe two, gravity and warmth. It ELOQUENCE OF THE PULPIT. I45 Is neither eafy nor common to unite thefe chara&ers of eloquence. The grave, when it is predominant, becomes a dull, uniform folemnity. The warm, when it wants gravity, borders on the light and theatrical. A proper union of the two, forms that character of preaching, which the French call OnBion ; that af- fecting, penetrating, and interefting manner, which flows from a ftrong fenfe in the preacher of the im- portance of the truths he delivers, and an earneft de- fire that they may make full impreffion on the hearts of his hearers. A fermon, as a particular fpecies of compofition, requires the ftricteft attention to unity. By this we mean that there mould be fome main point to which the whole tenor of the fermon fhall refer. It mud not be a pile of different fubje£ts heaped upon each other ; but one objedl muft predominate through the whole. Hence, however, it muft not be underftood, that there mould be no divifions or feparate heads in a difcourfe ; nor that one (ingle thought only (hould be exhibited in difFerent points of view. Unity is not to be underftood in fo limited a fenfe ; it admits fome variety ; it requires only that union and con- nexion be fo far preferved, as to make the whole con- cur in fome one impreffion on the mind. Thus, for inftance, a preacher may employ feveral difFerent ar- guments to enforce the love of God ; he may alfo inquire into the caufes of the decay of this virtue ; ftili one great objett is prefented to the mind. But if, becaufe his text fays, " He that loveth God, muft £ love his brother alfo," he mould therefore mix in the fame difcourfe arguments for the love of God and for the love of our neighbour, he would grofslf I46 ELOQUENCE OF THE PtXLPiT. offend againft unity, and leave a very confufed impfcf- ilon on the minds of his hearers. Sermons are always more {Inking, and generally more ufeful, the more precife and particular the fubjefl: of them is. Unity can never be fo perfect in a gen- eral, as in a particular fubjecT;. General fubjecls, in- deed, fuch as the excellency or the pleafures of relig- ion, are often chofen by young preachers, as the mod fhowy, and the eafieft to be handled ; but thefe fub- jeds produce not the high effe&s of preaching. At- tention is much more commanded by taking fome par- ticular view of a great fubje£t, and employing on that the whole force of argument and eloquence. To rec- ommend fome one virtue, or inveigh againft a partic- ular vice, affords a fubject not deficient in unity or precifion. But, if that virtue or vice be confidered as affuming a particular afpedl: in certain characters or certain fituations in life, the fubject becomes (till more interefting. The execution is more difficult, but the merit and the effect are higher. A preacher mould be cautious not to exhauft his fubjedl-, fince nothing is more oppofite to perfuafion, than unneceffary and tedious fulnefs. There are al- ways fome things which he may fuppofe to be known, and fome which require only brief attention. If he endeavour to omit nothing which his fubjecl: fuggefts, he muft unavoidably encumber it, and din^iniih its force. To render his inftru&ions interefting to his hearers fhouid be the grand objedT: of every preacher. He fhouid bring home to their hearts the truths which he inculcates, and make each fuppofe himfelf particular- ly addreffed. He fhouid avoid ail intricate reafonings •, ELOOJJENCE OF THE PULPIT. I47 avoid expreffing himfelf in general, fpeculative propo- rtions ; or laying down practical truths in an abdract, metaphyfical manner. A difcourfe ought to be car- ried on in the drain of direct acldrefs to the audience j not in the drain of one writing an effay, but one fpeaking to a multitude, and ftudying to connect: what is called application, or what immediately refers to practice, with the doctrinal parts of the fermon. It is always highly advantageous to keep in view the different ages, characters, and conditions of men, and to accommodate directions and exhortations to each of thefe different claffes. Whenever you advance what touches a man's character, or is applicable to his circumdances, ycu are fure of his attention. No dudy is more neceffary for a preacher, than the fludy of human life, and of the human heart. To difcover a man to himfelf in a light,, in which he never faw his character before, produces a wonderful effect. Thofc fermons, though the mod difficult in compofition, arc not only the mod beautiful, but alfo the mod ufeful which are founded on the illudration of fome peculiar character, or remarkable piece of hidory hi the facred writings y by purfuing which we may trace, and lay open, fome of the mod fecret windings of the human heart. Other topics of preaching are become trite ; but this is an extenfive field which hitherto has been little explored, and poffeffes all the advantages of being curious, new, and highly ufeful. Bifhop Butler's fermons on the charaEler of Balaam is an example of this kind of preaching. Fadiicn, which operates fo exteniively on human manners, has given to preaching at different times a change of character. This however is. a torrent whic% T48 CONDUCT OP A DISCOXHISI. fwells to-day and fubfides to-morrow. Sometimes poetical preaching is fafhionable j fometimes philo- fophical. At one time it muft be all pathetic •, at another all argumentative ; as fome celebrated preach-* er has fet the example. Each of thefe modes is very de- fective 5 and he who conforms himfelf to it, will both confine and corrupt his genius. Truth and good fenfe are the fole bafis, on which he can build with fafety. Mode and humour are feeble and unfteady. No ex- ample fhould be fervilely imitated. From various examples the preacher may collect materials for im- provement \ but fervility of imitation extinguiflies all genius^ or rather proves entire want of it. m ■ yywm CONDUCT OF A DISCOURSE IN ALL ITS PARTS. INTRODUCTION, DIVISION* NARRATION, AND EXPLICATION. .HAVING already confidered what is pecu- liar to each of the three great fields of public fpeak- ing, popular aflemblies, the bar, and the pulpit, we (hail new treat of what is common to them all, and explain the conduG of a uifcourfe or oration in general. The parts which compofe a regular oration are thefe fix ; the exordium or introduction 5 the ftate or the divifion of the fubjeel: ; narration or explication ; the reafoning or arguments ; the pathetic part ; ajnd the conclufion. It is not neceflary that each of thefe enter into every public difcourfe, nor that they ak INTRODUCTION. 149 ways enter in this order. There are many excellent difcourfes in which fome of thefe parts are omitted. But, as they are the condiment parts of a regular o- ration, and as in every difcourfe fome of thern muft occur, it is agreeable to our prefent purpofe, to ex- amine each of them diftindtly. The defign of the introduction is to conciliate the good will of the hearers ; to excite their attention ; and to render them open to perfuafion. When a fpeaker is previoufly fecure of the good will, atten- tion, and docility of his audience ; a formal introduc- tion may be omitted. Refpect for his hearers will in that cafe require only a fhort exordium, to prepare them for the other parts of 'his difcourfe. The introduction is a part of a difcourfe, which re- quires no fmall care. It is always important to begin well ; to make a favourable impreffion at firft fetting out, when the minds of the hearers, as yet vacant and free, are more eafily prejudiced in favour of the fpeak- er. We muft add, alfo, that a good introduction is frequently found to be extremely difficult. Few parts of a difcourfe give more trouble to the compofer, or require more delicacy in the execution. Aa introduction fhould be eafy and natural. It fhould always be fuggefted by the fubjecl. The wri- ter (hould not plan it before he has meditated in his own mind the fubftance of his difcourfe. By taking the oppofite courfe, and composing in the firft place an introduction, the writer will* often find that he is either led to lay hold of fome common- place topic, or that inftead of the introduction being accommodated to the difcourfe, he is under the neceflity of accom- modating the difcourfe to the introduction. O 2 150 INTRODUCTION* In this part of a difcourfe corre&nefs of expreffior* fliould be carefully fludied. This is peculiarly requi- fite on account of the fituation of the hearers. At the beginning they are more difpofed to criticife, than at any other period ; they are then occupied by the fub^ je£t and the arguments ; their attention is entirely di- rected to the fpeaker's flyle and manner. Care there- fore is requifite to prepoffefs them in his favour £ though too much art mull be cautioufly avoided, fince it will then be more eafily detected, and will derogate from that perfuafion, which the other parts of the difcourfe are intended to produce. Modefty is alfo an indifpenfable chara&eriftic of a good introduction. If the fpeaker begin with an air of arrogance and orientation, the felf-love and pride of his hearers will be prefently awakened, and follow him with a very fufpicious eye through the reft of his difcourfe. His modefty fliould appear not only in his exprefhon, but in his whole manner •, in his looks, in. his geftures, and in the tone of his voice. Every au- dience is pleafed with thofe marks of refpecT: and awe which are paid by the fpeaker. The modefty however of an introduction (houid bqtray nothing mean or ah-. ]tct. Together with modefty and deference to his; hearers, 'the orator mould fhow a certain fenfe of dig- r ^rifirjg Tram' peituafion of the juftice or import- ance of his fubiecfe Particular cafe t; excepted, tjie orator mould not put forth all his ftrength at'the beginning; but it fliould rife and grow upon his hearers, as his difcourfe ad- vances. The introduction is feldom the place for ve- hemence and pafiion. The audience muft be gradual- ly prepared, before the fpeaker venture on ftrong and INTRODUCTION. 15* paffionate fentiments. Yet, when the fubje& is fuch that the very mention of it naturally awakens fome paflionate emotion ; or when the unexpected prefence of fome perfon or object in a popular affembly inflames, the fpeaker ; either of thefe will juftify an abrupt and vehement exordium. Thus the appearance of Catiline- in the fenate renders the violent opening of Cicero's firft oration again ft him very natural and proper. " Quoufque tandem, Catalina, abutere patientia nof- ** tra ?" Bifhop Atterbury, preaching from this text, u BleiTed is he, whofoever (hall not be offended in me,'* ventures on this bold exordium : " And can any man " then be offended in thee, bleffed Jefus r" Which addrefs to our Saviour he continues, till he enters on the divifion of his fubjeft. But fuch introductions, ihould be attempted by very few, fince they promife fo much vehemence and ardour through the reft of the difcourfe, that it is extremely diflicult to fatisfy the expe&ation of the hearers. An introduction fhould not anticipate any material part of the fubjec-t. When topics or arguments, which are afterward to be enlarged upon, are hinted at, and in part exhibited in the introduction; they lofe upon their fecond appearance the grace of novelty. The impreffion, intended to be made by any capital thought, is always made with greateft advantage, when it is made entire, and in its proper place. An introduction fhould be proportioned in length and kind to the difcourfe which follows it. In length, as nothing can be more abfurd than to ere£l a large portico before a fmall building ; and in kind, as it is no lefs abfurd to load with fuperb ornaments the portico of a plain dwelling-houfe 5 or to make the ap- proach to a monument as gay as that to an arbour* i$z division. After the introdu&ion, the proposition or enuncia- tion of the fubjeft, commonly fucceeds ; concerning- which we (hall only obferve, that it fhould be clear and diftinti, and exprefied without affe&ation in the mod concife and fimple manner. To this generally fucceeds the divifion, or laying down the method of the difcourfe ; in the management of which the fol- lowing rules mould be carefully obierved. Firft, The parts, into which the fubjecT: is divided*, muft be really diftin£fc from each other. It were aw abfurd divifion, for example, if a fpeaker mould pro- pofe to explain firft the advantages of virtue, and next thofe of juftice or temperance ; becaufe the firft head- plainly comprehends the fecond, as a genus does the fpecies. Such a method of proceeding involves the fubjefl in confuficn. Secondly, We mud be careful always to follow the- order of natures beginning with the mod fimple points ; with fuch as are moll eafily underftood, and neceffary to be firft difcufied ; and proceeding to thofe which are built upon the former, and fuppofe them to be known. The fubjecT: muft be divided into thofe parts into which it is mo ft eafily and naturally re* folved. Thirdly, The members of a divifion ought to ex- hauft the fubjecT: ; otherwife the divifion is incom- plete ; the fubjed is exhibited by pieces only, with- out difplaying the whole. Fourthly, Let concifenefs and precifionbe peculiarly (ludied. A divifion always appears to moft advan- tage, when the feveral heads are exprefied in the cleared, moft forcible^ and feweft words poffible. This never fails to ftrike the hearers agreeably j and NARHATION OR EXPLICATION. I53 contributes alfo to make the divifions more eafily re- membered. Fifthly, Unneceffary multiplication of hea^s mould be cautioufly avoided. To divide a fubjeft into many minute parts, by endlefs divifions and fubdivifions, produces a bad effect in fpeaking. In a logical treatife this may be proper ; but it renders an oration hard and dry, and unneceffarily fatigues the memory. A fer- mon may admit from three to five or fix heads, including fubdivifions \ feldom are more allowable. The next conftkuent part of a difcourfe is narra- tion or explication. Thefe two are joined together, becaufe they fall nearly under the fame rules, and be- caufe they generally anfwer the fame purpofe ; ferv- ing to illuftrate the caufe, or the fubjecT:, of which one treats, before proceeding to argue on one fide or the other ; or attempting to intereft the paffions of the hearers. To be clear and diftin£t, to be probable, and to be concife, are the qualities which critics chiefly require in narration. Diftin&nefs is requifite to the whole of the difcourfe, but belongs efpecially to narration, which ought to throw light on all that follows. At the bar, a fa£t, or a fingle circumftance, left in obfeurity, or mifunderftood by the judge, may deftroy the efFe£i of all the argument and reafoning which the pleader em- ploys. If his narration be improbable, it will be dis- regarded ; if it be tedious and diffufe, it will fatigue and be forgotten. To render narration diftinft, par- ticular attention is requifite in ascertaining clearly the names, dates, places, and every other important cir- cumftance of the fads recounted. In order to be probable in narration, it is neceflary to exhibit thfc rj4 NARRATION OR EXPLICATION^ characters of the perfons of whom we fpeak, andija fhow that their actions proceeded from fuch ia»ot*^s as are natural, and likely to gain belief; To be as concife as the fubjecl; will admit, all fuperfluous cir-r cumftances mud be rejected ; by which the narration will be rendered more forcible and more clear. In fermons, explication of the fubjecl; to be dif- courfed oa occupies the place of narration at the bar* and is to be conducted in a Omilar manner. It mud be conciie, clear, and diftincl ; in a ftyle correct and- elegant, rather than highly adorned. To explain the doctrine of the text with propriety; to give a full and. clear account of the nature of that virtue or duty which forms the fubjecl of difcourfe, is properly th,e didactic part o£ preaching ; on the right execution of which much depends. In order to fucceed, the, preacher mud meditate profoundly on the fubjecl; ; fa as to place it in a clear and ftriking point of view, He muffc con fider what light it may derive from other palfages of fcripture ; whether it be a fubjecl: nearly, allied to fome other, from which it ought to be dif- tinguifned ; whether it can be advantageoufly illus- trated by comparing or cppofing it to fome other, tiling ; by fearching into caufes, or tracing effects ; by. pointing out examples, or. appealing to the hearts of the. hearers ; that thus a prccife and circumftantial view may be afforded of the doctrine inculcated. By dif- tinct and apt illufcrations of the known truths of re- ligion, a preacher may both difplay great merit, as a cornpofer, and, what is infinitely more valuable, ren- der his difcourfes weighty, inftructive, and ufefuJL THE ARGUMENTATIVE PART, &C. 155 0Y*. '. THE ARGUMENTATIVE PART OF A DIS- COURSE, THE PATHETIC PART, AND THE PERORATION. jl\S the great end for which men fpeak on any ferious occafion, is to convince their hearers that fomcthing is true, or right, or good, and thus to in- fluence their practice j reafon and argument mull conftitute the foundation of all manly and perfuafive eloquence. With regard to arguments, three things are rcquifite. Tird, invention of them ; fecondiy, proper difpofition and arrangement of them -, and thirdly, expreffing them in the mod forcible manner. Invention is un- doubtedly the molt material, and the bafis of the reft. But in this, art can afford only fmall affiftance. It can aid a fpeaker however in arranging and expreffing thofe arguments which his knowledge of the fubjedt has difcovered* Suppofing the arguments properly chofen, we mutt avoid blending thofe together that are of a feparate nature. All arguments whatever are intended to prove one of thefe three things ; that fomething is true -, that it is right or fit ; or that it is profitable and good. Truth, duty, and intereft are the three great fubje£ts of difcuflion among men. But the ar- guments employed upon either of them are generally diftin<2 ; and he who blends them all under one top- ic which he calls his argument, as in fermons is too frequently done, will render his reafoning indiftinft and inelegant. I56 THE ARGUMENTATIVE PART With refpe& to the different degrees of ftrength in arguments, the common rule is, to advance in the way of climax from the weakeft to the moll forcible. This method is recommended when the fpeaker is convinced that his caufe is clear, and eafy to be prov- ed. But this rule mud not be univerfally obferved. If he diftruft his caufe, and have but one material ar- gument, it is often proper to place this argument in the front ; to prejudice his hearers early in his favour, and thus difpofe them to pay attention to the weaker reafons which he may afterward introduce. When amid a variety of arguments there is one or two more feeble than the reft, though proper to be ufed, Cicero advifes to place them in the middle, as a fituation lefs confpicuous, than either the beginning or end of the train of reafoning. When arguments are ftrong and fatisfaftory, the more they are feparated the better. Each can then bear to be introduced alone, placed in its full light, amplified and contemplated. But, when they are of a doubtful or prefumptive nature, it is fafer to crowd them together, to form them into a phalanx, that, though individually weak, they may mutually f up port each other. Arguments fhould never be extended too far, nor multiplied too much. This ferves rather to render a caufe fufpicious, than to increafe its ftrength. A need- lefs multiplicity of arguments burdens the memory, and diminifhes the weight of that convi&ion which a few well chofen arguments produce. To expand them ftlfo beyond the bounds of reafonable illuftration, is al- ways enfeebling. When a fpeaker endeavours to ex- pofe a favourable argument in every light poffible, fa* OF A DISCOURSE. 1 57 tigued by the effort, he lofes the fpirit, with which he fct out ; and ends with feeblenefs, what he began with force. Having attended thus far to the proper arrangement of arguments, we proceed to another efTential part of a difcourfe, the pathetic ; in which, if any where, elo- quence reigns and exerts its power. On this head the following directions appear ufeful. Confider carefully whether the iubje£fc admit the pathetic, and render it proper ; and, if it do, what part of the difcourfe is mod fit for it. To determine thefe points belongs to good fenfe. Many fubjetts admit not the pathetic ; and even in thofe that are fufcep- tible of it, an attempt to excite the paflions in a wrong place may expofe an orator to ridicule. It may in general be obferved, that, if we expeft any emotion which we raife, to have a lading effect, we muft fe- cure in our favour the underftanding arid judgment. The hearers mud be fatisfied that there are fufficient grounds for their engaging in the caufe with zeal and ardour. When argument and reafoning have produc- ed their full effecT:, the pathetic is admitted with the greateft force and propriety. A fpeaker mould cautioufly avoid giving his hearer* warning that he intends to excite their pafiions. Every thing of this kind chills their fenfibility. There is alfo a great difference between telling the hearers that they ought to be moved, and actually moving them. To every emotion or paflion nature has adapt- ed certain correfponding objects ; and without fetting thefe before the mind, it is impoffible for an orator to P I58 THE PATHETIC PART. excite that emotion. We are warmed with gratitude* we are touched with compaflion, not when a fpeaker (hows us that thefe are noble difpofitions, and that it is our duty to feel them 5 nor when he exclaims againft us for our indifference and coldnefs. Hitherto he has addreffed only our reafon or confeience. He mull defcribe the kindnefs and tendernefs of our friend; he muft exhibit the diftrefs fuffered by the perfon for whom he would intereft us. Then, and not before, our hearts begin to be touched, our gratitude or com- panion begins to flow. The bafis, therefore, of all fuc- cefsful execution in pathetic oratory, is to paint the objeft of that paflion which we defire to raife, in the mod natural and linking manner ; to defcribe it with fuch circumftances as are likely to awaken it in the jninds of others. To fucceed in the pathetic, it is neceflary to attend to the proper language of the paflions. This, if we confult nature, we (hall ever find is unaffe&ed and fimple. It may be animated by bold and ftrong fig- ures, but it will have no ornament, nor finery. There is a great difference between painting to the imagina- tion and to the heart. The one may be done with de- liberation and coolnefs ; the other muft always be rapid and ardent. In the former, art and labour may be fuf- fered to appear ; in the latter no proper efFeft can be produced, unlefs it be the work of nature only. Hence all digreffions ftiould be avoided which may interrupt or turn afide the fwell of paflion. Hence comparifons are always dangerous, and commonly quite improper in the midft of the pathetic. It is alfo to be obferved, that violent emotions cannot be lading. The pathetic THE PERORATION. 1 59 therefore fliould not be prolonged too much. Due re- gard fhould always be preferved to what the hearers will bear ; for he who attempts to carry them farther in paffion than they will follow him, fruftrates his purpofe. By endeavouring to warm them too much, he takes the fureft method of freezing them com- pletely. * Concerning the peroration or conclufion of a dif- courfe, a few words will be fufficient. Sometimes the whole pathetic part comes in moft properly at the con- clufion. Sometimes, when the difcourfe has been al- together argumentative, it is proper to conclude with fumming up the arguments, placing them in one view, and leaving the impreffion of them full and ftrong on the minds of the hearers. For the great rule of a conclufion, and what nature obvioufly fuggefts, is, place that laft on which you choofe to reft the ftrength of your caufe. In every kind of public fpeaking it is important to hit the precife time of concluding ; to bring the dif- courfe jufl to a point ; neither ending abruptly and unexpectedly, nor difappointing the expectation of the hearers, when they look for the end of the dif- courfe. The fpeaker fhould always clofe with dignity and fpirit, that the rninds of the hearers may be left warm, and that they may depart with a favourable impreffion of the fubjefl; and of himfelf. l6o PRONUNCIATION OR DELIVERY. PRONUNCIATION OR DELIVERY. JL HE great objects to which every public fpeaker mould direct his attention in forming his deliv- ery, are, firft, to fpeak fo as to be fully and eafily under- ftood by his hearers ; and next, to exprefs himfelf with fuch grace and energy as to pleafe and to move them. To be fully and eafily underflood, the chief requifites are, a due degree of loudnefs of voice, diftin£tnefs, flownefs, and propriety of pronunciation. To be heard is undoubtedly the firft requifite. The fpeaker mud endeavour to fill with his voice the fpacc occupied by the affembly. Though this power of voice is in a great meafure a natural talent, it may receive confiderable afliftance from art. Much depends on the proper pitch and management of the voice. Every man has three pitches in his voice ; the high, the mid* die, and the low. The high is ufed in calling aloud to fome one at a cliftance ; the low approaches to a whif- per ; the middle is that which is employed in common converfation, and which fhould generally be ufed iu public fpeaking. For it is a great error to fuppofe that the higheft pitch of the voice is requifite to be well heard by a" great affembly. This is confounding two things materially different, loudnefsor ftrength of found with the key or note on which we fpeak. The voice may be rendered louder without altering the key ; and the fpeaker will always be able to give mod body, mod perfevering force of found, to that pitch of voice to which in converfation he h accuftomed. Whereas, i£ PRONUNCIATION OR DELIVERY. l6l he begin on the higheft key, he will fatigue himfelf, and fpeak with pain; and, wherever a man fpeaks with pain to himfelf, he is always heard with pain by his audience. Give the voice therefore full ftrength and fwell of found; but always pitch it on your ordinary fpeaking key ; a greater quantity of voice fhould never be uttered than can be afforded without pain, and without any extraor- dinary effort. To be well heard, it is ufeful for a fpeaker to fix his eye on fome of the molt diftantper- fons in the affembly, and to confider himfelf as fpeak- ing to them. We naturally and mechanically utter our words with fuch ftrength as to be heard by one to whom we addrefs ourfelves, provided he be within the reach of our voice. This is the cafe in public fpeak- ing, as well as in common converfation. But it mud be remembered, that fpeaking too loudly is peculiarly offenfive. The ear is wounded when the voice comes upon it in rumbling, indiftincl; maffes ; befide, it ap- pears as if affent were demanded by mere vehemence and force of found. To being well heard and clearly underftood, diftincT:- nefs of articulation is more conducive, perhaps, than mere loudnefs of found. The quantity of found requi- fite to fill even a large fpacc, is lefs than is commonly fuppofed-, with diftincl: articulation a man of a weak voice will make it extend farther than the ftrong- eft voice can reach without it. This therefore demands peculiar attention. The fpeaker mufl: give every found its due proportion, and make every fyllable, and even every letter, be heard diftin&ly. To fucceed in this, rapidity of pronunciation mufl be avoided. A lifelefs, drawling method however is not to be indulged. To P 2, 1 62 PRONUNCIATION OH DELIVERY. pronounce with a proper degree of flownefs and with full and clear articulation cannot be too induftrioufly ftudied, nor too earneftly recommended. Such pronun- ciation gives weight and dignity to a difcourfe. It affifts the voice by the paufes and refts which it allows it more eafily to make ; and it enables the fpeaker to, fvvell all his founds with more energy and more mufic. It affifts him alfo in' preferving a due command of himfelf 5 whereas a rapid and hurried manner excites; that flutter of fpirits which is the greatefl enemy to* all right execution in oratory. To propriety of pronunciation nothing is more con- ducive than giving to every word which we utter,., that found which the moil polite ufage appropriates to-, it, in oppofition to- broad, vulgar, or provincial pronun- ciation. On this- fubjeft, however, written in (tr u&ions, avail nothing. But there is one obfervation which it may be ufeful to make. In our language every word of more fyllables than one^has one accented fyllable.. The genius of the language requires the voice to mark that fyllable by a iironger percuflion, and to pafs more Sightly over the reft. The fame accent fhouid be giv-. en to every word in public fpeaking and in common dif- courfe. Many perfons err in this refpe£l. When they fpeak in public and with folsmnity, they pronounce dif- ferently from what they do at other times. They dwell upon fyllables, and protra£l them ; they multiply ac- cents on the fame, word from a falfe idea that it gives. gravity and force to their difcourfe, and increafes the pomp of public declamation. But this is one of the greatefl: faults which can be committed in pronuncia- tion ; it conftitutes what is termed a theatrical or, mouthing manner, and gives -n artificial, affe&ed ak PRONUNCIATION OR DELIVERY* 3 £3 to fpeech, which detracts greatly from its agreeable- nefs and its impreffion. We (hall now treat of thofe higher parts of delivery,, by ftudying which a fpeaker endeavours not merely ta render himfelf intelligible, but to give grace and force. to what he utters. Thefe may be comprehended under four heads, emphafis, paufes, tones, and geftures. By emphafis is meant a fuller and ftronger found of voice, by which we diftinguifh the accented fyllable of fome word, on which we intend to lay particular ftrefs, and to ihow how it affects the reft of the fen- tence. To acquire the proper management of empha- fis, the only rule is, ftudy to acquire a juft conception of the force and fpirit of thofe fentiments which you. are to deliver. In all prepared difcouries it would, be extremely ufeful if they were read over or re- hearfed in private, with a view of afcertaining the proper emphafis, before they were pronounced in pub- lic 5 marking at the fame time the emphatical words in every fentencc, or at lead in the mod important: parts of the difcourfe, and fixing them well in memory.. A caution, however, mud be given againft multiplying emphatical words too much- They become linking,, only when ufed with prudent referve. If they recur too frequently ; if a fpeaker attempt to render every thing which he fays of high importance, by a multi- tude of (Irong emphafes, they will foon fail to excite the attention of his hearers. Next to emphafis, paufes demand attention. They are of two kinds ; firft, emphatical paufes ; and fec- ondly, fuch as mark the diitin&ions of fenfe. A a emphatical paufe is made after fomething has been Caid of peculiar moment, on which we wilb to fix XC?4 PRONUNCIATION OR DELIVERT. the hearer's attention. Sometimes a matter of im- portance is preceded by a paufeof this nature. Such paufes have the fame effe£t with ftrong emphafes, and are fubje£l to the fame rules ; efpecially to the caution juft now given, of not repeating them too frequently. For, as they excite uncommon attention, and confequently raife expectation, if this be not fully anfwered, they occafion difappointment and difguft. But the moft frequent and the principal ufe of paufes is, to mark the divifions of the fenfe, and at the fame time to permit the fpeaker to draw his breath ; and the proper management of fuch paufes is one of the moft nice and difficult articles in delivery. A proper command of the breath is peculiarly requifite. To obtain this, every fpeaker fhould be very careful to provide a full fupply of breath for what he is to utter. It is a great miftake to fuppofe that the breath mufl be drawn only at the end of a period, when the voice is allowed to fall. It may eafily be gathered at the intervals of a period, when the voice fuffers only a momentary fufpenfion. By this management a fuffi- cient fupply may be obtained for carrying on the longeft period without improper interruptions. Paufes in public difcourfe mufl: be formed upon the manner in which we exprefs ourfelves in fenfible con- verfation, and not upon the ftiff, artificial manner, which we acquire from perufing books according ta common pun&uation. Punctuation in general is very arbitrary ; often capricious and falfe ; dictating a uni- formity of tone in the paufes, which is extremely un- pleafing. For it mull be obferved, that, to render paufes graceful and expreffive, they mufl not only be made in the right places, but alfo be accompanied by PRONUNCIATION OR DELIVERY. l6j proper tones of voice ; by which the nature of thefe paufes is intimated much more than by their length, which can never be exactly meafured. Sometimes on- ly a flight and fimple fufpenfion of the voice is proper ; fometimes a degree of cadence is requifite ; and fome- times that peculiar tone and cadence which mark the conclufion of a period. In all thefe cafes, a fpeaker is to regulate himfelf by the manner in which he fpeaks, when engaged in earned difcourfe with others. In reading or reciting verfe, there is a peculiar diffi- culty in making the paufes with propriety. There are two kinds of paufes, which belong to the mufic of verfe j one at the end of a line, and the other in the middle of it. Rhyme always renders the former fenfi- ble, and compels obfervance of it in pronunciation. In blank verfe it is lefs perceivable ; and when there is no fufpenfion of the fenfe, it has been doubted, whether in reading fuch verfe any regard fhould be paid to the clofe of a line. On the ftage, indeed, where the appearance of fpeaking in verfe fhould be avoided, the clofe of fuch lines as make no paufe in the fenfe fhould not be rendered perceptible to the ear. On other occafions we ought, for the fake of melody, to read blank verfe in fuch manner as to make each line fenfible to the ear. In attempting this, however, every appearance of fing-fong and tone muft be cau- tioufly avoided. The clofe of a line, where there is no paufe in the meaning, fhould be marked only by fo flight a fufpenfion of found, as may diftinguifh the paflage from one line to another, without injuring the fenfe. The paufe in the middle of the line falls after the 4th, 5th, 6th> or 7th fyllable, and no other. Wheu 1 66 PRONUNCIATION OR DELIVERY. this paufe coincides with the flighted divifion in the fenfe, the line may be read with eafe j as in the two firft verfes of Pope's Mefliah : Ye nymphs of Soly ma, begin the fong, To heavenly themes fublimer ftrains belong. But if words, that have fo intimate a connexion* as not to admit even a momentary reparation, be divid- ed from each other by this csefural paufe ; we then perceive a conflict between the fenfe and found, which renders it difficult to read fuch lines gracefully. In fuch cafes it is beft to facrifice found to fenfe. For inftance, in the following lines of Milton : » What in me is dark, Illumine) what is low, raife and fupport. The fenfe clearly dictates the paufe after " illumine," which ought to be obferved ; though, if melody only were to be regarded, " illumine" fhould be connected with what follows, and no paufe made before the 4th or 6th fyllable. So alfo in the following line of Pope's Epiftle to Arbuthnot : I fit j with fad civility I read. The ear points out the paufe as falling after " fad," the fourth fyllable. But to feparate " fad" and u civility" would be very bad reading. The fenfe al- lows no other paufe than after the fecond fyllable, lf fit j" which therefore is the only one to be obferved. We proceed to treat of tones in pronunciation which are different both from emphafes and paufes ; confiding in the modulation of the voice, the notes or variations of found which are employed in public PRONUNCIATION OR DELIVERY. 1 67 fpeaking. The moft material inftru£tion which can be given on this fubjedt, is to form the tones of pub- lic fpeaking upon the tones of animated conveffation. Every one who is engaged in fpeaking on a fubjedt which interefts him nearly, has an eloquent or per- fuafive tone and manner. But, when a fpeaker de- parts from his natural tone of expreffion, he becomes frigid and unperfuafive. Nothing is more abfurd than to fuppofe that as foon as a fpeaker afcends a pulpit, or rifes in a public aflembly, he is inftantly to lay afide the voice with which he expreffes himfelf in private, andtoaflume anew, ftudiedtone, and a cadence altogether different from his natural manner. This has vitiated all delivery, and has given rife to cant and tedious monotony. Let every public fpeaker guard againft this error. Whether he fpeak in private, or in a great affembly, let him remember that he flill fpeaks. Let him take nature for his guide, and (he will teach him to exprefs his fentiments and feelings in fuch manner, as to make tfye moft forcible and pleafing impreflion upon the minds of his hearers. It now remains to treat of gefture, or what is call- ed a£Hon in public difcourfe. The beft rule is, at- tend to the looks and gefture in which carneftnefs, indignation, companion, or any other emotion, discov- ers itfelf to moft advantage in the common intercourfc of men ; and let thefe be your model. A public fpeaker muft however adopt that manner which is moft natural to himfelf. His motions and geftures ought all to exhibit that kind of expreffion which na- ture has di£lated to him ; and, unlefs this be the cafe, no ftudy can prevent their appearing ftiff and forced. But, though nature is the bafis on which I6B PRONUNCIATION OR DELIVERY. every grace of gefture mud be founded, yet there is room for fo me improvements of art. The ftudy of action confifts chiefly in guarding againft awkward and difagreeable motions, and in learning to perform fuch as are natural to the fpeaker, in the mod grace* ful manner. Numerous are the rules which writers have laid down for the attainment of a proper gefticu- lation. But written inftruclions on this fubjecl: can be of little fervice. To become ufeful, they muft be ex- emplified. A few of the fimpleft precepts however may be obferved with advantage. Every fpeaker fhould ftudy to preferve as much dignity as poflible iri the attitude of his body. He fhould generally pre- fer an erecl pofture ; his pofition fhould be firm, that he may have the fullefl and freed command of all his motions. If any inclination be ufed, it fhould be toward the hearers, which is a natural expreflion of earneftnefs. The countenance fhould correfpond with the nature of the difcourfe ; and, when no par- ticular emotion is exprefled, a ferious and manly look is always to be preferred. The eyes fhould never be fix- ed entirely on any one object, but move eafily round the audience. In motion, made with fhe hands}*confm1j& the principal part of gefture in fpeaking It is natur- al for the right hand to be employed more frequently than the left. Warm emotions require the exercife of them both together. But, whether a fpeaker genic- ulate with one, or with both his hands, it is important that all his motions be eafy and unreftrained. Nar- row and confined movements are ufually ungraceful 5 and consequently motions made with the hands, fhould proceed from the fhoulder, rather than from the elbow. Perpendicular movements are to be avoid- MEANS OF IMPROVING IN ELOQUENCE. ify •eel. Oblique motions are moft pleafing and grace- ful. Sudden and rapid motions are feldom good. Earneftnefs can be fully expreffed without their af- (iftance. We cannot conclude this fubje£r, without earneftly admonifhing every fpeaker to guard againft afFe&a- tion, which is the deftru£Hon of good delivery. Let his manner, whatever it be, be his own ; neither imi- tated from another, nor taken from fome imaginary model, which is unnatural to him. Whatever is na- tive, though attended by feveral defeats, is likely to pleafe, becaufe it (hows us the man 5 and becaufe it has the appearance of proceeding from the heart. To attain a delivery extremely correct and graceful, is what few can expecTt 5 fince fo many natural talents mud concur in its formation. But to acquire a forcible and perfuafive manner, is within the power of moft perfons. They need only to difmifs bad habits, follow nature, fend fpeak in public as they do in private, when they fpeak in earneft and from the heart. A MEANS OF IMPROVING IN ELOQUENCE. JL O thofe who are anxious to excel in any of the higher kinds of oratory, nothing is more neceffary than to cultivate habits of the feveral virtues, and to refine and improve their moral feelings. A true ora» tor mud poiTefs generous fentiments, warm feel- ings, and a mind turned toward admiration of 0. fjO MEANS OF IMPROVING IN ELOQUENCE. thofe great and high objects which men areby nature formed to venerate. Connected with the manly vir- tues, he mould poffefs flrong and tender fenfibility to all the injuries, diftreffes, and forrows of his fellow- creatures. Next to moral qualifications, what is moll: requifite for an orator, is a fund of knowledge. There is no art by which eloquence can be taught in any fphere, without a fufficient acquaintance with what belongs to that fphere. Attention to the ornaments of ftyle can only affift an orator in fetting off to advantage the ftock of materials which he poffeffes \ but the mate- rials themfelves mud be derived from other fources than from rhetoric. A pleader muft make himfelf completely acquainted with the law ; he muft poiTefs all that learning and experience which can be ufeful for fupporting a caufe, or convincing a judge. A preacher muft apply himfelf clofely to the ftudy of divinity, of practical religion, of morals, and of hu- man nature ; that he may be rich in all topics of in- ftruction and perfuafion. He who wifhes to excel in the fupreme council of the nation, or in any public af- fembly, (houid be thoroughly acquainted with the bufinefs that belongs to fuch affembly ; and mould at- tend with accuracy to all the facts which may be the fubject of queftion or deliberation. Befide the knowledge peculiar to his- profeflion, a public fpeaker fhould be acquainted with the general circle of polite literature. Poetry he will find ufeful for embellifhing his ftyle, for fuggefting lively images* or pleafmg illuiions. Hiftory may be ftill more ad- vantageous ; as the knowledge of facts, of eminent characters, and of the courfe of human affairs, finds MEANS OF IMPROVING IN ELOQUENCE. 1 7 1 place on many occafions. Deficiency of knowledge even in fubje&s not immediately connected with his profeflion, will expofe a public fpeaker to many difad- vantages, and give his rivals, who are better qualified, a decided fuperiority. To every one who wifhes to excel in eloquence* application and induftry cannot be too much recom- mended. Without this it is impoffible to excel in any thing. No one ever became a diftinguiflied plead- er, or preacher, or fpeaker in any aflembly, without previous labour and application. Induftry indeed is not only neceflliry to every valuable acquifition, but it is defigned by Providence as the feafoning of every pleafure, without which life is doomed to languifh. No enemy is fo deftru&ive both to honourable attain- ments, and to the real and fpirited enjoyment of life, as that relaxed ftate of mind, which proceeds from indolence and diffipation. He who is deflined to excel in any art, will be diftinguiihed by enthufiafm for that art 5 which, firing his mind with the object in view, will difpofe him to relifh every necefiary la- bour. This was the charafteriftic of the great men of antiquity # , and this rnufl diftinguifti moderns who wifh to imitate them. This honourable enthufiafm fhould be cultivated by fludents in oratory. If it be wanting to youth, manhood will flag exceedingly. Attention to the beft models contributes greatly to improvement in the arts of fpeaking and writing, Every one indeed mould endeavour to have fomething that is his own, that is peculiar to himfelf, and will diftinguifti his ftyle. Genius is certainly deprefled, or want of it betrayed, by flavifh imitation. Yet no genius is fo original, as not to receive improvement *72 MEANS OF IMPROVING IN ELOQUENCE* from proper examples in ftyle, composition,, and de- livery. They always afford fome new ideas, and ferve to enlarge and correal our own. They quicken the current of thought, and excite emulation. In imitating the Style of a favourite author, a mate- rial diftin&ion fhould be obferved between written and fpoken language. Thefe are in reality two different modes of communicating ideas. In books we expert correclnefs, precifion, all redundancies pruned, all repetitions avoided, language completely poliShed. Speaking allows a more eafy, copious ftyle, and lefs confined by rule •, repetitions may often be requifite ; parenthefes may fometimes be ornamental j the fame thought mud often be placed in different points of view; fince the hearers can catch it only from the mouth of the fpeaker, and have not the opportunity, as in reading, of turning back again, and of contemplating what they do not entirely comprehend. Hence the ftyle of many good authors would appear ftiffj affe£i- ed, and even obfcure, if transferred into a popular o- ration. How unnatural, for inftance, would Lord Shaftefbury's fentences found in the mouth of a pub- lic fpeaker ? Some kinds of public difcourfe indeed, fuch as that of the pulpit, where more accurate prep- aration and more fludied ftyle are allowable, wouki admit fuch a manner better than others, which are expected to approach nearer to extemporaneous fpeak- ing. But ftill there is generally fuch a difference be- tween a compofition, intended only to be read, and one proper to be fpoken, as Should caution us againft a clofe and improper imitation. The compofition of fome authors approaches near- er to the ftyle of fpeaking than that of others, and ME1N3 OF IMPROVING IN ELOQUENCE. 1 73 they may therefore be imitated with more fafety. In our own language, Swift and Bolingbroke are of this defeription. The former, though correal, preferves the eafy and natural manner of an unaffe&ed fpeaker. The ftyle of the latter is more fplendid 5 but ftill it is the ftyle of fpeaking, or rather of declamation. Frequent exercife both in cbmpofing and fpeaking is a neceflary mean of improvement. That kind of com- pofition is mod ufeful which is connected with the profeflion, or fort of public fpeaking, to which per- ilous devote themfelves. This they mould ever keep in view, and gradually inure themfelves to it. At the fame time they mould be cautious not to allow them- felves to compofe negligently on any occafion. He who wifhes to write or fpeak correctly, mould in the mod trivial kind of compofition, in writing a letter, or even in common converfation, ftudy to exprefs himfelf with propriety. By this we do not mean that he is never to write or fpeak, but in elaborate and ar- tificial language. This would introduce ftiffnefs and affectation, infinitely worfe than the greateft negli- gence. But we muft obferve, that there is in every- thing a proper and becoming manner j and on the contrary, there is alfo an awkward performance of the fame thing. The becoming manner is often the mod light, and feemingly rrioft carelefs; but tafte and at- tention are requifite to feize the juft idea of it. That idea, when acquired, fhould be kept in view, and up- on it mould be formed, whatever we write or fpeak. Exercifes in fpeaking have always been recommend- ed to ftudents ; and, when under proper regulation* iHuft be of great ufe. Thofe public and promifcuous 174 MEANS OF IMPROViNG IN ELOQJJENCE* focieties in which numbers are brought 5 together wh# are frequently of low Rations and occupations ; who are conne£ied by no common bond of union, except a ridiculous rage for public fpeaking, and have no other objeft in view than to exhibit their fuppofed talents ; are inftitutions not only ufelefs, but inj urin- ous. They are calculated to become feminaries of licentioufnefs, petulance, and faction. Even the a!* iowable meetings into which ftudents of oratory may form themfelves, need direction in order to render them ufeful. If their fubje&s of difcourfe be improp* erly chofen ; if they fupport extravagant or indecent top* ics •, if they indulge themfelves in loofe and flimfy dec- lamation ; or accuftom themfelves without preparation to fpeak pertly on all fubje£ts •, they will unavoidably acquire a very faulty and vicious tafte in fpeaking*. It fhould therefore be recommended to all thofe who are members of fuch focieties, to attend to the choice of their fubjecis \ to take care that they be ufeful and manly, either conne&ed with the courfe of their ftud> ies, or related to morals and tafte, to a£iion and life* They fhould alfo be temperate in the practice cf fpeaking a , not fpeak too often, nor on fubjefls cf which they are ignorant \ but only when they have proper materials for a difcourfe, and have previoufly confidered and digefted the fubjeft. In fpeaking, they fhould be cautious always to keep good fenfe and perfuafion in view, rather than a fhow of eloquence. By thefe means they will gradually form themfelves to a manky, correft, and perfuafive manner of fpeak- ing. It may now be afked, of what ufe will the fludy cf critical and rhetorical writers be to thofe who wilh to MEANS OF IMPROVING IN ELOOJJENCE. 17/ excel in eloquence ? They Certainly ought not to be neglefted \ and yet perhaps very much cannot be ex- peded from them. It is however from the original ancient writers that the greateft advantage may be derived ; and it is a difgrace to any one, whofe pro- feflion calls him to fpeak in public, to be unacquaint- ed with them. In all the ancient rhetorical writers there is indeed one defe£l ; they are too fyftematic- al. They aim at doing too much, y at reducing rhetoric to a perfeft art, which may even fupply in- vention with materials on every fubjed ; fo that one would fuppofe they expe£ted to form an orator, by rule, as they would form a carpenter. But in reality all that can be done, is to aflifl and enlighten tafte, and to point out to genius the courfe it ought to hold. Ariftotle was the flrft who took rhetoric out of the hands of the fophifts, and founded it on reafon and folid fenfe. Some of the profoundeft obfervations,. which have been made on the pailions and manners of men, are to be found in his Treatife on Rhetoric £ though in this, as in all his writings, hi&great concifenefe often renders him obfeure. The Greek rhetoricians who fucceeded him, moft of whom are now loft, im- proved on his foundation. Two of them ft ii! remain,, Demetrius Phalereus, and Dionyfius of Halicarnaffus. Both wrote on the conftru&ion of fentences, and de- ferve to be confulted ; particularly Dionyfius, who is » very accurate and judicious critic. To recommend the rhetorical writings of Cicero is fuperfluous. Whatever on the fubjedl of eloquence is fuggefted by fo great an orator, mull be worthy of attention. His moft eatenfive work on this fubjeit is .'J7«S- COMPARISON OF THE that De Oratore. None of his writings are mere highly finiflied than this treatife. The dialogue is polite ; the chara&ers are well fupported, and the management of the whole is beautiful and pleafing. The Orator ad M. Brutum is alfo a valuable treatife ; and indeed through all Cicero's rhetorical works are difplayed thofe fublime ideas of eloquence which are calculated to form a juft tafte, and to infpire that en- thufiafm for the art which is highly conducive to ex- cellence. But of all ancient writers on the fubje£t of oratory^, the mod inftrudlive and mod ufeful is Quintilian. His inftitutions abound with good fenfe, and difcover a tafte in the higheft degree juft and accurate. AU moil all the principles of good criticifm are found in them. He has well digefted the ancient ideas concern- ing rhetoric, and has delivered his inftru£tions in ele* gant and polifhed language. COMPARATIVE MERIT OF THE ANCIENTS AND MODERNS. jl\ VERY curious queftion has been agitated with regard to the comparative merit of the ancients and moderns. In France, this difpute was carried on with great heat between Boileau and Madame Dacier for the ancients, and Perrauit and La Motte for the moderns. Even at this day, men of letters are divided on the fubjeft. A few refle&ions upon it may ba ufeful, ANCIENTS AND MODERNS. 1 77 To decry the ancient claflics is a vain attempt. Their reputation is eftablifhed upon too folid a foun- dation to be fliaken. Imperfections may be traced in their writings ; but to difcredit their works in general can belong only to peevifhnefs or prejudice. The approbation of the public through fo many centuries eftablifhes a verdift in their favour, from which there is no appeal. In matters of mere reafoning, the world may he long in error ; andfyftems of philofophy often have a currency for a time, and then die. But in objects of tafte there is no fuch fallibility \ as they depend not on knowledge and fcience, but upon fentiment and feeling. Now the univerfal feeling of mankind mint be right \ Homer and Virgil therefore muft continue to ftand upon the fame ground which they have fo long occupied. Let us guard however againft blind veneration for the ancients, and inftitute a fair comparifon between them and the moderns. If the ancients had the pre- eminence in genius, yet the moderns muft have fome advantage in all arts which are improved by the nat- ural progrefs of knowledge. Hence in natural philofophy, aftronomy, chemiftry<> and other fciences, which reft upon obfervation of fa&s 5 the moderns have a decided fuperiority over the an- cients. Perhaps too in precife reafoning, philosophers of modern ages are fuperior to thofe of ancient times ; as a more extenfive literary intercourfe has contributed to fharpen the faculties of men. The moderns have alfo the fuperiority in hiftory and in political knowl- edge ; owing to the extenfion of commerce, the diC- covery of different countries, the fuperior facility o£ S78 COMPARISON OF THE, &C» intercourfe, and the multiplicity of events and revolt tions which have taken place in the world. In po- etry likewife fome advantages have been gained in point of regularity and accuracy. In dramatic per- formances, improvements have certainly been made upon the ancient models. The variety of characters is greater ; greater fkill has been difplayed in the con- duct of the plot 5 and a happier attention to probabil- ity and decorum. Among the ancients we find high- er conceptions, greater fimplicity, and more original- fancy. Among the moderns there is more of art and corre£tnefs, but lefs genius. But, though this remark may in general be juft, there are fome exceptions from it; Milton and Shakefpeare are inferior to no poets in any age. Among the ancients were many circumftances fa- vourable to the exertions of genius. They travelled much in fearch of learning, and converfed with priefts, poets, and philofophers. They returned home full of difcoveries, and fired by uncommon objects. Their enthufiafm was greater \ and, few being itimulate^ to excel as authors, their fame was more intenfe and flattering. In modern times good writing is lefs priz- ed. We write with lefs effort. Printing has fo mul- tiplied books, that affiftance is eafii) procured. Hence mediocrity of genius prevails. fe beyond this* and to foar above the crowd, : few. In epic poetry, Homer and ill unrivalled j and orators, equal to Der icero, we have none. In hiftory, we have 1 narration fo elegant, fo pifi urefque, fo animate in terefting, as thole of Herodotus, Thucydides, Xenophon, Livy* Tacitus, and Salluft. Our dramas, with all their im« HISTORICAL WRITING. 1 79 yrovemcnts, are inferior in poetry and fentiment to thofe of Sophocles and Euripides. We have no comic dialogue that equals the correct, graceful, and elegant Simplicity of Terence. The elegies of Tibullus, the paftorals of Theocritus, and the lyric poetry of Horace, are ftill unrivalled. By thofe, therefore, who wifh to form their tafte, and nourifh their genius, the utmoft attention muft be paid to the ancient daffies, both Greek and Roman. After thefe reflections on the ancients and moderns, we proceed to a critical examination of the moft dif- tinguifhed kinds of compofition, and of the characters of thofe writers, whether ancient or modern, who have excelled in them. Of orations and public dif- courfes much has already been faid. The remaining profe compofitions may be divided into hiftorical writ- ing, philofophical writing, epiftolary writing, and fie-* titious hiftory. « *•" JEnSTORICAl/WRITING. .HISTORY is a record of truth for the inftruc- tion of mankind. Hence the great requifites in a hif- torian are impartiality, fidelity, and accuracy. in the conduct of hiftorical detail, the firft object of a hiftorian mould be, to give his work all poflible unity. Hiftory (hould not confift of unconnected parts. Its portions (hould be united by fome connect- ing principle, which will produce in the mind an im- preffion of fomething that is one, whole, and entire. 160 HISTORICAL WRITING. "Polybius, though not an elegant writer, is remarkable for this quality. A hiftorian fhould trace aftions and events to their fources. He fhould therefore be well acquainted with human nature and politics. His (kill in the former will enable him to defcribe the charadters of individu- als ; and his knowledge of the latter to account for the revolutions of government, and the operation of political caufes on public affairs. With regard to po- litical knowledge, the ancients wanted fome advantages which are enjoyed by the moderns. In ancient times there was lefs communication among neighbouring ftates*, no intercourfe by eftablifhed polls, nor by am- baffadors at diftant courts. Larger experience too of the different modes of government has improved the modern hiftorian beyond the hiftorian of antiquity. It is however in the form of narrative, and not by differtation, that the hiftorian is to impart his political knowledge. Formal difcuffions expofe him to fufpi- cion of being willing to accommodate his fa£b to his theory. They have alfo an air of pedantry, and evi- dently refult from want of art. For refleftions* whether moral, political, or philofophical, may be fnfin- uated in the body of a narrative. Clearnefs, order, and connexion are primary virtues in hiftorical narration. Thefe are attained when the hiftorian is complete mafter of his fubjeA ; can fee the whole at one view ; and comprehend the dependence of all its parts. Hiftory being a dignified fpecies of compofition, it fhould alfo be confpicuous for gravity. There fhould be nothing mean nor vulgar in the ftyle ; no quaintnefs, no fmartnefs, no affe&ation, no wit, A hiftory fhould Ukewife be interefting \ and HISTORICAL WRITING. l8l this is the quality which chiefly diftinguifhes a writer of genius and eloquence. To be intereiling, a hiftorian mufl preferve a medi- um between rapid recital and prolix detail. He fhould know when to be concife, and when to enlarge. He fhould make a proper fele&ion of circumftances. Thefe give life, body and colouring to his narration* They conflitute what is termed hiftorical painting. In all thefe virtues of narration, particularly in pic- turefque defcription, the ancients eminently excel. Hence the pleafurc of reading Thucydides, Livy, Sal- luft, and Tacitus. In hiftorical painting there are great varieties. Livy and Tacitus paint in very dif- ferent ways. The descriptions of Livy are full, plain, and natural ; thofe of Tacitus are fhort and bold. One embellifhment, which the moderns have laid a- fide, was employed by the ancients. They put ora- tions into the mouths of celebrated perfonages. By thefe, they diverfified their hiftory, and conveyed both moral and political inftru&ion. Thucydides was the firft who adopted this method ; and the orations with which his hiftory abounds, are valua- ble remains of antiquity. It is doubtful however wheth- er this embellifhment fhould be allowed to the hiftori- an •, for they form a mixture, unnatural to hiftory, of truth and fi&ion. The moderns are more chafte when on great occafions the hiftorian delivers in his own perfon the fentiments andreafonings of oppofite parties. Another fplendid embellifhment of hiftory is the delineation of characters. Thefe are confidered as exhibitions of fine writing ; and hence the difficulty of excelling in this province. For characters may be too finning and laboured. The accomplished hiftori- R 1 82 HISTORICAL WRITING. an avoids here to dazzle too much. He is felicitous to give the refemblance in a ftyle equally removed from meannefs and affectation. He ftudies the gran- deur of fimplicity. Sound morality fhould always reign in hiftory. A hiftorian fhould ever fhow himfelf on the fide of virtue. It is not, however, his province to deliver moral in- ftru£Hons in a formal manner. He fhould excite in- dignation againft the defigning and the vicious \ and by appeals to the paffions, he will not only improve his reader, but take away from the natural coolnefs of hif- torical narration. In modern times hiftorical genius has fhone moft in Italy. Acutenefs, political fagacity, and wifdom are all confpicuous in Machiavel, Guicciardin, Davila, Bentivoglio, and Father Paul. In Great Britain hifto- ry has been fafhionable only a few years. For, though Clarendon and Burnet are confiderable hiftorians, they are inferior to Hume, Robertfon, and Gibbon. The inferior kinds of hiftorical compofition are an- nals, memoirs, and lives. Annals are a collection of fa£ts in chronological order ; and the properties of an annalift are fidelity and diftinclnefs. Memoirs are a fpecies of compofition, in which an author pretends not to give a complete detail of fails, but only to record what he himfelf knew, or was concerned in, or what iiluftrates the conduct of fome perfon, or fome tranf- adlion which he choofes for his fubje£t. It is not therefore expected of fuch a writer, that he pofTefs the fame profound refearch, and thofe fuperior talents which are requifite in a hiftorian. It is chiefly re- quired of him, that he be fprightly and interefting. The French during two centuries have poured forth 3 Historical writing?. 183 flood of memoirs ; the mod of which are little more than agreeable trifles. We mud, however, except from this cenfure the memoirs of the Cardinal de Retz, and thofe of the Duke of Sully. The former join to a lively narrative great knowledge of human nature. The latter deferve very particular praife. They ap- proach to the ufefulnefs and dignity of legitimate hif- tory. They are full of virtue and good fenfe ; and are well calculated to form both the heads and hearts of thofe who are defigned for public bufinefs and high ftations in the world. Biography is a very ufeful kind of compoGtion ; kfs (lately than hiftory ; but perhaps not lefs inftruc- tive. It affords full opportunity of difplaying the char- acters of eminent men, and of entering into a thorough acquaintance with them. In this kind of writing, Plutarch excels ; but his matter is better than his manner \ he has no peculiar beauty nor elegance. His judgment and accuracy alfo are fometimes taxed. But he is a very humane writer, and fond of difplaying great men in the gentle lights of retirement. Before we conclude this fubjecl, it is proper to ob- ferve, that of late years a great improvement has been introduced into hiftorical compofition. More particu- lar attention than formerly, has been given to laws, cuftoms, commerce, religion, literature, and to every thing that {hows the fpirit and genius of nations. It is now conceived that a hiflorian ought to illuftrate manners as well as fa£ts and events. Whatever dis- plays the ftate of mankind in different periods ; what- ever iliuftrates ihe progrefs of the human mind, is more ufeful than details of fieges and battles. 184 PHILOSOPHICAL WRITING AND DIALOGUE. PHILOSOPHICAL WRITING AND DIA. LOGUE. VyF phiiofophy, the profeffed defign is inflrue* tion. With the philofopher therefore dyle, form and; drefs are inferior object s. But they mud not be whol- ly negledted. The fame truths and reafonings, deliv- ered with elegance, will ftrike more, than in a dulii and dry manner. Beyond mere perfpicuity, the drifted precifion and accuracy are required in a philofophical writer 5 and thefe qualities may be pofTeffed without drynefs. Phi- lofophical writing admits a polifhed, neat and elegant dyle. It admits the calm figures of fpeech ; but re- jects whatever is florid and tumid. Plato and Cicero have left philofophical treatifes, compofed with much elegance and beauty. Seneca is too fond of an affect- ed, brilliant, fparkling manner. Locke's Treatife on Human Underdanding is a model of a clear and dif- tincl philofophical dyle. In the writings of Shaftef- bury, on the other hand, phiiofophy is drefled up with too much ornament and finery. Among the ancients, philofophical writing often a f- fumed the form of dialogue. Plato is eminent for the beauty of his dialogues. In richnefs of imagination no philofophic writer, ancient or modern, is equal to him. His only fault is the excefiive fertility of his imagination, which fometimes obfcures his judgment) and frequently carries him into allegory, fiction, en- thufiafm, and the airy regions of mydical theology. EPISTOLARY WRITING. I $5 Cicero's dialogues are not fo fpirited and chara&erif- tical as thofe of Plato. They are however agreeable, and well fupported ; and fliow us conversation, carri- ed on among ibme principal perfons of ancient Rome with freedom, good breeding, and dignity. Of the light and humorous dialogue, Lucian is a model ; and he has been imitated by feveral modern writers. Fon- tenelle has written dialogues, which are fprightly and agreeable ; but his characters, whoever his perfonages be, all became Frenchmen. The divine dialogues of Dr. Henry More amid the academic ftiffnefs of the age are often remarkable for character and vivacity. Bift> op Berkley's dialogues are abflract, yet perfpicuoua. EPISTOLARY WRITING. XN epiftolary writing we expe£t eafe and famil- iarity •, and much of its charm depends on its introduce ing us into fome acquaintance with the writer. Its fundamental requifites are nature and fimplicity, fprightlinefs and wit. The ftyle of letters, like that of converfation, mould flow eafily. It ought to be neat and correct, but no more. Cicero's epiftles are the moft valuable collection of letters, extant in any lauguage. They are compofed with purity and ele- gance, but without the leaft affectation. Several let- ters of Lord Bolingbroke and of BiGiop Atterbury are mafterly. In thofe of Pope there is generally too much ftudy ; and his letters to ladies in particular are full of affe&ation. Thofe of Swift and Arb.uthnot are R* 1 86 FICTITIOUS HISTORY. written with eafe and fimplicity. Of a familiar cor- refpondence, the molt accompliflied model are the let- ters of Madame de Sevigne. They are eafy, varied, lively and beautiful. The letters of Lady Mary Wort- ley Montague, are perhaps more agreeable to the epis- tolary ftyle, than any in the Englifh language. FICTITIOUS HISTORY. X HIS fpecies of compofition includes a very numerous, and in general a very infignificant clafs of writings, called romances and novels. Of thefe how- ever the influence is known to be great both on the morals and tafte of a nation. Notwithstanding the bad ends to which this mode of writing is applied, it might be employed for very ufeful purpofes. Romances and novels defcribe human life and manners, and diicover the errors into which we are betrayed by the paflions. Wife men in all ages have ufed fables and fid ions as vehicles of knowledge •, and it is an obfervation of Lord Bacon, that the common affairs of the world are infuincient to fill the mind of man. He mud create worlds of his own, and wander in the regions of imagination. All nations whatfoever have difcovered a love of fic- tion, and talents for invention. The Indians, Perfians, and Arabians, abounded in fables and parables. A- xnong the Greeks, we hear of the Ionian and Milefian tales. During the dark ages, fidlion aflumed an un- ufual form from the prevalence of chivalry. Ro- . mances arcfe, and carried the marvellous to its fummit* FICTITIOUS HISTORY. iBJ Their knights were patterns not only of the moft he- roic courage, but of religion, generofity, courtefy, and fidelity ; and the heroines were no lefs diftinguifhed for modefty, delicacy, and dignity of manners Of thefe romances, the moft perfect model is the Orlando Furiofo. But, as magic and enchantment came to be difbelieved and ridiculed, the chivalerian romances were difcontinued, and were fuccceded by a new fpe- cie6 of fictitious writing. Of the fecond ft age of romance writing, the Cleo- patra of Madame Scuderi and the Arcadia of Sir Philip Sydney are good examples. In thefe, however, there was ilill too large a proportion of the marvellous ; and the books were too voluminous and tedious. Romance writing appeared therefore in a new form j and dwindled down to the familiar novel. Interefting fituations in real life are the ground-work of novel writing. Upon this plan, the French have produced fome works of confiderable merit. Such are the Gil Bias of Le Sage and the Marianne of Marivaux. In this mode of writing, the Englifh are inferior to the French ; yet in this kind there are fome perform- ances which difcover the ftrength of the Britifii genius. No fiction was ever better fupported than the Ad- ventures of Robinfon Crufoe. Fielding's novels are highly diflinguifhed for humour and boldnefs of char- acter. Richardfon, the author of ClariiTa, is the moft moral of all our novel writers ; but he polTefTes the unfortunate talent of fpinning out pieces of amufement into an immeafurabJe length. The trivial performan- ces which daily appear under the title of lives, adven- tures, and hiftories, by anonymous authors, are moft infipid, and, it muftbe confefled, often tend to deprave the morals; and to encourage diffipation and idlenefs. 188 NATURE OF POETRY, NATURE OF POETRY. ITS ORIGIN AND PROGRESS. VERSIFICATION. Wi HAT, it may be aiked, is poetry ? and how does it differ from profe ? Many difputes have been maintained among critics upon thefe queftions. The effence of poetry is fuppofed by Ariftotle, Plato, and others, to confift in fiction. But this is too limited a defcription. Many think the chara&eriftic of poetry lies in imitation. But imitation of manners and char- afters may be carried on in profe as well as in poetry. Perhaps the beft definition is this, " poetry is the u language of paffion, or of enlivened imagination, " formed moft commonly into regular numbers." A& the primary object: of a poet is to pleafe and to move, it is to the imagination and the paflions that he ad- dreffes himfelf. It is by pleafing and moving, that he aims to inftru£t and reform. Poetry is older than profe. In the beginning of fociety there were occafions upon which men met to- gether for feafts and facrifices, when mufic, dancing, and fongs were the chief entertainment The meet- ings of American tribes are diftinguiflied by mufic ancj fongs. In fongs they celebrate their religious rites and martial achievements ; and in fuch fongs we trace the beginning of poetic compofition. Man is by nature both a poet and mufician. The fame impulfe which produced a poetic ftyle, prompt- ed a certain melody or modulation of found, fuited to the emotions of joy or grief, love or anger. Mufic and ENGLISH VERSIFICATION, lS> poetry are united in fong, and mutually aflift and ex- alt each other. The firfl poets fung their own verfes. Hence the origin of verification* or the arrangement of words to tune or melody. Poets and fongs are the fhrft objects that make their appearance in all nations* Apollo, Orpheus and Amphion were the firft tamers of mankind among the Greeks. The Gothic nations had their fcalders, or poets. The Celtic tribes had their bards. Poems and fongs are among the antiquities of all countries ; and, as the occasions of their being compofed ars nearly the fame, fo they remarkably refemble each other in ftyle. They comprife the celebration of gods* and heroes, and victories* They abound in fire and enthufiafm y they are wild, irregular, and glowing. During the infancy of poetry, all its different kinds were mingled in the fame compofition ; but in the progrefs of fociety, poems afTumed their different regr ular forms. Time feparated into claffes the feveral kinds of poetic compofition. The ode and the elegy, the epic poem and the drama, are all reduced to rule,, and exercife the acutenefs of criticifm. ENGLISH VERSIFICATION. IN ATIONS, whofe language and pronuncia- tion were mufical, refted their verification chiefly oa the quantities of their fyllables ; but mere quantity has very little effec~l in Englifh verfe. For the differ- ence, made between long and fhort fyllables in our manner of pronouncing them, is very inconfiderable. 19a ' ENGLISH VERSIFICATION The only perceptible difference among our fyHables arifes from that ftrong percuffion of voice Which is termed accent. This accent however does not always make the fyllable longer, but only gives it more force of found ; and it is rather upon a certain order and fucceflion of accented and unaccented fyllables, than? upon their quantity, that the melody of our verfe de- pends. In the conftitution of our verfe there is another effential circumftance. This is the caefural paufe,. which falls near the middle of each line. This paufe may fall after the fourth, fifth, fixth, or feventh fylla- ble ; and by this mean uncommon variety and rich- nefs are added to Englifh verfifkation. Our Englifh verfe is of Iambic ftru&ure, compofed of a nearly alternate fucceflion of unaccented and ac- cented fyllables. When the paufe falls earlieft, that is, after the fourth fyllable, the brifkefl melody is thereby formed. Of this, the following lines from Pope, are a happy illuftration :: On her white bread | a fparkling crofs flie wore, Which Jews might kifs | and Infidels adore ; Her lively looks | a fprightly mind difclofe, Quick, as her eyes, | and as unhVd as thofe. Favours to none, | to all fhe fmiles extends ;; Oft flie rejects* | but never once offends,- When the paufe falls after the fifth fyllable, dividing the line into two equal portions, the melody is fenfi- bly altered. The verfe, lofing the briflc air of the former paufe, becomes more fmooth and flowing.* Eternal funfhine | of the fpotlefs mind, Each prayer accepted, | and each wifh refign'd* ENGLISH VERSIFICATION. 19 X "When the paufe follows the fixth fy 11 able, the mel- ody becomes grave. The movement of the verfe is more folemn and meafured. The wrath of Peleus' fon, | the direful fpring Of all the Grecian woes, | O goddefs, ling ! The grave cadence becomes {till more fenfible when the paufe follows the feventh fyllable. This kind of verfe however feldom occurs \ and its effe£t is to di- verfify the melody. And in the fmooth, defcriptive | murmur dill, X,ong lov'd, ador'd ideas, | all adieu. Our blank verfe is a noble, bold and difencumbered mode of verification. It is free from the full clofe, which rhyme forces upon the ear at the end of every couplet. Hence it is peculiarly fuited to fubje£ts of dignity and force. It is more favourable than rhyme to the fublime and highly pathetic. It is the moil proper for an epic poem and for tragedy. Rhyme finds its proper place in the middle regions of poetry ; and blank verfe in the higheft. The prefent form of our Englifh heroic rhyme in couplets is modern. The meafure ufed in the days of Elizabeth, James, and Charles I. was the flanza of .eight lines. Waller was the firft who introduced couplets \ and Dryden eftabliftied the ufage. Waller fmoothed our verfe, and Dryden perfected it. The verfiiication of Pope is peculiar. It is flowing, fmooth, and correft in the highelt degree. He has totally thrown afide the triplets fo common in Dryden. In eafe and variety, Dryden excels Pope. He frequently makes his couplets run into one another with fome- what of the freedom of blank verfe. *92 PASTORAL POETKY. PASTORAL POETRY. IT was not before men had begun to affemhle in great cities, and the buftle of courts and large foci- cties was known, that paftoral poetry a {Turned its pref- ent form. From the tumult of a city life, men look* ed back with complacency to the innocence of rural retirement. In the court of Ptolemy, Theocritus wrote the fir ft paitorals with which we are acquaint- ed ; and in the court of Auguflus, Virgil imitated him. The paftoral is a very agreeable fpecies of poetry. It lays before us the gay and pleafing fcenes of nature. It recals obje£ts which are commonly the delight of our childhood and youth. It exhibits a life with which we afTociate ideas of innocence, peace and leifure. It tranfports us into Elyfian regions. It prefents many obje£ts favourable to poetry ; rivers and mountains, meadows and hills, rocks and trees, flocks and fhep* herds void of care. A paftoral poet is careful to exhibit whatever is mod pleafing in the paftoral ftate. He paints its fim- plicity, tranquillity, innocence, and happinefs ; but conceals its rudenefs and mifery. If his pictures be not thofe of real life, they muft refemble it. This is a general idea of paftoral poetry. But, to underftand it more perfe£lly, let us confider, i. The fcenery : a. The chara&ers \ and laftly, the fubje&s it fhouid exhibit. The fcene muft always be in the country ; and the poet muft hare a talent for description. In this refpeel, PASTORAL POETRY. I93 Virgil is excelled by Theocritus, whofe defcriptions are richer and more pi&urefque. In every paftoral, a rural profpect fhould be drawn with diftindtnefs. It is not enough to have unmeaning groups of rofes and violets, of birds, breezes, and brooks thrown together. A good poet gives fuch a landfcape as a painter might copy. His objects arc particularized. The ftream, the rock, or the tree, fo ftands forth as to make a figure in the imagination, and give a pleaf- ing conception, of the place where we are. In his allufions to natural objects as well as in pro- fefied defcriptions of the fcenery, the poet muft ftudy variety. He muft diverfify his face of nature by pre- fenting us new images. He mud alfo'fuit the fcenery to the fubjedt of his paftoral \ and exhibit nature, un- der fuch forms as may correfpond with the emotions and fentiments he defcribes. Thus Virgil, when he gives the lamentation of a defpairin g lover, commu- nicates a gloom to the fcene. Tantum inter denfas, umbrofa cacumina, fagos, Aflidue veniebat ; ibi haec incondita folns Montibus ct fylvis ftudio ja&abat inani. With regard to the charafters in paftorals, it is not fufficient that they be perfons refiding in the country. Courtiers and citizens who refort thither occafionally, are not the characters expe&ed in paftorals. We expe£t to be entertained by fhepherds, or perfons whol- ly engaged in rural occupations. The fhepherd muft be? plain and unafFe&ed in his manner of thinking. An amiable fimplicity muft be the ground-work of his chara&er $ though there is no neceflity for his being S f 94 PASTORAL POETRY. dull and infipkl. He may have good fenfe, and even vivacity •, tender and delicate feelings, But he mud never deal in general reflections, or abdracT: reafonings ; nor in conceits of gallantry •, for thefe are confe- quences of refinement. When Aminta in Taflb is difentangling his midrefs's hair from the tree, to which a favage had bound it, he is made to fay, " Cruel tree, u how couldft thou injure that lovely hair, which did " thee fo much honour ? Thy rugged trunk was not " worthy of fo lovely knots. What advantage have " the fervants >of love, if thofe precious chains are 11 common to them and to trees ?" Strained fenti- xnents, like thefe, fuit not the woods. The language of rural perfonages is that of plain fenfe and natural feel- ing ; as in the following beautiful lines of Virgil : Sepibus in noftris parvam te rofcida mala (Dux ego vefter eram) vidi cum matre legentem ; Alter ab undecimo turn me jam ceperat annus, Jam fragiles poteram a terra contengere ramos. Ut vidi, ut perii, ut me malus abftulit error J The next inquiry is, what are the proper fubje&s of paftorals ? For it is not enough that the poet give us ihepherds difcourfing together. Every good poem has a fubjeft that in fome way interefts us. In this lies the difficulty of paftoral writing. The active fcenes of country life are too barren of incidents. The condi- tion of a'fhepherd has few things in it that excite cu- riofity or furprife. Hence of all poems the paftoral is mod meagre in fubjedt, and lead diversified in. drain. Yet this defect h not to be afcribed folely to barren- nefs of fubjecls. It is in a great meafure the fault of the poet. For human nature and human paffions are PASTORAL POETRY. ip£ much the fame in every fituation and rank of life. What a variety of objects within the rural fphere do the paffions prefent ! The druggies and ambition of fhepherds > their adventures ; their difquiet and felici- ty j the rivalfhip of lovers \ unexpected fuccefles and difaflers ; are all proper fubje£ts for the paftoral mufe. Theocriius and Virgil are the two great fathers of paftoral writing. For fimplicity of fentiment, harmo- ny of numbers, and richnefs of fcenery, the former is highly diftinguifhed. But he fometimes defcends to ideas that are grofs and mean, and makes his fhep* herds abufive and immodeft. Virgil on the contrary preferves the paftoral simplicity without any ofFenfive rufticity. Modern writers of paftorals have in general imitat- ed the ancient poets. Sannazarius, however, a Latin p oet, in the age of Leo X. attempted a bold innova- tion by compofing pifcatory eclogues, and changing the fcene from the woods to the fea, and the character from fhepherds to fifliermen. But the attempt was fo unhappy that he has no followers. The toil fo me life of filhermen has nothing agreeable to prefent to the imagination. Fifties and marine productions have nothing poetical in them. Of all the moderns, Gef- ner, a poet of Switzerland, has been the moft happy in paftoral compofition. Many new ideas are intro- duced in his Idyls. His fcenery is ftriking, and his defcriptions lively. He is pathetic, and writes to the heart. Neither the paftorals of Pope, nor of Philips, do much honour to Englifli poetry. The paftorals of Pope are barren 5 their chief merit is the fmoothnefe of the numbers. Philips attempted to be more fin> I96 PASTORAL POETRY. pie and natural than Pope ; but wanted genius to fupport the attempt. His topics, like thofe of Pope,, are beaten •, and, inftead of being natural or fimple, he is fiat and infipid. Shenftone's paftoral ballad is one of the mod elegant poems of the kind in the Englifli language. In latter times paftoral writing has been extended into regular drama ; and this is the chief improvement the moderns have/ made in it. Two pieces of this kind are highly celebrated, Gaarini's Pallor Fido, and Tafib's Aminta. Both poflcfs great beauties ; but the latter is the preferable poem, becaufe-lefs intricate, and lefs afle£ted ; though not wholly free from Italian refinement. As a poem, however, it has great merit* The poetry is pleafing and gentle, and the Italian lan- guage confers on it much of that foftnefs which is fuited to the paftoral. The Gentle Shepherd of Allan Ramfay is a paftor- al drama which will bear comparifon with any com- pofition of the kind in any language. To this admir- able poem it is a difaclvantage, that it is' written in the old ruftic diale£t of Scotland, which muft foon be obfolete $ and it is a farther difadvantage, that it is formed fo entirely on the rural manners of Scotland, that none, but a native of that country, can thoroughly underftand and relifli it. It is full of natural defcrip- tion, and excels in tendernefs of fentiment. The chara£lers are well drawn, the incidents affecting, the fcenery and manners lively and juft. LYRIC POETP.t. 197 LYRIC POETRY. JL HE ode is a fpecies of poetry, which has much dignity, and in which many writers in every age have diftinguiflied themfelves. Ode in Greek is the fume with fong or hymn ; and lyric poetry implies that the verfes are accompanied with a lyre, or mufic- al inftrument. In the ode, poetry retains its firft form, and its original union with mufic. Sentiments com- monly conititute its fubject. It recites not actions. Its fpirit and the manner of its execution mark its character. It admits a bolder and more paffionate drain than is allowed in Ample recital. Hence the enthufiafm that belongs to it. Hence that neglect of regularity, thofe digreffions, and that / diforder, it U fuppofed to admit. All odes may be clafTed under four denominations. 1. Hymns addreifed to God, or compofed on religious- fubjects. 2. Heroic odes, which concern the cele- bration of heroes and great actions. 3. Moral and- philofophical odes, which refer chiefly to virtue, friendfhip, and humanity. 4. Feftive and amorous odes, which are calculated merely for amufement and pleafure. Enthufiafm being confidered as the characteriftic of the ode, it ha soften- degenerated into licentioufnefs. This fpecies of writing has above all others been in- fected by want of order, method, and connexion*. The poet is out of fight in a moment He is fo ab~ S 2, I9# LYRIC POETRY. rupt and eccentric, fo irregular and obfcure, that we cannot follow him. It is not "indeed necefiary that the ftrufture of the ode be fo perfe&ly regular as an epic poem. But in every compofition there ought to be a whole ; and this whole ihould confift of connected parts. The tranfition from thought to thought may be light and delicate, but the connexion of ideas mould be preferved ; the author mould think, and not rave. Pindar, the father of lyric poetry, has led his imi- tators into enthufiaflic wildnefs. They imitate his, diforder without catching his fpirir. In Horace's odes every thing is correft, harmonious, and happy. His elevation is moderate, not rapturous. Grace and ele- gance are his characterises. He fupports a moral fentiment with dignity, touches a gay one with felici- ty, and has the art of trifling moil agreeably. His. language too is mofl fortunate. Many Latin poets of later ages have imitated him. Cafimir, a Polifh poet of the 1 a it century, is of this number; and discovers a considerable degree of orig- inal genius and poetic Hre. He is, however, far inferi- or to the Roman in graceful expreffion. Buchanan in fome of his lyric compofitions is very elegant and; clafiical. In our own language, Dry den's ode on St. Cecilia is well known. Mr. Gray in fome of his odes is cel- ebrated for tendernefs and fublimity ; and in Dodf- ley's Mifcellanies are feveral very beautiful lyric po*. ems, Profeffedly Pindaric odes are feldom intelligible. Cowley is doubly harfh in his Pindaric compofitions.. His Anacreontic odes are happier, and perhaps the mod agreeable and perfect in their kind of all his poems» *I£>ACTIC POETRY. Ij^r> DIDACTIC POETRY. Oi "F didaclic poetry, it is the exprefs intention to convey inftru£Hon and knowledge. It maybe ex- ecuted in difFerent ways. The poet may treat fome in ft motive fubjedi in a regular form ; or without in- tending a great or regular work he may inveigh a- gain ft particular vices, or make fome moral obferva- tions on human life and characters. The higheft fpecies of dida£Hc poetry is a regular treatife on feme pbilofophical, grave, or ufeful fubjecl. Such are the books of Lucretius de Rerum Naiura> the Georgics of Virgil, Pope's Effay on Criticifm, A- kenfide's Pleafures of the Imagination, Armftrong on Health, and the Art of Poetry by Horace, Vida, and Boileau. In all fuch works, as inftruclion is the profefled obje£t, the chief merit confifts in found thought, juft principles, and apt illuftrations. It is neceilary how- ever that the poet enliven his lelTons by figures, inci- dents, and poetical painting. Virgil in his GeorgicS embelliihes the mod trivial circumftances in rural life. When he teaches that the labour of the farmer muft begin in fpring, he exprefles himfelf thus : Verenovo geliduscanis cum montibus humor Liquitur, et Zephyro putris fegleba refolvit ; Dcpr eflb incipiat jam turn mihi Taurus aratro Isgemere, ct fuko attritus fplendefcere vomers 2C0 DIDACTIC P0ETRT. In ail didactic works fuch method is requifite as will clearly exhibit a connected train of inftruction* With regard to epifodes and embellishments, writers of didactic poetry are indulged great liberties. For in a poetical performance a continued feries of inftruc* tion without embelliihment foon fatigues. The di- greffions in the Georgics of Virgil are his principal beauties. The happinefs of a country life, the fable of Ariileus, and the tale of Orpheus and Eurydice, cannot be praifed too much. A didactic poet ought alfo to connect his epifodes with his fubject. In this, Virgil is eminent. Among modern didactic poets,. Akenfide and Armftrong are diftinguifhed. The former is rich and poetical \ but the latter maintains greater equality, and more chafte and correct elegance. Of didaclic poetry, fatircs and epi files run into the. mod familiar ilyle. Satire feems to have been at fir ft a relic of ancient comedy, the grofrhefs of which was corrected by Ennius and Lucilius. At length,. Horace brought it into its prefent form. Reforma- tion of manners is its profelTed end \ and vice and vicious characters are the objects of its ceniure. There are three different modes in which k has been con- ducted by the three great ancient fatirifts, Horace,, Juvenal, and Perfius. The fatires of Horace have not much elevation. They exhibit a meafured profe. Eafe and grace characterize his manner \ and he glances rather at the: follies and weaknefTes of mankind, than at their vices. He fmiles while he reproves. He moralizes like a found philofopher, but with the politenefs of a- cour.~ DIDACTIC POETRY. « 201 tier. Juvenal is more declamatory and ferious \ and has greater ftrength and fire. Perfius has diilinguifti- ed himfelf by a noble and fublim^ morality. Poetical epiftles, when employed on moral or crit- ical fubje£ts, feldom rife into a higher ftrain of poet* ry, than fatires. But in the epiftolary form, many other fubjecls may be treated \ as love, poetry, or ele- giac. The ethical epiftles of Pope are a model •, and in them he (hows the ftrength of his genius. Here he had a full opportunity for difplaying his judgment and wit, his concife and happy expreffion, together with the harmony of his numbers. His imitations of Horace are fo happy, that it is difficult to fay, whether the original or the copy ought to be moil admired. Among moral and dida&ic writers, Dr. Young ought not to be palled over in filence. Genius appears in all his works ; but his Univerfal Paffion may be confidered as pofleffing the full merit of that animat- ed concifenefs, particularly requisite in fatirical and dida£tic compofitions. At the fame time it is to be obferved, that his wit is often too fparkling, and his fentences too pointed. In his Night Thoughts there is great energy of expreflion, feveral pathetic paf- fages, many happy images, and many pious reflec- tions. But the fentiments are frequently overftrained and turgid, and the ftyle harlh and obfcure. 202 DESCRIPTIVE POETRY. DESCRIPTIVE POETRY. I. LN defcriptive poetry the higheft exertions of genius may be difplayed. In general, indeed, defcrip~ tion is introduced as an embellifhment, not as the fubje& of a regular work. It is the teft of a poet's imagination, and always diftinguifhes an original from a fecond rate genius. A writer of an inferior clafs fees nothing new or peculiar in the object he would paint ; his conceptions are loofe and vague ; and his expreffions feeble and general. A true poet places an object before our eyes. He gives it the colouring of life ; a painter might copy from him. The great art of pi£turefque defcription lies in the fele&ion of circumftances. Thefe ought never to be vulgar or common. They fhould mark ftrongly the object. No general defcription is good ; all diftin& ideas are formed upon particulars. There mould alfo be uniformity in the circumftances felecled. In de- ferring a great object, every circumftance brought for- ward fhould tend to aggrandize ; and in defcribing a gay obje£t, all the circumftances fhould tend to beau^ tify it. Laftly, the circumftances in defcription fhould be expreffed with concifenefs and fimplicity. The largeft and fulled defcriptive performance in perhaps any language, is Thomfon's Seafons j a work which pofTerTes very uncommon merit. The ftyle is fplendid and ftrong, but fometimes harfh and indiftin£h He is an animated and beautiful defcriber ; for he DESCRIPTIVE POETRY. 303 liad a feeling heart and a warm imagination. He ftudied nature with care ; was enamoured of her beauties; and had the happy talent of painting them like a m after. To fhow the power of a fingle well- chofeo circumftance in heightening a defcription, the following paiTage may be produced from his Summer, ■where, relating the effe&s of heat in the torrid zone, he is led to take notice of the peftilence that destroy- ed the Englifli fleet at Carthagena, under Admiral Vernon. -You, gallant Vernon, faw The miferable fcene : you, pitying, faw To infant weaknefs funk the warrior's arm ; Raw the deep racking pang ; the ghaftly form ; The lip pale quivering, and the beamlefs eye No more with ardour bright ; you heard the groaas Of agonizing fhips from fhore to fhore ; Heard nightly plung'd amid the fuller* waves The frequent corfe. All the circumftances here fele&ed tend to height- en the difmal fcene ; but the laft image is the moll ilriking in the picture. Of defcriptive narration there are beautiful examples in Parneirs Tale of the Hermit. The fetting forth of the hermit to vifit the world, his meeting a compan- ion, and the houfes in which they are entertained, of the vain man, the covetous man, and the good man, are pieces of highly finifhed painting. But the richeft and the mod remarkable of all the defcriptive poems in the Englifh language, are the Allegro and the Penfe- rofo of Milton. They are the ftore-houfe whence many fucceeding poets have enriched their defcriptions, £04 DESCRIPTIVE POETRY. and are inimitably fine poems. Take, for inftanccj the following lines from the Penferofo : -I walk unfeen On the dry, fmooth-fhaven green, To behold the wandering moon Riding near her higheft noon ; And oft, as if her head fhe bow'd, Stooping through a fleecy cloud. Oft on a plat of riling ground ♦ I hear the far-off curfew found, Over fome wide watered fhore Swinging flow with folemn roar j % Or, if the air will net permit, Some dill removed place will fit, Where glowing embers through the room Teach light to counterfeit a gloom ; Far from all refort of mirth, Save the cricket on the hearth, Or the bellman's drowfy charm, To blefs the doors from nightly harm | Or let my lamp at midnight hour Be feen in fome high lonely tower, Exploring Plato, to unfold What worlds, or what vafl: regions hold Th' immortal mind, that hath forfook Hermanfion in this flefhy nook ; And of thefe demons, that are found In fire, air, flood, or under ground; Here are no general expreflions ; all is pi&urefque* expreflive, and concife. One ftrong point of view is exhibited to the reader \ and the impreflion made, is lively and interefting. Both Homer and Virgil excel in poetical defcrip- tion. In the fecond JEneid, the facking of Troy is fo particularly defcribed, that the reader finds himfelf in »ESCR1FTIVE POETRY. £05 the midft of the fcene. The death of Priam is a mafter-piece of defcription. Homer's battles are all wonderful. Oflian too paints in ftrong colours, and is remarkable for touching the heart. He thus pour- trays the ruins of Balclutha : " I have feen the walls " of Balclutha ; but they were defohte. The fire H had refounded within the halls ; and the voice of u the peGple is now heard no more. The itream of u Clutha was removed from its place by the fall of t% the walk ; the thiflle (hook there its lonely head ; u the mofs whittled to the wind. The fcx looked u out of the window ; the rank grafs waved round his fS head. Defolate is the dwelling of Mcina j filence 64 is in the houfe of her fathers." Much of the beauty of defcriptive ptfetry depends upon a proper choice of epithets. Many poets are often carelefs in this particular ; hence the multitude * of unmeaning and redundant epithets. Hence the u Liquidi Fontes" of Virgil, and the " Prata Canis " Albicant Pruinis" of Horace. To obferve that water is liquid, and that fnow is white, is little better than mere tautology. Every epithet fhould add a new idea to the word which it qualifies. So in Milton : Who fhall tempt with wandering feet The dark, unbottomed, infinite abyfs ; And through the palpable obfeure find out Bis uncouth way ? Or fpread his airy flight, Upborne with indefatigable wings, Over the vaft abrupt ? The defcription here is ftrengthened by the epithets. The wandering feet, the unbottomed abyfs, the pal pable obfeure, the uncouth way, the indefatigable wing, are ail happy expreffions. T Z06 THE POETRY OF THE HEBREWS, THE POETRY OF THE HEBREWS. IN treating of the various kinds of poetry, that of the fcriptures juftly deferves a place. The facred books prefent us the moll ancient monuments of poetry now extant, and furailh a curious fubject of critieifm. They difplay the taile of a remote age and country. They exhibit a lingular, but beautiful fpe- cies of composition j and it mud give great pleafure* if we find the beauty and dignity of the fiyle adequate to the weight and importance of the matter. Div Lowth's learned treatife on the poetry of the Hebrews ought to be perufed by all. It is an exceedingly val- uable work both for elegance of llyle^and juflnefs of criticifm. We cannot do better than to follow the track of this ingenious author. Among the Hebrews, poetry was cultivated from the earlieft times. Its general con ilr act ion is Gngu- lar and peculiar. It con fids in dividing every period into correfpondent, for the mod part into equal mem- bers, which anfwer to each other both in fenfe and found. In the fir it member of a period a fentiment is exprelTed ; and in the fecend the fame fentiment is amplified, or repeated in different terms, or fo.me- times contrafted with its oppoCte. Thus,. V Sing.ua- u to the Lord a new fbng ; Hng unto the Lord ail the €i earth. Sing unto the Lord, and bkfs his name ; u (hew forth his falvation from day to clay. Declare 41 his glory among the heathen •, his wonders among ali " people"; THE POETRY OF THE HEBREWS. 207 This form of poetical compofition is deduced from the manner in which the Hebrews fung their facred hymns. Thefe were accompanied with mufic, and performed by bands of fingers and muficians, who al- ternately an'fwered each other. One band began the hymn thus : " The Lord reigneth, let the earth re- 14 joice *," and the chorus, or femi-chorus, took up the correfponding verficle \ " Let the multitudes of the " ifl« be glad thereof." But, independent of its peculiar mode of conftruc- tion, the facred poetry is diftinguiOied by the higheft beauties of ilrong, coneife, bold, and figurative expref- fion. Concifenefs and ftrength are two of its moft remarkable characters. The fentences are always fhort. The fame thought is never dwelt upon long* Hence the fublimity of the Hebrew poetry ; and all writers, who attempt th^ fublime, might profit much by imitating in this refpe£t, the ftyle of the old tefta- ment. No writings abound fo much in bold and an- imated figures, as the facred books. Metaphors, com- parifons, allegories, and perfonifications, are particu- larly frequent. But, to relifn thefe figures juftly, we mud tranfport ourfelves into Judea, and attend to particular circumllances in it. Through all that re- gion little or no rain falls in the fummer months. Hence, to reprcfent diftrefs, frequent allufions are made to a dry and thirfly land, where no water is ; and hence, to defcribe a change from diftrefs to profperity, their metaphors are founded on the fall- ing of fhowers, and the hurtling out of fprings in a defrrt. Thus in Ifanh, " The wildernefs and the foli- u tary place (hall be glad, and the defert (hall rejoice 11 and bloiTom as the role. For id the wildernefs 2o8 THK POETRY OF THE HEBREWS. " fhall waters break out, and dreams in the dc*- * c fert ; and the parched ground fhall become a pool i " and the thirdy land fpringa of water ; in the habi- M tation of dragons there (hall be grafs with rufhes 14 and reeds." Comparisons, employed by the facred poets, ard generally fhort, touching only one point of refemblance. Such is the following : " He that ruleth over men, M mull be juft, ruling in the fear of God > and he M &all be as the light of the morning, when the fun i$ rifeth j even a morning without clouds *, as the ! * tender grafs Springing out of the earth by clear 14 mining after rain." Allegory is likewifs frequently employed in the fa- boefcs \ and a fine kihmce of this occurs in the I ; Jin, wherein the people of Ifracl are compar- i vine, Of parables, the prophetical writing* arc full , and, if to us they foraetimes appear obfeure, we fliould remember that in early times it was univer- Sally n among all eadern nations, tb convey under rnyfterious figures. The figure, however, which elevates beyond all oth- ers the poetical ftyle of the fcriptures, is perfonifica* tion. The petfonifications of the infpired writers ex- ceed in force and magni licence thofe of all other po- ets This is more particularly true when any ap- pearance or operation of the Almighty is concerned, " Before him went the pedilence. The waters Saw u thee, O God, and were afraid, The mountains faw u thee, and they trembled. The overflowings of the " waters paflbd by ; the deep uttered his voice, " and lifted up his hands on bight?- The poetry of the fcriptures is very different from modern poetry* THE POETRY OF THE HEBREWS. 20^ It is the burft ofinfpiration. Bold fublimity, not cor- rect elegance, is its character. The feveral kinds of poetry, found in fcripture, are chiefly the didactic, elegiac, paftoral, and lyric. The book of Proverbs is the principal inftance of the didactic fpecies'of poetry. Of elegiac poetry, the la- mentation of David over Jonathan is a very beautiful inftance. Of paftoral poetry, the Song of Solomon is a high exemplification ; and of lyric poetry, the Old Teftament is full. The whole book of Pfalms is a collection of facred odes* Among the compofers of the facred books there is an evident diverfity of ftyle. Of the facred poets, the moil eminent are the author of the book of Job, Da- vid, and Ifaiah. In the compositions of David there is a great variety of manner. In the foft and tender he excels ; and in his Pfalms are many lofty pafiages. But in ftrength of defcription he yields to Job ; in fub- limity, to Ifaiah. Without exception, Ifaiah is the moil fublime of all poets. Dr. Lowth compares Ifai- ah to Homer, Jeremiah to Simonides, and Ezekiel to iEfchyius. Among the minor prophets, Hofea, Joel, JNIicdh. Habakkuk, and efpecially Nahum, are diftin- guiihed for poetical fpirit. In the prophecies of Daniel and Jonah there is no poetry. The book of Job is extremely ancient ; the author uncertain ; and it is remarkable, that it has no con- nexion with the affairs or manners of the Hebrews. It is the mod defcriptive of all the facred poems. A peculiar glow of fancy and ftrength of defcription characterise the author ; and no writer abounds fo much in metaphors. He renders vifible, whatever lie T 2 ^IO EPIC POETRf. treats. The fcene is laid in the land of Uz^ or tdti- mxa, which is a part of Arabia -, and the imagery employed differs from that which is peculiar to the Hebrews. EPIC POETRY. \JF all poetical works the epic poem is the moil dignified. To contrive a (lory which is enter- taining, important, and inftruciive ; to enrich it with happy incidents ; to enliven it by a variety of char- acters and descriptions ; and to maintain a uniform propriety of fentiment, and a due elevation of ftyle* are the higheit efforts of poetical genius. An epic poem is the recital of fome illuilrious en«- terprife in a poetical form. Epic poetry, is of a mor- al nature _j and tends to the promotion of virtue.. With this view it a£ls by extending our ideas of per- fection, and exciting admiration. Now this is ac-. complifhed only by proper reprefentations of heroic deeds and virtuous characters. Valour, truth, juftice, fidelity, friendihhp, ynety, and magnanimity, are ob- jects which the epic mufe prefents to our minds in the molt fplendfed and honourable colours. Epic cornpofition is diftinguiihed from hiftory by its poetical form, and its liberty of fiction. It is a more calm compolriion than tragedy. It requires a grave, equal, and fupported dignity. On fome occa- fions it demands the pathetic and the violent ; and it embraces a greater compafs of time and aftion. than dramatic writing admits, EPIC POETRY* j Si! The a&ion or fubjecl of aa epic poem muff have three properties. It mud be one •, it raul be great , it mud be intereiling. One a&ion or enterprife mud conftitute its fubjecl. Ariilctle infills on unity as ef- fential to epic poetry ; becaufe independent fuels never affeel fo deeply, as a tale that is one and connected. Virgil has chofen for his fubjedt the eflablifnment of ./Eneas in Italy \ and the anger of Achill.es, with its confequences, is the fubjecl of the Iliad. It is not however to be understood, that epic unity excludes all epifodes. On the contrary, critics confider them as great ornaments of epic poetry. They di- vtriiiy the fubjecl, and relieve the reader by (Lifting the fcene. Thus Heclor's Yifrt to Andromache in the Iliad, and Erminia's adventure with the fbepherd ia the feventh book of the Jerufalem, afford us a well- judged and pleafing retreat from camps and battles* Secondly, the fubjecl of an epic poem mud be fo great and fplendid, as to fix attention, and to juflify the magnificent apparatus the poet beftows on it, The fubjecl: fhould alfo be of ancient date. Both Lu- can and Voltaire have tranfgreffed this rule. By con- fining himfelf too firiclly to hiftorical truth, the former does not pleafe ; and the latter has improperly min* gled well-known events with fictitious. Hence they exhibit not that greatnefs which the epic requires. The third requifite in an epic fubjecl is, that it be intereiling. This depends in a great meafure upon the choice of it. But it depends much more upon the flcilful management of the poet. He mud fo frame his plan, as to comprehend many affecting incidents. He mud fometimes dazzle with valiant achieve- laeuts 5; fometimes he muil be awful and auguft 5 of* <£i2 EPIC POETRY. ten tender and pathetic ; and he muft fometimes give us gentle and pleafing fcenes of love, friendfhip, and affection. To render the fubje£i interefting, much alfo de- pends upon the dangers and obftacles which muft be encountered, ft is by the management of thefe, that the poet muft roufe attention, and hold his reader in fufpenfe and agitation. It is generally fuppofed by critics, that an epic pa- em fhould conclude fuccefsfully ; as an unhappy con- clufion deprefTes the mind. Indeed it is on the pros- perous fide, that epic poets generally conclude. But two authors of great name, Milton and Lucan, hold the contrary eourfe. The one concludes with the fub- verfion of Roman liberty; and the other Math the ex- pulfion of man from Paradife. No precife boundaries can be fixed for the duration of the epic action. The action of the Iliad lafts, ac- cording to BcfTu, only fotty-feven days. The .aclion of the OdyiTey extends to eight years and a half ; and that of the iEneid includes about fix years. The perfonages in an epic poem fhould be proper and well fuppcrted. They mould difplay the features of human nature; and may admit different degrees of virtue, and even vice; though the principal char- acters fhould be fuch as will raife admiration and love. Poetic characters are of two forts, general and partic- ular. General characters are fuch as are wife, brave, and virtuous, without any farther diftindtion. Par- ticular characters exprefs the fpecies of bravery, of wifdom, and of virtue, for which any one is remarka- ble. In this difcrimination of characters, Homer ex- cels. Tailb approaches the nearer! to him in this re* fpeCi > and Virgil is the molt deficient. EPIC POETRY. 213 Among epic poets it is the practice to fele£l fome perfonage as the hero of the tale. This renders the unity of the fubje£l more perfect, and contributes highly to the interred and perfection of this fpecies of writing. It has been afked, Who then is the hero of Paradife Loft ? The devil, fay fome critics, who af- fect: to be pleafant again (I Milton. But they miftake his intention by fuppofing that whoever is triumphant in the clofe, mult be the hero of the poem. For Ad- am is Milton's hero ; that is, the capital and mod in- terefting figure in his poem. In epic poetry there are befide human characters gods and fupernatural beings. This forms what is Called the machinery of epic poetry 5 and the French fe this efTential to the nature of an epic poem* They hold that in every epic eompofition the main ac- tion is neceflarily carried <*n by the intervention of gods. But there feems to be no folid reafop for their opinion, Lucan has no gods, nor fupernatural agents* The author of Leonidas alio has no machinery. But, though machinery is net absolutely neccflary to the epic plan, it ought not to be totally excluded from it. The marvellous has a great charm for moil readers. It leads to fublime defcrlpdon, and fills the imagination. At the fame time it becomes a poet to be temperate in the ufe of fupernatural machinery ; and fo to employ the religious faith or fuperftition of his country, as to give an air of probability to events mod contrary to the common courfe of nature. With regard to the allegorical perfonages, fame, difcord, love, and the like, they form the word kind of machinery. In defcription they may fometimes be allowed ; but they fhould never bear any part in th$* action of the poem. As they are only mere narries of fcl4 EPIC POETRY. general ideas, tliey ought not to be confidered as per- fons \ and cannot mingle with human actors without an intolerable confulion of fhadows with realities. In the narration of the poet, it is of little confe- quencc, whether he relate the whole itory in his own character, or introduce one of his perfonages to relate a pare of the adlion that pa fled before the poem opens. Homer follows one method in his Hind, and the other in his OdyfTey. It is to be obfer ved however that, if the narrative be given by any of the actors, it gives the poet greater liberty of fpreading out fuch parts of the fubject as he inclines to dwell upon in perfon, and of comprifing the reft within a lliort recital. When the fubject is of great extent, and comprehends the tranfactiens of fever f a tragedy, according to fome critics, mould never be 9, pure fiction, but ought to be built on real facts. This, however, is carrying the matter too far. For a fictitious tale, if properly conducted, will melt the t%6 DRAMATIC POETRY; heart as much as real hiftory^ Hence the tragic poet mixes many fictitious circumftances with well-known- fads. Mod readers never think of feparating the hif- torical from the fabulous. They attend only to what is probable, and are touched by events, that referable nature. Accordingly fome of the moil afTecYmg trag- edies are entirely fi£titious in their fubje&s. Such, are the Fair Penitent, Douglas, and the Orphan. In its origin, tragedy was rude and imperfecl:. A- mong the Greeks it was at firft nothing more than the fong which was fung at the feftival of Bacchus* Thefe fongs were fometimes fung by the whole compa-* ny, and fometimes by feparate bands, anfwering alter* nately to each other, and making a chorus. To give this entertainment fome variety, Thefpis, who lived a- bout five hundred years before the Chriftian era, in^ troduced a perfon between the fongs, who made a re- citation in verfe. iEfchylus, who lived fifty years af* ter him, introduced a dialogue between two perfons or adtors, comprehending fome interefting {lory j and placed them on a ftage adorned with fcenery. The drama now began to affume a regular form 5 and was foon * after brought to perfection by Sophocles and Euripides. It thus appears that the chorus was the foundation- of tragedy. But, what is remarkable, the dramatic dialogue, which was only an addition to it, at length became the principal part of the entertainment y and the chorus, lofing its dignity, came to be accounted on- ly an accefTory in tragedy. At laft, in modern trag* edy, it has entirely difappeared ; and its abfence from the ftage, forms the chief diftiaction between the an- cient and modern drama. DRAMATIC P0ETRT. 237 The chorus, it muft be allowed, rendered tragedy more magnificent, inftructive, and moral. But on the other hand it was unnatural, and lefTened the intereft of the piece. It removed the reprefentation from the refemblance of life. It has accordingly been with propriety excluded from the ftage. The three unities of action, place, and time, have been confidered, as eflential to the proper -conduct of dramatic fable. Of thefe three, unity of action is un- doubtedly mod important. This confifts in the rela- tion which all the incidents introduced bear to fome defign or effect, combining them naturally into one whole. This unity of fubject'is moft eflential to trag- edy. For a multiplicity of plots, by detracting the at- tention, prevents the paffions from rifing to any height. Hence the abfurdity of two independent actions ia the fame play. There may indeed be underplots y but the poet fhould make thefe fubfervient to the main action. They fhould confpire to bring forward the cataftrophe of the play. Of a Separate and independent action, or intrigue^ there is a clear example in Addifon's Cato. The fub- ject of this tragedy is the death of Cato, a noble per- fonage, and fupported by the author with much digni- ty. But all the love-fcenes in the play •, the paflion of Cato's two fons for Lucia, and that of Juba for Cato's daughter, are mere epifodes. They break the unity of the fubject, and form a very unfeafonable junction of gallantry with high fentiments of patri^ otifm. Unity of action muft not, however, be confounded with fimplicity of plot. Unity and fimplicity import different things in dramatic compofition. The plot is fimple, when a fmall number of incidents is introduo 23& DRAMATIC POETRY. cd into it. With refpect to plots, the ancients were more fimple than the moderns. The Greek trage- dies appear, indeed, to be too naked, and deftitute of interefting events. The moderns admit a much great- er variety of incidents ; which is certainly an improve- ment, as it renders the entertainment more animated and more inftructive. It may, however, be carried too far ; for an overcharge of action and intrigue pro.- duces perplexity and embarr ailment. Of this, the Mourning Bride of Congreve is an example. The in- cidents fucceed each other too rapidly ; and the cataf- trophe, which ought to be plain and fimple, is artificial and intricate. Unity of action muft be maintained, not only in the general conftruction of the fable, but in all the acts and fcenes of the play. The divifion of every play mto five acts is founded merely on common, practice, and the authority of Horace : Neve minor, neu Fit quinto produ&ior aftit Fabula* There is nothing in nature which fixes this rule,. On the Greek ftage the divifion by acts was unknown. The word act never occurs once in the Poetics of Ariftotle. Practice, however, has eftablifhed this di- vifion 5 and the poet muft be careful that each act: terminate in a proper place. The firft act fhould contain a clear expofition of the fubject. It fhould excite curiofity, and introduce the perfonages to the acquaintance of the fpectators. During the fecond, third, and fourth acts, the plots mould gradually thick- en. The paffions mould be kept conftantly awake. There fhould be no fcenes of idle conversion, or mere declamation. The fufjenfe and. concern of the DRAMATIC POETRY. 239 fpe&ators fhould be excited more and more. This is the great excellency of Shakefpeare. Sentiment, paf- fion, pity, and terror, mould pervade every tragedy. In the fifth act, which is the feat of the cataftrophe, the author mould mod fully difplay his art and genius. The firft requifite is, that the unravelling of the plot be brought about by probable and natural means. Sec- ondly, the cataftrophe fhould be fimple, depending on few events, and including but few perfons. Paflionate fenfibility languiflies when divided among many objects. Laflly, in the cataftrophe every thing mould be warm and glowing \ and the poet muft be fimple, ferious, and pathetic ; ufing no language but that of nature. It is not effential to the cataftrophe of a tragedy, that it end happily. Sufficient diftrefs and agitation with many tender emotions may be raifed in the courfe of the play. But in general the fpirit of trag- edy leans to the fide of leaving the impreffion of virtu- ous forrow ftrong upon the mind. A curious queftion here occurs : How happens it that the emotions of forrow in tragedy afford gratifi- cation to the mind ? It feems to be the conftitution of our nature, that all the focial paflions fhould be attend- ed with pleafure. Hence nothing is more pleafing than love and friend Chip. Pity is for wife ends a ftrong inftinct j and it neceffarily produces fome diftrefs on account of its fympathy with fuflerers. The heart is at the fame moment warmed by kindnefs, and afflicted by diftrefs. Upon the whole, the ftate of the mind is agreeable. We are pleafed with ourfelves, not on- ly for our benevolence, but for our fenfibility. The pain of fympathy is alfo diminifhed by recollecting that the diftrefs is not real ; and by the power of action and fentiment, of language and poetry. •J 40 HRAMATIC POETRY. After treating of the a&s of a play it is proper to notice the fcenes. The entrance of a new perfon up- on the ftage, forms what is called a new fcene. Thefe fcenes, or fucceffive converfations, fnould be clofely connected ; and much of the art of dramatic compo- sition confifts in maintaining this connexion. For this purpofe two rules muft be obferved. i. During the courfe of one a£t the ftage fhould never be left empty a moment, for this would make a gap in the representation. Whenever the ftage is evacuated, the a£l is clofed. This rule is generally obferved by French tragedians ; but it is much neglected by the Englilh. 2. No perfon fhould come upon the ftage, or leave it, without fome apparent reafon. If this rule be negle&ed, the dramatis perfonse are little better than fo many puppets ; for the drama profefles imi- tation of real tranfa&ions. To unity of action, critics have added the unities of time and place. Unity of place requires the fcene never to be (hifted ; that the action of the play con- tinue in the fame place where it began. Unity of time, ftri£tly taken, requires that the time of the ac- tion be no longer than the time allowed for the rep- resentation of the play. Ariftotle however permits the a£lion to comprehend a whole day. Thefe rules are intended to bring the imitation nearer to reality. Among the Greeks there was no divifion of acls. In modern times the practice has prevailed of Append- ing the fpeclacle fome little time between the acls. This practice gives latitude to the imagination, and renders ftricl confinement to time and place lefs necef- fary. Upon this account therefore too ftricl an ob- servance of thefe unities fhould not be preferred to higher beauties of execution, nor to the iutrodu&ion TRAGEDT. 24 X of more pathetic fitu?.tions. But tranfgreffions of thefe unities, though they maybe often advantageous, ought not to be too frequent-, nor violent. Hurrying the fpe&ator from one diftant city to another, or making feveral days or weeks pafs during the repre- sentation, would fhock the imagination too much, and therefore cannot be allowed in a dramatic writer. Having examined dramatic action, we (hall now attend to the characters mod proper to be exhibited in a tragedy. Several critics affirm that the nature of tragedy requires the principal perfonages to be always of high or princely rank; as the fufFerings of " fuch perfons feize the heart the moil forcibly. But this is more fpecious than folid. For the diilrefles of Def- demona, Monimia, and Belvidera, intcreft us as much as if they had been princefTes or queens. It is fufH« cient, that in tragedy there be nothing degrading or mean in the perfonages exhibited. High rank may render the fpectacle more fplendid ; but it is the tale itfelf, and the art of the poet, that make it interest- ing and pathetic. In defcribing his characters, the poet fhould be careful fo to order the incidents which relate to them, as to imprefs the fpectators with favourable ideas of virtue, and of the divine adminiftration. Pity fhould be raifed for the virtuous in diftrefs ; and the author flioutd ftudioufly beware of making fuch reprefenta- tions of life as would render virtue an object of aver- sion. Unmixed characters, either of good or ill men, arc not, in the opinion of Ariftotle, fit for tragedy. Foi the diftreffes of the former, as unmerited, hurt us ; and the fufferings of the latter excite no compaJliot* X 242 TRAGEDY. Mixed characters afford the beft field for difplaying, without injury to morals, the viciffitudes of life. They intereft us the molt deeply ; and their did reffes are moR inftruCtive when reprefented as fpringing out of their own paflions, or as originating in fome weaknefs incident to human nature. The Greek tragedies are often founded on mere def- tiny and inevitable misfortunes. Modern tragedy aims at a higher objeCt, and takes a wider range; as it fhows the direful effects of ambition, jealoufy, love, refentment, and every ftro'ng emotion. But of all the paflions which furnifh matter for tragedy, love has mod occupied the modern ftage. To the ancient the- atre love was ahnoft unknown. This proceeded from the national manners of the Greeks, which encourag- ed a greater feparation of the fexes than takes place in modern times ; and did not admit female aCtors upon the ancient ftag€ •, a eircum fiance which operated againft the introduction of love ftories. No folid rea- fon, however, can be affigned for this predominancy of love upon the ftage. Indeed it not only limits the natural extent pf tragedy, but degrades its majefty. Mixing it with the great and folemn revolutions of human fortune, tends to give tragedy the air of gallant-,, ry and juvenile entertainment. Without any aflift- ance from love, the drama is capable of producing its higheft effe£ts upon the mind. Befide the arrangement of his fubjeCt, and the con- duCt of his perfonages, the tragic poet muft attend to the propriety pf his fentiments. Thefe muft be fuit- ed to the characters of the perfcns to whom they are attributed, and to the fituations in which they are placed. It is chiefly in the pathetic parts, that the difficulty and importance of this rule are greateft, TRACED?. 243' We go to a tragedy, expeQing to be moved ; and, if the poet cannot reach the heart, he has no tragic mer- it ; and we return cold and difappointed from the performance. To paint and to excite paflion flrongly, are preroga- tives of genius. They require not only ardent fenfi- ability, but the power of entering deeply into charac- ters. It is here, that candidates for the drama are lead fuccefsfuL A man under the agitation of paflion rhakes known his feelings in the glowing language of fenfibility. He does not; coolly defcribe what his feelings are y yet this fort of fecondary defcription tragic poets often give us inftead of the primary and native language of paflion. Thus in Addifon's Cato, when Lucia confefles to Portius her love for him, but fwears that fhe will never marry him, Portius, inftead of giving way to the language of grief and aftonifrV ment, only defcribes his feelings : Fix'd in aftonifiiment, I gaze upon thee, Like one juft blafted by a ftroke from heaven. Who pants for breath, and flifFens yet alive' In dreadful looks j a monument of wrath. This might have proceeded from a byftander, or an indifferent perfon - 9 but it is altogether improper in the mouth of Portius. Similar to this defcriptive language are the unnatural and forced thoughts, which tragic poet's fometirnes employ, to exaggerate the feelings of perfons, whom they wifh to paint, as ftrongly moved. Thus, when Jane Shore on meeting her hufband in diftrefs, and finding that he had forgiven her, calls on the rains to give her their drops, and to the fprings to lend her their dreams, that fhe may have a conftant fupply of tears ; we fee plainly that it is not Ja&e 244 TRAGEDY. Shore that fpeaks ; but the poet himfelf, who is {train- ing his fancy, and fpurring up his genius, to fay fomething uncommonly ftrong and lively. The language of real paffion is always plain and flmple. It abounds indeed in figures, that exprefs a difturbed and impetuous ftate of mind j but never em- ploys any for parade and embellifhment. Thoughts* fuggefted by paffion, are natural and obvious ; and not the offspring of refinement, fubtilty, and wit. Paffion neither reafons, fpeculates, nor declaims 5 its language is fhort, broken, and interrupted. The French tragedians deal too much in refinement and declamation. The Greek tragedians adhere moil to nature, and are mod pathetic. This too is the great excellency of Shakefpeare. He exhibits the true lan» guage of nature and paffion. Moral fentiments and reflections ought not to recur Very frequently in tragedy. When unfeafonably crowded, they lofe their efFecl:, and convey an air of pedantry. When introduced with propriety, they give dignity to the compofition. Cardinal Woolfey's foliloquy on his fall is a fine inftance of the felicity with which they may be employed. Much of the merit of Addifon's Cato depends on that moral turn of thought which diftinguifhes it. The ftyle and verification of tragedy mould be free, eafy, and varied. Englifh blank verfe is happily fuit- ed to this fpecies of compofition. It has fufficient ma- jefty, and can defcend to the fimple and familiar 5 it admits a happy variety of cadence, and is free from the conftraint and monotony of rhyme. Of the French tragedies it is a great misfortune, that they are always in rhyme. For it fetters the freedom of the GREEK TRAGEDY. 245 tragic dialogue, fills it with a languid monotony, and is fatal to the power of paflion. With regard to thofe fplendid comparisons in rhyme, and thofe firings of couplets, with which it wajs fome time ago fafhionable to conclude the acts of a tragedy, and fometimes the moil interefting fcenes, they are now laid afide, and regarded not only as childifh or- naments, but as perfect barbarians* GREEK TRAGEDY. A HE plot of Greek tragedy was exceedingly fimple ; the incidents few ; and the conduct very exact with regard to the unities of action, time, and place. Machinery, or the invention of gods, was em- ployed ; and, what was very faulty, the final unravel- ling was fometimes made to turn upon it. Love, one or two inftances excepted, was never admitted into Greek tragedy. A vein of morality and religion al- ways runs through it ; but they employed lefs than the moderns, the combat of thepaflions. Their plots were all taken from the ancient traditionary ftories of their own nation. # iEfchylus, the father of Greek tragedy, exhibits both the beauties and defects of an early original writer. He is bold, nervous, and animated ; but very obfcure, and difficult to be underftood. His ftyle is highly metaphorical, and often harfli and tumid. He abounds in martial ideas and defcriptions, has much fire and elevation, and little tendernefs. He alfo do' lights in the marvellous. X2 2^6 CREEK TRAGEDY. The mod mafterly of the Greek tragedians is So- phocles. He is the mod correct in the conduct of his fubjedts ; the mod juft and fublime in his fenti- ments. In defcriptive talents he is alfo eminent* Euripides is accounted more tender than Sophocles ; he is fuller of moral fentiments \ but he is lefs correct in the conduct of his plays. His expofitions of his fubjects are lefs artful ; and the fongs of his chorus, though very poetic, are lefs connected with the prin- cipal action, than thofe of Sophocles. Both of them, however, have high merit, as tragic poets. Their ftyle is elegant and beautiful ; and their fentiments for the mod part juft. They fpeak with the Voice of nature ; and in the midft of fimplicity they are touch- ing and interesting. Theatrical reprefentation on the ftages of Greece and Rome was in many refpe£ls very fingular, and widely different from~ that of modern times. The fongs of the chorus were accompanied by inftrument- al mufic •, and the dialogue part had a modulation of its own, and might be fet to notes. It has alfo been thought that on the Roman ftages the pronouncing and gcfticulating parts were fometimes divided, and performed by different actors. The actors in tragedy wore a long robe *, they were railed upon coth'urni, and played in marks \ thefc mafks were painted ; and the actor by turning the different profiles exhibited different emotions to the auditors. ' This contrivance* however, was attended by many disadvantages. tRENCH TRAGEDT. Itf FRENCH TRAGEDY. I. LN the compofitions of fome French dramatic writers, tragedy has appeared with great luftre ; par- ticularly Corneille, Racine, and Voltaire. They have improved upon the ancients, by introducing more in- cidents, a greater variety of paflions, and a fuller dif- play of characters. Like the ancients, they excel in regularity of conduct ; and their ftyle is poetical and elegant. But to an Englifli tafte they want (trength and paffion, and are too declamatory and re- fined. They feem afraid of being too tragic ; and it was the opinion of Voltaire, that to the perfection of tragedy, it is neceflary to unite the vehemence and adlion of the Englifh theatre with the corre£lnefs and decorum of the French'. Corneille, the father of French tragedy, is diftin- guifhed by majefty of fentiment and a fruitful imagi- nation. His. genius was rich, but more turned to the epic than the tragic vein. He is magnificent anci fplendid, rather than touching and tender. He is full of declamation, impetuous ancl extravagant. In tragedy, Racine is fuperior to Corneille. He wants, indeed, the copioufnefs of Corneille ; but he is free from his bombalt, and excels him greatly in ten- ifernefs, The beauty of his language and verfifica- tion is uncommon * and he has managed his rhymes with fuperior advantage. Voltaire is not inferior to his pretfeceffow in the drama; and in one article he has outdone them, the delicate and intereiting fituations he has introduced. 248 ENGLISH TRACED*. Here lies his chief ftrength. Like his predeceflbrs, however, he is fometimes deficient in force, and fome- times too declamatory. His charafters, notwithftand- ing, are drawn with fpirit, his events are ftriking, and his fentiments elevated. * ENGLISH TRAGEDY. XT has often been remarked of tragedy ine Great Britain, that it is more ardent than that. of France, but more irregular and incorreft. It has,, therefore,, excelled in the foul of tragedy. For the pathetic mull be allowed to be the chief excellence o£ the tragic mufe. The firft object on the Englifh theatre, is the great Shakefpeare. In extent and force of genius, both for tragedy and comedy, he is unrivalled. But at the fame time k is genius fhooting wild, deficient in tafte, not always ehafte, and unafHfted by art and knowl- edge. Critieifm has been exhaafled in commentaries upon him ; yet to this day it is undecided,.- whether his beauties or defects be greatefi. In his writings there are admirable fcenes and panages without num- ber ; but there is not one of his plays which can be pronounced a good one. Befide extreme irregulari- ties in conduct, and grotefque mixtures of the ferious and comic, we are frequently difiurbed by unnatural thoughts, harlh expremons, and a certain obfeure bombad, and play upon words. Thefe faults are,, however, compenfated by two of the greatefi excel- lencies a tragic poet can poffefs, his lively and di- terfified painting of character, and his ftrong and ENGLISH TRAGEDT. 24^ natural exprefTions of paffion. On thefe two virtues his merit refts. In the midfl of his abfurdities he interefts and moves us ; fo great is his (kill in human nature, and fo lively his reprefentations of it. He poiTeiTes alfo the merit of having created for himfelf a world of preternatural beings. His witches* ghofts, fairies, and fpirits of all kinds, are fo awful, myfterious, and peculiar, as flrongly to affecl the im- agination. His two mailer pieces are his Othello and Macbeth. With regard to his hxftorical plays, they are neither tragedies, nor comedies ; but a pe- culiar fpecies of dramatic entertainment, in which he defcribes the characters, events, and manners of the times of which he treats. Since Shakefpeare, there are few Englifli dramatic writers, whofe,whole works are entitled to high praifc There are feveral tragedies, however, of confiderable merit. Lee's Theodofi us has warmth and tendernefs, though romantic in the plan, and extravagant in the fentiments. Otway is great in his Orphan and Venice Preferved. Perhaps, however, he is too tragic in thefe pieces. * He had genius and ftrong paffiohs, but was very indelicate. The tragedies of Rowe abound in roorality and in elevated fentiments. His poetry is good, and his lan- guage pure and elegant. He is, notwithstanding, too cold and uninterefting •, and flowery, rather than tragic. His bed dramas are Jane Shore and the Fair Penitent, which excel in the tender and pathetic. Dr. Young's Revenge difcovers genius and fire ; but wants tendernefs, and turns too much on the direful paflions. In the Morning Bride of Congreve there are fine fituations and much good poetry. '2$0 C0M2MV The tragedies of Thomfon are too foil of a fl : ff* morality, which renders them dull and formal. His Tancred and Sigifmunda is his mafter- piece ; and for the plot, characters, and fentiments, juftly deferves a place among the beft Engliih tragedies. A Greek tragedy is a fimple relation of an intereft- ing incident. A French tragedy is a feries of artful and refined conventions. An Englifli tragedy is a combat of ftrong paflions, fet before us in all their violence, producing deep difafters, and filling the fpectators with grief. Ancient tragedies are more natural and fimple y modern more artful and com- plex. G O M ED Y. 1HE ftrain and fpirit of comedy difcriminate It fufficiently from tragedy. While pity, terror, and. the other ftrong paflions form the province of the lat- ter, the fcle .inftrdrnent of the former is ridicule. Follies and vices, and whatever in the human charac- ter is improper, or expofes to cenfure and ridicule, are objects of comedy. As a fatirical exhibition of the improprieties and folIies»of men, it is ufeful and' moral. It is commendable by this fpecies of compofition to correct and to polifh the manners cf men. Many vices are more fuccefsfully exploded by ridicule, than by ferlous arguments. It is poflible however to em- ploy ridicule improperly ; and by its operation to do mifchief inftead of good. For ridicule is far from feeing a proper teft of truth. Licentious writers there* €OMEDY. I-5.I fore of the comic clafs have often cad ridicule on ob- jects and charadlers which did not deferve it. But this is not the fault of comedy, but of the turn and genius of certain writers. In the harul-s of loofe men, comedy will miflead and corrupt ; but in thofe of virtuous writers, it is not only a gay and innocent, but a laudable and ufeful entertainment. Englifh comedy, however, is frequently a fchool of vice. The rules of dramatic action, that were prefcribed for tragedy, belong alfo to comedy. A comic writer mud obferve the unities of action, time, and place. He mud attend to nature and probability. The imi- tation of manners ought to be even more exact in comedy than in tragedy •, for the fubjects of comedy are more familiar and better known. The fubjects of tragedy are confined to no age nor country ; but it is otherwife in comedy. For the decorums of behaviour, and the nice difcriminations of character which are the fubjects of comedy, change with time and country ; and are never fo well under- flood by foreigners, as by natives. We weep for the heroes of Greece and Rome ; but we are touched by the ridicule of fuch manners and characters only as we fee and know. The fcene therefore of comedy fhould always be laid in the author's own country and age. The comic poet catches the manners living, as they rife. It is true, indeed, that Plutus and Terence did not follow this rule. The fcene of their comedies is laid in Greece, and they adopted the Greek laws and cuf- ioms. But it is to be remembered, that comedy was in their age a new entertainment in Rome, and that ihey were contented with the piaife of tranflating ftle- $52 COMEDY. nander and other comic writers of Greece. In pofte- rior times the Romans had tli€ " Comoedia Togata," or what was fpunded on their own manners, as well as the " Comoedia Palliata," which was taken from the Greeks. There are two kinds of comedy, that of chara&er, and that of intrigue. In the laft, the plot or attion of the play is the principal obje£L In the firft, the dif- play of a peculiar chara£ter is the chief point ; and to this the a£Hon is fubordinate. The French abound moil in comedies of character. Such are the capital pieces of Moliere. The Englifh have inclined more to comedies of intrigue. Such are the plays of Con- greve ; and in general there is more ftory, a£tion> and buflle in Englifli, than in French comedy. The perfection of comedy is to be found in a prop- er mixture of thefe two kinds. Mere converfation without an interefting (lory is infipid. There (hould ever be fo much intrigue, as to excite both fears and wifnes. The incidents {hould be (Inking, and afford a proper field for the exhibition of chara&er. The piece however {hould not be overcharged with in- trigue •, for this would be to convert a comedy into a novel. With refpeft to characters it is a common error of comic writers, to carry them much beyond real life ; indeed it is very difficult to hit the precife point, where wit ends, and buffoonery begins. The comedian may exaggerate j but good fenfe mult teach him where to Hop. In comedy there ought to be a clear diftinftion in characters. The contrail of chara&ers however by pairs, and by oppofites, is too theatrical and affefled. It is the perfection of art to conceal art. A mafterly ANCIENT COMEDY. 253 writer gives us his chara&ers, diftinguimed rather by fuch fhades of diverfity, as are commonly found in fo- ciety, than marked by fuch oppofitions, as are feldom brought into actual contraftin any of the circumftan- ces of life. The ftyle of comedy ought to be pure, lively, and elegant, generally imitating the tone of polite conver- fation, and never defcending into grofs expreflions. Rhyme is not fuitable to comic compofition 5 for what has poetry to do with the converfation of men in common life ? The current of the dialogue mould be cafy without pertnefs, and genteel without flippancy. The wit (hould never be (tudied, nor unfeafonable. ANCIENT COMEDY. A HE ancient comedy was an avowed fatire a- gamft particular perfons, brought upon the ftage by name. Such are the plays of Ariftophanes ; and compofitions of fo fmgular a nature illuftrate well the turbulent and licentious (late of Athens. The mod illuftrious perfonages, generals and magiftrates, were then made the fubje&s of comedy. Vivacity, fatire, and buffoonery are the chara&eriftics of Ariftophanes. On many occafions he difplays genius and force; but his performances give us no high idea of the attic tafte for wit in his age. His ridicule is extravagant ; his wit farcical •, his perfonal raillery cruel and biting j and his obfcenity intolerable. Soon after the age of Ariftophanes the liberty of attacking perfons by name on the ftage was prohibit* X*. 2J4 ANCIENT COMEDY. ed by law. The middle comedy then took its rife* -Living perfons were ftill attacked, but under fi£titious names. -Of thefe pieces we have no remains. They were fucceeded by the new comedy ; when it became as it is now, the bufinefs of the ftage to exhibit man- ners and characters, but not thofe of particular per- fons. The author of this kind, moil celebrated among the Greeks, was Menander ; but his writings are per- ilhed. Of the new comedy of the ancients, the only re- mains are the plays of Plautus and- Terence. The firfb is eminent for the vis comica^ and for an expref- five phrafeology. Ke bears, however, many marks of the rudenefs of the dramatic art in his time. He has too mi^ch low wit and fcurrility ; and is by far too quaint and full of conceit. He has more variety and more force than Terence; and his characters., are flrongly marked, though fometimes coarfe,ly. Terence is polifhed, delicate, and elegant. His ftyle is a model of the -moft pure and graceful latinity. His dialogue is always correct and decent ; and his relations have a pi&urefque and beautiful fimplicity* His morality, is in general unexceptionable ; his fitu<- ations are interefiing ; and many of his fentiments touch the heart. He may be confidered as the foundr er of ferious comedy. In fprigfatlinefs and flrength he is deficient. There is a famenefs in his characters and plots; and he is.faid to have been inferior, to . Menander, whom he copied. To form a perfect comic author, the fpirit and fire of Plautus ought .to fee united with the. grace and correCtnefs of .Terence* SPANISH COMEDY, SPANISH COMEDY. X HE moft prominent obje& in modern come- dy is the Spanifh theatre. The chief comedians of Spain are Lopez de Vega, Guillen and Calderon. The firft, who is the mod famous of them, wrote a- bove a thoufand plays ; and was infinitely more irreg- ular than Shakefpeare. He totally difregarded the three unities, and every eftablifhed rule of dramatic writing. One play often includes many years, and even the whole life of a man. The fcene, during the firft: aft is in Spain ; the next in Italy ; and the third in Africa. His plays are chiefly hiftorical, and are a mixture of heroic fpeeches, ferious incidents, war and daughter, ridicule and buffoonery. He jumbles to- gether chrillianity and paganifm, virtues and vices, angels and gods. Notwithstanding his faults, he pof*. feffed genius, and great force of imagination. Many of his charadters are well painted *, many of his filia- tions are happy ■% and from the fource of his rich in- vention dramatic writers of other nations have fre- quently drawn their materials. He was confcious himfelf of his extreme irregularities, and apologized for them from the prevailing tafte of his country- men. &$6 FRENCH COMEBTc FRENCH COMEDY. 'V | ' 1 X HE comic theatre of Trance is allowed to be •correct, chafte, and decent. The comic author, in whom the French glory moft, is Moliere. In the judgment of French critics he has nearly reached the fummit of perfe£Hon in his art. Nor is this the de- cifion of mere partiality. Moliere is the fatirift only of vice and folly. His characters were peculiar to his own times ; and in general his ridicule was juftly directed. His comic powers were great ; and his pleafantry is always innocent. His Mifanthrope and Tartuffe are in verfe, and conftitute a kind of digni- fied comedy, in which vice is expofed in the ftyle of elegant and polite fatire. In his profe comedies there Is a profufion of ridicule ; but the poet never gives alarm to modefty, nor cafts contempt on virtue. With thefe high qualities however confiderable defefts are mingled. In unravelling his plots he is unhappy ; as this is frequently brought on with too little prepa- ration, and in an improbable manner. In his verfe comedies he is not always fufficiently interefting ; and he is too full of long fpeeches. In his rifible pieces in profe he is too farcical. But upon the v/hole it may be affirmed, that £sw writers ever attained fo perfect- ly the true end of comedy. His Tartuffe and Avar^ sure his two capital produ6Uon$r TSNGUSH COMEDY. «57 ENGLISH COMEDY. -C ROM the Englifh theatre is naturally expeft- sd a great variety of original characters in comedy 9 and bolder ftrokes of wit and humour than from any other modern ftage. Humour is in fome degree pe- culiar to England. The freedom of the government, and the unreftrained liberty of Englifh manners, arc favourable to humour and Angularity of character. In France the influence of a defpotic court fpreads uni- formity over the nation. Hence comedy has a more amplified and a freer vein in Britain than in France. But it is to be regretted, that the comic fpirit of Brit- ain is often difgraced by indecency and licentioufnefs. The firtl age, however, of Englifh comedy was not infected by this fpirit. The plays of Shakefpeare and Ben Johnfon have no immoral tendency. The com- edies of the former difplay a ftrong, creative genius; but are irregular in conduct:. They are fingularly rich in characters and manners ; but often defcend to pleafe the mob. Johnfon is more regular, but fliff and pe- dantic ; though not void of dramatic genius. Much fancy and invention, and many fine pafTages, are found in the plays of Beaumont and Fletcher. But in gen- eral they abound in romantic incidents, unnatural characters, and coarfe allufions. Change of manners has rendered the comedies of the laft age obfolete. For it is the exhibition of pre- vailing modes and characters, that gives a charm to comedy. Thus Plautus was antiquated to the Re- 358 ENGLISH COMEDY. mans in the days of Auguftus. But to the honour of Shakefpeare his Falftaff is (till admired, and his Merry Wives of Windfor read with pleafure. After the reftoration of Charles II. the licentioufnefs, which polluted the court and nation, feized upon com- edy. The rake became the predominant character. Ridicule was thrown upon chaftity andfobriety. At the end of the play indeed the rake becomes a fober imn ; but through the performance he is a fine gen- tleman, and exhibits a picture of the pleafurable en- joyments of life. This fpirit of comedy had the worfl effeci on youth of both fexes, and continued to the days of George II. In the comedies of Dryden there are many ftrokes of genius ; but he is hafty and carelefs. As his objedt was to pleafe, he followed the current of the times, and gave way to indelicacy and licentioufnefs. His indecency was at times fo grofs, as to occafion a pro- hibition of his plays on the ftage. After Dryden flouriilied Gibber, Vanburgh, Far- quhar, and Congreve. Cibber has fprightlinefs and a pert vivacity ; but his incidents are fo forced and un- natural, that his performances have all funk into ob- fcurity, excepting the Carelefs Hufband and The Pro- voked Hufband. Of thefe the firft is remarkable for the eafy politenefs of the dialogue ; and it is tolerably moral in its conducl:. The latter, in which Cibber was aflifted by Vanburgh, is perhaps the beft comedy in the Englifh language ; and even to this it may be ob- jected, that it has a double plot. Its characters how- ever are natural, and it abounds with fine painting and iisppy ilrokes of humour. ENGLISH COMEDY. 255 Wit, fpirit, and eafe, characterize Sir John Van- burgh - 9 but he is the moft indelicate and immoral of all our comedians. Congreve undoubtedly poffeffed genius. He is witty and fparkling, and full of char- acter and actiom Indeed he overflows with wit ; for it is often introduced unfeafonably ; and in general there is too much of it for well-bred conversation. Farquhar is a light and gay writer ; lefs correal and lefs brilliant than Congreve *, but he has more eafe, and much of the vis com'ica. Like Congreve he is licentious ; and modefty muft turn from them both with abhorrence. The French boaft with juftice of the fuperior- decency of their ftage, and fpeak of the Englifh theatre with aftonifhment. Their philosophi- cal writers afcribe the profligate manners of London to the indelicacy and corruption of Englifh comedy. Of late years a Senfible reformation has taken place in Englifh comedy. Our writers of comedy now ap- pear alhamed of the indecency of their predeceffors* They may be inferior to Farquhar and Congreve in fpirit, eafe and wit j but they have the merit of being far more innocent and moral. To the French Stage we. are much indebted for this reformation. The introduction within ,a few years of a graver comedy in France, called the ferious or tender comedy, has attracted the attention and approbation of our writers. Gaiety and ridicule are not excluded from this fpecies of comedy •, but it lays the chief ftrefs on tender and intereiting Situations. It is Senti- mental, and touches the heart. It pleafes not fo much by the laughter it excites, as by the tears of affection and joy whi/ch it draws forth, 2,6® ENGLISH COMEDY, This form of comedy was oppoftd in France* as zwl unjuftifiable innovation. It was obje£ted by critics, that it was not founded on laughter and ridicule;, but it is not neceflary. that all, comedies be formed.! on one precife model. Some may be gay 5 fome fe-~ rious 5 and fome may partake of both qualities. Se- rious and tender comedy has no right to exclude gaiety- and ridicule from the ftage. There are materials for both ; and the ftage is richer, for the innovation. In^ % general it may be confidered as a mark of increafing pplitenefs and refinement, when thofe theatrical exhi- bitions become fafhionable, which are free from indel- icate fentiment and an immoral tendency. - — <& (f^- ^THN Pew*: Ast*y 'i* 1 v M