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ELEMENTS 
 
 OF 
 
 B H E T R I C; 
 
 COMPRISING AN ANALYSIS OF 
 
 THE LAWS OF MORAL EVIDENCE 
 AND OF PERSUASION. 
 
 RULES FOR ARGUMENTATIVE COMPOSITION 
 AND ELOCUTION. 
 
 BY RICHARD WHATELY, D.D.. 
 
 AB.CHBISHOP OF DUBLIN 
 
 O yip yvoiiSt xal /xf/ oa<puJS Si5a\aS, iv urw el ical a>) EvtOuui'iQf 
 
 T hucvmim m. 
 
 NEW YORK: 
 
 HARPER & BROTHERS, PUBLISHERS, 
 
 329 & 331 PEARL STREET, 
 FRANKLIN SQUARE. 
 
 18G0. 
 
EDUCATION DEPT. 
 
££>~P 
 
 PREFA CE 
 
 A brief outline of the principal part of the following 
 work was sketched out several years ago for the private 
 nse of some young friends ; and from that MS. chiefly, 
 the Article " Rhetoric," in the Encyclopaedia Metropo- 
 litana was afterwards drawn up. I was induced to be- 
 lieve that it might be more useful if published in a se- 
 parate form ; and I have accordingly, with the assistance 
 of some friends, revised the treatise, and made a few 
 additions and other alterations which suggested them- 
 selves ; besides dividing it in a manner more convenient 
 for reference. 
 
 The title of «* Rhetoric," I have thought it best on 
 the whole to retain, being that by which the Article in 
 the Encyclopaedia is designated; as I should be unwill- 
 ing to lay myself open to the suspicion of wishing to 
 pass orf as new, on the strength of a new name, what 
 had been already before the public. But the title is in 
 Bome respects open to objection. Besides that it is 
 rather the more commonly employed in reference to 
 public speaking alone, it is also apt to suggest to many 
 minds an associated idea of empty declamation, or of 
 dishonest artifice. 
 
 The subject indeed stands perhaps but a few degrees 
 above Logic in popular estimation ; the one being gen- 
 erally regarded by the vulgar as the art of bewildering 
 the learned by frivolous subtleties ; the other, that of 
 deluding the multitude by specious falsehood. And if 
 a treatise on composition be itself more favourably re- 
 
 Evi69328 
 
IT PREFACE. 
 
 ceived than the work of a Logician, the author of it 
 must yet labour under still greater disadvantages. He 
 may be thought to challenge criticism ; and his own 
 performances may be condemned by a reference to his 
 own precepts ; or, on the other hand, his precepts may 
 be undervalued, through his own failures in their appli- 
 cation. Should this take place in the present instance, 
 1 have only to urge, with Horace in his Art of Poetry, 
 that a whetstone, though itself incapable of cutting, is 
 yet useful in sharpening steel. No system of instruc- 
 tion will completely equalize natural powers ; and yet 
 it may be of service towards their improvement. A 
 youthful Achilles may acquire skill in hurling the jave- 
 lin under the instruction of a Chiron, though the mas- 
 ter may not be able to compete with the pupil in vigour 
 of arm. 
 
 As for any display of florid eloquence and oratorical 
 ornament, my deficiency in which is likely to be re- 
 marked, it may be sufficient to observe, that if 1 had in- 
 tended to" practise any arts of this kind, I should have 
 been the less likely to treat of them. To develope and 
 explain the principles of any kind of trick, would be a 
 most unwise procedure in any one who purposes to em- 
 ploy it; though perfectly consistent for one whose ob- 
 ject is to put others on their guard against it. The 
 juggler is the last person that would let the spectators 
 into his own secret. 
 
 It may perhaps be hardly necessary to observe, that 
 the following pages are designed principally for the in- 
 struction of unpractised writers. Of such as have long 
 been in the habit of writing or speaking, those whose 
 procedure has been conformable to the rules I have laid 
 down, will of course have anticipated most of my ob- 
 servations ; and those again who have proceeded on 
 opposite principles, will be more likely to pass censures, 
 as it were in self-defence, than laboriously to unlearn 
 what they have perhaps laboriously acquired, and to 
 set out afresh on a new system But I am encouraged. 
 
PREFACE. T 
 
 partly by the result of experiments, to entertain a hope 
 that the present system may prove useful to such as 
 have their method of composition, and their style of 
 writing and of delivery to acquire. And an author 
 ought to be content if a work be found in some instan- 
 ces not unprofitable, which cannot, from its nature, be 
 expected to pass completely uncensured. 
 
 Whoever indeed, in treating of any subject, recom- 
 mends (whether on good or bad grounds) a departure 
 from established practice, must expect to encounter op- 
 position. This opposition does not indeed imply that 
 his precepts are right; but neither does ii prove them 
 wrong ; it only implies that they are new ; since few 
 will readily acknowledge the plans on which they have 
 long been proceeding, to be mistaken. If a treatise 
 therefore on the present subject were received with im- 
 mediate, universal, and unqualified approbation, this cir- 
 cumstance, though it would not indeed prove it to be 
 erroneous, (since it is conceivable that the methods com- 
 monly pursued may be altogether right,) yet would af- 
 ford a presumption that there was not much to be learnt 
 from it. 
 
 On the other hand, the more deep-rooted and gene- 
 rally prevalent any error may be, the less favourably, at 
 first, will its refutation (though proportionably the more 
 important) be for the most part received. 
 
 With respect to what are commonly called RhetoricaJ 
 Artifices — contrivances for " making the worse appear 
 the better reason," — it <7Cfuld have savoured of pedan- 
 tic morality to give solemn admonitions against employ- 
 ing them, or to enter a formal disclaimer of dishonest 
 intention ; since, after all, the generality will, accord- 
 ing to their respective characters, make what use of a 
 book they think fit, without waiting for the author's 
 permission But what 1 have endeavoured to do, is 
 dearly to set forth, as far as I could, (as Bacon does in 
 his Essay on Cunning,) these sophistical tricks of the 
 Art : and as far as T may have succeeded in this, I shall 
 
have been providing the only effectual check to the em- 
 ployment of them. The adulterators of food or of drug3, 
 and the coiners of base money, keep their processes a 
 secret, and dread no one so much as him who detects, 
 describes, and proclaims their contrivances, and thus 
 puts men on their guard ; for " every one that doeth 
 evil hateth the light, neither cometh to the light, lest 
 his deeds should be made manifest." 
 
 To the prevailing association of the term " Rhetoric," 
 with the idea of these delusive contrivances, may be 
 traced the opinion (which I believe is also common) 
 that the power of eloquence is lost on those who them- 
 selves possess it; or at least that a critical knowledge 
 of the art of Composition fortifies any one, in propor- 
 tion to his proficiency, against being affected by the per 
 suasive powers of another. This is undoubtedly true, 
 as far as sophistical skill is concerned. The better ac- 
 quainted one is with any kind of rhetorical trick, the 
 less liable he is to be misled by it. The artifices, strict- 
 ly so called, of the orator, are, 
 
 like tricks by sleight of hand, 
 
 which to admire one should not undeistand : 
 
 and he who has himself been behind the scenes of a 
 puppet-show, and pulled the strings by which the 
 figures are moved, is not likely to be much affected by 
 their performance. This is indeed one great recommen- 
 dation of the study of Rhetoric, that it furnishes the 
 most effectual antidote against deception of this kind. 
 But it is by no means true that acquaintance with an 
 art — in the nobler sense of the word — not as consisting 
 in juggling tricks — tends to diminish our sensibility to 
 the most excellent productions of art. The greatest 
 proficients in music are usually the most enthusiastic 
 admirers of good music : the best painters and poets, 
 and such as are best versed in the principles of those 
 arts, are in general (when rivalry is out of the question) 
 the most powerfully affected by paintings and by poetry, 
 of superior excellence. And none I believe are more 
 
PREFACE. VJ1 
 
 open to the impression of sound, honest, manly elo- 
 quence, than those who display it in their own compo- 
 sitions, and are capable of analysing critically the mode 
 m which its effects are produced. 
 
 I may add, that 1 have in one place (Part II. ch. 1. § 
 2.) pointed out an important part of the legitimate art of 
 the orator, in respect of the minds of his hearers, as co- 
 inciding exactly with the practice of a wise and good 
 man in respect of his own mind. 
 
 A few passages will be found in the following pages 
 which presuppose some acquaintance with Logic ; but 
 the greatest part, will, I trust, be intelligible to those 
 who have not this knowledge. At the same time, it is 
 implied by what 1 have said of that science, and indeed 
 by the very circumstance of my kaving written on it, 
 that I cannot but consider him as undertaking a task of 
 unnecessary difficulty, who endeavours, without study- 
 ing Logic, to become a thoroughly good argumentative 
 writer. 
 
 It should be observed, however, that a considerable 
 portion of what is by many writers reckoned as a part 
 of Logic, has been treated of by me not under that head, 
 but in Part I. of the present work. 
 
 It may be thought that some apology is necessary for 
 the frequent reference made to the treatise just mention- 
 ed, and, occasionally, to some other works of my own. 
 It appeared to me, however, that either of the other two 
 alternatives would have been more objectionable ; viz. 
 either to omit entirely much that was needful for the 
 elucidation of the subject in hand ; or, to repeat, in the 
 same or in other words, what had been already pub- 
 lished. 
 
 Perhaps some apology may also be thought necessary 
 for the various illustrations, selected from sevnral au- 
 thors, or framed for the occasion, which occur both in 
 the present treatise, and in that on Logic ; and in which., 
 opinions on various subjects are incidentally conveyed ; 
 in aU of which, it cannot be expected that every oae <±1 
 
rill PREFACE. 
 
 my readers will concur. And some may accordingly 
 be disposed to complain that they cannot put thes« 
 works into the hands of any young person under their 
 care, without a risk of his imbibing notions which they 
 think erroneous. This objection, I have reason to be- 
 lieve, has been especially felt, though not always ex- 
 plicitly stated, by the most decidedly antichristian wri- 
 ters of the present day. But it should be remembered, 
 that Logic and Rhetoric having no proper subject-mat- 
 ter of their own, it was necessary to resort to other de- 
 partments of knowledge for exemplifications of the prin 
 ciples laid down ; and it would have been impossible, 
 without confining myself to the most insipid truisms, to 
 avoid completely all topics on which there exists any 
 difference of opinion. If, in the course of either work, 
 I have advocated any erroneous tenet, the obvious re- 
 medy is, to refute it. I am utterly unconscious of hav- 
 ing in any instance resorted to the employment of fal- 
 lacy, or substituted declamation for argument ; but if 
 any such faults exist, it is easy to expose them. Nor 
 is it necessary that when any book is put into the hands 
 of a young student, he should understand that he is to 
 adopt implicitly every doctrine contained in it, or should 
 not be cautioned against any erroneous principles which 
 it may inculcate : otherwise indeed, it would be impos 
 sible to give young men what is called a classical edu- 
 cation, without making them Pagans. 
 
 That I have avowed an assent to the evidences of 
 Christianity, (that, I believe, is the point on which the 
 greatest soreness is felt,) and that this does incidentally 
 imply some censure of those who reject it, is not to be 
 denied. But they again are at liberty — and they are not 
 backward in using their liberty — to repel the censure, 
 by refuting, if they can, those evidences. And as long 
 as they confine themselves to calm argumentation, and 
 abstain from insult, libellous personality, and falsifica- 
 tion of facts, I earnestly hope no force will ever be em- 
 ployed to silence them, except force of argument. I am 
 
PREFACE. UL 
 
 not one of those jealous lovers of freedom who would 
 Iain keep it all to themselves ; nor do I dread ultimate 
 danger. to the cause of truth from fair discussion.* 
 
 It may be objected by some, that in the foregoing 
 Words 1 have put forth a challenge which cannot be ac- 
 cepted ; inasmuch as it has been declared by the highest 
 legal authorities, that " Christianity is part of the Law 
 of the Land ;" and consequently any one who impugns 
 it, is liable to prosecution. What is the precise mean- 
 ing of the above legal maxim, I do not profess to deter 
 mine ; having never met with any one who could ex- 
 plain it to me : but evidently the mere circumstance, 
 that we have a " Religion by Law established," does 
 not, of itself, imply the illegality of arguing against that 
 Religion The regulations of trade and of navigation, 
 for instance, are unquestionably part of the law of the 
 land ; but the question of their expediency is freely dis- 
 cussed, and frequently in no very measured language 
 nor did I ever hear of any one's being menaced with 
 prosecution for censuring them. 
 
 I presume not however to decide what steps might, 
 legally, be taken ; I am looking only to facts and pro- 
 babilities ; and I feel a confident trust, as well as hope, 
 (and that, founded on experience of the past,) that no 
 legal penalties will, in fact, be incurred by temperate, 
 decent, argumentative maintainers even of the most er- 
 roneous opinions. 
 
 I have only to add my acknowledgments to those 
 friends for whose kind and judicious suggestions I 
 am so much indebted: and to assure them, that 
 whatever may be the public reception of the work, 
 I shall never cease to feel flattered and obliged b) 
 the diligent attention they have bestowed on it. 
 
 * See Speech on Jews' Relief Bill, and Remarks appended to ii 
 Vol vf Tracts, &c pp. 419—446. 
 
 2 
 
CONTENTS 
 
 INTRODUCTION. 
 
 Definitions of Rhetoric . 13 
 
 History of Rhetoric . ._ . 1 8 
 Assiduous cultivation of Rhetoric by the An- 
 cients ...... 21 
 
 Utility of rules for Composition ... 23 
 
 Exercises in Composition . .27 
 
 Debating Societies . . 31 
 
 PART 1. 
 
 OF THE ADDRESS TO THE UNDERSTANDING, WITH A VIEW 
 TO PRODUCE CONVICTION (INCLUDING INSTRUCTION.) 
 
 Chap. 1. Of Propositions to be maintained 33 
 
 II. Of Arguments .... 37 
 III Of the various use and order of the se- 
 veral kinds of Propositions and of 
 
 Arguments in different cases 85 
 
 IV. Of Introductions . . 131 
 
1 2 CONTENTS. 
 
 PART II. 
 
 Of THE ADDRESS TO THE WILL, OR PERSUASION. 
 
 Paqb 
 
 Ohap. I. Introductory considerations . 135 
 
 II. Of the conduct of any address to the 
 
 feelings generally . . 145 
 
 III. Of the favourable or unfavourable dis- 
 position of the Hearers or Readers 
 towards the Speaker or Writer, and 
 his opponent . 159 
 
 PART III. 
 
 OF STYLE. 
 
 Chap. I. Of Perspicuity of Style . i79 
 
 II. Of Energy, or Vivacity of Style 192 
 
 III. Of Elegance, or Beauty of Style . 242 
 
 PART IV. 
 
 OF ELOCUTION, OR DELIVERY. 
 
 Chap. I. General considerations relative to Elo- 
 cution 253 
 
 II. The Artificial and Natural modes of 
 
 Elocution compared . .261 
 
 III. Considerations arising from the differ- 
 
 ences between Reading and Speak- 
 ing 269 
 
 IV. Practical deductions from the foregoing 
 
 views . . . 284 
 
 APPENDIX. 
 Containing extracts from Authors, with remarks }99 
 
ELEMENTS OF BHETOBIC. 
 
 INTRODUCTION ,- 
 
 § 1. Of Rhetoric various definitions, have Varioug de# 
 been given by different writers; who, how- finitions of 
 ever, seem not so much to have disagreed Rhetoric, 
 in their conceptions of the nature of the same thing, 
 as to have had different things in view while they em- 
 ployed the same term. Not only the word Rhetoric it- 
 self, but also those used in denning it, have been taken 
 in various senses ; as may be observed with respect to 
 the word "Art" in Cic. de Orat. where a discussion 
 is introduced as to the applicability of that term to Rhe- 
 toric; manifestly turnkig on the different senses in which 
 " Art " may be understood. 
 
 To enter into an examination of all the definitions 
 that have been given, would lead to much uninteresting 
 and uninstructive verbal controversy. It is sufficient 
 to put the reader on his guard against the common er- 
 ror of supposing that a general term has some real ob- 
 ject, properly corresponding to it, independent of our 
 conceptions;— that, consequently, some one definition 
 in every case is to be found which will comprehend 
 every thing that is rightly designated by that term ; — 
 and that all others must be erroneous : whereas, in fact, 
 it will often happen, as in the present instance, that 
 both the wider, and the more restricted sense of a term, 
 will be alike sanctioned by use, (the only competent 
 authority,) and that the consequence will be a corres- 
 ponding variation in the definitions employed ; none of 
 
14 ELEMENTS OF RHETORIC. [§ 1 
 
 which perhaps may be fairly chargeable with error, 
 though none can be framed that will apply to every ac- 
 ceptation of the term. 
 
 It is evident that in its primary signification, Rhetoric 
 had reference to public speaking alone, as its etymology 
 implies: but as most of the rules for speaking are of 
 course applicable equally to writing, an extension of 
 ine term natumlJy tool: place; and we find even Aris- 
 totle, the earliest systematic writer on the subject whose 
 v o:xs have come "down to us, including in his treatise, 
 rules jfoi such eampos-itions us were not intended to be 
 publicly recited.* And even as far as relates to speeches, 
 properly so called, he takes, in the same treatise, at one 
 time, a wider, and at another, a more restricted view of 
 the subject ; including under the term Rhetoric, in the 
 opening of his work, nothing beyond the finding of to- 
 pics of persuasion, as far as regards the matter of what 
 is spoken ; and afterwards embracing the consideration 
 of style, arrangement, and delivery. 
 
 The invention of printing,! by extending the sphere 
 of operation of the writer., has of course contributed to 
 the extension of those terms which, in their primary 
 signification, had reference to speaking alone. Many 
 objects are now accomplished through the medium of 
 the press, which formerly came under the exclusive 
 province of the orator ; and the qualifications requisite 
 for success are so much the same in both cases, that we 
 apply the term " eloquent," as readily to a writer as to 
 a speaker; though etymologically considered, it could 
 only belong to the latter. Indeed " eloquence," is of 
 ten attributed even to such compositions — e, g. Histori 
 cal works — as have in view an object entirely different 
 from any that could be proposed by an orator ; because 
 
 * Aristotle's Rhetoric, book iii. 
 
 t Or rather of paper ; for the invention of printing is too obvioiu 
 not to have speedily followed, in a literary nation, the introduction 
 sf a paper sufficiently cheap to make the art available. Indeed UV 
 leals of the ancients seem to have been a kind of stamps, witk 
 which they in fact printed their names. 
 
§ 1.] INTRODUCTION 15 
 
 some part of the rules to be observed in oratory, or rules 
 analogous to these, are applicable to such compositions. 
 Conformably to this view therefore some writers have 
 spoken of Rhetoric as the art of composition, univer- 
 sally ; or, with the exclusion of poetry alone, as embrac- 
 ing all prose-composition. 
 
 A still wider extension of the province of Rhetoric 
 had been contended for by some of the ancient writers; 
 who, thinking it necessary to include, as belonging to 
 the art, every thing that could conduce to the attain- 
 ment of the object proposed, introduced into their sys- 
 tems, Treatises on Law, Morals, Politics, &c, on the 
 ground that a knowledge of these subjects was requisite 
 to enable a man to speak well on them ; and even in- 
 sisted on Virtue* as an essential qualification of a per- 
 fect orator : because a good character, which can in no 
 way be so surely established as by deserving it, has 
 great weight with the audience. 
 
 These notions are combated by Aristotle ; Aristotle's 
 who attributes them either to the ill-cultivat- censure oi 
 ed understanding {airaidevala) of those who his P rede - 
 maintained them, or to their arrogant and pre- 
 tending disposition, (tUafovaa ;) i. e. a desire to extol 
 and magnify the art they professed. In the present day, 
 the extravagance of such doctrines is so apparent to 
 most readers, that it would not be worth while to take 
 much pains in refuting them. It is worthy of remark, 
 however, that the very same erroneous view is, even 
 now, often taken of Logic ;f w T hich has been consider- 
 ed by some as a kind of system of universal knowledge, 
 on the ground that argument may be employed on all 
 subjects, and that no one can argue well on a subject 
 which he does not understand ; and which has been 
 complained of by others for not supplying any such 
 universal instruction as its unskilful advocates have 
 placed within its province ; such as in fact no one art 
 or system can possibly afford. 
 * See Quinctilian t Elements of Logic, Introduction 
 
16 ELEMENTS OF RHETORIC. [§ 1 
 
 The error is precisely the same in respect of Rhetoric 
 and of Logic ; both being instrumental arts ; and, as 
 such applicable to various kind of subject-matter, which 
 do not properly come under them. 
 
 So judicious an author as Quinctilian would not have 
 failed to perceive, had he not been carried away by an 
 inordinate veneration for his own art, that as the pos- 
 session of building materials is no part of the art of 
 architecture, though it is impossible to build without 
 materials, so, the knowledge of the subjects on which 
 the orator is to speak, constitutes no part of the art of 
 Rhetoric, though it be essential to its successful employ- 
 ment ; and that though virtue, and the good reputation 
 it procures, add materially to the speaker's influence, 
 they are no more to be, for that reason, considered as 
 belonging to the orator, as such, than wealth, rank, or 
 a good person, which manifestly have a tendency to 
 produce the same effect. 
 
 Extremes In the present day, however, the province 
 in the limi- f Rhetoric, in the widest acceptation that 
 extensionof W0U W be reckoned admissible, comprehends 
 theprovince all " composition in prose ;" in the narrowest 
 of Rhetoric. sense} ft would be limited to "persuasive 
 speaking." 
 
 I propose in the present work to adopt a middle 
 Object of course between these two extreme points ; 
 the present and to treat of " argumentative composition," 
 treatise. generally, and exclusively ; considering Rhe- 
 toric (in conformity with the very just and philosophi- 
 cal view of Aristotle) as an off-shoot from Logfc. 
 
 1 remarked in treating of that science, that reasoning 
 may be considered as applicable to two purposes, which 
 I ventured to designate respectively by the terms " In- 
 ferring," and " proving ;" i. e. the ascertainment of the 
 truth by investigation, and the establishment of it to the 
 satisfaction of another ; and I there remarked, that Ba- 
 con, in his Organon, has laid down rules for the con- 
 duct of the former of these processes, and that the lattei 
 
1 1.] INTRODUCTION. || 
 
 belongs to the province of Rhetoric : and it phii ogol) h 
 was added, that to infer is to be regarded as and Rheto 
 the proper office of the philosopher, or the r |? compar- 
 judge ; — to prove, of the advocate. It is not e ' 
 however to be understood that philosophical works are 
 to be excluded from the class to which Rhetorical rules 
 are applicable ; for the philosopher who undertakes, by- 
 writing or speaking, to convey his notions to others, 
 assumes, for the time being, the character of advocate 
 of the doctrines he maintains. The process of investi- 
 gation must be supposed completed, and certain conclu- 
 sions arrived at by that process, before he begins to 
 impart his ideas to others in a treatise or lecture ; the 
 object of which must of course be to prove the justness 
 of those conclusions. And in doing' this, he will not 
 always find it expedient to adhere to the same course of 
 reasoning by which his own discoveries were originally 
 made ; other arguments may occur to him afterwards, 
 more clear, or more concise, or better adapted to the 
 understanding of those he addresses. In explaining 
 therefore, and establishing the truth, he may often have 
 occasion for rules of a different kind from those employ- 
 ed in its discovery. Accordingly, when I remarked in 
 the work above alluded to, that it is a common fault, 
 for those engaged in Philosophical and Theological in- 
 quiries, to forget their own peculiar office, and assume 
 that of the advocate, improperly, this caution is to be 
 understood as applicable to the process of forming their 
 own opinions ; not, as excluding them from advocating 
 by all fair arguments, the conclusions at which they 
 have arrived by candid investigation. But if this can- 
 did investigation do not take place in the first instance, 
 no pains that they may bestow in searching for argu- 
 ments, will have any tendency to insure their attain- 
 ment of truth. If a man begins (as is too plainly a 
 frequent mode of proceeding) by hastily adopting, 01 
 strongly leaning to, some opinion which suits his inch 
 cation, or which is sanctioned by some authority tha 
 2* 
 
18 ELEMENTS OF RHETORIC. [§ 2. 
 
 he blindly venerates, and then studies with the utmost 
 diligence, not as an investigator of truth, but as an ad- 
 vocate labouring to prove his point, his talents and his 
 researches, whatever effect they may produce in making 
 converts to his notions, will avail nothing in enlighten- 
 ing his own judgment, and securing him from error. 
 
 Composition however, of the argumentative kind, may 
 be considered (as has been above stated) as coming un 
 der the province of Rhetoric. And this view of the 
 subject is the less open to objection, inasmuch as it is 
 not likely to lead to discussions that can be deemed su- 
 perfluous, even by those who may choose to consider 
 Rhetoric in the most restricted sense, as relating only to 
 " persuasive speaking," since it is evident that Argu- 
 ment must be, in most cases at least, the basis of per- 
 suasion. 
 
 Plan of I propose then to treat, first and principally, 
 the present of the Discovery of Arguments, and of their 
 treatise. arrangement ; secondly, to lay down some 
 rules respecting the excitement and management of what 
 are commonly called the passioiis, (including every kind 
 of feeling, sentiment, or emotion,) with a view to the 
 attainment of any object proposed — principally, persua- 
 sion, in the strict sense, i. e- the influencing of the will ; 
 thirdly, to offer some remarks on style; and, fourthly, 
 to treat of elocution. 
 
 History of § 2. It maybe expected that, before I pro- 
 Rhetoric. ceec [ to treat of the art ir question, I should 
 present the reader with a sketch of its history. Little 
 however is required to be said on this head, because the 
 present is not one of those branches of study in which 
 we can trace with interest a progressive improvement 
 from age to age. It is one, on the contrary, to which 
 more attention appears to have been paid, and in which 
 greater proficiency is supposed to have been made, ia 
 die earliest days of Science and Literature, than at anj 
 subsequent period. Among the ancients, 
 Aristotle. Aristotle, the earliest whose works are extant. 
 
{ 2.] INTRODUCTION. & 
 
 may safely be pronounced to be also the best of the syg' 
 sematic writers on Rhetoric. Cicero is hard- cicero. 
 ly to be reckoned among the number ; for he 
 delighted so much more in the practice than in the the- 
 ory of his art, that he is perpetually drawn off from the 
 rigid philosophical analysis of its principles, into dis- 
 cursive declamations, always eloquent indeed, and often 
 highly interesting, but adverse to regularity of system, 
 and frequently as unsatisfactory to the practical student 
 as to the philosopher. He abounds indeed with excel- 
 lent practical remarks, thongh the best of them are scat- 
 tered up and down his works with much irregularity ; 
 but his precepts, though of great weight, as being the 
 result of experience, are not often traced up by him to 
 first principles; and we are frequently left to guess, not 
 only on what basis his rules are grounded, but in what 
 cases they are applicable. Of thislatter defect a remark- 
 able instance will be hereafter cited.* 
 
 Quinctilian is indeed a systematic writer; Q uinct i lian . 
 but cannot be considered as having much ex- 
 tended the philosophical views of his predecessors in 
 this department. He possessed mnch good sense, but 
 this was tinctured with pedantry; with that a?,a&veia, 
 as Aristotle calls it, which extends to an extravagant 
 degree the province of the art which he professes. A 
 great part of his work indeed is a Treatise on Education, 
 generally; in the conduct of which he was no mean 
 proficient; for such was the importance attached to 
 public speaking, even long after the downfall of the 
 Republic had cut off the orator from the hopes of attain- 
 ing, through the means of this qualification, the highest 
 political importance, that he who was nominally a pro- 
 fessor of Rhetoric, had in fact the most important 
 branches of instruction intrusted to his care. 
 
 Many valuable maxims however are to be found in 
 this author; but he wanted the profundity of thought 
 ftnd power of analysis which Aristotle possessed 
 * See Part I. ch. 3. $ v. 
 
10 ELEMENTS OF RHETORIC. [§ 2. 
 
 The writers on Rhetoric among the ancier.is whose 
 works are lost, seem to have been numerous ; but most 
 of them appear to have confined themselves to a very 
 narrow view of the subject ; and to have been occupied, 
 as Aristotle complains, with the minor details of style 
 and arrangement, and with the sophistical tricks and 
 
 f)etty artifices of the pleader, instead of giving a master- 
 y and comprehensive sketch of the essentials. 
 
 Among the moderns, few writers of ability have turn- 
 ed their thoughts to the subject ; and but little has been 
 added, either in respect of matter, or of system, to what 
 the ancients have left us. Bacon's "Anti- 
 Bacon, iheta" however — the rhetorical common- 
 places — are a wonderful specimen of acuteness of 
 thought and pointed conciseness of expression. 1 have 
 accordingly placed a selection of them in the Ap 
 pendix.*' 
 
 Campbell. ^ were most unjust in this place to leave 
 unnoticed Dr. Campbell's Philosophy of Rhe 
 toric : a work which does not enjoy indeed so high a 
 degree of popular favour as Dr. Blair's, but is incom- 
 parably superior to n, not only in depth of thought and 
 ingenious original research, but also in practical utility 
 to the student. The title of Dr. Campbell's work has 
 perhaps deterred many readers, who have concluded il 
 to be more abstruse and less popular in its character than 
 it really is. Amidst much however that is readily un- 
 derstood by any moderately intelligent reader, there is 
 much also that calls for some exertion of thought, which 
 the indolence of most readers refuses to bestow. And 
 it must be owned that he also in some instances per- 
 plexes his readers by being perplexed himself, and be« 
 wildered in the discussion of questions through which 
 he does not clearly see his way. His great defect, which 
 not only leads him into occasional errors, but leavea 
 many of his best ideas but imperfectly developed, is his 
 ignorance and utter misconception of the nature andob* 
 * See Appendix, f A.j 
 
f 3.] INTRODUCTION. 21 
 
 •ect of Logic; on which some remarks are made in mj 
 Treatise on that Science. Rhetoric being in truth an 
 off-shoot of Logic, that Rhetorician must labour under 
 great disadvantages who is not only ill-acquainted with 
 that system, but also utterly unconscious of his defi- 
 ciency. 
 
 $ 3. From a general view of the history of lihetorie, 
 two questions naturally suggest themselves, which, on 
 examination will he found very closely connected to- 
 gether: first, what is the cause of the careful and ex- 
 tensive cultivation, among the ancients* of an art which 
 the moderns have comparatively neglected ; and second- 
 ly! whether the former or the latter are to be regarded 
 as the wiser in this respect j in other words, whether 
 Rhetoric be worth any diligent cultivation. 
 
 With regard to the first of these questions, t ., 
 the answer generally given is, that the nature ett uiration 
 of the Government in the ancient democrat!- ot Bhetorio 
 cal States caused a demand for public speak- Jj^J 
 erSi and for such Speaki lid be able 
 
 to gain influence not only with educated persons in dis 
 onate deliberation, but with a promiscuous multi- 
 tude ; and accordingly it is remarked that the extinction 
 of liberty brought with it, or at least brought after it, 
 the decline of eloquence ; as is justly remarked (though 
 in a courtly form) by the author of the dialogue on o:a- 
 tory, which passes under the name of 'I • What 
 
 need is there of Jong discourses in the Senate, when the 
 best of its members speedily come to an agreement? or 
 of numerous harangues to the peopb-, when delibera- 
 tions on public affairs are conducted, not by a multitude 
 of unskilled persons, but by a single individual, and 
 that the wi ■ 
 
 This account of the matter is undoubtedly cor; 
 
 far as it goes ; but the importance of public speaking is 
 
 * " Quid enim optu est ]&£'* ' ri Benatu f.< atonttis, cam optfani 
 
 cho consentiant 1 qui'], urauiij apud popultun concionibui, cum de 
 
 Bapablica n-m. unperiti et multl dchbwent, sed f.ajjieiiUsBimuB, et 
 
 Earn 7" 
 
22 ELEMENTS OF RHETORIC. [§ 3 
 
 so great in our own, and all other countries that are not 
 under a despotic government, that the apparent neglect 
 of the study of Rhetoric seems to require some further 
 explanation. Part of this explanation may be supplied 
 by the consideration "that the difference in this respect 
 between the ancients and ourselves is not so great in 
 reality as in appearance. When the only way of ad- 
 dressing the public was by orations, and 
 cients hear- when all political measures were debated in 
 ers rather popular assemblies, the characters of orator 
 than read- au thor, and politician, almost entirely coinci- 
 ded ; he who would communicate his ideas to 
 the world, or would gain political power, and carry his 
 legislative schemes into effect, was necessarily a spea- 
 ker ; since, as Pericles is made to remark by Thucy- 
 dides, " one who forms a judgment on any point, but 
 cannot explain himself clearly to the people, might as 
 well have never thought at all on the subject."* The 
 consequence was, that almost all who sought, and all 
 who professed to give, instruction, in the principles of 
 government, and the conduct of judicial proceedings, 
 combined .these, in their minds and in their practice, 
 with the study of Rhetoric, which was necessary to 
 give effect to all such attainments ; and in time the 
 rhetorical writers (of whom Aristotle makes that com- 
 plaint) came to consider the science of Legislation and 
 of Politics in general, as a part of their own art. 
 
 Much, therefore, of what was formerly studied under 
 the name of Rhetoric, is still, under other names, as 
 generally and as diligently studied as ever. 
 
 It cannot be denied however that a great difference, 
 though less, as I have said, than might at first sight 
 appear, does exist between the ancients and the moderns 
 in this point ; — that what is strictly and properly called 
 Rhetoric, is much less studied, at least less systematically 
 studied, now, than formerly. Perhaps this also may be 
 : n some measure accounted for from the circumstances 
 * Thucydides, book ii. See the motto. 
 
1 4. INTRODUCTION. 2* 
 
 which have been just noticed. Such is the distrust 
 excited by any suspicion of rhetorical arti- 
 fice, that every speaker or writer who is of ^e^ri* 
 anxious to carry his point, endeavours to cai studies 
 disown or to keep out of sight any superi- *™°, ng the 
 
 r i mi - • i ,° i -j i moderns. 
 
 ority of skill ; and wishes to be considered 
 as relying rather on the strengm of his cause, and the 
 soundness of his views, than on his ingenuity and ex- 
 pertness as an advocate. Hence it is, that even those 
 who have paid the greatest and the most successful at- 
 tention to the study of Composition and of Elocution, 
 are so far from encouraging others by example or re- 
 commendation to engage in the same pursuit, that they 
 labour rather to conceal and disavow their own pro- 
 ficiency ; and thus, theoretical rules are decried, even 
 by those who owe the most to them. Whereas among 
 the ancients, the same cause did not, for the reasons 
 lately mentioned, operate to the same extent; since, 
 however careful any speaker might be to disown the 
 artifices of .Rhetoric, properly so called, he would not 
 be ashamed to acknowledge himself, generally, a student 
 or a proficient, in an Art which was understood to in 
 elude the elements of political wisdom. 
 
 § 4. With regard to the other question pro- utility of 
 posed, viz. concerning the utility of Rhetoric, Rhetoric 
 it is. to be observed that it divides itself into two ; first, 
 whether oratorical skill be, on the whole, a public 
 benefit, or evil ; and secondly, whether any artificial 
 system of rules is conducive to the attainment of that 
 skill. 
 
 The former of these questions was eagerly debated 
 among the ancients ; on the latter, but little doubt seems 
 to have existed. With us, on the contrary, the state 
 of these questions seems nearly reversed. It seems 
 generally admitted that skill in Composition and in 
 Speaking, liable as it evidently is to abuse, is to be con- 
 sidered, on the whole, as advantageous to the public ; 
 because that liability to abuse is, neither in this* nor in 
 
U ELEMENTS OF RHETORIC. [§ 4 
 
 any other case, to be considered as conclusive against 
 the utility of any kind of art, faculty, or profession ; — 
 because the evil effects of misdirected power require that 
 equal powers should be arrayed on the opposite side ; — 
 and because truth, having an intrinsic superiority over 
 falsehood, may be expected to prevail when the skill of 
 the contending parties is equal ; which will be the more 
 likely to take place, the more widely such skill is 
 diffused.* But many, perhaps most persons, are inclined 
 to the opinion that Eloquence, either in writing or 
 speaking, is either a natural gift, or, at least, is to be 
 acquired by mere practice, and is not to be attained or 
 improved by any system of rules. And this opinion is 
 favoured not least by those (as has been just observed) 
 whose own experience would enable them to decide very 
 differently ; and it certainly seems to be in a great degree 
 practically adopted. Most persons, if not left entirely 
 to the disposal of chance, in respect of this branch of 
 education, are at least left to acquire what they can by 
 practice, such as school or college-exercises afford, 
 without much care being taken to initiate them syste- 
 matically into the principles of the art ; and that, fre- 
 quently, not so much from negligence in the conductors 
 of education, as from their doubts of the utility of any 
 such regular system. 
 
 Erroneous ^ certam ly must be admitted, that rules 
 systems of not considered on broad philosophical prin- 
 rules. ciples, are more likely to cramp than to assist 
 
 the operations of our faculties ; — that a pedantic display 
 of technical skill is more detrimental in this than in any 
 other pursuit, since by exciting distrust, it counteracts 
 
 * Aris. Rhet. ch. 1 — He might have gone further ; far it will 
 very often happen that, before a popular audience, a greater degrea 
 of skill is requisite for maintaining the cause of truth than of false- 
 hood. There are cases in which the arguments which lie most on 
 the surface, and are, to superficial reasoners, the most easily set 
 forth in a plausible form, are those on the wrong side. It is often 
 difficult to a writer, and still more, to a speaker, to point out and 
 exhibit, in their full strength, the delicate distinctions on whici 
 truth sometimes depends. 
 
* 4 J INTRODUCTION. 26 
 
 Ike very purpose of it ; — that a system of rules imper- 
 fectly comprehended, or not familiarized by practice 
 will (while that continues to be the case) prove rathei 
 an impediment than a help ; as indeed will be found in 
 all other arts likewise ; — and that no system can be ex 
 pected to equalize men whose natural powers are dif 
 ferent. But none of these concessions at all invalidate 
 the positions of Aristotle ; that some succeed better thai 
 others in explaining their opinions, and bringing ovei 
 others to them ; and that, not merely by superiority oi 
 natural gifts, but by acquired habit ; and that conse- 
 quently if we can discover the causes of this superior 
 success — the means by which the desired end is attain- 
 ed by all who do attain it — we shall be in possession oj 
 rules capable of general application : which is, says he, 
 the proper office of an art.* Experience so plainly 
 evinces, what indeed we might naturally be led antece- 
 dently to conjecture, that a right judgment on any sub- 
 ject is not necessarily accompanied by skill in effecting 
 conviction — nor the ability to discover truth, by a faci- 
 lity in explaining it — that it might be matter of wonder 
 how any doubt should ever have existed as to the pos- 
 sibility of devising, and the utility of employing, a sys- 
 tem of rules for " Argumentative Composition," gene- 
 rally ; distinct from any system conversant about the 
 subject-matter of each composition. 
 
 It is probable that the existing prejudices on this sub- 
 ject may be traced in great measure to the imperfect or 
 incorrect notions of some writers, who have either con- 
 fined their attention to trifling minutiae of style, or at 
 least have in some respect failed to take a sufficiently 
 comprehensive view of the principles of the art. One 
 distinction especially is to be clearly laid down and care- 
 fully borne in mind by those who would form a correct 
 idea of those principles ; viz. the distinction already 
 noticed in the Elements of Logic, between an art, and 
 the art. "An Art of Reasoning" would imply, "a 
 
 * "Q-trtp ten rsxviii Ifiyov.. — Rhet. booki. ch. 1. 
 3 
 
26 ELEMENTS OF RHETORIC. [$ 4. 
 
 Method or System of Rules by the observance of which 
 one may reason correctly ;" " the Art of Reasoning," 
 would imply a system of rules to which every one does 
 conform (whether knowingly, or not.) who reasons 
 correctly : and such is Logic, considered as an art. 
 
 A rightly- In like manner " an Art of Composition w 
 lormed sys- would imply " a System of Rules by which 
 not cramp a £°°d Composition may be produced ;" " the 
 the natural Art of Composition," — " such rules as event, 
 powers. g 00( j Composition must conform to," whether 
 the author of it had them in his mind or not. Of the 
 former character appear to have been (among others) 
 many of the logical and rhetorical systems of Aristotle'? 
 predecessors in those departments. He himself evident- 
 ly takes the other and more philosophical view of both 
 branches : as appears (in the case of Rhetoric) both from 
 the plan he sets out with, that of investigating the 
 causes of the success of all who do succeed in effecting 
 conviction, and from several passages occurring in va- 
 rious parts of his treatise ; which indicate how sedu- 
 lously he was on his guard to conform to that plan. 
 Those who have not attended to the important distinc- 
 tion just alluded to, are often disposed to feel wonder, 
 if not weariness, at his reiterated remarks, that " all 
 men effect persuasion either in this way or in that ;" 
 " it is impossible to attain such and such an object in 
 any other way;" &c. which doubtless were intended to 
 remind his readers of the nature of his design ; viz. not 
 to teach an Art of Rhetoric, but the Art; — not to in- 
 struct them merely how conviction might be produced, 
 but how it must. 
 
 If this distinction were carefully kept in view by the 
 teacher and by the learner of Rhetoric, we should no 
 longer hear complaints of the natural powers being fet- 
 tered by the formalities of a system ; since no such com- 
 plaint can lie against a system whose rules are drawn 
 from the invariable practice of all who succeed in at- 
 taining their proposed object. 
 
§ 5.] INTRODUCTION. 27 
 
 No one would expect that the study of Sir Joshua 
 Reynolds' lectures would cramp the genius of the paint* 
 er. No one complains of the rules of Grammar as fet- 
 tering language ; because it is understood thaj; correct 
 use is not founded on Grammar, but Grammar on cor- 
 rect use. A just system of Logic or of Rhetoric is ana- 
 logous, in this respect, to Grammar. 
 
 § 5. The chief reason probably for the Exercises in 
 existing prejudice against technical systems Composition, 
 of composition, is to be found in the cramped, meagre, 
 and feeble character of most of such essays, &c, as are 
 avowedly composed according to the rules of any such 
 system. It should be remembered, however, in the first 
 olace, that these are almost invariably the productions 
 of learners; it being usual for those who have attained 
 proficiency, either to write without thinking of any 
 rules, or to be desirous, (as has been said,) and, by their 
 increased expertness, able, to conceal their employment 
 of art. Now it is not fair to judge of the value of any 
 system of rules, those of a drawing-master for instance, 
 from the first awkward sketches of tyros in the art. 
 
 Still less would it be fair to judge of one system, from 
 the ill-success of another, whose rules were framed (as 
 is the case with those ordinarily laid down for the use 
 of students in Composition) on narrow, unphilosophical, 
 and erroneous principles. 
 
 But the circumstance which has mainly Difficulty in 
 tended to produce the complaint alluded to, skion° mP of 
 is, that in this case, the reverse takes place exercises, 
 of the plan pursued in the learning of other arts ; in 
 which it is usual to begin, for the sake of practice, with 
 what is easiest; here, on the contrary, the tyro has 
 usually a harder task assigned him, and one in which 
 he is less likely to succeed, than he will meet with in 
 the actual business of life. For it is undeniable that it 
 is much the most difficult to find either propositions to 
 maintain, or arguments to prove them — to know, in 
 short, what to say, or how to say it — on any subject on 
 
23 ELEMENTS OF RHETORIC. [§ 5. 
 
 which one has hardly any information, and no interest; 
 about which he knows little, and cares still less. 
 
 Now the subjects usually proposed for school or col- 
 lege-exercises are (to the learners themselves) precisely 
 of this description. And hence it commonly happens, 
 that an exercise composed with diligent care by a young 
 student, though it will have cost him far more pains 
 than a real letter written by him to his friends, on sub- 
 jects that interest him, will be very greatly inferior to 
 it. On the real occasions of after life, (I mean, when 
 the object proposed is, not to fill up a sheet, a book, or 
 an hour, but to communicate his thoughts, to convince, 
 or persuade) — on these real occasions, for which such 
 exercises were designed to prepare him, he will find that 
 he writes both better, and with more facility, than on 
 the artificial occasion, as it may be called, of compos- 
 ing a declamation ; — that he has been attempting to learn 
 the easier, by practising the harder. 
 Ill effects But what is worse, it will often happen that 
 resulting such exercises will have formed a habit of 
 ?rom exer- stringing together empty common-places, and 
 vapid declamations — of multiplying words 
 and spreading out the matter thin — of composing in a 
 stiff, artificial, and frigid manner : and that this habit 
 will more or less cling through life to one who has been 
 thus trained, and will infect all his future compositions. 
 
 So strongly, it should seem, was Milton impressed 
 with a sense of this danger, that he was led to condemn 
 the use altogether of exercises in Composition. In this 
 opinion he stands perhaps alone among all writers on 
 education. I should perhaps agree with him, if there 
 were absolutely no other remedy for the evil in question ; 
 for T am inclined to think that this part of education, 
 if conducted as it often is, does in general more harm 
 than good. But I am convinced, that practice in Com- 
 position, both for boys and young men, may be so con- 
 ducted as to be productive of many and most essential 
 advantages. 
 
f 5.] INTRODUCTION. ft 
 
 The obvious and the only preventive of Selection 
 the evils which 1 have been speaking of is a of subjects, 
 most scrupulous care in the selection of such subjects 
 for exercises as are likely to be interesting to the stu- 
 dent, and on which he has, or may (with pleasure, and 
 without much toil) acquire, sufficient information. Such 
 subjects will of course vary, according to the learner's 
 age and intellectual advancement ; but they had better 
 be rather below, than much above him ; that is, they 
 should never be such as to induce him to siring together 
 vague general expressions, conveying no distinct ideas 
 to his own mind, and second-hand sentiments which he 
 does not feel. He may freely transplant indeed from 
 other writers such thoughts as will take root in the soil 
 of his own mind ; but he must never be tempted to col- 
 lect dried specimens. He must also be encouraged to 
 express himself (in correct language indeed, but) in a 
 free, natural, and simple style ; which of course implies 
 (considering who and what the writer is supposed to 
 be) such a style as, in itself, w r ould be open to severe 
 criticism, and certainly very unlit to appear in a book. 
 
 Compositions on such subjects, and in such a style, 
 would probably be regarded w T ith a disdainful eye, aa 
 puerile, by those accustomed to the opposite mode oi 
 teaching. But it should be remembered that the com- 
 positions of boys must be puerile, in one way or the 
 other : and to a person of unsophisticated and sound 
 taste, the truly contemptible kind of puerility would bo 
 found in the other kind of exercises. Look at the letter 
 of an intelligent youth to one of his companions, com- 
 municating intelligence of such petty matters as are in- 
 teresting to both — describing the scenes he has visited, 
 and the recreations he has enjoyed, during a vacation; 
 and you will see a picture of the youth himself — boyish 
 indeed in looks and in stature — in dress and demeanour . 
 but lively, unfettered, natural, giving a fair promise foi 
 manhood, and, in short, what a boy should be. Look 
 &t a theme composed by the same youth, on " Virtua 
 
30 ELEMENTS OF RHETORIC. [§ 3 
 
 est medium vitiorum," or " Natura beatis omnibus esse 
 dedit," and you will see a picture, of the same boy, 
 dressed up in the garb, and absurdly aping the demean- 
 our of an elderly man. Our ancestors (and still more 
 recently, I believe, the continental nations) were guilty 
 of the absurdity of dressing up children in wigs, swords, 
 huge buckles, hoops, ruffles, and all the elaborate full- 
 dressed finery of grown up people of that day.* Tt is 
 surely reasonable that the analogous absurdity in 
 greater matters also — among the rest in that part of 
 education I am speaking of — should be laid aside ; and 
 that we should in all points consider what is appropriate 
 to each different period of life. 
 
 classes of The subjects for composition to be se- 
 subjects for lected on the principle I am recommending, 
 will generally fall under one of three classes : 
 first, subjects drawn from the studies the learner is en- 
 gaged in ; relating, for instance, to the characters or 
 incidents of any history he may be reading; and, some- 
 times, perhaps, leading him to forestall by conjecture, 
 something which he will hereafter come to, in the book 
 itself : secondly, subjects drawn from anv conversation 
 he may have listened to {with interest) irom his seniors, 
 whether addressed to himself, or between each other: 
 or, thirdly, relating to the amusements, familiar occur- 
 rences, and every-day transactions, which are likely to 
 have formed the topics of easy conversation among hi*? 
 familiar friends. The student should not be confh?«% 
 too exclusively to any one of these three classes of sub~ 
 jects. They should be intermingled in as much variety 
 as possible. And the teacher should frequently recall 
 to his own mind these two considerations ; first, that 
 since the benefit proposed does not consist in the intrinsic 
 value of the composition, but in the exercise to the 
 pupil's mind, it matters not how insignificant the sub- 
 ject may be, if it will but interest him, and thereby 
 afford him such exercise ; secondly, that the youngel 
 * See " Sandford and Morton," passim 
 
§ 6.J INTRODUCTION. 31 
 
 and backwarder each student is, the more unfit he will 
 be for abstract speculations : and the less remote must 
 be the subjects proposed fr *ia those individual objects 
 and occurrences which a'vvays form the first beginnings 
 of the furniture of the youthful mind.* 
 
 If the system which I have been recommending be 
 pursued, with the addition of sedulous care in correc- 
 tion — encouragement from the teacher — and inculcation 
 of such general rules as each occasion calls for ; then, 
 and not otherwise, Exercises in Composition will be of 
 the most important and lasting advantage ; not only in 
 respect of the object immediately proposed, but in pro- 
 ducing clearness of thought, and in giving play to all 
 the faculties. And if this branch of education be thus 
 conducted, then, and not otherwise, the greater part of 
 the present treatise will, it is hoped, be found, not much 
 /ess adapted to the use. of those who are writing for 
 practice-sake, than of those engaged in meeting the oc- 
 casions of real life. 
 
 § 6. One kind of exercise there is — that of Debating- 
 Debating-Societies— which ought not per- Societies, 
 haps to be passed unnoticed, as different opinions 
 prevail respecting its utility. It is certainly free from 
 the objections which lie against the ordinary mode of 
 theme-writing ; since the subjects discussed are usually 
 such as the speakers feel a real interest in. But to 
 young persons I think the exercise generally more 
 hurtful than beneficial. When their faculties are in an 
 immature state, and their knowledge scanty, crude, and 
 imperfectly arranged, if they are prematurely hurried 
 into a habit of fluent elocution, they are likely to retain 
 through life a careless facility of pouring forth ill-di- 
 gested thoughts in well-turned phrases, and an aversion 
 to cautious reflection. For when a man has acquired 
 that habit of ready extemporaneous speaking which 
 
 * For some observations relative to the learning of Elocution, 
 gee Part iv. chap. iv. § 2. See also some valuable, remarks on the 
 subject of exercises in composition, in Mr Hill's ingenious work 
 on Public Education. 
 
83 ELEMENTS OF RHETORIC ft 6. 
 
 consists in thinking extempore, both his indolence and 
 self-confidence will indispose him for the toil of carefully 
 preparing his matter, and of forming for himself, by 
 practice in writing, a precise and truly energetic style : 
 and he will have been qualifying himself only for the 
 "lion's part"* in the interlude of Pyramus and Thisbe. 
 On the other hand, a want of readiness of expression, 
 in a man of well-disciplined mind, who has attentively 
 studied his subject, is a fault much more curable by 
 practice, even late in life, than the opposite. 
 
 Although however I am convinced that an early-ac- 
 quired habit of empty fluency is adverse to a man's suc- 
 cess as an orator, I will not undertake to say, that, as 
 an orator, his attaining the very highest degree of suc- 
 cess will be the more likely, from his possessing ths 
 most philosophical mind, trained to the most scrupu- 
 lous accuracy of investigation. Inestimable )n othei 
 respects as such an endowment is, and certainly com- 
 patible with very great eloquence, I doubt whether the 
 highest degree of it is compatible with the highest de- 
 gree of general oratorical power. If at least he is to 
 be accounted the most perfect orator, who (as Cicero 
 lays down) can speak the best and most persuasively 
 on any question whatever that may arise, it may fairly 
 be doubted whether a, first-rate man can be a first-rale 
 orator. He may indeed speak admirably in a matter 
 he has well considered ; but when any new subject, or 
 new point, is started in the course of a debate, though 
 he may take a juster view of it at the first glance, on 
 the exigency of the moment, than any one else could, 
 he will not fail — as a man of more superficial clever- 
 ness would — to perceive how impossible it must be to 
 do full justice to a subject demanding more reflection 
 and inquiry ; nor can he therefore place himself fully on 
 a level, in such a case, with one of shallower mind, 
 
 * "Snug. — Have you the Lion's part written? Pray you, if ft 
 be, give it me ; for I am slow of study. 
 
 " Quince. — You may do it extempore; for it is nothing but re& 
 ins." — Midsummer Night's Dream. 
 
Part I.] OF CONVICTION. 33 
 
 who being in all cases, less able to look beneath the 
 surface of things, obtains at the first glance the best 
 view Ac can take of am/ subject ; and therefore can dis- 
 play without any need of artifice, that easy unembar- 
 rassed confidence which can never be with equal effect, 
 assumed. To speak perfectly well, in short, a man must 
 feel that he has got to the bottom of the subject ; and 
 to feel this, on occasions where, from the nature of the 
 case, it is impossible he really can have done so, is 
 inconsistent with the character of great profundity. 
 
 PART I. 
 
 OF THE INVENTION, ARRANGEMENT, AND INTRO- 
 DUCTION OF PROPOSITIONS AND ARGUMENTS 
 
 Chap. I. — Of Propositions. 
 
 § 1. It was remarked in the Treatise on i nqu ; r yai. 
 Logic, that in the process of Investigation pro- ter Truth 
 perly so called, viz. that by which we endea- ^dj^ntg 
 vour to discover truth, it must of course be un- distinguish 
 certain to him who is entering on that process, ed - 
 what the conclusion will be to which his researches 
 will lead ; but that in the process of conveying truth 
 to others by reasoning, (*'. e. in what may be termed, 
 according to the view 1 have at present taken*, the rhe- 
 torical process,) the conclusion or conclusions which 
 are to be established must be present to the mind of him 
 who is conducting the Argument, and whose business 
 is to find Proofs of a given proposition. 
 
 It is evident, therefore, that the first step to be taken 
 by him, is to lay down distinctly in his own mind the 
 proposition or propositions to be proved. It might in- 
 
J4 ELEMENTS OF RHETORIC. [Part i 
 
 deed at first sight appear superfluous even to mention 
 so obvious a rule ; but experience shows that it is by 
 no means uncommon for a young or ill-instructed wri- 
 ter to content himself with such a vague and indistincl 
 view of the point he is to aim at, that the whole train 
 of his reasoning is in consequence affected with a cor- 
 responding perplexity, obscurity, and looseness. It may 
 be worth while therefore to give some hints for the con- 
 duct of this preliminary process — the choice of propo- 
 sitions. Not, of course, that I am supposing the author 
 to be in doubt what opinion he shall adopt ; the pro- 
 cess of Investigation* (which does not fall within the 
 province of Rhetoric) being supposed to be concluded; 
 but still there will often be room for deliberation as to 
 the form in which an opinion shall be stated, and, when 
 several propositions are to be maintained, in what order 
 they shall be placed. 
 
 Conviction ® n tn * s nea< ^ therefore I shall proceed to 
 and in propose some rules ; after having premised 
 struction. ^ n or( j er to anticipate some objections or 
 doubts which might arise) one remark relative to the ob- 
 ject to be effected. This is, of course, what may be 
 called in the widest sense of the word, Conviction ; but 
 under that term are comprehended, first, what is strictly 
 called Instruction; and, secondly, Conviction in the 
 narrower sense ; i. e. the Conviction of those who are 
 either of a contrary opinion to the one maintained, or 
 who are in doubt whether to admit or deny it. By In- 
 struction, on the other hand, is commonly meant the 
 conviction of those who have neither formed an opin- 
 ion on the subject, nor are deliberating whether to adopt 
 or reject the proposition in question, but are merely de- 
 sirous of ascertaining what is the truth in respect of the 
 case before them. The former are supposed to have 
 before their minds the terms of the proposition main- 
 tained, and are called upon to consider whether that par- 
 ticular proposition be true or false; the latter are not 
 * Logic, book iv. chap. 3\ 2. 
 
Chap. I. § 2.] OF CONVICTION. 85 
 
 supposed to know the terms of the conclusion, but to 
 be inquiring what proposition is to be received as true. 
 The former may be described, in logical language, as 
 doubting respecting the Copula; the latter, respecting 
 the Predicate. It is evident that the speaker or writer 
 la, i elaiivery to mese last, (Uiough not to himself,) con- 
 ducting a process of Investigation ; as is plain from 
 what has been said of that subject, :r. the treatise on 
 Logic. 
 
 The distinction between these two objects gives rise 
 in some points to corresponding differences in the mode 
 of procedure, which will be noticed hereafter ; these 
 differences however are not sufficient to require that 
 Rhetoric should on that account be divided into two dis- 
 tinct branches ; since, generally speaking, though not 
 universally, the same rules will be serviceable for at- 
 iaining each of these objects. 
 
 § 2. The first step is, as I have observed, to lay 
 down (in the author's mind) the proposition or proposi- 
 tions to be maintained, clearly, and in a suitable form. 
 
 He who strictly observes this rule, and who is thus 
 brought to view steadily the point he is aiming at, will 
 be kept clear, in a great degree, of some common faults 
 of young writers ; viz. entering on too wide a field of dis- 
 cussion, and introducing many propositions not suffi- 
 ciently connected ; an error which destroys the unity of 
 the composition. This last error those are 
 apt to fall into, who place before themselves J n e e s Subj not 
 a Term instead of a Proposition; and ima- imply unity 
 gine that because they are treating of one °. f composi 
 thing, they are discussing one question. In 
 an ethical work, for instance, one may be treating of vir- 
 tue, while discussing all or any one of these questions .; 
 " Wherein virtue consists ?" " Whence our notions of 
 it arise ?" " Whence it derives its obligation ?" &c. ; 
 but if these questions were confusedly blended together, 
 or if all of them were treated of, within a short com- 
 pass, the most jus* remarks and forcible arguments 
 
16 ELEMENTS OF RHETORIC. [Part L 
 
 would lose their interest and their utility, in so perplex- 
 ed a composition. 
 
 Nearly akin to this fault is the other just mentioned, 
 that of entering on too wide a field for the length of the 
 work ; by which means the writer is confined to barren 
 and uninteresting generalities : as e. g. general exhor- 
 tations to virtue (conveyed, of course, in very general 
 terms) in the space of a discourse only of sufficient 
 length to give a characteristic description of some one 
 branch of duty, or of some one particular motive to the 
 Copiousness practice of it. Unpractised composers are 
 of matter a pt to fancy that they shall have the greater 
 b y rm a s ^e- abundance of matter, the wider extent of sub- 
 stricted ject they comprehend ; but experience shows 
 view. that the reverse is the fact : the more gene- 
 
 ral and extensive view will often suggest nothing to the 
 mind but vague and trite remarks ; when, upon narrow- 
 ing the field of discussion, many interesting questions 
 of detail present themselves. Now a writer who is ac- 
 customed to state to himself precisely, in the first in- 
 stance, the conclusions to which he is tending, will be 
 the less likely to content himself with such as consist 
 of very general statements ; and will often be led, even 
 where an extensive view is at first proposed, to distri- 
 bute it into several branches, and, waiving the discus- 
 sion of the rest, to limit himself to the full development 
 of one or two ; and thus applying, as it were, a micro- 
 scope to a small space, will present to the view much 
 that a wider survey would not have exhibited. 
 I . af- § 3. It may be useful for one who is about 
 ter proposi- thus to lay down his propositions, to ask 
 tions. himself these three questions : first, what m 
 
 the fact ? secondly, why* (*. e. from what Cause) is it 
 bo ? or, in other words, how is it accounted for ? ami 
 thirdly, what consequence results from it ? 
 
 The last two of these questions, though they will not 
 in every case suggest such answers as are strictly to be 
 » See Logic. Appendix. Article, " Why," 
 
Chap II. § I.} OF CONVICTION. 37 
 
 called the Cause and the Consequence of the principal 
 truth to be maintained, may, at least, often furnish such 
 propositions as bsar a somewhat similar relation to it. 
 
 It is to be observed, that in recommending the write; 
 to begin by laying down in his own mind the proposi 
 lions to be maintained, it is not meant to be implied that 
 they are always to be stated first ; that will depend upon 
 the nature of the case ; and rules will hereafter be given 
 on that point. 
 
 It is to be observed also, that by the words " propo- 
 sition," or " assertion," throughout this Treatise, is to 
 be understood some conclusion to be established/or it- 
 self ; not, with a view to an ulterior conclusion : those 
 propositions which are intended to serve as premises, 
 being called, in allowable conformity with popular 
 usage, arguments ; it being customary to argue in the 
 enthymematic form, and to call, for brevity's sake, the 
 expressed premiss of an enthymeme, the argument bv 
 which the conclusion of it is proved.* 
 
 Chap. II. — Of Arguments. 
 
 § 1. Tut. finding of suitable arguments proper pro 
 to prove a given point, and the skilful ar- vince of 
 rangement of them, may be considered as Rhetonc - 
 the immediate and proper province of Rhetoric, and of 
 that alone, f 
 
 The business of Logic is, as Cicero complains, to 
 judge of arguments, not to invent them : ("in inveni- 
 
 * Logic, book i. §2. 
 
 t Aristotle's division of Persuasives into " artificial" and " inar- 
 tificial," {fivTtxvoi and cltzxvoi) including under the latter head, 
 " Witnesses, Laws, Contracts,' 1 &c. is strangely unphilosophical. 
 The one class, he says, the Orator is to make use of ; the other, to 
 devise. But it is evident that, in all cases alike, the data we argue 
 from must be something already existing, and which we are not to 
 make, but to use ; and that the arguments derived from these data 
 are the work of art. Whether these data are general maxims or 
 particular testimony — Laws of Nature, or Laws of the Land — 
 makes, in this respect, no difference. 
 
38 ELEMENTS OF RHETORIC. [Pa*t J 
 
 endis argumentis muta nimium est ; in judicandis, ni- 
 mium ioquax." — Cic. de Orat.) The knowledge, again, 
 in each case, of the subject in hand, is essential; but it 
 is evidently borrowed from the science or system con- 
 versant about that subject-matter, whether Politics, 
 Theology, Law, Ethics, or any other The art of ad- 
 dressing the feelings, again, does not belong exclusive- 
 ly to Rhetoric; since Poetry has at least as much to do 
 with that branch. Nor are the considerations relative to 
 Style and Elocution confined to argumentative and per- 
 suasive compositions. The art of inventing and ar- 
 ranging Arguments is, as has been said, the only pro- 
 vince that Rhetoric can claim entirely and exclusively 
 Various di- Arguments are divided according to sever* 
 visions of al different principles ; i. e. logically speaking, 
 arguments. t j ]ere are sevem i divisions of them. And 
 these cross-divisions have proved a source of endless 
 perplexity to the logical and rhetorical student, because 
 there is perhaps no writer on either subject that has 
 been aware of their character. Hardly any thing per- 
 haps has contributed so much to lessen the interest and 
 the utility of systems of Rhetoric, as the indistinctness 
 hence resulting. When in any subject the members of 
 a division are not opposed, but are in fact members of 
 different divisions, crossing each other, it is manifestly 
 impossible to obtain any clear notion of the species treat- 
 ed of; nor will any labour or ingenuity bestowed on 
 the subject be of the least avail, till the original source 
 of perplexity is removed ; — till, in short, the cross-divi- 
 sion is detected and explained. 
 
 Arguments then may be divided, 
 
 First, into Irregular, and Regular, i. e Syllogisms ; 
 these last into Categorical and Hypothetical ; and the 
 Categorical, into Syllogisms in the first Figure, and in 
 the other Figures, &c. &c. 
 
 Secondly, They are frequently divided into " Moral," 
 [or "Probable,"] and "Demonstrative," [or "N©> 
 cessarv " 
 
Shap II §1.] OF CONVICTION. 39 
 
 Thirdly, into " Direct," and " Indirect ;" (or reductio 
 ad absurdum,) — the Deictic, and Elenctic, of Aristotle. 
 
 Fourthly, into Arguments from "Example," from 
 "Testimony," from " Cause to Effect," from "Analo- 
 gy," &c. &c. 
 
 " It will be perceived, on attentive examination, that 
 several of the different species just mentioned will oc- 
 casionally contain each other ; e. g. a Probable Argu- 
 ment may be at the same time a Categorical Argument, 
 a Direct Argument, and an Argument from Testimony, 
 &». ; this being the consequence of Arguments having 
 been divided on several different principles ; a circum- 
 stance so obvious the moment it is distinctly stated, that 
 f apprehend such of my readers as have not been con- 
 versant in these studies will hardly be disposed to be- 
 lieve that it could have been (as is the fact) generally 
 overlooked, and that eminent writers should in conse- 
 quence have been involved in inextricable confusion. I 
 need only remind them however of the anecdote of Co- 
 lumbus breaking the egg. That which is perfectly ob- 
 vious to any man of common sense, as soon as it is 
 mentioned, may nevertheless fail to occur, even to men 
 of considerable ingenuity. 
 
 It will also be readily perceived, on exam- Division cf 
 ining the principles of these several divisions, forms of Ar 
 that the last of them alone is properly and S uments - 
 strictly a division of Arguments as such. The first is 
 evidently a division of the forms of stating them ; for 
 every one would allow that the same argument may be 
 either stated as an enthymeme, or brought into the strict 
 syllogistic form ; and that, either categorically or hypo- 
 thetically, &c. ; e g " Whatever has a beginning has 
 a cause ; the earth had a beginning, therefore it had a 
 cause ; or, If the earth had a beginning, it had a cause : 
 it had a beginning," &c. everyone would call the same 
 argument, differently stated. This, therefore, evidently 
 is not a division of Arguments as such. . 
 
 The second is plainly a division of arguments ac- 
 
i I I 
 
 ;'!.., i,t 
 , ()1 pwinil 
 ftfgUll). 
 
 ■ , ,m immutable truth, oj »ji <iL 
 ami fNfif •■•*iiti i *iij« uou j while Iji human 
 prtmututiun* which we (i.-.-iiiiic die onl> true I 
 
 lie UD l<»n^. <»■•> the law 
 
 • f lllCIll t)l 
 
 iiuuly cm u 
 
 I 
 
 I ;., but Ul tl / 
 
 I 
 
 llic pUl'M " 
 
 n «lia\N n, • 
 
 1/ wili.l HI 
 
 i f the 
 
 i the 
 
 i • 
 
 I 
 
 H 
 
 i I I 
 
 mitli 'i ii. ..i 
 
 i i ry o/ 
 
 i Unl thi i 
 
 ii ii. ..i mdii m hilti tii 
 
 ».. Ic ,!..( .1 i, u«J 
 
II 'I I •' • I ' I '■ I U>N ,1 
 
 in ii •• 'I'''' ■■ ill ri nil - ■ • nl in • ilm| |inl ■ iltfi 
 
 1 1 I M II 10 1 1 1 1 • ■ • ■ I ••'•■• I • i I 1 1 1 
 
 i" i 'i ri i"' h ihli 'i" tin ■■ I'n i iiiini 
 
 \\\\) i illi nl nl i in li Iiiii 1 1| 
 
 lliej i ■ 
 
 pirn • .i 
 
 • i" i Di m till h il |nu|inil| i ill 
 
 i nl mil ii i nlln l ( ) \\ ■ 
 
 I 'II III | |l ill} '•! ' I ' I H M\ " '■ 
 
 till I 'I" II I lllllll • I llll III i I | .'I ill.' 
 
 1 1 1 1 1 1 1 1 R t 1 1 1 1 1 1 1 • ■ 1 1 • I II I • 1 1 I I, J -l.l,. 
 
 Illtjl I Ill I I Il llll • ,, I . , 
 
 llii i mil • inn I- iln h i li "i ■ i 'i 
 
 I 'I" I [llll] I || ""I HI \) ||| | Illlllll .1 \\ llll 
 
 luilm nl ilu ilpli ilioi uli ml I'm llii li mi Iiiii i||g 
 
 •• I lllllll I III] "■ > , . .1 ... ■ I I II I IV I • II ll|l I I 
 
 — i i mil iin ,..,..,. hii h i. inn ii 
 
 • i i ■ nl i In i ■ I I i 'I iji ■ i 
 
 • i i I li in • III • I 
 
 n ■ illoil uiil Ii i ml i In llm inliil 
 
 • till III IWBUll llll |l llii II • 'l l| |||| 
 
 — Ill Ii ii lili II I llii i'llhi'1 mil nl fii in 
 
 • • impli In III I'lniii ii- ipI i ii i 
 
 i i in Iiiilli Iml |i 
 
 llii i • \ ml 'i I [il i il ilu |i i ill . . inn 
 
 limn li il I I'i h in • In ilu iiliji • Hi i' nl' ilu 
 
 i • I ii il I i'hii idi ii i| 
 
 Mil |V| | ■ ... || | l||| || (I) 
 
 Jll'llll lllll IIIII ll I" • | lllll ' I 
 
 . . | , , I . , . . I , . , . I , I ■ , I , . , . || I 1 1 1 1 1 I 1 1 1 
 
 i i. imi 1 1 i iii i" ■■ ii ii" nllln>| ilu . 
 
 • i in ill "'I mil Im 
 
 ill i i I- nil i tmliii fliim 
 
 ij Inn I 1 1" |iii i 'i in i" iliin in i •■ 
 
 iiiimi llittl m ■ |H i li 'i i illtill 
 
 i li ■•ii" . 
 
 I" il I I lllll I llllVl !■!•!" || V 
 
 ll • . il ill iridium* i I "' lien • il • il 
 
 I 
 
42 
 
 ELEMENTS OF RHETORIC. [Fart I 
 
 © es g 
 
 C O 
 
 So 
 
 .15 o 
 
 o c 
 
 « « s 
 
 o 0,0 
 
 111.1 
 
 <5 
 
 cog 
 o cS o 
 
 e 2 fs . 
 
 & 1 1I 
 
 ssss 
 
 .,-c «- o 
 
 •etc" 
 f *83 
 
 H 
 
 i« 
 
 'bo ! 
 
 §2 
 
 i2 rt 
 
 -1-3 
 
 3 
 
 bfi 
 
 E 
 
Cnxp II. § 20 OF CONVICTION. 43 
 
 § 2 In distributing, then, the several kinds Two clasB _ 
 of Arguments, according to this division, it es of Argu 
 will be found convenient to lay down first two ments - 
 great classes, under one or other of which all can be 
 brought ; viz. first, such Arguments as'might have been 
 employed not as arguments, but to account for the fact 
 or principle maintained, supposing its truth granted : 
 secondly, such as could not be so employed. The 
 former class (to which in this Treatise the name of "a 
 priori " Argument will be confined) is manifestly Argu- 
 ment from Cause to Effect ; since to account for any 
 thing, signifies, to assign the Cause of it. The other 
 class, of course, comprehends all other Arguments ; of 
 which there are several kinds, which will be mentioned 
 hereafter. 
 
 The two sorts of proof which have been just spoken 
 of, Aristotle seems to have intended to designate by the 
 titles of otl for the latter, and dion for the former ; but 
 he has not been so clear as could be wished in observ- 
 ing the distinction between them. The only decisive 
 test by which to distinguish the Arguments which be- 
 long to the one and to the other, of these classes, is, to 
 ask the question, " Supposing the proposition in ques- 
 tion to be admitted, would this statement here used as 
 an Argument, serve to account for and explain the truth, 
 or not ?" It will then be readily referred to the former 
 or to the latter class, according as the answer is in the 
 affirmative or the negative ; as, e. g. if a murder were 
 imputed to any one on the grounds of his " having a 
 hatred to the deceased, and an interest in his death," the 
 Argument would belong to the former class ; because, 
 supposing his guilt to be admitted, and an inquiry to be 
 made how he came to commit the murder, the circum- 
 stances just mentioned would serve to account for it; 
 but not so, with respect to such an Argument as his 
 ** having blood on his clothes ;" which would therefore 
 be referred to the other class. 
 
 And here let it be observed, once for all, that when 
 
44 ELEMENTS OF RHETORIC. [Part I 
 
 I speak of arguing from Cause to Effect, it is not intend 
 ed *o maintain the real and proper efficacy of what are 
 called Physical Causes to produce their respective 
 Effects, nor to enter into any discussion of the contro- 
 versies which have been raised on that point ; which 
 would be foreign from the present purpose. The word 
 " Cause," therefore, is to be understood as employed in 
 the popular sense ; as well as the phrase of " account- 
 ing for " any fact. 
 
 Argument As far > t]ien ' aS an ^ CaUse > popularly 
 
 from cause speaking, has a tendency to produce a certain 
 to effect. Effect, so far its existence is an Argument 
 for that of the Effect. If the Cause be fully sufficient, 
 and no impediments intervene, the Effect in question 
 follows certainly ; and the nearer we approach to this, 
 the stronger the Argument. 
 
 This is the kind of Argument which produces (when 
 short of absolute certainty) that species of the Probable 
 Plaus t which is usually called the Plausible. On 
 y ' this subject Dr. Campbell has some valuable 
 remarks in his Philosophy of R/ietoric, (book i. § 5, ch. 
 vii.) though he has been led into a good deal of per- 
 plexity, partly by not having logically analysed the two 
 species of probabilities he is treating of, and partly by 
 departing, unnecessarily, from the ordinary use of terms, 
 in treating of the Plausible as something distinct from 
 the Probable, instead of regarding it as a species of Pro- 
 bability.* 
 
 This is the chief kind of Probability which poets, or 
 other writers of fiction, aim at ; and in such works it is 
 
 * 1 do not mean, however, that every thing to which the term 
 •plausible" would apply would be in strict propriety called 
 " probable ;" as e. g. it' we had fully ascertained some story that 
 iiad been told us to he an imposition, we might still say, it was a 
 "plausible" tale; though, subsequent to the detection, the word 
 " probable " would not be so properly applied. But certainly 
 common usage warrants the use of " probable " in many cases, 
 on the ground of this plausibility alone ; viz. the adequacy of 
 tome cause, known, or 'likely to exist, to produce the effect in 
 question. 
 
Chap. II. $ 2.] OF CONVICTION. 45 
 
 often designated by the term " natural."* Writers of 
 this class, as they aim not at producing belief, are 
 allowed to take their " Causes" for granted, (i. e. to 
 assume any hypothesis they please,) provided they 
 make the Effects follow naturally ; representing, that 
 is. the personages of the fiction as acting, and the events 
 as resulting, in the same manner as might have been 
 expected, supposing the assumed circumstances to have 
 been real.f And hence the great father of criticism 
 establishes his paradoxical maxim, that impossibilities 
 which appear probable, are to be preferred to possibili- 
 ties which appear improbable. For, as he justly 
 observes, the impossibility of the hypothesis, as e. g. 
 in Homer, the familiar intercourse of gods with mortals, 
 is no bar to the kind of Probability (i. e. Verisimili- 
 tude) required, if those mortals are represented as act- 
 ing in the manner men naturally would have done un- 
 der those circumstances. 
 
 The Probability, then, which the writer of fiction 
 aims at, has, for the reason just mentioned, no tendency 
 to produce a particular, but only a general, belief; i. e. 
 not that these particular events actually took place, but 
 that such are likely, generally, to take place under 
 such circumstances :t this kind of belief (unconscious- 
 ly entertained) being necessary, and all that is necessa- 
 ry, to produce that sympathetic feeling which is the 
 writer's object. In Argumentative Compositions, how- 
 ever, as the object of course is to produce conviction 
 as to the particular point in question, the Causes from 
 
 * It is also important for them, though not so essential, to keep 
 clear of the improbable air produced by the introduction of events, 
 which, though not unnatural, have a great preponderance of chances 
 against them. The distinction between these two kinds of faults is 
 pointed out in a passage in the Quarterly Review, for which see Ap- 
 pendix, [B.] 
 
 t For some remarks on this point, see the preface to a late (puri- 
 fied) edition of the "Tales of the Genii." 
 
 t On which ground Aristotle contends that the end of Fiction is 
 more Philosophical than that of History, since it aims at general, ia 
 •tcad of particular, Truth. 
 
46 ELEMENTS OF RHETORIC. [Part I. 
 
 which our Arguments are drawn must be such as are 
 either admitted, or may be proved, to be actually 
 existing, or likely to exist. 
 
 On the appropriate use of this kind of Argument, 
 
 (which is probably the eUbg of Aristotle, though unfor- 
 
 Employ- tunately he has not furnished any example 
 
 ment of of it,) some Rules will be laid down here- 
 
 the phrase a fter ; my object at present having been 
 
 a prion. t , .•*.!? r •. » i 
 
 merely to ascertain the nature of it. And 
 here it may be worth while to remark, that though I 
 have applied to this mode of Reasoning the title of 
 " a priori" it is not meant to be maintained that all 
 such arguments as have been by other writers so 
 designated correspond precisely with what has been 
 just described.* The phrase, " a priori" Argument, is 
 not indeed employed by all in the same sense ; it would, 
 however, generally be understood to extend to any 
 argument drawn from an antecedent or forerunner, 
 whether a Cause or not; e. g. "the mercury sinks, 
 therefore it will rain." Now this Argument being 
 drawn from a circumstance which, though an antece- 
 dent, is in no sense a Cause, would fall not under the 
 former, but the latter, of the classes laid down ; since 
 when rain comes, no one would account for the pheno- 
 
 * Some students, accordingly, partly with a view to keep clear of 
 any ambiguity that might hence arise, and partly for the sake of 
 brevity, have found it useful to adopt, in drawing up an outline or 
 analysis of any composition, certain arbitrary symbols, to denote, 
 respectively, each class of Arguments and of Propositions : viz. 
 A, for the former of the two classes of arguments just described, 
 (to denote " a priori," or " antecedent," probability,) and B, for the 
 latter, which, as consisting of several different kinds, may be 
 denominated " the body of evidence." Again, they designate the 
 proposition, which accounts for the principal and original assertion, 
 by a small " a," or Greek a, to denote its identity in substance witb 
 the argument bearing the symbol " A," though employed for a diffe- 
 rent purpose ; viz. not to establish a fact that is doubtful, but to 
 account for one that is admitted. The -proposition, again, which 
 results as a consequence or corollary from the principal one, they 
 designate by the symbol C. There seems to be the same conveni- 
 ence in the use of these symbols as Logicians have found in the 
 employment of A, E, I, O, to represent the four kinas of Proposi 
 tions according to quantity and quality. 
 
Chap. II. $ 3.] OF CONVICTION. 47 
 
 menon by the falling of the mercury; which they would 
 call a sign of rain ; and yet most, perhaps, would class 
 this among ci a priori " Arguments. In like manner the 
 expression, "a posteriori" Arguments, would not in 
 its ordinary use coincide precisely, though it would very 
 nearly, with the second class of Arguments. 
 
 The division, however, which has here been adopted, 
 appears to be both more philosophical, and also more 
 precise, and consequently more practically useful, than 
 any other ; since there is so easy and decisive a test by 
 which an argument may be at once referred to the one 
 or to the other of the classes described. — "* 
 
 § 3. The second, then, of these classes, (viz. " Argu- 
 ments drawn from such topics as could not be used to 
 account for the fact, &c. in question, supposing it 
 granted,") may be subdivided into two kinds; which 
 will be designated by the terms " Sign" and " Example." 
 
 By" Sign," (so called from the 2.7]/Lielov of 
 Aristotle,) is meant, what may be described Slgn ' 
 as an " argument from an Effect to a Condition:" — a 
 species of Argument of which the analysis is as fol- 
 lows ; as far as any circumstance is, what may be call- 
 ed a Condition of the existence of a certain effect or 
 phenomenon, so far it may be inferred from the exist- 
 ence of that Effect : if it be a Condition absolutely es- 
 sential, the Argument is, of course, demonstrative ; and 
 the Probability, is the stronger in proportion as we ap- 
 proach to that case. 
 
 Of this kind is the Argument in the instance lately 
 given : a man is suspected as the perpetrator of the sup- 
 posed murder, from the circumstance of his clothes be- 
 ing bloody ; the murder being considered as in a certain 
 degree a probable condition of that appearance; i. e. it 
 is presumed that his clothes would not otherwise have 
 been bloody. Again, from the appearance of ice, we 
 infer, decidedly, the existence of a temperature not above 
 freezing point ; that temperature being an essential Con- 
 dition of the crystallization of water. 
 
48 ELEMENTS OF RHETORIC [Part I 
 
 Proof of Among the circumstances which are con- 
 
 a cause. ditional to any Effect, must evidently come 
 the Cause or Causes; and if there be only one possible 
 Cause, this being absolutely essential, may be demon- 
 stratively proved from the Effect : if the samp. Effecl 
 might result from other Causes, then the Argument is, 
 at best, but probable. But it is to be observed, that 
 there are also many circumstances which have no ten- 
 dency to produce a certain Effect, though it cannot exisl 
 without them, and from which Effect, consequently, 
 they may be inferred, as Conditions, though not Causes : 
 e. g. a man's " being alive one day," is a circum- 
 stance necessary, as a Condition, to his " dying the 
 next; but has no tendency to produce it; his having 
 been alive, therefore, on the former day, may be proved 
 from his subsequent death, but not vice-versa* 
 
 It is to be observed therefore, that though it is very 
 common for. the Cause to be proved from its Effect, it 
 is never so proved so far forth as [^] it is a Cause, 
 but so far forth as it is a condition, or necessary cir- 
 cumstance. 
 
 A Cause, again, may be employed to prove an Effect, 
 (this being the first class of Arguments already described,) 
 so far as it has a tendency to produce the Effect, even 
 though it be not at all necessary to it : (i. e- when other 
 Causes may produce the same effect ;) and in this case, 
 though the Effect may be inferred from the Cause, the 
 Cause cannot be inferred from the Effect : e. .g. from 
 a mortal wound you may infer death ; but not vice 
 versa. 
 
 * It is however very common, in the carelessness of ordinary 
 language, to mention, as the Causes of phenomena, circumstances 
 which every one would allow, on consideration, to be not Causes, 
 but only conditions, of the Effects in question : e. g. it would be 
 said of a tender plant, that it was destroyed in consequence of not 
 being covered with a mat ; though every one would mean to imply 
 that the frost destroyed it; this being a cause too well known to 
 need being mentioned ; and that which is spoken of as the Cause, 
 viz. the absence of a covering, being only the Condition, without 
 which the real Cause could not have operated. 
 
Chap. II. §3.] OF CONVICTION. 49 
 
 Lastly, when a Cause is also a necessary or probable 
 condition, i. e. when it is the only possible or only 
 likely Cause, then we may argue both ways : c. g. we 
 may infer a General's success from his known skill, or, 
 his skill, from his known success : (in this, as in all 
 cases, assuming what is the better known as a proof of 
 what is less-known, denied, or doubted,) these two Ar- 
 guments belonging, respectively, to the two classes 
 originally laid down. 
 
 And it is to be observed, that, in such Ar- T „„.:„„, nn ,i 
 
 „. I'll 1 1-iOgICdi dill 
 
 guments from Sign as this last, the conclusion physical se. 
 which follows, logically, from the premiss, <] uence - 
 being the Cause from which the premiss follows, phy- 
 sically, (i. e. as a natural Effect,) there are in this case 
 two different kinds of Sequence opposed to each other, 
 e. g. " With many of them God was not well pleased; 
 for they were overthrown in the wilderness." In Ar- 
 guments of the first class, on the contrary, these two 
 kinds of Sequence are combined ; i. e. the Conclusion 
 which follows logically from the premiss, is also the 
 Effect following physically from it as a Cause ; a Gene- 
 ral's skill, e. g. being both the Cause and the Proof of 
 his being likely to succeed. 
 
 It is most important to keep in mind the importance, 
 distinction between these two kinds of Se- of distia- 
 quence, which are, in Argument, sometimes fh e 1S two S 
 combined, and sometimes opposed. There is kinds of se 
 no more fruitful source of confusion of <i uence - 
 thought than that ambiguity of the language employed 
 on these subjects, which tends to confourtd together 
 these two things, so entirely distinct in their nature. 
 There is hardly any argumentative writer on subjects 
 involving a discussion of the Causes or Effects of any 
 thing, who has clearly perceived and steadily kept in 
 view the distinction I have been speaking of, or who 
 has escaped the errors and perplexities thence resulting. 
 The wide extent accordingly, and the importance of the 
 mistakes and difficulties arising out of the ambiguity 
 5 
 
SO ELEMENTS OF RHETORIC [Past I 
 
 comp\ained of, is incalculable. Of all the " Idola Fori,"* 
 none is perhaps more important in its results. To 
 dilate upon this point as fully as might be done with 
 advantage, would exceed my present limits ; but it will 
 not be irrelevant to offer some remarks on the origin of 
 the ambiguity complained of, and on the cautions to be 
 used in guarding against being misled by it. 
 Logical The Premiss by which any thing is prov 
 
 sequence, ed, is not necessarily the Cause of the fact's 
 being such as it is; but it is the cause of our knowing, 
 or being convinced, that it is so ; e. g. the wetness of 
 the earth is not the cause of rain, but it is the cause of 
 our knowing that it has rained. These two things — 
 the Premiss which produces our conviction, and the 
 Cause which produces that of which we are convinced 
 ' — are the more likely to be confounded together, in the 
 looseness of colloquial language, from the circumstance 
 that (as has been above remarked) they frequently 
 coincide ; as, e. g. when we infer that the ground will 
 be wet, from the fall of rain which produces that wet- 
 ness. And hence it is that the same words have come 
 to be applied, in common, to each kind of Sequence , 
 e. g. an Effect is said to " follow " from a Cause, and a 
 Conclusion to " follow" from the Premises; the words 
 " Cause" and "Reason," are each applied indifferently, 
 both to a Cause, properly so called, and to the Premiss 
 of an Argument ; though " Reason," in strictness of 
 A . v . speaking, should be confined to the latter. 
 of^'be*- 1 7 " Therefore," " hence," " consequently," 
 cause," &c., and also, " since," " because," and 
 fore?" &c: " wn y>" have likewise a corresponding am- 
 biguity. 
 The multitude of the words which bear this double 
 meaning (and that, in all languages) greatly increases 
 our liability to be misled by it ; since thus the very 
 means men resort to for ascertaining the sense of any 
 expression, are iniected with the very same ambiguity 
 
 ♦Bacon. 
 
Chap II. § 3.] OF CONVICTION 6i 
 
 e. g. if we inquire what is meant by a ' Cause," we 
 shall be told that it is that from which something " fol- 
 lows ;" or, which is indicated by the words " therefore," 
 " consequently," &c all which expressions are as equi- 
 vocal and uncertain in their signification as the original 
 one. It is in vain to attempt ascertaining by the 
 balance the true amount of any commodity, if uncertain 
 weights are placed in the opposite scale. Hence it is 
 that so many writers, in investigating the Cause to 
 which any fact or phenomenon is to be attributed, have 
 assigned that which is not a Cause, but only a Proof 
 that the fact is so ; and have thus been led into an end- 
 less train of errors and perplexities. 
 
 Several, however, of the words in question, though 
 employed indiscriminately in both significations, seem 
 (as was observed in the case of the word " Eeason ") 
 in their primary and strict sense to be confined to one. 
 " AJ7," in Greek, and "ergo,"* or " itaque," in Latin, 
 seem originally and properly to denote the Sequence of 
 Effect from Cause ; " apa,"f and " igitur," that of con- 
 clusion from premises. The English word " accord- 
 ingly," will generally be found to correspond with the 
 Latin " itaque." 
 
 The interrogative " why," is employed to Ambiguity 
 inquire, either, first, the " Reason," (or 0I '" Wh y" 
 ** Proof ;") secondly, the " Cause ;" or thirdly, the " ob 
 ject proposed," or Final-Cause : e. g. first, Why are the 
 angles oi a triangle equal to two right angles ? second- 
 ly, Why are the days shorter in.winter than in summer ? 
 thirdly, Why are the works of a watch constructed as 
 they are ?| 
 
 It is to be observed that the discovery of Causes be- 
 longs prope^y to the province of the Philosopher , that 
 
 * Most Logical writers seem not to be aware of thk:, as tbey 
 
 ! generally, in Latin Treatises, employ "ergo" in the other sense. 
 t is from the Greek epyy, i. e. " in tact." 
 
 t "Apa having a signification of fitness or coincidence , whence 
 ifiu. 
 t See the article Why, in the Appendix to the Treatise on Logio 
 
£2 ELEMENTS OF RHETOE [C. [Part I 
 
 of " Reasons," strictly so called, (I e. Arguments,) to 
 that of the Rhetorician ; and that, though each will 
 have frequent occasion to assume the character of the 
 other, it is most important that these two objects should 
 not he confounded together. 
 
 § 4. Of Signs then there are some which from a cer- 
 tain Effect or phenomenon, infer the " Cause" of it ; and 
 others which, in like manner, infer some " Condition" 
 which is not the Cause. 
 
 Testimony Of" these last, one species is the Argument 
 a kind of from Testimony: the premiss being the ex- 
 si S n - istence of the Testimony ; the Conclusion, 
 
 the truth of what is attested ; which is considered as 3 
 «* Condition" of the Testimony having been given ; since 
 it ^> evider* that so far only as this is allowed, (i. e. sc? 
 far only as it is allowed, that the Testimony would no* 
 have been given, had it not been true,) can this Argu 
 ment have any force. Testimony is of various kinds 
 and may possess various degrees of force,* not only in 
 reference to its own intrinsic character, but in reference 
 also to the kind of conclusion that it is brought to 
 support. 
 
 Matters of * n respect of this latter point, the first and 
 fact, and of great distinction is, between testimony to 
 opinion. matters of fact, and, to matters of opinion, 
 or doctrines. When the question is as to a fact, it is 
 plain we have to look chiefly to the honesty of a wit- 
 ness, his accuracy, and his means of gaining informa- 
 tion. When the question is about a matter of opinion, 
 n is equally plain that his ability to form a judgment 
 is no less to be taken into account. f But though this 
 
 * Locke has touched on this subject, though slightly and scanti 
 ly. He says, " In the testimony of others, is to be considered, . 
 The number. 2. The integrity. 3 The skill of the witnesses. 4. 
 The design of the author, where it is a testimony out of a book 
 cited. 5. The consistency of the parts and circumstances of the 
 relation. 6. Contrary testir-.onies." 
 
 t Testimony to mstters of opinion usually receives the name of 
 authority ; which term however is also often applied when facts are 
 in question; as when we say,indifferertly, "the account of thia 
 
Chap. II. § 4.] OF CONVIUTION. 55 
 
 is admitted by all, it is very common with inconsiderate 
 persons to overlook, in practice, the distinction, and to 
 mistake as to, what it is, that, in each case, is attested. 
 Facts, properly so called, are, we should remember, 
 individuals ; though the term is often extended to 
 general statements, especially when these are well 
 established. And again, the causes or other circum- 
 stances connected with some event or phenomenon, are 
 often stated as a part of the very fact attested. If, for 
 instance, a person relates his having found coal in a 
 certain stratum ; or if he states, that in the East Indies 
 he saw a number of persons who had been sleeping 
 exposed to the moon's rays, afflicted with certain 
 symptoms, and that after taking a certain medicine they 
 recovered — he is bearing testimony as to simple matters 
 of fact : but if he declares that the stratum in question 
 constantly contains coal ; — or, that the patients in ques 
 tion were so affected in consequence of the moon's rays 
 — that such is the general effect of them in that climate,* 
 and that that medicine is a cure for such symptoms, it 
 is evident that his testimony — however worthy of 
 credit — is borne to a different kind of conclusion; 
 namely, not an individual, but a general conclusion, 
 and one which must rest, not solely on the veracity, 
 but also on the judgment, of the witness. 
 
 Even in the other case, however — when character of 
 the question relates to what is strictly a witnesses, 
 matter of fact — the intellectual character of the witness 
 is not to be wholly left out of the account. A man 
 strongly influenced by prejudice,* to which the weakest 
 men are ever the most liable, may even fancy he sees 
 what he does not. And some degree of suspicion may 
 thence attach to the testimony of prejudiced, though 
 honest men, when their prejudices are on the same side 
 with their testimony : for otherwise their testimony 
 
 transaction rests on the authority " — or " on the testimony — of such 
 6Jio such an historian." 
 
 * Such is the prevailing, if not universal belief of those who hare 
 rr ded in the East Indies. 
 
04 ELEMENTS OF RHETORIC. [Part I 
 
 may even be the stronger. E. G. The early disciple* 
 of Jesus were, mostly, ignorant, credulous, and preju- 
 diced men ; but all their expectations — all their earh 
 prejudices — ran counter to almost everything that thej 
 attested. They were, in that particular case, harder tc 
 be convinced than more intelligent and enlightened me/ 
 would have been. It is most important, therefore, U 
 remember — what is often forgotten — that credulity anc 1 
 incredulity are the same habit considered in reference 
 to different things. The more easy of belief any one 
 is in respect of what falls in with his wishes or precon- 
 ceived notions, the harder of belief he will be of any- 
 thing that opposes these. 
 
 Number of Again, in respect of the number of wit- 
 witnesses, nesses, it is evident that — other points being 
 equal — many must have more weight than one, or a 
 few ; but it is no uncommon mistake to imagine many 
 witnesses to be bearing concurrent testimony to the 
 same thing, when in truth they aie attesting different 
 things. One or two men may be bearing original 
 testimony to some fact or transaction ; and one or two 
 hundred, who are repeating what they have heard from 
 these, may be, in reality, only bearing witness to their 
 having heard it, and to their own belief. Multitudes 
 may agree in maintaining some system or doctrine, 
 which perhaps one out of a million may have convinced 
 himself of by research and reflection ; while tho rest 
 have assented to it in implicit reliance on authority. 
 These are not, in reality, attesting the same thing 
 The one is, in reality, declaring that so and so is, as he 
 conceives, a conclusion fairly established by reasons 
 pertaining to the subject-matter; the rest, that so 
 and so is the established belief; or is held by per- 
 sons on whose authority they rely. These last may 
 indeed have very good ground for their belief : (for 
 no one would say that a man who is not versed in 
 Astronomy is not justified in believing the earth's 
 motion :) hut still it is to be remembered that they 
 
Chap. II. § 4.] OF CONVICTION. 6ft 
 
 are not, in reality, bearing witness to the same tiling as 
 the others. 
 
 Undesigned testimony is manifestly, so undesigned 
 far, the stronger ; the suspicion of fabrica- testimony, 
 tion being thus precluded. Slight incidental hints 
 therefore, and oblique allusions to any fact, have often 
 much more weight than distinct formal assertions of it. 
 And, moreover, such allusions will often go to indicate 
 not only that the fact is true, but that it was, at the 
 time when so alluded to, notorious and undisputed. 
 The account given by Herodotus, of Xerxes's cutting a 
 canal through the isthmus of Athos, which is ridiculed 
 by Juvenal,* is much more strongly attested by Thucy- 
 dides in an incidental mention of a place " near which 
 some remains of the canal might be seen," than if he 
 had distinctly recorded his conviction of the truth of 
 the narrative. 
 
 So also, the many slight allusions in the apostolic 
 epistles to the sufferings undergone, and the miracles 
 wrought, by disciples, as things familiar to the readers, 
 are much more decisive than distinct descriptions, nar- 
 ratives, or assertions, would have been. 
 
 Paley, in that most admirable specimen of Small cir . 
 the investigation of this kind of evidence, the cumstances 
 Horae Paulinae, puts in a most needful caution may have 
 against supposing that because it is on very f v dght. 
 minute points this kind of argument turns, 
 therefore the importance of these points in establishing 
 the conclusion is small.] The reverse, as he justly 
 observes, is the truth ; for the more minute, and in- 
 
 * " Velificatus Athos, et quicquid Graecia mendax 
 Audet in historia." 
 f- Thus Swift endeavoured (in Gulliver's Voyage toLaputa, and 
 in some of his poems,) to cast ridicule on some of the evidence on 
 which Bishop Atterbury's treasonable correspondence was brought 
 home to him ; the medium of proof being certain allusions, in 
 some of the letters, to a lame lap-dog 5 as if the importance of the 
 evidence were to be measured by the Intrinsic importance of the 
 dog. But Swift was far too acute a man probably to have fallen 
 himself into such an error as he was endeavouring, for party 
 purposes, to lead his readers into 
 
56 ELEMENTS OF RHETORIC. [Part I 
 
 trinsically trifling, and likely to escape notice, any 
 point is, the more does it preclude the idea of design 
 and fabrication, imitations of natural objects — flowers, 
 for instance — when so skilfully made as to deceive the 
 naked eye, are detected by submitting the natural and 
 the artificial to a, microscope. 
 
 The same remarks will apply to other kinds of sigr 
 also. The number and position of the nails in a man'f 
 shoe, corresponding with a foot-mark, or a notch in the 
 blade of a knife, have led to the detection of a murderer 
 Testimony The testimony of adversaries — including 
 of adversa- under this term all who would be unwilling 
 nes - to admit the conclusion to which their testi 
 
 mony tends — has, ;f course, great weight derived from 
 that circumstance. A nd as it will, oftener than not, fall 
 under the head of " undesigned," much minute research 
 will often be needful, in order to draw it out. 
 Cross-ex- In. oral examination of witnesses, a skilful 
 amination. cross-examiner will often elicit from a reluc- 
 tant witness most important truths, which the witness is 
 desirous of concealing or disguising. There is another 
 kind of skill, which consists in so alarming, misleading, 
 or bewildering an honest witness as to throw discredit on 
 his testimony, or pervert the effect of it. * Of this kind of 
 art, which may be characterised as the most, or one of 
 the most, base and depraved of all possible employments 
 of intellectual power, I shall only make one further ob- 
 servation. I am convinced that the most effectual mode 
 of eliciting truth, is quite different from that by which an 
 honest, simple-minded witness is most easily baffled and 
 confused. I have seen the experiment tried, of subject- 
 ing a witness to such a kind of cross-examination by a 
 ' practised lawyer as would have been, I am convinced, 
 the most likely to alarm and perplex many an honest 
 witness ; without any effect in shaking the testimony : 
 anu, afterwards, by a totally opposite mode of exami- 
 
 * See in Appendix [C] some extracts from a valuable pamphlet 
 *» the " License of Counsel." 
 
Chap. II. § 4.] OF CONVICTION. fi? 
 
 nation, such as would not have at all perplexed one who 
 tvas honestly telling the truth, that same witness was 
 drawn on, step by step, to acknowledge the utter falsity 
 of the whole. Generally speaking, I believe that a 
 quiet, gentle, and straightforward, though full and care- 
 ful examination, will be the most adapted to elicit 
 truth; and that the manoeuvres, and the brow-beating, 
 which are the most adapted to confuse an honest wit- 
 ness, are just what the dishonest one is the best pre- 
 pared for. The more the storm blusters, the more care- 
 fully he wraps round him the cloak, which a warm 
 sunshine will often induce him to throw off. 
 
 In any testimony (whether oral or written) Testimony 
 that is unwillingly borne, it will more fre- of adversa- 
 quently consist in something incidentally pes usually 
 implied, than in a distinct statement. For mci en a ' 
 instance, the generality of men, who are accustomed to 
 cry up common-sense as preferable to systems of art, 
 have been brought to bear witness, collectively, (in 
 preface to " Elements of Logic,") on the opposite side ; 
 inasmuch as each of them gives the preference to the 
 latter, in the subject, whatever it may be, in which he 
 is most conversant. 
 
 Sometimes, however, an adversary will be compelled 
 distinctly to admit something that makes against him, 
 in order to contest some other point. Thus, the testi 
 mony of the Evangelists, that the miracles of Jesus 
 were acknowledged by the unbelie\ers, and attributed 
 to magic, is confirmed by the Jews, in a work called 
 " Toldoth Jeschu ;" (the " Generation of Jesus;") which 
 must have been compiled (at whatever period) from 
 traditions existing from the very first ; since it is incre- 
 dible that if those contemporaries of Jesus who opposed 
 ♦him, had denied the fact of the miracles having been 
 wrought, their descendants should have admitted the 
 /acts, and resorted to the hypothesis of magic. 
 
 The negative testimony, either of adversa- Negative 
 ries, or of indifferent persons, is often of great testimony. 
 
JB ELEMENTS OF RHETORIC. [Part I 
 
 weight When statements or arguments, publicly put 
 forth, aud generally known, remain uncontradicted, an 
 appeal may fairly be made to this circumstance, as a 
 confirmatory testimony on the part of those acquainted 
 with the matter, and interested in it ; especially if they 
 are likely to be unwilling to admit the conclusion. 
 Concurrent It is manifest that the concurrent testi- 
 testimony. mony, positive or negative, of several wit- 
 nesses, when there can have been no concert, and es- 
 pecially when there is any rvalry or hostility between 
 them, carries with it a weight independent of that which 
 may belong to each of them considered separately. For 
 though, in such a case, each of the witnesses should be 
 even considered as wholly undeserving of credit, still 
 the chances might be incalculable against their all 
 agreeing in the same falsehood. It is in this kind of 
 testimony that the generality of mankind believe in the 
 motions of the earth, and of the heavenly bodies, &c. 
 Their belief is not the result of their own observations 
 and calculations ; nor yet again of their implicit reliance 
 on the skill and the good-faith of any one or more As- 
 tronomers ; but it rests on the agreement of many in- 
 dependent and rival Astronomers ; who want neither the 
 ability nor the will to detect and expose each other's 
 errors. It is on similar grounds, as Dr. Hinds has justly 
 observed,* that all men, except about two or three in a 
 million, believe in the existence and in the genuineness 
 of manuscripts of ancient books, such as the Scriptures. 
 It is not that they have themselves examined these ; or 
 again, (as some represent) that they rely implicitly on 
 the good-faith of those who profess to have done so ; 
 but they rely on the concurrent and uncontradicted tes- 
 timony of all who have made, or who might make, the 
 examination ; both unbelievers, and believers of various, 
 hostile sects ; any one of whom would be sure to s^ize 
 any opportunity to expose the forgeries or errors of his 
 opponents. 
 
 » Hinds on inspiration. 
 
Chap. II. §4.] OF CONVICTION. 59 
 
 This observation is the more important, because 
 many persons are, liable to be startled and dismayed on 
 its being pointed out to them that they have been be- 
 lieving something — as they are led to suppose — on very 
 insufficient reasons; when the truth is perhaps that 
 they have been mis-stating their reasons.* 
 
 A remarkable instance of the testimony of adversaries 
 — both positive and negative — has been afforded in the 
 questions respecting penal-colonies. The pernicious 
 character of the system was proved in various publica- 
 tions, and subsequently, before two committees of the 
 House of Commons, from the testimony of persons who 
 were friendly to that system ; the report and evidence 
 taken before those committees was published ; and all 
 this remained uncontradicted for years ; till, on motions 
 being made for the abolition of the system,f persons had 
 the effrontery to come forward at the eleventh hour and 
 deny the truth of the representations given : thus pro- 
 nouncing on themselves a heavy condemnation, for hav- 
 ing either left that representation — supposing they 
 thought it false — so long- unrefuted, or else, denying 
 what they knew to be true. 
 
 Misrepresentation, again, of argument — attempts to 
 suppress evidence, or to silence a speaker by clamour 
 — reviling and personality, and false charges — all these 
 are presumptions of the same kind; that the cause 
 against which they are brought, is — in the opinion of 
 adversaries at least — unassailable on the side of truth. 
 
 To the same head maybe referred the silence of scho- 
 lars of various sects and parties, as evidence (as has 
 been already remarked) in respect of any ancient book 
 of high importance, whose existence and genuineness 
 they do not deny. 
 
 As for the character of the particular things Character 
 that in any case may be attested, it is plain attested." 
 
 * See Appendix, [D.] 
 
 t See " Substance of a Speech on Transportation, delivered is 
 the House of Lords, on the 19th of May, 1840." &c 
 
I J ELEMENTS OF RHETORIC. [PA&Ti 
 
 that we have to look to the probability or improbabi- 
 lity of their having been either imagined, or invented 
 by the persons attesting them. 
 
 Any thing unlikely to occur, is, so far, the less like- 
 ly to have been feigned or fancied : so that its antece- 
 dent improbability may sometimes add to the credibility 
 of those who bear witness to it.* And again, any thing 
 which, however likely to take place, would not have 
 been likely, otherwise, to enter the mind of those parti- 
 cular persons who attest it, or would be at variance 
 with their interest or prejudices, is thereby rendered the 
 more credible. Thus, when some one relates something 
 which, though intelligible to us, he appears himself not 
 clearly to understand, this is a proof that it is no for- 
 gery of his. And, as has been above remarked, when 
 the disciples of Jesus record occurrences and discourses, 
 6uch as were both foreign to all the notions, and at va- 
 riance with all the prejudices, of any man living in those 
 days, and of Jews more especially, this is a strong con- 
 firmation of their testimony. The negative circumstance 
 also, of a witness's omitting to mention things, which 
 it is morally certain he would have mentioned, had he 
 been inventing, adds great weight to what he does say.-f 
 Concurrent ^ ne remar k above made, as to the force of 
 signs of concurrent testimonies, even though each, 
 other kinds, separately, might have little or none,t bu 
 whose accidental agreement in a falsehood would be 
 
 * See Sermon IV. on " A Christian Place of Worship." 
 | See Essay on Omissiors, &c. 1st Series, Essay 6. 
 \ It is observed by Dr. Campbell that " It deserves likewise to 
 be attended to on this subject, that in a number of concurrent testi- 
 monies, (in cases wherein there could have been no previous con- 
 cert,) there is a probability distinct from that which may be termed 
 the sum of the probabilities resulting from the testimonies of the 
 Witnesses, a probability which would remain even though the wit- 
 nesses were of such a character as to merit no faith at all. This 
 probability arises purely from the concurrence itself. That such 
 a concurrence should spring from chance, is as one to infinite ; that 
 js, in other words, morally impossible. If therefore conortbe ex- 
 cluded, there remains no other cause but the reality of the fact." 
 Campbell's Philosophy of Rhetoric, c. v. b. i. part 3, p. 125 
 
Chap. II. § 4.] OF CONVICTION. M 
 
 extremely improbable, is not solely applicable to tha 
 Argument from Testimony, but may be extended to 
 many arguments of other kinds also ; in which a simi- 
 lar calculation of chances will enable us to draw a con- 
 clusion, sometimes even amounting to moral certainty, 
 from a combination of data which singly would have had 
 little or no weight. E. G. If any one out of a hundred 
 men throw a stone which strikes a certain object,* 
 there is but a slight probability, from that fact alone 
 that he aimed at that object ; but if all the hundred 
 threw stones which struck the same object, no one would 
 doubt that they aimed at it. It is from such a combina 
 tion of argument that we infer the existence of an in- 
 telligent Creator, from the marks of contrivance visible 
 in the universe, though many of these are such as, taken 
 singly, might well be conceived undesigned and acci- 
 dental ; but that they should all be such, is morally im- 
 possible. 
 
 Great care is requisite in setting forth clearly, espe- 
 cially in any popular discourse, argumentsof this nature ; 
 the generality of men being better qualified for under- 
 standing (to use Lord Bacon's words) " particulars, one 
 by one," than for taking a comprehensive view of a 
 whole ; and therefore in a galaxy of evidence, as it may 
 be called, in which the brilliancy of no single star can 
 be pointed out, the lustre of the combination is often 
 lost on them 
 
 Hence it is, as was remarked in the Trea- Fallacy o? 
 tiseon Fallacies, that the sophism of "Com Composi- 
 position," as it is called, so frequently mis- lon ' 
 leads men. It is not improbable, (in the above example,) 
 that each of the stones considered separately, may have 
 been thrown at random : and therefore the same is con 
 eluded of all, considered in conjunction. Not that ii. 
 such an instance, as this, any one would reason sc, 
 weakly ; but that a still greater absurdity of the very 
 
 * If I recollect rightly, these are the words of Mr. DugaH 
 @l»wart 
 
 6 
 
€2 ELEMENTS OF RHETORIC. [Pam- * 
 
 same kind is involved in the rejection of the evidences 
 of our religion, will be plain to any one who considers, 
 not merely the individual force but the number and va- 
 riety of those evidences.* 
 
 What is § 5. And here it may be observed, that 
 
 meant by though the easiest popular way of practically 
 against any refuting the fallacy just mentioned (or indeed 
 supposition. a ny fallacy) is, by bringing forward a parallel 
 case, where it leads to a manifest absurdity, a meta- 
 physical objection may still be urged against many 
 cases in which we thus reason from calculation of 
 chances ; an objection not perhaps likely practically to 
 influence any one, but which may afford the Sophist a 
 triumph over those who are unable to find a solution ; 
 and which may furnish an excuse for the rejection of 
 evidence which one is previously resolved not to admit. 
 If it were answered then, to those who maintain that 
 the universe, which exhibits so many marks of design, 
 might be the work of non -intelligent causes, that no 
 one would believe it possible for such a work as e. g 
 me Iliad, to be produced by a fortuitous shaking toge- 
 ther of the letters of the alphabet, the Sophist might 
 challenge us to explain why even this last supposition 
 should be regarded as less probable than any other ; 
 since the letters of which the Iliad is composed, If sha- 
 ken together at random, must fall in some form or other 
 and though the chances are millions of millions to one 
 against that, or any other determinate order, there are 
 precisely as many chances against one as against another , 
 whether more or less regular. And in like manner, as- 
 tonished as we should be, and convinced of the inter- 
 vention of artifice, if we saw any one draw out all the 
 tards in a pack in regular sequences, it is demonstrable 
 that the chances are not more against that order, than 
 against any one determinate order we might choose to 
 
 • Mr. Davison in the introduction to his work on Prophecy, state* 
 strongly the cumulative force of a multitude of small particulars 
 Bee ch. iii. % 4, of this Treatise 
 
Chap. II. § 5.] OF CONVICTION. fij 
 
 fix upon ; against that one, for instance, in which the 
 cards are at this moment actually lying in any indivi- 
 dual pack. The multitude of the chances, therefore, 
 tie would say, against any series of events, does not 
 constitute it improbable ; since the like happens to 
 every one every day ; e. g. a man walking through 
 London-streets, on his business, meets accidentally 
 hundreds of others passing to and fro on theirs , 
 and he would not say at the close of the day that any 
 thing improbable had occurred to him ; yet it would al- 
 most baffle calculation to compute the chances against 
 his meeting precisely those very persons, in the order, 
 and at the times and places of his actually meeting each. 
 The paradox thus seemingly established, though few 
 might be practically misled by it, many would be at 
 a loss to solve. 
 
 The truth is, that any supposition is just- mQt . g 
 ;y called improbable, not from the number meant by an 
 )f chances against it, considered indepen- improbabi- 
 lently, but from the number of chances geJseo/itg 
 against it compared with those which lie having ma- 
 against some other supposition. We call a y ai ^Ji t ces 
 the drawing of a prize in the lottery impro- 
 bable ; though there be but five to one against it ; be- 
 cause there are more chances of a blank : on the other 
 hand, if any one were cast on a desert island under cir- 
 cumstances which warranted his believing that the 
 chances were a hundred to one against any one's having 
 been there before him, yet if he found on the sand peb- 
 bles so arranged as to form distinctly the letters of a 
 man's name, he would not only conclude it probable, 
 but absolutely certain, that some human being had been 
 there ; because there would be millions of chancer 
 against those forms having been produced by the for- 
 tuitous action of the waves. Yet if, instead of this, I 
 should find some tree on the island such that the chan- 
 ces appeared to me five to one against its having growfl 
 there spontaneously, still, if, as before, I conceived the 
 
64 ELE F aHETORIC. [Part I 
 
 - :i hundred to one against any man's having 
 planted il (here, I i houM at once re< kon this last as the 
 more unlikely supposition. 
 
 So also, in the instance above given, any unmet 
 form into which a number of letters might fall, would 
 not be called improbable, countless as the chances are 
 I that particular order, because thereare jv tcu 
 many againsl each one ol all other unmeaning forms; 
 so that noonswould be comparatively improbable ; but 
 if the letters formed a coherenl poem, it would then be 
 called incalculably improbable that this form should 
 have been fortuitous, though the chances against it re- 
 main the very same; because there must be much 
 l< in , < ban* • against the upposition of its having been 
 the work of <i< tign. The probability in short, of any 
 supposition, is estimated from ^.comparison with each 
 The inclination of the balance can- 
 not be ascertained from knowing the weights in one 
 scale, unless we know what is in tin- opposite scale. 
 So also the pressure of the atmosphere (equivalent to 
 about 30,000 pounds on the body "I an ordinarj man) 
 [ell while it is equable on all parts, and balanced 
 by the air within the body ; but is at once perceived, 
 when the pre sureii removed from any part, by the 
 air-pump or cupp 
 
 The foregoing ob ici ifat on hi 
 remarked, are nol confined to Argument - from T< stimo- 
 ny, but apply to all cases in which the degree of pro- 
 bability is estimated from a calculation of chani 
 Di«boll< •■ 1 " 1 """"' ^ urtnel remarks on this subject 
 
 the reader is ref i red to § 17 of the Treatise 
 on Fallacies,' 1 w here the " Fallacy of Objec- 
 I ed. It i- most important to Keep in 
 
 mind the sell evident, but often forgotten maxim that 
 disbelief is belief ; only, they have reference to opposite 
 tonclusion E <> To disbelieve the real existence of 
 the city of Tro) , is to b< lieve that it w : and 
 
 • i i gtei B. iii. 
 
Cbai-. II. $ G.] OF CONVICTION. $5 
 
 which conclusion implies the greater credulity, is the 
 question to be decided. To some il may appear more, 
 to others, less, probable, that a Greek poet should have 
 celebrated (with whatever exaggerations) some of the 
 feats of arms in which his countrymen had actually 
 been engaged, than that he should have passed by all 
 
 these, and resorted to such as were wholly imaginary 
 
 The proper opposite to belief is either 
 conscious ignorance, or doubt. And even orctoubtop' 
 
 Doubt may sometimes amount to a kind posed to Bo 
 of Belief ; since deliberate and confirmed IloL 
 Doubt, on a question that one has attended to, implies 
 a " verdict .of not proven ,■** — & belief that there is not 
 sufficient evidence to determine either one way or the 
 other. And in some cases this conclusion would lie 
 accounted a mark of excessive credulity. A man who 
 should doubt whether there is such a city as Rome, 
 would imply Ins belief in (what most would account a 
 moral impossibility) the possibility of such multitudes 
 of independent witnesses having concurred ia a fabri- 
 cation. 
 
 § 6. Before I dismiss the consideration of Progressiva 
 Signs, it may be worth while to notice ano- approach. 
 ther case oi combined Argument different from the one 
 lately mentioned, yet in some degree resembling it. The 
 combination just spoken oi. Is where several Testimo- 
 nies or other Signs, singly perhaps of little weight, pro- 
 duce jointly, and by their coincidence, a degree of prob- 
 ability far exceeding the Sunt of their several forces, ta- 
 ken separately : in the case 1 am now about to notice, 
 the combined force of the series of arguments results 
 from the order in which they are considered, and from 
 their progressive tendency to establish a Certain conclu- 
 sion. K. Q, one part oi the law of nature called the 
 "vis inertia," is established by the argument alluded 
 to; viz. that a body set in motion will eternally con- 
 tinue in motion with uniform velocity in a right line, 
 so far as it is not acted upon by any causes fvhich ra- 
 ti 
 
56 ELEMENTS OF RHETORIC. [Part i. 
 
 tard or stop, accelerate, or divert, its course. Now, aa 
 in every cause which can come under our observation, 
 some such causes do intervene, the assumed supposi- 
 tion is practically impossible ; and we have no oppor- 
 tunity of verifying the law by direct experiment : but 
 we may gradually approach indefinitely near to the 
 case supposed ; and on the result of such experiments 
 our conclusion is founded. We find that when a body 
 is projected along a rough surface, its motion is speedily 
 retarded, and soon stopped ; if along a smoother surface, 
 it continues longer in motion ; if upon ice, longer still ; 
 and the like with regard to wheels, &c. in proportion 
 as we gradually lessen the friction of the machinery : 
 and if we remove the resistance of the air by setting a 
 wheel or pendulum in motion under an exhausted re- 
 ceiver, the motion is still longer continued. Finding 
 then that the effect of the original impulse is more and 
 more protracted, in proportion as we more and more re- 
 move the impediments to motion from friction and re- 
 sistance of the air, we reasonably conclude that if this 
 could be completely done, (which is out of our power,) 
 the motion would never cease, since what appear to be 
 the only causes of its cessation would be absent.* 
 
 Again, in arguing for the existence and moral attri- 
 butes of the Deity from the authority of men's opinions, 
 great use may be made of a like progressive course 01 
 Argument, though it has been often overlooked. Some 
 have argued for the being of a God from the universal, 
 or at least, general, consent of mankind; and some 
 have appealed to the opinions of the wisest and most 
 cultivated portion, respecting both the existence and 
 the moral excellence of the Deity. It cannot be denied 
 that there is a presumptive force in each of these argu- 
 ments ; but it may be answered, that it is conceivable 
 an opinion common to almost all the species, may pos- 
 sibly be an error resulting from a constitutional infir. 
 
 * See the argument in Butler's Analogy to prove the advaa 
 tags which Virtue, if perfect, might be expected to obtain. 
 
Chap. II. § 6.] OF CONVICTION 67 
 
 mity of the human intellect ; — that if we are to acqui- 
 esce in the belief of the majority, we shall be led to 
 Polytheism; such being the creed of the greater part : 
 — and that though more weight may reasonably be at- 
 tached to the opinions of the wisest and best-instructed, 
 still, as we know such men are not exempt from error, 
 we cannot be perfectly safe in adopting the belief they 
 hold, unless we are convinced that they hold it in con- 
 sequence of their being the wisest and best-instructed ; 
 — so far forth as they are such. Now this is precisely 
 the point which may be established by the above-men- 
 tioned progressive Argument. Nations of Atheists, if 
 there are any such, are confessedly among the rudes' 
 and most ignorant savages : those who represent their 
 God or Gods as malevolent, capricious, or subject to 
 human passions and vices, are invariably to be found 
 (in the present day at least) among those who are bru- 
 tal and uncivilized ; and among the most civilized na- 
 tions of the ancients, who professed a similar creed, 
 the more enlightened members of society seem either to 
 have rejected altogether, or to have explained away, the 
 popular belief. The Mahometan nations, again, of the 
 present day, who are certainly more advanced in civili- 
 zation than their Pagan neighbours, maintain the unity 
 and the moral excellence of the Deity ; but the nations 
 of Christendom, whose notions of the divine goodness 
 are more exalted, are undeniably the most civilized part 
 of the world, and possess, generally speaking, the most 
 cultivated and improved intellectual powers. Now if we 
 would ascertain, and appeal to, the sentiments of man 
 as a rational being, we must surely look to those which 
 not only prevail most among the most rational and cul- 
 tivated, but towards which also a progressive tendency 
 is found in men in proportion to their degrees of ration- 
 ality and cultivation. It would be most extravagant 
 to suppose that man's advance towards a more improved 
 and exalted state of existence should tend to obliterate 
 true and instil false notions. On the contrary we are 
 
68 ELEMENTS OF RHETORIC. [Part I 
 
 authorized to conclude, that those notions would be the 
 most correct, which men would entertain, whose know- 
 ledge, intelligence, and intellectual cultivation should 
 have reached comparatively the highest pitch of perfec- 
 tion ; and that those consequently will approach the 
 nearest to the truth, which are entertained, more or 
 less, by various nations, in proportion as they have ad- 
 vanced towards this civilized state. 
 
 Many other instances might be adduced, in which 
 truths of the highest importance may be elicited by this 
 process of argumentation; which will enable us to 
 decide with sufficient probability what consequence 
 would follow from an hypothesis which we have never 
 experienced. It might, not improperly, be termed the 
 Argument from Progressive Approach. 
 
 § 7. The third kind of Arguments to be 
 xamp e. cons i ( j ere( j j (being the other branch of the 
 second of the two classes originally laid down, see § 3,) 
 may be treated of under the general name of Example ; 
 taking that term in its widest acceptation, so as to 
 comprehend the Arguments designated by the various 
 names of Induction, Experience, Analogy, Parity of 
 Reasoning, &c, all of which are essentially the same, 
 as far as regards the fundamental principles I am here 
 treating of. For in all the Arguments designated by 
 these names, it will be found, that we consider one or 
 more, known, individual objects or instances, of a 
 certain class, as a fair sample, in respect of some point 
 or other, of that class ; and consequently draw an 
 inference from them respecting either the whole class, 
 or other, less known, individuals of it. 
 
 In Arguments of this kind* then it will be found, 
 that, universally, we assume as a major premiss, that 
 what is true (in regard to the point in question) of the 
 individual or individuals which we bring forward and 
 appeal to, is true of the whole class to which they 
 belong ; the minor premiss next asserts something oJ 
 * See Logic, B. ir. ch. \.\\. 
 
Chap. II. § 7 ] OF CONVICTION. 69 
 
 that individual ; and the same is then inferred respecting 
 the whole class ; whether we stop at that general 
 conclusion, or descend from thence to another, 
 unknown, individual; in which last case, which is 
 the most usually called the Argument from Example, 
 we generally omit, for the sake of brevity, the inter- 
 mediate step, and pass at once, in the expression of 
 the Argument, from the known, to the unknown, 
 individual. This ellipsis however does not, as some- 
 seem to suppose, make any essential difference in the 
 mode of Reasoning ; the reference to a common class 
 being always, in such a case, understood, though not 
 expressed ; for it is evident that there can be no 
 reasoning from one individual to another, unless they 
 come under some common genus, and are considered 
 in that point of view ; e. g. 
 *' Astronomy was de- 
 cried at its first introduc- 
 tion, as adverse to reli- 
 gion :" 
 
 % # 
 
 ,g> ,$> 
 
 " Every science is likely to be decried at its first intro- 
 duction, as adverse to religion." 
 
 This kind of example, therefore, appears to be a com- 
 pound argument, consisting of two enthymemes : and 
 when (as often happens) we infer from a known effect 
 a certain cause, and again, from that cause, another, 
 unknown effect, we then unite in this example, the ar- 
 gument from effect to cause, and that from cause to ef- 
 fect. E. G we may, from the marks of Divine bene- 
 volence in this world, argue, that " the like will be 
 shown in the next :" through the intermediate conclu 
 won, that, " God is benevolent." This is not indeed 
 ilways the case ; but there seems to' be in every exam* 
 
 " Geology is likely to be 
 decried," &c. 
 
70 ELEMENTS OF RHETORIC. [Part 1 
 
 pie, a reference to some cause, though that cause may 
 frequently be unknown; e. g. we suppose, in the in- 
 stance above given, that there is some cause, though 
 we may be at a loss to assign it, which leads men gene 
 rally to decry a new science. 
 
 The term " Induction," is commonly ap= 
 Induction. p]j ea t suc h arguments as stop short at the 
 general conclusion ; and is thus contradistinguished, in 
 common use, from Example. There is also this addi» 
 tional difference, that when we draw a general conclu • 
 sion from several individual cases, we use the word la* 
 duction in the singular number ; while each one of these 
 cases, if the application were made to another individu- 
 al, would be called a distinct example. This difference, 
 however, is not essential ; since whether the inference 
 be made from one instance or from several, it is equally 
 called an Induction, if a general conclusion be legiti 
 mately drawn. And this is to be determined by the 
 nature of the subject-matter. In the investigation of 
 the laws of nature, a single experiment, fairly and care- 
 fully made, is usually allowed to be conclusive ; because 
 we can, then, pretty nearly ascertain all the circumstan- 
 ces operating. A Chemist who had ascertained, in a 
 single specimen of gold, its capability of combining with 
 mercury, would not think it necessary to try the same 
 experiment with several other specimens, but would 
 draw the conclusion concerning those metals univers- 
 ally, and with certainty. In human affairs on the con- 
 trary our uncertainty respecting many of the circum- 
 stances that may affect the result, obliges us to collect 
 many coinciding instances to warrant even a probable 
 conclusion. From one instance, e. g. of the assassina- 
 tion of an usurper, it would not be allowable to infer 
 the certainty, or even the probability, of a like fate at- 
 tending all usurpers.* 
 
 Experi- Experience, in its original and proper sense, 
 
 •ace. is applicable to the premises from which 
 
 ♦ See Logic, "On the Province of Reasoning'* 
 
Chap II. § 7.] OF CONVICTION. 71 
 
 we argue, not to the inference we draw. Strictly 
 speaking, we know by experience only the past, and 
 what has passed under our own observation ; thus, wi 
 know by experience that the tides have daily ebbed and 
 flowed, during such a time ; and from the testimony of 
 others as to their own experience, that the tides have 
 formerly done so : and from this experience, we 
 •-onclude, by induction, that the same phenomenon 
 will continue.* 
 
 " Men are so formed as (often unconsciously) to 
 reason, whether well or ill, on the phenomena they 
 observe, and to mix up their inferences with their 
 statements of those phenomena, so as in fact to theo- 
 rize (however scantily and crudely) without knowing 
 it. If you will be at the pains carefully to analyze the 
 simplest descriptions you hear of any transaction or 
 state of things, you will find, that the process which 
 almost invariably takes place is, in logical language, 
 this; that each individual has in his mind certain 
 major -premises or principles, relative to the subject in 
 question ; that observation of what actually presents 
 itself to the senses, supplies minor -premises ; and that 
 the statement given (and which is repoited as a thing 
 experienced) consists in fact of the conclusions drawn 
 from the combinations of those premises. 
 
 " Hence it is that several different men, who have all 
 had equal, or even the very same, experience, i. e. have 
 been witnesses or agents in the same transactions, 
 will often be found to resemble so many different men 
 looking at the same book: one perhaps, though he 
 distinctly sees black marks on white paper, has never 
 learned his letters ; another can jead, but is a stranger 
 to the language in which the book'is written; another 
 has an acquaintance with the language, but understands 
 it imperfectly ; another is familiar with the language 
 but is a stranger to the subject of the book, and wants 
 
 • See the article " Experience " in the Appendix to the Treatwt 
 an Logic. 
 
78 ELEMENTS OF RHETORIC. [Part t 
 
 power, or previous instruction, to enable him fully to 
 take in the author's drift ; while another again perfectly 
 comprehends the whole. 
 
 " The object that strikes the eye is to all of these per- 
 sons the same ; the difference of the impressions pro- 
 duced on the mind of each is referable to the differences 
 in their minds. 
 
 " And this explains the fact, that we find so much 
 discrepancy in the results of what are called Experi 
 ence and Common-sense, as contradistinguished from 
 Theory. Tn former times, men knew by experience, 
 that the eartb stands still, and the sun rises and sets. 
 Common-sense taught them that there could be no anti- 
 podes, since men could not stand with iheir heads down- 
 wards, like flies on the ceiling. Experience taught the 
 King of Bantam that water could not become solid. And 
 (to come to the consideration of human affairs) the ex- 
 perience and common-sense of one of the most obser- 
 vant and intelligent of historians, Tacitus, convinced 
 him, that for a mixed government to be so framed as to 
 combine the elements of Royalty, Aristocracy, and De- 
 mocracy, must be next to impossible, and that if such 
 a one could be framed, it must inevitably be very spee- 
 dily dissolved."* 
 
 Analogy The w ? rd Analo gy a S ain is generally 
 
 employed in the case of Arguments in whict 
 the instance adduced is somewhat more remote from that 
 to which it is applied ; e. g. a physician would be said 
 to know by experience the noxious effects of a certain 
 drug on the human constitution, if he had Irequently 
 seen men poisoned by it ; but if he thence conjectured 
 that it would be noxious to some other species of ani- 
 mal, he would be sa"id to reason from analogy ; the only 
 difference being that the resemblance is less, between a 
 man and a brute, than between one man and another, 
 and accordingly it is found that many brutes are not 
 acted upon by some drugs which are pernicious to man. 
 
 TVilit^al Fcor.omy, Lect. iii. pp. 69— 71 
 
Chap. II. § 7.] OF CONVICTION. 73 
 
 But more stiictly speaking, Analogy ought to be dis- 
 tinguished from direct resemblance, with which it is 
 often confounded in the language even of eminent wri- 
 ters (especially on Chemistry and Natural History) in 
 the present day. Analogy being a " resemblance oi 
 ratios,''* that should strictly be called an Argument from 
 Analogy, in which the two things (viz. the one from 
 which, and the one to which, we argue) are not, neces 
 sarily, themselves alike, but stand in similar relations 
 to some other things ; or, in other words, that the com- 
 mon genus which they both fall under, consists in a 
 relation. Thus an q^ and a seed are not in themselves 
 alike, but bear a like relation, to the. parent bird and to 
 her future nestling, on the one hand, and to the old and 
 young plant on the other, respectively ; this relation 
 being the genus which both fall under: and many Ar- 
 guments might be drawn from this Analogy. Again, 
 the fact that from birth different persons have different 
 bodily constitutions, in respect of complexion, stature, 
 strength, shape, liability to particular disorders, &c. 
 which constitutions, however, are capable of being, to 
 a certain degree, modified by regimen, medicine, &c 
 affords an Analogy by which we may form a presump- 
 tion, that the like takes place in respect of mental qua- 
 lities also ; though it is plain that there can be no di- 
 rect resemblance either between body and mind, or their 
 respective attributes. 
 
 In this kind of Argument, one error, which is very 
 common, and which is to be sedulously avoided, is that 
 of concluding the things in question to be alike, because 
 they are analogous; — to resemble each other in them 
 selves, because there is a resemblance in the relation 
 they bear to certain other things; which is manifestly 
 a groundless inference. Another caution is applicab, 
 to the whole class of Arguments from Example ; vis; 
 not to consider the resemblance or analogy to extend 
 further (t. e. to more particulars) than it Joes. The 
 * Aoj'wv biiotdrtK Aristotle 
 
74 ELEMENTS OF RHETORIC. [Pakt L 
 
 resemblance of a picture to the object it represents, is 
 direct ; but it extends no further than the one sense, of 
 seeing, is concerned. In the parable of the unjust 
 steward, an argument is drawn from analogy, to recom- 
 mend prudence and foresight to Christians in spiritual 
 concerns ; but it would be absurd to conclude that fraud 
 was recommended to our imitation ; and yet mistakes 
 very similar to such a perversion of that argument are 
 by no means rare/ 
 
 Important Sound judgment and vigilant caution are 
 
 and unim- no where more called for than in observing 
 semblances what differences (perhaps seemingly small) 
 and difleren- do, and what do not, nullify the analogy be- 
 ces of cases, tween two cases. And the same may be 
 said in regard to the applicability of Precedents, or ac- 
 knowledged Decisions of any kind, such as Scripture- 
 precepts, &c. ; all of which indeed are, in their essence, 
 of the nature of Example ; since every recorded decla- 
 ration, or injunction, (of admitted authority) may be 
 regarded — in connexion with the persons to whom, and 
 the occasion on which, it was delivered — as a known 
 case ; from which consequently we may reason to any 
 other parallel case ; and the question which we must 
 be careful in deciding will be, to whom, and to what, it 
 is applicable. For, as I have said, a seemingly small 
 circumstance will often destroy the analogy, so as to 
 make a precedent — precept, &c — inapplicable : and 
 often, on the other hand, some difference, in itself im- 
 
 * "Thus, because a just Analogy has been discerned between 
 the metropolis of a country, and the heart of the animal body, it 
 has been sometimes contended that its increased size is a disease- 
 that it may impede some of its most important functions, or even be 
 the cause of its dissolution." See Copleston's Inquvy into tkt 
 Doctrines of Necessity and Predestination, note to Disc. iii. q. v. for 
 a very able dissertation on the subject of Analogy, in the course of 
 an analysis of Dr. King-s Discourse on Predestination. (See Appen 
 dix [E].) In the preface to the last edition of that Discourse I 
 have offered some additional remarks on the subject ; and I have 
 again adverted to it (chiefly in reply to some popular objections to 
 Dr. King) in the Dissertation on the Province of Reasoning, sub 
 joined ta the Elements of Logic. Ch. v. § 1, note, p. 265. 
 
Chap. JL § 7.] OF CONVICTION. 76 
 
 pcrtant, may be pointed out between two cases, which 
 shall not at all weaken the analogy in respect of the 
 argument in hand. And thus there is a danger both of 
 being misled by specious arguments of this description, 
 which have no real force, and also of being staggered 
 by plausible objections against such examples or ap- 
 peals to authority, &c. as are perfectly valid. Hence 
 Aristotle observes, that an opponent, if he cannot show 
 that the majority of instances is on his side, or that 
 those adduced by his adversary are inapplicable, con- 
 tends that they, at any rate, differ in something from 
 the case in question ; duupopav ye rtva ££«.* 
 
 Many are misled, in each way, by not estimating 
 aright the degree, and the kind, of difference between 
 two cases. E. G. it would be admitted that a great 
 and permanent diminution in the qnantity of some 
 useful commodity, such as corn, or coal, or iron, 
 throughout the world, would be a serious and lasting 
 loss ; and that if the fields and coal-mines yielded re- 
 gularly double quantities, with the same labour, we 
 should be so much the richer ; hence it might be infer 
 red, that if the quantity of gold and silver in the world 
 were diminished one-half, or were doubled, like results 
 would follow ; the utility of these metals, for the pur- 
 poses of coin, being very great. Now there are many 
 points of resemblance, and many of difference, between 
 the precions metals on the one hand, and corn, coal,&c. 
 on the other; but the important circumstance to the 
 supposed argument, is, that the utility of gold and silver 
 (as coin, which is far the chief) depends on their value, 
 which is regulated by their scarcity ; or rather, to speak 
 strictly, by the difficulty of obtaining them ; whereas, 
 if corn and coal were ten times more abundant, (i. e. 
 more easily obtained,) a bushel of either would still be 
 as useful as now. But if it were twice as easy to pro- 
 cure gold as it is, a sovereign would be twice as large ; 
 if only half as easy, it would be of the size of a half* 
 *Rhei. b.ii. ch. 27. 
 
76 ELEMENTS OF RHETORIC. [Part I 
 
 sovereign : and this (besides the trifling circumstance 
 of the cheapness or dearness of gold-ornaments) woulo 
 be all the difference. The analogy, therefore, fails in 
 the point essential to the argument. 
 
 Again, the Apostle Paul recommends to the Corin- 
 thians celibacy as preferable to marriage : hence soma 
 religionists have inferred that this holds good inrespec\ 
 of all Christians. Now in many most important points, 
 Christians of the present day are in the same condition 
 as the Corinthians ; but they were liable to plunder, 
 exile, and many kinds of bitter persecutions from their 
 fellow-citizens ; and it appears that this was the very 
 ground on which celibacy was recommended to them, 
 as exempting them from many afflictions and tempta- 
 tions which in such troublous times a family would 
 entail; since, as Bacon observes, "He that hath a wife 
 and children hath given pledges to fortune." Now, 
 it is not, be it observed, on the intrinsic importance of 
 this difference between them and us that the question 
 turns; but on its importance in reference to the advice 
 given. 
 
 On the other hand, suppose any one had, at the 
 opening of the French revolution, or at any similar 
 conjuncture, expressed apprehensions, grounded on a 
 review of history, of the danger of anarchy, bloodshed, 
 destruction of social order, general corruption of morals, 
 and the long train of horrors so vividly depicted by 
 rhucydides as resulting from civil discord, especially 
 in his account of the sedition at Corcyra; it might have 
 been answered, that the example does not apply, 
 because there is a great difference between the Greeks 
 in the time of Thucydides, and the nations of modern 
 Europe. Many and great, no doubt, are the differences 
 that might be enumerated : the ancient Greeks had not 
 the use of fire-arms, nor of the mariner's compass ; they 
 were strangers to the art of printing ; their arts of war 
 and of navigation, and their literature, were materially 
 influenced by these differences: they had domestic 
 
Chap. II § 7.] OF CONVICTION. 37 
 
 slaves; they were inferior to us in many manufactures; 
 they excelled us in sculpture, &c, &c. The historian 
 himself, while professing to leave a legacy of instruc- 
 tion for future ages* in the examples of the past, admits 
 that the aspect of political transactions will vary from 
 time to time in their particular forms and external 
 character, as well as in the degrees in which the opera- 
 tion of each principle will, on different occasions, he 
 displayed ;f but he contends, that " as long as human 
 nature remains tlie same" like causes will come into 
 play, and produce, substantially, like effects. 
 
 In Corcyra, and afterwards in other of the Grecian 
 states, such enormities, he says, were perpetrated as 
 were the natural result — of pitiless oppression , and 
 inordinate thirst for revenge on the oppressors ; — of a 
 craving desire, in some, to get free from their former 
 poverty, and still more, in others, to gratify their 
 avarice by unjust spoliation; — and of the removal 
 of legal restraints from " the natural character of 
 man," (?) uvdpwTreia Qvoie) which, in consequence, 
 " eagerly displayed itself as too weak for passion, too 
 strong for justice, and hostile to every superior."^ Now 
 the question important to the argument, is, are the 
 differences between the ancient Greeks, and modern 
 nations, of such a character as to make the remarks of 
 Thucydides, and the examples he sets before us, inap- 
 plicable ? or are they (as he seems to have expected) 
 merely such as to alter the external shape (e Woe) of the 
 
 * Krw;rt is ad 
 
 f Tiyvofteva fiev, Kai au. iad/icva, ewj uv 'H AYTH <I>YXI2 avQpu>- 
 7ru>i' ij ua\Xuv fit, Kai f/avxairtpa, Kai rols e'idsm SirjWayniva, wj av, 
 &c. B. iii. §82, 
 
 \ 'Er <5' ovv n) KeftKvpq to. -o\\a avrwv ^po£To\fir'i9T], Kai bi:6ca v(ipti 
 pev apxdfizvoi to ttAeov J) o<j)(ppoovi'T], v-b tu>v t?)v Tijxupiav r.apaax^v- 
 luv, o\ avrauvvnuEvoi^pdcEiav irevias <5« TTjsetwQvias cnraWafyiovris 
 tives, ixaXiora 6' uv did -nddovq tTridvuovvTESTd twv veXas ?%«v, irapd 
 Hkt]V yiyv&GKOUV * * * * IvvrapaxQtvTOS te tov (3iov, is -bv Kaipbv 
 rourov.T>i ~6Xei, Kai tZv vopLwv Kpar/jaaaa % dvOpwizEia <f>vci<;, ciuidvia 
 cai-apu tov$ vouovi dSiKuv, aankri] iSi']Xu>G£v aKparfis ulv dpyTjq oZca, 
 xpeiaawv lit tov SiKaiov, iroAEpia C£ too r.pn\>x ovTO i- Thucyd. book 
 iii. sec. 84. 
 
7% ELEMENTS OF RHETORIC. [Paet ] 
 
 transactions springing from similar human passions 
 Surely no mere external differences in customs, or in the 
 arts of life, between the ancient Greeks and the French 
 (our supposed disputant might have urged) can produce 
 an essential and fundamental difference of results from 
 any civil commotion : for this, some new vital principle 
 of action must be introduced and established in the 
 heart; — something capable of over-ruling (Jj uvOgoireia 
 (pvaiq) man's natural character. "As long as this 
 remains the same," (eog tj avrri y, as the historian 
 himself remarks,) substantially the same results may 
 be looked for. 
 
 Again, to take an instance from another class of po- 
 litical affairs; the manufacture of beet-sugar in France, 
 instead of importing West-Indian sugar at a fourth of 
 the price, (and to the English corn-laws nearly similar 
 reasons will apply) and the prohibition, by the Ameri- 
 cans, of British manufactures, in order to encourage 
 home-production, (i. e. the manufacture of inferior arti- 
 cles at a much higher cost,) &c. are reprobated as un- 
 wise by some politicians, from the analogy of what 
 takes place in private life ; in which every man of com 
 rnon prudence prefers buying, wherever he can get them 
 cheapest and best, many commodities Avhich he could 
 make at home, but of inferior quality, and at a greater 
 expense ; and confines his own labour to that depart- 
 ment in which he finds he can labour to the best advan- 
 tage. To this it is replied, that there is a great differ- 
 ence between a nation and an individual. And so there 
 is, in many circumstances : a little parcel of sugar 01 
 cloth from a shop, is considerably different from a ship- 
 load of either ; and again, a nation is an object more im- 
 portant, and which fills the mind with a grander idea, 
 than a private individual ; it is also a more complex and 
 artificial being ; and of indefinite duration of existence ; 
 and moreover the transactions of each man, as far as he 
 is left free, are regulated by the very person who is to 
 be a gainer or loser by each — the individual himself- 
 
Chap. II. § 7.] OF CONVICTION. 7f 
 
 who, though his vigilance is sharpened by interest, and 
 his judgment by exercise in his own department, may 
 yet chance to be a man of confined education, possessed 
 of no general principles, and not pretending to be versed 
 in philosophical theories ; whereas the affairs of a State 
 are regulated by a Congress, Chamber of Deputies, &c. 
 consisting perhaps of men of extensive reading and spe- 
 culative minds. Many other striking differences might 
 be enumerated ; but the question important to the argu- 
 ment, is, does the expediency, in private life, of obtain- 
 ing each commodity at the least cost, and of the bes* 
 quality we can, depend on any of the circumstances ir 
 which an individual differs from a community ? 
 
 These instances may suffice to illustrate the impor- 
 tance of considering attentively in each case, not, what 
 differences or resemblances are intrinsically the greatest, 
 but, what are those that do, or that do not, affect the 
 argument. Those who do not fix their minds steadily 
 on this question, when arguments of this class are em- 
 ployed, will often be misled in their own reasonings, 
 and may easily be deceived by a skilful sophist. 
 
 In fact it may be said almost without qualification 
 that " Wisdom consists in the ready and accurate per- 
 ception of Analogies." Without the former quality, 
 knowledge of the past is nearly uninstructive : without 
 the latter, it is deceptive. 
 
 The argument from Contraries, (ef havrcuv,) noticed 
 by Aristotle, falls under the class I am now Arguments 
 treating of; as it is plain that Contraries frorn con- 
 must have something in common ; and it is tranes - 
 so far forth only as they agree, that they are tbua 
 employed in argument. Two things are called " con- 
 trary./' which, coming under the same class, are the 
 most dissimilar in that class. Thus, virtue and vice are 
 called contraries, as being, both, " moral habits," and 
 the most dissimilar of moral habits. Mere dissimilarity, 
 it is evident, would not constitute contrariety : for no 
 one would say that virtue is contrary to a mathematical 
 
ftO ELEMENTS OF RHETORIC [Part L 
 
 problem ; the two things having nothing in common. 
 In this then, as in other arguments of the .same class, 
 we may infer that the two contrary terms nave a similar 
 relation to the same third, or, respectively, to two 
 corresponding {i. e. in this case, contrary) terms ; we 
 may conjecture, e. g. that since virtue may be acquued 
 by education, so may vice ; or again, that since virtue 
 leads to happiness, so does vice to misery. 
 
 The phrase " Parity of Reasoning," is commonly 
 employed to denote Analogical Reasoning. 
 
 This would be the proper place for an explanation of 
 several points relative to " Induction," " Analogy," &c 
 which have been treated of in the Elements of Logic 
 I have only to refer the reader therefore to that work, B 
 iv. ch. 1 & 5 ; and Appendix, article " Experience. 
 Real and § 8. Aristotle, in his Rhetoric, has divided 
 
 invented Examples into Real and Invented : the one 
 examples. ] 1Qin ^ drawn from actual matter of fact ; the 
 other, from a supposed case. And he remarks, that 
 though the latter is more easily adduced, the former is 
 more convincing. If however due care be taken, that 
 the fictitious instance — the supposed case, adduced, be 
 not wanting in probability, it will often be no less 
 convincing than the other. For it may so happen, that 
 one, or even several, historical facts may be appealed 
 to, which, being nevertheless exceptions to a general 
 rule, will not prove the probability of the conclusion. 
 Thus, from several known instances of ferocity in 
 black tribes, we are not authorized to conclude, that 
 blacks are universally, or generally, ferocious ; and in 
 fact, many instances may be brought forward on ihe 
 other side. Whereas in the supposed case, (instanced 
 by Aristotle, as employed by Socrates,) of mariners 
 choosing their steersman by lot, though we have .to 
 reason to suppose such a case ever occurred, we see so 
 plainly the probability that it it did occur, the lot might 
 fall on an unskilful person, to the loss of the ship, that 
 he argument has considerable weight against the 
 
Ouap. II. § 8.] OF CONVICTION. 81 
 
 practice, so common in the ancient republics, of appoint- 
 ing magistrates by lot. 
 
 There is, however, this important differ- Fict j tiolls 
 ence ; that a fictitious case w^hich has not cases must 
 this intrinsic probability, has absolutely no be probable, 
 weight whatever; so that of course such arguments 
 might be multiplied to any amount without the smallest 
 effect : whereas any matter of fact which is well esta- 
 blished, however unaccountable it may seem, has some 
 degree of weight in reference to a parallel case ; and a 
 sufficient number of such arguments may fairly establish 
 a general rule, even though we may be unable, after 
 all, to account for the alleged fact in any of the in- 
 stances. E. G. no satisfactory reason has yet been 
 assigned for a connexion between the absence of upper 
 cutting teeth, or of the presence of horns, and rumina- 
 tion; but the instances are so numerous and constant 
 of this connexion, that no Naturalist would hesitate, if, 
 on examination of a new species, he found those teeth 
 absent, and the head horned, to pronounce the animal a 
 ruminant. Whereas, on the other hand, the fable of 
 the countryman who obtained from Jupiter the regula- 
 tion of the weather, and in consequence found his crops 
 fail, does not go one step towards proving the intended 
 conclusion; because that consequence is a mere gratui- 
 tous assumption without any probability to support it. 
 In fact the assumption there, is not only gratuitous, but 
 is in direct contradiction to experience ; for a gardener 
 has, to a certain degree, the command of rain and sun- 
 shine, by the help of his watering-pots, glasses, hot- 
 beds, and flues ; and the result is not the destruction of 
 his crops. 
 
 There is an instance of a like error in a tale of Cum- 
 berland's, intended to prove the advantage of a public 
 over a private education. He represents two brothers, 
 educated on the two plans, respectively ; the former 
 turning out very well, and the latter very ill : and had 
 the whole been matter of fact, a sufficient number of 
 7 
 
82 ELEMENTS OF RHETORIC. [Part. 1. 
 
 such instances would have had weight as an argument j 
 but as it is a fiction, and no reason is shown why the 
 result should be such as represented, except the sup 
 posed superiority of a public education, the Argument 
 involves a manifest petit 10 principii, and resembles the 
 appeal made, in the well-known fable, to the picture of 
 a man conquering a lion ; a result which might just as 
 easily have been reversed, and which would have been 
 so, had lions been painters. It is necessary, in short, 
 to be able to maintain, either that such and such an 
 event did actually take place, or that, under a certaiD 
 hypothesis, it would be likely to take place. 
 Supposed R tne otner hand it is important to ob» 
 
 cases assert serve, with respect to any imaginary case, 
 nothing. whether introduced as an argument, or mere- 
 ly for the sake of explanation, that, as it is (according 
 to what I have just said) requisite that the hypothesis 
 should be conceivable, and that the result supposed 
 should follow naturally from it, so, nothing more is to 
 be required. No fact being asserted, it is not fair that 
 any should be denied. Yet it is very common to find 
 persons, " either out of ignorance and infirmity, or out 
 of malice and obstinacy," joining issue on the question 
 whether this or that ever actually took place ; and re- 
 
 E resenting the whole controversy as turning on the 
 teral truth of something that had never been affirmed 
 [See treatise on Fallacies, ch. iii. § " Irrelevant conclu- 
 sion :" of which this is a case.] To obviate this mis- 
 take more care must be taken than would at first sight 
 seem necessary, to remind the hearers that you are 
 merely supposing a case, and not asserting any fact : 
 especially when (as it frequently happens) the supposed 
 case is one which might actually occur, and perhaps 
 does occur. 
 
 I can well sympathize with the contempt mingled 
 with indignation expressed by Cicero against certain 
 philosophers who found fault with Plato for having, in 
 i case he proposes, alluded to the fabulous ring of 
 
C«ap II. §8.] OF CONVICTION. 83 
 
 Gyges, which had the virtue of making the wearer in- 
 visible. They had found out, it seems, that there never 
 was any such ring * 
 
 It is worth observing, that Arguments from Exam 
 pie, whether real or invented, are the most easily com- 
 prehended by the young and the uneducated ; because 
 they facilitate the exercise of abstraction ; a power 
 which in such hearers is usually the most imperfect. 
 This mode of reasoning corresponds to a geometrical 
 demonstration by means of a diagram ; in which the 
 figure placed before the learner, is an individual, em- 
 ployed, as he soon comes to perceive, as a sign, though 
 not an arbitrary sign,f representing the whole class 
 The algebraic signs again, are arbitrary ; each character 
 not being itself an individual of the class it represents. 
 These last therefore correspond to the abstract terms of 
 a language. 
 
 Under the head of Invented Example, a Fable and 
 distinction is drawn by Aristotle, between illustration. 
 Parabole and Logos. From the instances he gives, it 
 is plain that the former corresponds (not to Parable, in 
 the sense in which we use the word, derived from that 
 of Parabole in the Sacred Writers, but) to Illustration ; 
 the latter to Fable or Tale. In the former, an allusion 
 only is made to a case easily supposable ; in the latter, 
 a fictitious story is narrated. Thus, in his instance 
 above cited, of Illustration, if any one, instead of a mere 
 
 * Atque hoc loco, philosophi quidam, mmime mali illi quidem, 
 sed non satis acuti, fictam et commenticiam fabulam prolatam di- 
 cunt a Platone : quasi vero ille, aut factum id esse, aut fieri potuisse 
 defendat. Haec est vis hujus annuli et hujus exempli, si nemo sci- 
 turus, nemo ne suspicaturus quidem sit, cum aliquid, divitiarum, 
 potential, dominations, libidinis, caussa feceris — si id diis homini- 
 busque luturum sit semper ignotum, sisne facturus. Negant id 
 fieri posse. Quanquam potest id quidem ; sed qurero , quod negant 
 posse, id si posset, quidnam facerent ? Urgent rustice sane : 
 negant enim posse, et in eo perstant. Hoc verbuni quid valeat, 
 non vident. Cum enim quasrimus, si possint celare, quid facturi 
 Bint, non qua°rimus, possintne celare, &c. (Cic. de Off. b. iii. c. 9.) 
 
 t The words, written or spoken, of any language, are arbitrary 
 signs ; the characters of picture-writing or hieroglyphic, are 
 natural signs. 
 
84 ELEMENTS OF RHETORIC [Part I. 
 
 allusion, should relate a tale, of mariners choosing a 
 steersman by lot, and being wrecked in consequence, 
 Aristotle would evidently have placed that under the 
 head of Logos. The other method is of course prefera- 
 ble, from its brevity, whenever the allusion can be readi- 
 ly understood : and accordingly it is common, in th& 
 case of well-known fables, to allude to, instead of narrat- 
 ing, them. That, e. g. of the horse and the slag, which 
 he gives, would, in the present day, be rather alluded 
 to than told, if we wished to dissuade a people from call- 
 ing in a too powerful auxiliary. It is evident that a 
 like distinction might have been made in respect of his- 
 torical examples ; those cases which are well known, 
 being often merely alluded to, and not recited. 
 Fable The word " fable" is at present generally 
 
 and tale. limited to those fictions in which the resem- 
 blance to the matter in question is not direct, but analo- 
 gical ; the other class being called novels, tales, &c. 
 Those resemblances are (as Dr. A. Smith has observed) 
 the most striking, in which the things compared are of 
 the most dissimilar nature ; as is the case in what we 
 call fables ; and such accordingly are generally prefer- 
 red for argumentative purposes, both from that circum- 
 stance itself, and also on account of the greater brevity 
 which is, for that reason, not only allowed but required 
 in them.* For a fable spun out to a great length be- 
 comes an allegory, which generally satiates and dis- 
 gusts; on the other hand, a fictitious tale, having a 
 more direct, and therefore less striking resemblance to 
 reality, requires that an interest in the events and pei* 
 aoiis should be created by a longer detail, without which 
 it would be insipid. The fable c f the Old Man and the 
 Bundle of Sticks, compared with the Iliad, may serve to 
 exemplify what has been said: the moral conveyed by 
 each being the same, viz., the strength acquired by un- 
 ion, and the weakness resulting from division ; the lat- 
 
 • A novel or tale may b© compared to a picture ; a fuble, to a d» 
 Vic«. 
 
Uhap. III. § I.] OF CONVICTION. 85 
 
 ter fiction would be perfectly insipid if conveyed in a 
 few lines ; the former, in twenty-four books, insup- 
 portable. 
 
 Of the various uses, and of the real or apparent re- 
 futation, of Examples, fas well as of other arguments,!/ 
 I shall treat hereafter; but it may be worth while here 
 to observe, that I have been speaking of Example as a 
 kind of Argument, and with a view therefore to that 
 purpose alone ; though it often happens that a resem- 
 blance, either direct, or analogical, is introduced for 
 other purposes ; viz. not to prove any thing, but either 
 to illustrate and explain one's meaning, (which is the 
 strict etymological use of the word Illustration,) or to 
 amuse the fancy by ornament of language : in which 
 case it is usually called a similie : as, for instance, when 
 a person whose fortitude, forbearance, and other such 
 virtues, are called forth by persecutions and afflictions, 
 is compared to those herbs which give out their fra- 
 grance on being bruised. It is of course most impor- 
 tant to distinguish, both in our own compositions and 
 those of others, between these different purposes. I 
 shall accordingly advert to this subject in the course of 
 the following chapter. 
 
 Chap. III. — Of the various use and order of the several 
 kinds of Propositions and of Arguments in different 
 cases. 
 
 § 1. The first rule to be observed is, that Arguments 
 it should be considered, whether the princi- of Confuta- 
 pal object of the discourse be, to give satis- tio " and . of 
 faction to a candid mind »nd convey in- 
 struction to those who are ready to receive it, or to 
 compel the assent, or silence the objections, of an oppo- 
 nent. For, cases may occur, in which the arguments 
 to be employed with most effect will be different, ac- 
 cording as it is the one or the other of these objects that 
 
86 ELEMENTS OF RHETORIC. [Part 1. 
 
 we are aiming at. It will often happen that of the two 
 great classes into which Arguments were divided, the 
 " a priori " or Argument from cause to effect, will be 
 principally employed when the chief object is to instruct 
 the learner, and the other class, when our aim is to re- 
 fute the opponent. And to whatever class the argu- 
 ments we resort to may belong, the general tenour of 
 the reasoning will, in many respects, be affected by the 
 present consideration. The distinction in question is 
 nevertheless in general little attended to. It is usual to 
 call an argument, simply, strong or weak, without re- 
 ference to the purpose for which it is designed ; where- 
 as the arguments which afford the most satisfaction to a 
 candid mind, are often such as would have less weight 
 in controversy than many others, which again would be 
 less suitable for the former purpose. E. G. There are 
 some of the internal evidences of Christianity which, in 
 general, are the most satisfactory to a believer's mind, 
 but are not the most striking in the refutation of unbe- 
 lievers : the arguments from analogy on the other hand, 
 which are (in refuting objections) the most unanswera- 
 ble, are not so pleasing and consolatory. 
 
 My meaning cannot be better illustrated than by an 
 instance referred to in that incomparable specimen of 
 reasoning, Dr. Paley's Horce Paulina. " When we 
 take into our hands the letters," {viz. Paul's Epistles,) 
 " which the suffrage and consent of antiquity hath thus 
 transmitted to us, the first thing that strikes our atten- 
 tion is the air of reality and business, as well as of 
 seriousness and conviction, which pervades the whole. 
 Let the sceptic read them. If he be not sensible of 
 these qualities in them, the argument can have no 
 weight with him. If he be ; if he perceive in almost 
 every page the language of a mind actuated by real 
 occasions, and operating upon real circumstances ; 1 
 would wish it to be observed, that the proof which 
 arises from this perception is not to be deemed occult or 
 imaginary, because it is incapable of being drawn out 
 
Chap. III. § 1.] OF CONVICTION. 87 
 
 in words, or of being conveyed to the apprehension of 
 the reader in any other way, than by sending him to 
 the books themselves."* 
 
 There is also a passage in Dr. A. Smith's Theory of 
 Moral Sentiments, which illustrates very happily one 
 of the applications of the principle in question. " Some- 
 times we have occasion to defend the propriety of 
 observing the general rules of justice, by the considera- 
 tion of their necessity to the support of society. We 
 frequently hear the young and the licentious ridiculing 
 the most sacred rules of morality, and professing, some- 
 times from the corruption, but more frequently from the 
 vanity of their hearts, the most abominable maxims of 
 conduct. Our indignation rouses, and we are eager to 
 refute and expose such detestable principles. But 
 though it is their intrinsic hatefulness and detestable- 
 ness which originally inflames us against them, we are 
 unwilling to assign this as the sole reason why we 
 condemn them, or to pretend that it is merely because 
 we ourselves hate and detest them. The reason, we 
 think, would not appear to be conclusive. Yet, why 
 should it not ; if we hate and detest them because they 
 are the natural and proper objects of hatred and detes- 
 tation ? But when we are asked why we should not 
 act in such or such a manner, the very question seems 
 to suppose that, to those who ask it, this manner of 
 acting does not appear to be so for its own sake the 
 natural and proper object of those sentiments. We must 
 show them, therefore, that it ought to be so for the sake 
 of something else. Upon this account we generally cast 
 about for other arguments, and the consideration which 
 first occurs to us, is the disorder and confusion of society 
 which would result from the universal prevalence of 
 Buch practices. We seldom fail, therefore, to insist 
 upon this topic"! 
 
 It may serve to illustrate what has been just said, to 
 remark that our judgment of the character of any indi* 
 
 » P. 403. t Part ii. sjc. ii. pp. 151, 152. vol. i. ed. 1812. 
 
8S ELEMENTS OF RHETORIC. [Part L 
 
 vidual is often not originally derived from such circum- 
 stances as we should assign, or could adequately set 
 forth in language, in justification of onr opinion. 
 When we undertake to give our reasons for thinking 
 that some individual, with whom we are personally 
 acquainted, is, or is not, a gentleman — a man of taste 
 — humane — public-spirited, &c. we of course appeal to 
 his conduct, or his distinct avowal of his own senti- 
 ments ; and if these furnish sufficient proof of our 
 assertions, we are admitted to have given good reasons 
 for our opinion : but it may be still doubted whether 
 these were, in the first instance at least, our reasons, 
 which led us to form that opinion. If we carefully and 
 candidly examine our own mind, we shall generally find 
 that our judgment was, originally, (if not absolutely 
 decided,) at least strongly influenced, by the person's 
 looks — tones of voice — gestures — choice oi expressions, 
 and the like ; which, if stated as reasons for forming a 
 conclusion, would in general appear frivolous, merely 
 because no language is competent adequately to describe 
 them ; but which are not necessarily insufficient grounds 
 for beginning at least to form an opinion ; since it ia 
 notorious that there are many acute persons who are 
 seldom deceived in such indications of character. 
 
 In all subjects indeed, persons unaccustomed to 
 writing or discussion, but possessing natural sagacity, 
 and experience in particular departments, have been 
 observed to be generally unable to give a satisfactory 
 reason for their judgments, even on points on winch 
 they are actually very good judges.* This is a defect 
 which it is the business of education (especially the 
 present branch of it) to surmount or diminish. Aftei 
 all, however, in some subjects, no language can 
 adequately convey (to the inexperienced at least) all 
 the indications which influence the judgment of an acute 
 and practised observer And hence it has been justly 
 and happily remarked, that, " he must be an indifferer.1 
 
 * See Aristotle's Ethics, B. vi. 
 
Dhap. III. § 2.] OF CONVICTION. 89 
 
 physician, who never takes any step for which he 
 cannot assign a satisfactory reason." 
 
 § 2. It is a point of great importance to Presum 
 decide in each case, at the outset, in your tion and 
 own mind, and clearly to point out to the b "^ n of 
 hearer, as occasion may serve, on which side 
 the presumption lies, and to which belongs the [onus 
 probandi] burden of proof. For though it may often 
 be expedient to bring forward more proofs than can be 
 fairly demanded of you, it is always desirable, when 
 tiiis is the case, that it should be known, and that the 
 strength of the cause should be estimated accordingly. 
 
 According to the most correct use of the term, a 
 " Presumption " in favour of any supposition, means, 
 not (as has been sometimes erroneously imagined) a 
 preponderance of probability in its favour, but, such a 
 preoccupation of the ground, as implies that it must 
 stand good till some sufficient reason is adduced against 
 it ; in short, that the burden of proof lies on the side of 
 him who would dispute it. 
 
 Thu«, it is a well-known principle of the law, that 
 every man (including a prisoner brought up for trial) 
 is to be presumed innocent till his guilt is established. 
 This does not, of course, mean that we are to take for 
 granted he is innocent ; for if that were the case, he 
 would be entitled to immediate liberation : nor does it 
 mean that it is antecedently more likely than not that he 
 is innocent ; or, that the majority of these brought to 
 trial are so. It evidently means only that the " burden 
 of proof" lies with the accusers; — that he is not to be 
 called on to prove his innocence, or to be dealt with as 
 a criminal till he has done so ; but that they are to bring 
 their charges against him, which if he can repel, he 
 stands acquitted. 
 
 Thus again, there is a " presumption " in favour of 
 
 the right of any individuals or bodies-corporate to the 
 
 property of which they are in actual possession : this 
 
 does not mean that they are, or are not, likely to be th« 
 
 8 
 
tO ELEMENTS OF RHETORIC. [Part i, 
 
 "ightful owners: but merely, that no man is to be dis- 
 turbed in his possessions till some claim, against him 
 shall be established. He is not to be called on to prove 
 his right; but the claimant, to disprove it; on whom 
 consequently the " burden of proof " lies. 
 Importance A moderate portion of common-sense will 
 of deciding enable any one to perceive, and to show, on 
 sideVes the which side the presumption lies, when once 
 onus pro- his attention is called to this question; 
 bandi. though, for want of attention, it is often 
 
 overlooked : and on the determination of this question 
 the whole character of a discussion will often very 
 much depend. A body of troops may be perfectly 
 adequate to the defence of a fortress against any attack 
 that may be made on it ; and yet, if, ignorant of the 
 advantage the) possess, they sally forth into the open 
 field to encounter the enemy, they may suffer a repulse. 
 At any rate, even if strong enough to act on the offen- 
 sive, they ought still to keep possession of their fortress. 
 in like manner, if you have the " Presumption " on your 
 side, and can but refute all the arguments brought 
 against you, you have, for the present at least, gained a 
 victory: but if you abandon this position, by suffering 
 this Presumption to be forgotten, which is in fact leaving 
 out one of, perhaps, your strongest arguments, you may 
 appear to be making a feeble attack, instead of a trium- 
 phant defence. 
 
 Such an obvious case as one of those just stated, will 
 serve to illustrate this principle. Let any one imagine 
 a perfectly unsupported accusation of some offence to 
 be brought against himself; and then let him imagine 
 himself — instead of replying (as of course he would do) 
 by a simple denial, and a defiance of his accuser to 
 prove the charge — setting himself to establish a nega- 
 tive — taking on himself the burden of proving his own 
 innocence, by collecting all the circumstances indicative 
 of it that he can muster : and the result would be, in 
 many cases, that this evidence would fall far short of 
 
Chap. III. §21 OF CC^ V T nTION 91 
 
 establishing a oeftaiijty, and might even have the effect 
 of raising a suspicion against him ; he having in fact 
 kept out of sight the important circumstance, that these 
 probabilities in one scale, though of no great weight 
 perhaps in themselves, are to be weighed against abso- 
 lutely nothing in the other scale. 
 
 The following are a lew of the cases in which it is 
 important, though very easy, to point out where the 
 Presumption lies. 
 
 There is a Presumption in favour of every Presump. 
 existing institution. Many of these (we will tion ir l fa - 
 
 ,i a v T. i-i.1 r vour of ex 
 
 suppose, the majority) may be susceptible oi j St j n g i ns ti- 
 alteration for the better ; but still the " Bur- tutions. 
 den of proof " lies with him who proposes an alteration ; 
 simply, on the ground that since a change is not a good 
 in itself, he who demands a change should show cause 
 for it. No one is called on (though he may find it ad- 
 visable) to defend an existing institution, till some ar- 
 gument is adduced against it : and that argument ought 
 in fairness to prove, not merely an actual inconvenience 
 but the possibility of a change for the better. 
 
 Every book again, as well as person, ought Presump 
 to be presumed harmless (and consequently tion of in 
 the copy-right protected by our courts) till »«cence. 
 something is proved against it. It is a hardship to re- 
 quire a man to prove, either of his book, or of his pri 
 vate life, that there is no ground for any accusation ; 
 or else to be denied the protection of his country. The 
 Burden of proof, in each case, lies fairly on the accuser. 
 [ cannot but consider therefore as utterly unreasonable 
 the decisions (which some years ago excited so much 
 attention) to refuse the interference of the Court of 
 Chancery in cases of piracy, whenever there was even 
 any doubi whether the book pirated might not contain 
 something of an immoral tendency. 
 
 There is a "Presumption" against any p r esum P - 
 Ihing paradoxical, i. e. contrary to the pre- tion against 
 railing opinion: it may be true; but the a P ara,ioiu 
 
92 ELEMENTS OF RHETORIC. [Paet L 
 
 Burden of proof lies with him who maintains it; since 
 men are not to be expected to abandon the prevailing 
 belief till some reason is shown. 
 
 Hence it is, probably, that many are accustomed to 
 apply " paradox " as if it were a term of reproach, and 
 implied absurdity or falsity. But correct use is in 
 favour of the etymological sense. If a Paradox is un- 
 supported, it can claim no attention ; but if false, it 
 should be censured on that ground ; not for being new. 
 If true, it is the more important, for being a truth not 
 generally admitted. " Interdum vulgus rectum videt ; 
 est ubi peccat." Yet one often hears a charge of " para- 
 dox and nonsense" brought forward, as if there were 
 some close connexion between the two. And indeed, 
 in one sense this is the case; for to those who are too 
 dull, or too prejudiced to admit any notion at variance 
 with those they have been used to entertain (Trcfju 
 dofav,) that may appear nonsense, which to others is 
 sound sense. Thus "Christ crucified" was "to the 
 Jews, a stumbling-block," (paradox,) "and to the 
 Greeks, foolishness ;" because the one " required a 
 sign" of a different kind from any that appeared; and 
 the others " sought after wisdom " in their schools of 
 philosophy. 
 
 Christi- Accordingly there was a Presumption 
 
 anity. against the Gospel in its first announcement. 
 
 A Je\vi.-h peasant claimed to be the promised deliverer, 
 in whom all the nations of the earth were to be blessed. 
 The burden of proof lay with him. No one could be 
 fairly called on to admit his pretensions till He shewed 
 cause for believing in Him. If He " had not done 
 among them the works which none other man did, they 
 bad not had sin." 
 
 Now, the case is reversed Christianity exists ; and 
 those who deny the divine origin attributed to it, are 
 bound to show some reasons for assigning to it a human 
 origin : not indeed to prove that it did originate in this 
 or that way, without supernatural aid : but to point ouf 
 
Chap. III. § 2.] OF CONVICTION 9] 
 
 some conceivable way in which it might have so arisen. 
 It is indeed highly expedient to bring forward evi- 
 dences to establish the divine origin of Christianity. 
 hut it ought to be more carefully kept in mind than is 
 done by most writers, that all this is an argument " ex 
 abundanti," as the phrase is — over and above what can 
 fairly be called for, till some hypothesis should be fram- 
 ed, to account for the origin of Christianity by human 
 means. The burden of proof now lies plainly on him 
 who rejects the Gospel: which, if it were not establish- 
 ed by miracles, demands an explanation of the greater 
 miracle — its having been established, in defiance of all 
 opposition, by human contrivance. 
 
 The burden of proof, again, lay on the The Refoi 
 authorsof the Reformation : they were bound mation. 
 to show cause for every change they advocated ; and 
 Ihey admitted the fairness of this requisition, and ac- 
 cepted the challenge. But they were not bound to show 
 cause for retaining what they left unaltered. The pre- 
 sumption was, in those points, on their side ; and they 
 had only to reply to objections. This important dis- 
 tinction is often lost sight of, by those who look at the 
 " doctrines, &c.,of the Church of England as constitut- 
 ed at the Reformation," in the mass, without distin- 
 guishing the altered from the unaltered parts. The 
 framersof the Articles kept this in mind in their expres- 
 sion respecting infant-baptism, that it " ought by all 
 means to be retained." They did not introduce the 
 practice, but left it as they found it ; considering the 
 burden to lie on those who denied its existence in the 
 primitive church, to show when it did arise. 
 
 The case of Episcopacy is exactly parallel: but 
 Hooker seems to have overlooked this advantage : he 
 sets himself to prove the apostolic origin of the institu- 
 tion, as if his task had been to introduce it. Whatever 
 .force there may be in arguments so adduced, it is plain 
 they must have far more force if the important presump- 
 tion be kept in view, that the institution had notoriously 
 
94 ELEMENTS OF RHETORIC. [Part I 
 
 existed many ages, and that consequently, even if ther« 
 had been no direct evidence for its being coeval with 
 Christianity, it might fairly be at least supposed to be 
 so, till some other period should be pointed out at which 
 it had been introduced as an innovation. 
 Tradition ^ n ^ le casc °f any doctri 71 cs again, pro- 
 fessing to be essential parts of the Gospel- 
 revelation, the fair presumption is, that we shall find all 
 such distinctly declared in Scripture. And again, in re- 
 spect of commands or prohibitions as to any point, which 
 our Lord or his Apostles did deliver, there is a presump- 
 tion that Christians- are bound to comply. If any one 
 maintains on the ground of tradition the necessity of 
 some additional article of faith, (as for instance that of 
 purgatory) or the propriety of a departure from the New 
 Testament precepts (as for instance in the denial of the 
 cup to the laity in the eucharist) the burden of proof lies 
 with him. We are not called on to prove that there is 
 no tradition to the purpose ; — much less, that no tradition 
 can have any weight at all in any case. It is for him 
 to prove, not merely generally, that there is such a thing 
 as tradition, and that it is entitled to respect, but that 
 there is a tradition relative to each of the points which 
 he thus maintains; and that such tradition is, in each 
 point, sufficient to establish that point. For want of 
 observing this rule, the most vague and interminable 
 disputes have often been carried on respecting Tradition, 
 generally. 
 
 It should be also remarked under this head, that in 
 any one question the Presumption will often be found 
 to he on different sides, in respect of different parties. 
 E. G. In the question between a member of the Church 
 of England and a Presbyterian, or member of any other 
 church, on which side does the Presumption lie ? Evi- 
 dently, to each, in favour of the religious community to 
 which he at present belongs. He is not to separata 
 from the church of which he is a member, without hav- 
 ing some sufficient reason to allege. 
 
Cha?. III. § 2.] OF CONVICTION. 90 
 
 It is worth remarking, that a Presumption Transfer 
 may be rebutted by an opposite Presumption, ring the 
 so as to shift the burden of proof to the other burden of 
 side. E. G. Suppose you had advised the pro< 
 removal of some existing restriction : you might be, in 
 (he first instance, called on to take the burden of proof, 
 and allege your reasons for the change, on the ground 
 that there is a Presumptiou against every change. But 
 you might fairly reply, " True, but there is anothei 
 Presumption which rebuts the former; every restriction 
 is in itself an evil ;* and therefore there is a presump- 
 tion in favour of its removal, unless it can be shewn 
 necessary for prevention of some greater evil : I am not 
 bound to allege any specific inconvenience; if the re- 
 striction is unnecessary, that is reason enough for its 
 abolition : its defenders therefore are fairly called on to 
 prove its necessity." 
 
 In one of Lord Dudley's (lately published) Presump 
 letters to Bishop Copleston, of the date of tion against 
 1814, he adduces a presumption against the Lo « lc - 
 science of Logic, that it was sedulously cultivated dur- 
 ing the dark periods when the intellectual powers of 
 mankind seemed nearly paralysed — when no discoveries 
 were made, and when various errors were wide- spread 
 and deep-rooted; and that when the mental activity of 
 the world revived, and philosophical inquiry flourished, 
 and bore its fruits, logical studies fell into decay and 
 contempt. To many minds this would appear a decisive 
 argument. The author himself was too acute to see 
 more in it than — what it certainly is — a fair Presump- 
 tion. And he would probably have owned that it might 
 be met by a counter-presumption. 
 
 When any science or pursuit has been unduly and 
 unwisely followed, to the neglect of others, and has 
 even been intruded into their province, we may presume 
 that a re-action will be likely to ensue, and an equally 
 excessive contempt, ordread ; or abhorrence, to succeed 
 * See " Charges and other Tracts," p. 447. 
 
96 ELEMENTS OF RHETORIC. [Part 1 
 
 And the same kind of re-action occurs in every depart- 
 ment of life. It is thus that the thraldom of gross su- 
 perstition and tyrannical priestcraft have so often led to 
 irreligion. It is thus that " several valuable medicines, 
 which when first introduced, were proclaimed, each as 
 a panacea, infallible in the most opposite disorders, fell, 
 consequently, in many instances, for a time, into total 
 disuse : though afterwards they were established in theii 
 just estimation, and employed conformably to their real 
 properties."* 
 
 So, it might have been said, in the present case, the 
 mistaken and absurd cultivation of Logic during ages 
 of great intellectual darkness, might be expected to 
 produce, in a subsequent age of comparative light, an 
 association in men's minds, of Logic, with the idea of 
 apathetic ignorance, prejudice, and adherence to error ; 
 so that the legitimate uses and just value of Logic, 
 supposing it to have any, would be likely to be scorn- 
 fully overlooked. Our ancestors, it might have been 
 said, having neglected to raise fresh crops of corn, and 
 contented themselves with vainly thrashing over and 
 over again the same straw, and winnowing the same 
 chaff, it might be expected that their descendants would, 
 for a time, regard the very operations of thrashing and 
 winnowing with contempt, and would attempt to grind 
 corn, chaff, and straw, all tog-ether. 
 
 Such might have been, at that time,f a statement o 
 the counter-presumptions on this point. 
 
 * Elements of Logic, Pref. p. viii. 
 
 t It is a curious circumstance that the very person to whom that 
 letter was addressed should have lived to witness so great a change 
 of public opinion brought about — in a great degree through his own 
 instrumentality— within the short interval between the writing ot 
 that letter and its publication, (indeed within a small portion of that 
 short interval,) that the whole ground of the presumption alluded 
 to has been completely cut away. During that interval the Article 
 on L~gic in the Encyclopaedia Metropolitana was, with his aid, 
 drawn up ; and attracted so much attention as to occasion its pub- 
 lication in a separate volume, of which the eighth edition is now 
 before the English public ; each edition having been larger than 
 the preceding : besides reprints of the treatise in America, where 
 
Chap. III. § 2.] OF CONVICTION. %f 
 
 It might be hastily imagined that there is no neces. 
 necessarily an advantage in having the pre- sai r advan- 
 sumption on one side, and the burden of ^f® ^ the 
 proof on the adversary's. But it is often which the 
 much the reverse. E. G. " In no other £ r e n SI J™ s p " 
 instance perhaps," (says Dr. Hawkins, in 
 his valuable Essay on Tradition,) " besides that of 
 religion, do m^n commit the very illogical mistake, of 
 first canvassing all the objections against any particular 
 system whose pretensions to truth they would examine, 
 before they consider the direct arguments in its favour." 
 (P. 82.) But why, it may be asked, do they make such 
 a mistake in this case? An answer which I think 
 would apply to a large proportion of such persons, is 
 this : because a man having been brought up in a 
 Christian country, has lived perhaps among such as 
 have been accustomed from their infancy to take for 
 granted the truth of their religion, and even to regard 
 an uninquiring assent as a mark of commendable/a^/i ,* 
 and hence he has probably never even thought of pro- 
 posing to himself the question — Why should I receive 
 Christianity as a divine revelation ? Christianity being 
 nothing nevj to him, and the presumption being in favour 
 of it, while the burden of proof lies on its opponents, 
 he is not stimulated to seek reasons for believing it, till 
 he finds it controverted. And when it is controverted 
 — when an opponent urges — How do you reconcile 
 this, and that, and the other, with the idea of a divine 
 revelation, these objections strike by their novelty — by 
 their being opposed to what is geneially received. He 
 is thus excited to inquiry; which he sets about — natu- 
 rally enough, but very unwisely — by seeking for 
 answers to all these objections : and fancies that unless 
 
 it is in use I believe in every college throughout the United States , 
 and besides sundry abridgments and elementary works more or 
 less borrowed from that Article. Certainly if Lord Dudley were 
 now living, he would not speak of the general neglect and contempt 
 of Logic ; though every branch of Science, Philosophy and Litem 
 ture have nourished during the interval. 
 
fc8 ELEMENTS OF RHETORIC. [Part I. 
 
 they can all be satisfactorily solved, he ought not to 
 receive the religion. " As if, (says the Author already 
 cited) there could not be truth, and truth supported by 
 irrefragable arguments, and yet at the same time obnox- 
 ious to objections, numerous, plausible, and by no means 
 easy of solution." " There are objections (said Dr. 
 Johnson) against a plenum and objections against a 
 vacuum ; but one of them must be true." He adds that 
 " sensible men really desirous of discovering the truth, 
 will perceive that reason directs them to examine first 
 the argument in favour of that side of the question, 
 where the first presumption of truth appears. And the 
 presumption is manifestly in favour of that religious 
 creed already adopted by the country . . . Their very 
 earliest inquiry therefore must be into the direct argu- 
 ments, for the authority of that book on which then 
 country rests its religion." 
 
 But reasonable as such a procedure is, there is, as J 
 have said, a strong temptation, and one which should be 
 carefully guarded against, to adopt the opposite course ■ 
 to attend first to the objections which are brought 
 against what is established, and which, for that very 
 reason, rouse the mind from a state of apathy. Accor- 
 dingly, I have not found that this " very illogical mis- 
 take" is by any means peculiar to the case of religion. 
 
 When Christianity was first preached, the state ol 
 things was reversed. The Presumption was against it, 
 as being a novelty. " Seeing that all these things 
 cannot be spoken against, ye ought to be quiet " was a 
 sentiment which favoured an indolent acquiescence in 
 the old Pagan worship. The stimulus of novelty was 
 all on the side of those who came to overthrow this, by 
 a new religion. The first inquiry of any one who ai 
 all attended to the subject, must have been, not — What 
 are the* objections to Christianity ? — but on what 
 grounds do these men call on me to receive them as 
 divine messengers ? And the same appears to be the 
 case with those Polynesians among whom our mission- 
 
Chap. III. § 3.] OF CONVICTION. 0$ 
 
 aries are labouring : they begin by inquiring--" Why 
 should we receive this religion?'' And those of them 
 accordingly who have embraced it, appear to be Chris- 
 tians on a much more rational and deliberate conviction 
 than many among us, even of those who, in general 
 maturity of intellect and civilisation, are advanced con- 
 siderably beyond those Islanders. 
 
 I am not depreciating the inestimable advantages of a 
 religious education ; but, pointing out the peculiar temp- 
 tations which accompany it. The Jews and Pagans had, 
 in their early prejudices, greater difficulties to surmount 
 than ours; but they were difficulties of a different kind.* 
 
 Thus much may suffice to show the importance of 
 taking this preliminary view of the state of each ques- 
 tion to be discussed. 
 
 § 3. Matters of opinion, (as they are call- Matters of 
 ed; i. e. where we are not said properly to Fact and ot 
 know but to judge,) are established chiefly °P imon - 
 by Antecedent-probability, (Arguments of the first class, 
 viz. from Cause to Effect :) though the Testimony (i. e. 
 authority) of wise men is also admissible : past Facts, 
 chiefly by Signs, of various kinds ; (that term, it must 
 be remembered, including Testimony ;) and future 
 events, by Antecedent-probabilities, and Examples. 
 
 Example, however, is not excluded from the proof of 
 matters of Opinion ; since a man's judgment in one case, 
 may be aided or corrected by an appeal to his judgment 
 in another similar case. It is in this way that we are 
 directed, by the highest authority, to guide our judgment 
 in those questions in which we are most liable to de- 
 ceive ourselves; viz. what, on each occasion, ought to 
 be our conduct towards another ; we are directed to 
 frame for ourselves a similar supposed case, by imagin- 
 ing ourselves to change places with our neighbour, and 
 then considering how, in that case, we should in fair- 
 ness expect to be treated. 
 
 This however, which is the true use of the celebrated 
 
 * Logic, Appendix. 
 
tOO ELEMENTS OF RHETORIC. [Part L 
 
 fuecept " to do as we would be done by," is often over- 
 ooked ; and it is sp jken of as if it were a iule designed 
 to supersede all other moral maxims, and to teach us the 
 intrinsic character of Right and Wrong. This absurd 
 mistake may be one cause why the precept is so much 
 more talked of than attempted to be applied. For it 
 could not be applied with any good result by one who 
 should have no notions already formed of what is just 
 and unjust. To take one instance out of many ; if he 
 had to decide a dispute between two of his neighbours, 
 he would be sure that each was wishing for a decision 
 in his own favour ; and he would be at a loss therefore 
 how to comply with the precept in respect of either, 
 without violating it in respect of the other. The true 
 meaning of the precept plainly is, that you should do 
 to another, not necessarily what you would wish, but 
 what you would expect as fair and reasonable, if you 
 were in his place. This evidently presupposes that 
 you have a knowledge of what is fair and reasonable : 
 and the precept then furnishes a formula for the appli- 
 cation of this knowledge in a case where you would be 
 liable to be blinded by self-partiality. 
 
 A very good instance of an argument drawn from a 
 " parallel case " in which most men's judgments would 
 lead them aright, I have met with in a memoir of Roger 
 Williams, a settler in North America in the 17th cen- 
 tury, who was distinguished as a zealous missionary 
 among the Indians, and also as an advocate of the then 
 unpopular doctrine of religious liberty. 
 
 " He was at all times and under all changes, the un- 
 daunted champion of religious freedom. It was speedi- 
 ly professed by him on his arrival among those who 
 60ught in America a refuge from persecution ; and 
 gtrange as it may seem, it was probably the first thing 
 that excited the prejudices of the Massachusetts and 
 Plymouth rulers against him. He was accused of carry- 
 ing this favourite doctrine so far, as to exempt from 
 punishment any criminal who pleaded conscience. But 
 
6'HAr. III. § 3.] OF Ct>r. FICTION. l&\ 
 
 Jet his own words exculpate him from this charge. 
 ♦That ever I should speak or write a tittle that tends to 
 such an infinite liberty of conscience, is a mistake, and 
 which I. have ever disclaimed and abhorred To pre- 
 vent such mistakes, I at present shall only propose this 
 case. There goes many a ship to sea with many hun- 
 dred souls in one ship, whose weal and woe is common ; 
 and is a true picture of a commonwealth, or an human 
 combination or society. It hath fallen out, sometimes, 
 that both Papists and Protestants, Jews and Turks, may 
 be embarked into one ship. Upon which supposal, 1 
 affirm that all the liberty of conscience, that ever 1 
 pleaded for, turns upon these two hinges, that none of 
 the Papists, Protestants, Jews, or Turks, be forced to 
 come to the ship's prayers, nor compelled from their 
 own particular prayers, or worship, if they practise any. 
 I further add, that I never denied, that notwithstanding 
 this liberty, the commander of this ship ought to com- 
 mand the ship's course; yea, and also command that 
 justice, peace, and sobriety be kept and practised, both 
 among the seamen and all the passengers. H any of 
 the seamen refuse to perform their service, or passen- 
 gers to pay their freight ; if any refuse to help in persoi, 
 or purse, toward the common charges or defence ; if 
 any refuse to obey the common laws and orders of the 
 ship concerning their common peace or preservation ; 
 if any shall mutiny and rise up against their comman- 
 ders and officers, if any should preach or write, that 
 there ought to be no commanders nor officers, because 
 all are equal in Christ, therefore no masters nor officers, 
 no laws nor orders, no corrections nor punishments, I 
 say I never denied but in such cases, whatever is pre- 
 tended, the commander or commanders may judge, re- 
 sist, compel, and punish such transgressors, according 
 to their deserts and merits.' " 
 
 It happens more frequently than not, how- Expianato 
 ever, that, when in the discussion of matters ry Exam- 
 of Opinion, an Example is introduced, it is ples * 
 
, : 0» ELEMENTS OF RHETORIC. [Pakt 1 
 
 designed, not for Argument, but, strictly speaking, for 
 illustration ; — not to prove the proposition in question, 
 but to make it more clearly understood ; e. g. the Pro- 
 position maintained by Cicero (de Off. book iii.) is what 
 may be accounted a matter of Opinion ; viz. that " noth- 
 ing is expedient which is dishonourable ;" when then 
 he adduces the example of the supposed design of 
 Themistocles to burn the allied fleet, which he main- 
 tains, in contradiction to Aristides, would have been in- 
 expedient, because unjust, it is manifest, that we must 
 understand the instance brought forward as no more 
 than an Illustration of the general principle he intends 
 to establish ; since it would be a plain begging of the 
 question to argue from a particular assertion, which 
 could 'only be admitted by those who assented to the 
 general principle. 
 
 It is important to distinguish between these two uses 
 of Example ; that, on the one hand we may not be led 
 to mistake for an Argument such a one as the fore- 
 going ; and that on the other hand, we may not too 
 hastily charge with sophistry him who adduces such a 
 one simply with a view to explanation. 
 
 Our Lord's Parables are mostly of the explanatory 
 kind. His discourses generally indeed are but little ar 
 gumentative. " He taught as one having authority ;" 
 stating and explaining his doctrines, and referring for 
 proof to his actions. " The ivorks that I do in m) 
 Father's name, they bear witness of me." 
 illustration ^ ^ s a ^ s0 °* ^ e g reatest consequence to dis- 
 and simile tinguish between Examples (of the invented 
 distinguish- y n d) properly so called — i. e. which have the 
 force of Arguments — and Comparisons intro- 
 duced for the ornament of style, in the form, either of Si- 
 mile, as it is called, or Metaphor. Not only is an inge- 
 nious comparison often mistaken for a proof, though it be 
 such as, when tried by the rules laid down here and in 
 the treatise on Logic, afford.* no proof at all ;* but also, 
 
 * The pleasure derived from taking in the author's meaning. 
 
Chap. III. § 3.] OF CONVICTION. 103 
 
 an the other hand, a real and valid argument is not un- 
 frequently considered merely as an ornament of Style, 
 if it happen to be such as to produce that effect , though 
 there is evidently no reason why that should not be fair 
 Analogical Reasoning, in which the new idea introduc 
 ed by the Analogy chances to be a sublime or a pleas- 
 ing one. E. G. " The efficacy of penitence, and piety, 
 and prayer, in rendering the Deity propitious, is not irre- 
 concileable with the immutability of his nature, and the 
 steadiness of his purposes. It is not in man's power to 
 alter the course of the sun ; but it is often in his power 
 to cause the sun to shine or not to shine upon him : if he 
 withdraws from its beams, or spreads a curtain before 
 him, the sun no longer shines on him ; if he quits the 
 shade? or removes the curtain, the light is restored to 
 him ; and though no change is in the mean time effect- 
 ed in the heavenly luminary, but only in himself, the 
 result is the same as if it were. Nor is the immutability 
 of God any reason why the returning sinner, who tears 
 away the veil of prejudice or of indifference, should not 
 again be blessed with the sunshine of divine favour." 
 The image here introduced is ornamental, but the Argu- 
 ment is not the less perfect ; since the case adduced 
 fairly establishes the general principle required, that " a, 
 change effected in one of two objects having a certair. 
 relation to each other, may have the same practical re- 
 sult as if it had taken place in the other."* 
 
 The mistake in question is still more likely to occur 
 when such an Argument is conveyed in a single term 
 employed metaphorically ; as is generally the case 
 
 when an ingenious Comparison is employed, (referred by Aristo 
 tie to the pleasure of the act of learning,) is so great, that the reader 
 or hearer is apt to mistake his apprehension of this for a perception 
 of a just and convincing analogy. See part hi. ch. 2. §3. See Ap- 
 pendix [F.] for two instances of " explanatory illustration," both 
 «f them highly ornamental also. 
 
 * For an instance of a highly beautiful, and at the same time ar 
 gumentative comparison, see Appendix, [G.] It appears to me that 
 the passage printed in italics affords a reason for thinking it proba- 
 ble that tiin causes of the Apostles' conduct are rierhtly assigned. 
 
104 ELEMENTS OF RHETORIC. [Part! 
 
 where the allusion is common and obvious ; e g. " Wc 
 do not receive as the genuine doctrines of the primitive 
 Church what have passed down the polluted stream of 
 Tradition " The Argument here is not the less valid 
 for being conveyed in the form of a Metaphor.* 
 
 The employment,- in questions relating to the future, 
 both of the Argument from Example, and of that from 
 Cause to Effect, may be explained from what has been 
 already said concerning the connexion between them; 
 some Cause, whether known or not, being always sup 
 posed, whenever an Example is adduced. 
 Arguments § 4. When Arguments of each of the two 
 from Cause formerly-mentioned classes are employed, 
 have the those from Cause to Effect (Antecedent- 
 precedence, probability) have usually the precedence. 
 
 Men are apt to listen with prejudice to the argu- 
 ments adduced to prove any thing which appears ab 
 stractedly improbable ; i. e. according to what has been 
 above laid down, unnatural, or (if such an expression 
 might be allowed) implausible ; and this prejudice is to 
 be removed by the Argument from Cause to Effect, 
 which thus prepares the way for the reception of the 
 other arguments. E. G. If a man who bore a good 
 character were accused of corruption, the strongest evi- 
 dence against him might avail little; but if he were 
 proved to be of a covetous disposition, this, though it 
 would not alone be allowed to substantiate the crime, 
 would have great weight in inducing his judges to lend 
 an ear to the evidence. And thus, in what relates to 
 the future also, the a priori Argument and Example 
 support each other, when thus used in conjunction, and 
 in the ord^r prescribed. A sufficient Cause being es- 
 tablished, leaves us still at liberty to suppose that there 
 may be circumstances which will prevent the effect from 
 taking place ; but Examples subjoined show that these 
 circumstances do not, at least always, prevent that ef- 
 fect. On the other hand, Examples introduced at the 
 
 * See. Pari iii. ch. 2. !) 4. 
 
Chap. Ill § 4.3 OF CONVICTION. 105 
 
 first, may be suspected of being exceptions to the gene- 
 ral rule, (unless they are very numerous,) instead of 
 being instances of it ; which an adequate Cause previ- 
 ously assigned will show them to be. E. G. If any 
 one had argued, from the temptations and opportunities 
 occurring to a military commander, that Buonaparte 
 was likely to establish a despotism on the ruins of the 
 French Republic, this argument, by itself, would have 
 left men at liberty to suppose that such a result would 
 be prevented by a jealous attachment to liberty in the 
 citizens, and a fellow-feeling of the soldiery with them ; 
 then, the Examples of Caesar and of Cromwell, would 
 have proved that such preventives are not to be 
 trusted. 
 
 Aristotle accordingly has remarked on the expediency 
 of not placing Examples in the foremost rank of argu- 
 ments ; in which case, he says, a considerable number 
 would be requisite ; whereas, in confirmation, even one 
 will have much weight. This observation, however, 
 he omits to extend, as he might have done, to Testi- 
 mony and every other kind of Sign, to which it is no 
 less applicable. 
 
 Another reason for adhering to the order here pre- 
 scribed is, that if the Argument from Cause to Effect 
 were placed after the others, a doubt might often exist, 
 whether we were engaged in proving the point in 
 question, or (assuming it as already proved) in seeking 
 only to account for it ; that Argument being, by the 
 very nature of it, such as would account for the truth 
 contended for, supposing it were granted. Constant 
 care, therefore, is requisite to guard against any confu- 
 sion or indistinctness as to the object in each case 
 proposed ; whether that be, when a proposition is 
 admitted, to assign a cause which does account for it, 
 (which is one of the classes of Propositions formerly 
 noticed,) or, when it is not admitted, to prove it by an 
 Argument of that kind which would account for it, if 
 it were granted. 
 
 9 
 
106 ELEMENTS OF RHETORIC. [Part I 
 
 With a view to the Arrangement of arguments, n<* 
 rule is of more importance than the one now under 
 consideration ; and Arrangement is a more important 
 noint than is generally supposed ; indeed it is not 
 perhaps of less consequence in Composition than in the 
 Military Art; in which it is well known, that with an 
 equality of forces, in numbers, courage, and every other 
 point, the manner in which they are drawn up, so as 
 either to afford mutual support, or, on the other hand, 
 even to impede and annoy each other, may make the 
 difference of victory or defeat.* 
 
 E. G. In the statement of the Evidences of our 
 Religion, so as to give them their just weight, much 
 depends on the Order in which they are placed. The 
 Antecedent-probability that a Revelation should be 
 given to Man, and that it should be established by 
 miracles, all would allow to be, considered by itself, in 
 the absence of strong direct testimony, utterly insuffi- 
 cient to establish the Conclusion. On the other hand, 
 miracles considered abstractedly, as represented to have 
 occurred without any occasion or reason for them being 
 assigned, carry with them such a strong intrinsic impro- 
 bability as could not be wholly surmounted even by 
 such evidence as would fully establish any other 
 matters of fact. But the evidences of the former class, 
 however inefficient alone towards the establishment of 
 the conclusion, have very great weight in preparing the 
 mind for receiving the other arguments; which again, 
 though they would be listened to with prejudice if not 
 so supported, will then be allowed their just weight. 
 The writers in defence of Christianity have not always 
 attended to this principle ; and their opponents have 
 
 * A great advantage in this point is possessed by the Specker 
 over the Writer. The Speaker compels his hearers to consider the 
 several points brought before them, in the order which he thinks 
 best. Readers on the contrary will sometimes, by dipping into a 
 book, or examining the Table of Contents, light on something so 
 revolting to some prejudice, that though they might have admitted 
 the proofs of it if they had read in thr. order designed, they may at 
 once close the book in disgust. 
 
ohap. HI. § 4.] OF CONVICTION. 107 
 
 often availed themselves of the knowledge of it, by 
 combating in detail, arguments, the combined force of 
 which would have been irresistible.* They argue 
 respecting the credibility of the Christian miracles, 
 abstractedly, as if they were insulated occurrences, 
 without any known or conceivable purpose ; as E. G. 
 " what testimony is sufficient to establish the belief 
 that a dead man was restored to life ?" and then they 
 proceed to show that the probability of a Revelation, 
 abstractedly considered, is not such at least as to 
 establish the fact that one has been given. Whereas., 
 if it were first proved (as may easily be done) merely 
 that there is no such abstract improbability of a Reve- 
 lation as to exclude the evidence in favour of it, and 
 that if one were given, it must be expected to be sup- 
 ported by miraculous evidence, then, just enough 
 reason would be assigned for the occurrence of mira- 
 cles, not indeed to establish them, but to allow a fair 
 hearing for the arguments by which they are proved. f 
 The importance attached to the Arrange- importance 
 ment of arguments by the two great rival of arrange- 
 orators of Athens, may serve to illustrate men ' 
 and enforce what has been said. iEschines strongly 
 urged the judges (in the celebrated contest concerning 
 the crown) to contine his adversary to the same order, 
 in his reply to the charges brought, which he himself 
 had observed in bringing them forward. Demosthenes, 
 however, was far too skilful to be thus entrapped ; and 
 so much importance does he attach to this point, that 
 he opens his speech with a most solemn appeal to the 
 Judges for an impartial hearing ; which implies, he says, 
 not only a rejection of prejudice, but no less also, a 
 permission for each speaker to adopt whatever Arrange- 
 ment he should think fit. And accordingly he proceeds 
 to adopt one very different from that which his antago- 
 nist had laid down ; for he was no less sensible than 
 ids rival, that the same Arrangement which is the 
 
 " 8ee^ 4 ch. 2. t See Palcy's Evidences, Introd 
 
i08 ELEMENTS OF RHETORIC. [Part 1 
 
 most favourable to one side, is likely to be the least 
 favourable to the other. 
 
 It is to be remembered, however, that the rules which 
 have been given respecting the Order in which different 
 kinds of Argument should be arranged, relate only to 
 the different kinds adduced in support of each separate 
 Proposition ; since of course the refutation of an opposed 
 assertion, effected by means of Signs, may be followed 
 by an a priori argument in favour of our own Conclu- 
 sion ; and the like, in many other such cases. 
 When the § 5. A Proposition that is well known 
 premises (whether easy to be established or not) and 
 the conclu- wri i cn contains nothing particularly offen- 
 sion should sive, should in general be stated at once, 
 come first. an( j tne p ]0 ofs subjoined ; but if it be not 
 familiar to the hearers, and especially if it be likely to 
 be unacceptable, it is usually better to state the argu- 
 ments first, or at least some of them, and then introduce 
 the Conclusion: thus. assuming in some degree the 
 character of an investigator- 
 
 There is no question relating to Arrangement more 
 important than the present; audit is therefore the more 
 unfortunate that Cicero, who possessed so much prac- 
 tical skill, should have laid down no rule on this poin< 
 (though it is one which evidently had engaged his at- 
 tention,) but should content himself with saying that 
 sometimes he adopted the one mode and sometimes the 
 other,* (which doubtless he did not do at random,) 
 without distinguishing the cases in which each is to be 
 preferred, and laying down principles to guide our deci 
 sion. Aristotle also, when he lays down the two greai 
 heads into which a speech is divisible, the Proposition 
 and the Proof,t is equally silent as to the order in which 
 they should be placed ; though he leaves it to be under 
 stood, from his manner of speaking, that the Conclusion 
 (or Question) is to be first stated, and then the Premises, 
 as in Mathematics. This indeed is the usual and natu- 
 
 * De Orat t Rhet. book in 
 
Chap. III. § 5] OF CONVICTION. 109 
 
 ral way of speaking or writing ; viz. to begin by de- 
 claring your opinion, and then to subjoin the Reasons 
 for it. But there are many occasions on which it will 
 be of the highest consequence to reverse this plan. It 
 will sometimes give an offensively dogmatical air to a 
 composition, to begin by advancing some new and un- 
 expected assertion ; though sometimes again this may 
 be advisable, when the arguments are such as can be 
 well relied on, and the principal object is to excite atten- 
 tion, and awaken curiosity. And accordingly, with this 
 view, it is not unusual to present some doctrine, by no 
 means really novel, in a new and paradoxical shape. 
 But when the Conclusion to be established is one likely 
 to hurt the feelings and offend the prejudices of the 
 hearers, it is essential to keep out of sight, as much as 
 possible, the point to which we are tending, till the 
 principles from which it is to be deduced shall have 
 been clearly established ; because men listen with pre- 
 judice, if at all, to arguments that are avowedly leading 
 to a conclusion which they are indisposed to admit ; 
 whereas if we thus, as it were, mask the battery, they 
 will not be able to shelter themselves from the dis- 
 charge. The observance accordingly, or neglect of this 
 rule, will often make the difference of success or failure.* 
 
 It may be observed, that if the Proposition to be main- 
 tained be such as the hearers are likely to regard as 
 insignificant, the question should be at first suppressed ; 
 but if there be any thing offensive to their prejudices, 
 the question may be stated, but the decision of it, for a 
 time, kept back. 
 
 And it will often be advisable to advance very gra- 
 dually to the full statement of the Proposition required, 
 and to prove it, if one may so speak, by instalments ; 
 establishing separately, and in order, each part of the 
 
 ♦ See note, p. 106, ante. It may be added, that it is not only noth- 
 ing dishonest, but is a point of pacific charitableness as well as ol 
 discretion, in any discussion with any one, to begin with points oi 
 agreement rather than of disagreement. 
 
150 ELEMENTS OF RHETORIC. [Pari 1 
 
 truth in question. It is thus that Aristotle establishes 
 many of his doctrines, and among others his definition 
 of Happiness, in the beginning of the Nicomachean 
 Ethics ; he first proves in what it does not consist, and 
 then establishes, one by one, the several points which 
 together constitute his notion. 
 
 Thus again, Paley (in his Evidences) first proves that 
 the apostles, &c. suffered ; next that they encountered 
 their sufferings knowingly ; then, that it was for 'their 
 testimony that they suffered ; then, that the events they 
 testified were "miraculous; then, that those events were 
 the same as are recorded in our books, &c. &c. 
 
 In public meetings the measure ultimately adopted 
 will usually have been proposed in a series of resolu 
 tions; each of which successively will perhaps have 
 been carried by a large majority, in cases where, if the 
 whole had been proposed in a mass, it would have been 
 rejected ; some persons feeling objections to one portion, 
 and others to another. 
 
 It will often happen again that some general princi- 
 ple of no very paradoxical character may be proposed 
 in the outset ; and when that is established, an unex- 
 pected and unwelcome application of it may be proved 
 irresistibly. 
 
 Waiving a It is often expedient, sometimes unavoida- 
 question. ble, to waive for the present, some question 
 or portion of a question, while pur attention is occupied 
 with another point. Now it cannot be too carefully 
 kept in mind, that it is a common mistake with inaccu- 
 rate reasoners (and a mistake which is studiously kept 
 up by an artful sophist) to suppose that what is thus 
 waived is altogether given up. " Such a one does not 
 attempt to prove this or that :" " he does not deny so 
 and so :" " he tacitly admits that such and such may be 
 the case ;" &c. are expressions which one may often 
 hear triumphantly employed, on no better grounds. 
 And yet it is very common in Mathematics ior a ques- 
 tion to be waived in this manner. Euclid, e. g firal 
 
Chap. XII. $ 7.] OF CONVICTION. m 
 
 asserts and proves, that the exterior angle of a triangte 
 is greater than either of the interior opposite angles ; — 
 without being able to determine at once, how much 
 greater; — and that any two angles of a triangle are less 
 than two right angles; waiving for the present, the 
 question, how much less. He is enabled to prove, at a 
 more advanced stage, that the exterior angle is equal to 
 the two interior opposite angles together ; and that al] 
 the three angles of a triangle are equal to two right angles 
 
 The only remedy is, to state distinctly and repeatedly 
 that you do not abandon, as untenable, such and such 
 a position, which you are not at present occupied in 
 maintaining ; — that you are not to be understood as ad- 
 mitting the truth of this or that, though you do not at 
 present undertake to disprove it. 
 
 § G. If the Argument a priori has been ^h^ 
 introduced in the proof of the main Proposi- needful to 
 tion in question, there will generally be no account for 
 need of afterwards adducing Causes to ac- an} dC ' 
 count for the truth established ; since that will have 
 been already done in the course of the Argument; 
 on the other hand, it will often be advisable to do this, 
 when arguments of the other class have alone been em- 
 ployed. 
 
 For it is in every case agreeable and satisfactory, and 
 may often be of great utility, to explain, where it can 
 be done, the Causes which produce an Effect that is it- 
 self already admitted to exist. But it must be remem- 
 bered that, it is of great importance to make it clearly 
 appear which object is, in each case, proposed : whether 
 to establish the fact, or to account for it ; since otherwise 
 we may often be supposed to be employing a feeble ar- 
 gument. For that which is a satisfactory explanation 
 of an admitted fact, will frequently be such as would be 
 very insufficient to prove it, supposing it were doubted. 
 
 § 7. Refutation of Objections should gene- 
 rally be placed in the midst of the Argu- ^futatioa 
 aaent ; but nearer the beginning than the end. 
 
112 ELEMENTS OF RHETORIC. [Part 1 
 
 If indeed very strong objections have obtaii'.ed much 
 currency, or have been just stated by an opponent, so 
 that what is asserted is likely to be regarded as para- 
 doxical, it may be advisable to begin with a Refutation ; 
 but when this is not the case, the mention of Objections 
 in the opening will be likely to give a paradoxical air 
 to our assertion, by implying a consciousness that much 
 may be said against it. If again all mention of Objec- 
 tions be deferred till the last, the other arguments will 
 often be listened to with prejudice by those who may 
 suppose us to be overlooking what may be urged on 
 the other side. 
 
 Sometimes indeed it will be difficult to give a satisfac- 
 tory Refutation of the opposed opinions, till we have 
 gone through the arguments in support of our own : 
 even in that case however it will be better to take some 
 brief notice of them early in the Composition, with a 
 promise of afterwards considering them more fully, and 
 refuting them. This is Aristotle's usual procedure. 
 
 A sophistical use is often made of this last 
 evasion. 031 rule ' wnen the Objections are such as can- 
 not really be satisfactorily answered. The 
 skilful sophist will often, by the promise of a trium- 
 phant Refutation hereafter, gain attention to his own 
 statement ; which, if it be made plausible, will so draw 
 off the hearer's attention from the Objections, that a very 
 inadequate fulfilment of that promise w T ill pass unno- 
 ticed, and due weight will not be allowed to the 
 Objections. 
 
 It may be worth remarking, that Refutation will often 
 occasion the introduction of fresh Propositions ; i. e. we 
 may have to disprove Propositions, which, though in- 
 compatible with the principal one to be maintained, will 
 not be directly contradictory to it : e. g. Burke, in order 
 to the establishment of his theory of beauty, refutes the 
 other theories which have been advanced by those who 
 place it in " fitness," for a certain end — in " proportion, 1 * 
 — in " perfection," &c. ; and Dr A. Smith, in his Th& 
 
Chju II. § 7.] OF CONVICTION 113 
 
 pry qf Moral Sentiments, combats the opinion of those 
 who xuuke " expediency the test of virtue " — of the ad- 
 vocate of a " Moral sense," &c. which doctrines re- 
 spectively are at variance with those of these authors, 
 and imply, though they do not express, a contradiction 
 of them. 
 
 Though I am at present treating principally of the 
 proper collocation of Refutation, some remarks on the 
 conduct of it will pot be unsuitable in this place. In 
 the first plsce, it is to be observed that there is (as Aris- 
 totle remarks, RheL Book ii. apparently in opposition 
 to some former writers) no distinct class of refutatory 
 Argument ; since they become such merely by the cir- 
 cumstances under which they are employed. 
 There are two ways in which any Proposi- ^^ml 
 tion may be refuted ;* first, by proving the 
 the contradictory of it; secondly, by overthrowing the 
 Arguments by which it has been supported. The for- 
 mer of these is less strictly and properly called Refuta- 
 tion ; being only accidentally such, since it might have 
 been employed equally well had the opposite Argument 
 never existed ; and in fact it will often happen that a 
 Proposition maintained by one author, may be in this 
 way refuted by another, who had never heard of his 
 Arguments. Thus Pericles is represented by Thucy- 
 dides as proving, in a speech to the Athenians, the pro- 
 bability of their success against the Peloponnesians ; 
 and thus, virtually, refuting the speech of the Corinthi- 
 an ambassador at Sparta, who had laboured to show 
 the probability of their speedy downfall.f In fact 
 every one who argues in favour of any Conclusion iff 
 virtually refuting, in this way, the opposite Con- 
 clusion. 
 
 * 'Avrt<Ti)XAo>'t(7//os and evaraais of Aristotle, bookii. 
 
 t The speeches indeed appear to be in great part the composition 
 of the historian ; but he professes to give the substance of what 
 «vas either actually said, or likely to be said, on each occasion : and 
 the arguments urged in the speeches now in question areundoubt 
 edly such as the respective speakers would be likely to employ 
 
U4 ELEMENTS OF RHETORIC. [Part 1 
 
 But the character of Refutation more strictly belongs 
 to the other mode of proceeding ; viz. in which a 
 reference is made, and an answer given, to some 
 specific arguments in favour of the opposite conclusion. 
 This Refutation may consist either in the denial of one 
 of the Premises* or an objection against the conclusive- 
 ness of the reasoning. And here it is to be observed 
 that an objection is often supposed, from the mode in 
 which it is expressed, to belong to this last class, when 
 perhaps it does not, but consists in the contradiction of 
 a Premiss ; for it is very common to say, " I admit 
 your principle, but deny that it leads to such a conse- 
 quence ; r ' " the assertion is true, but it has no force as 
 an Argument to prove that conclusion ;" this sounds 
 like an objection to the Reasoning itself ; but it will not 
 unfrequently be fouud to amount only to a denial of the 
 suppressed Premiss of an Enthymeme; the assertion 
 which is admitted being only the expressed Premiss, 
 whose " force as an Argument " must of course depend 
 on the other Premiss, which is understood.! Thus 
 Warburton admits that in the Law of Moses the doctrine 
 of a future state was not revealed ; but contends that 
 this, so far from disproving, as the Deists pretend, his 
 divine mission, does, on the contrary, establish it. But 
 the objection is not to the Deist's Argument properly 
 so called, but to the other Premiss, which they so hastily 
 took for granted, and which he disproves, viz. " that a 
 divinely-commissioned Lawgiver would have been sure 
 to reveal that doctrine." The objection is then only 
 properly said to lie against the Reasoning itself, when 
 
 * If the premiss to be refuted be a " Universal," (See Logic, b. ii 
 ch. ii. \2.\ it will be sufficient to establish its Contradictor}-, which 
 will be a Particular ; which will often be done by an argument 
 that will naturally be exhibited in the third figure, whose couclu- 
 sions are always Particulars. Hence, this may be called the 
 refutatory Figure. 
 
 t It has been remarked to me by an intelligent friend, that in 
 common discourse the word " Principle, " is usually employed to 
 designate the major premiss of an Argument, and " Reason," 
 the minor. 
 
Chap. III. § 7.] OF CONVICTION. llfl 
 
 it is shown that, granting all that is assumed on the 
 other side, whether expressed or understood, still the 
 conclusion contended for would not follow from the 
 Premises ; either on account of some ambiguity in the 
 Middle Term, or some other fault of that class. 
 
 This is the proper place for a treatise on Fallacies ; 
 but as this has been inserted in the " Elements of 
 Logic," I have only to refer the reader to it. (Book iii.) 
 
 It may be proper in this place to remark, Direct and 
 that " Indirect Reasoning " is sometimes indirect re 
 confounded with " Refutation," or supposed futation « 
 to be peculiarly connected with it ; which is not the case; 
 either Direct or Indirect Reasoning being employed 
 indifferently, for Refutation, as well as for any other 
 purpose. The application of the term " elenctic," 
 (from iTieyxeiv, to refute or disprove,) to Indirect Argu- 
 ments, has probably contributed to this confusion ; 
 which, however, principally arises from the very cir- 
 cumstance that occasioned such a use of that term ; viz. 
 that in the Indirect method the absurdity or falsity of a 
 Proposition (opposed to our own) is proved ; and hence 
 is suggested the idea of an adversary maintaining that 
 Proposition, and of the Refutation of that adversary 
 being necessarily accomplished in this way. But it 
 should be remembered, that Euclid and other mathema- 
 ticians, though they can have no opponent to refute, 
 often employ the Indirect Demonstration ; and that, on 
 the other hand, if the contradictory of an opponent's 
 Premiss can be satisfactorily proved in the Direct 
 method, the Refutation is sufficient. It is true, however, 
 that while, in Science, the Direct method is considered 
 preferable, in Controvesy, the Indirect is often adopted 
 by choice, as it affords an opportunity for holding up 
 an opponent to scorn and ridicule, by deducing some 
 very absurd conclusion from the principles he main- 
 tains, or according to the mode of arguing he employs. 
 Nor indeed can a fallacy be so clearly exposed to the 
 unlearned reader in any other way. For it is no easy 
 
J 86 ELEMENTS OF RHETORIC. [Part I 
 
 matter to explain, to one ignorant of Logic, the grounds 
 on which you object to an inconclusive argument; 
 though he will be able to perceive its correspondence 
 with another, brought forward to illustrate it, in which 
 an absurd conclusion may be introduced, as draws 
 from true premises. 
 
 Proving It is evident that either the Premiss of an 
 
 too much, opponent, or his Conclusion, may be dis- 
 proved, either in the Direct, or in the Indirect method ; 
 i. e. either by proving the truth of the Contradictory, or 
 by showing that an absurd conclusion may fairly be 
 deduced from the proposition in question. When this 
 latter mode of refutation is adopted with respect to the 
 Premiss, the phrase by which this procedure is usually 
 designated, is, that the " Argument proves too much ;" 
 i. e. that it proves, besides the conclusion drawn, 
 another, which is manifestly inadmissible. E. G. The 
 Argument by which Dr. Campbell labours to prove that 
 every correct Syllogism must be nugatory, as involving 
 a " petitio principii," proves, if admitted at all, more 
 than he intended ; since it may easily be shown to be 
 equally applicable to all Reasoning whatever. 
 
 It is worth remarking, that an Indirect argument may 
 easily be altered in form so as to be stated in the Direct 
 mode. For, strictly speaking, that is Indirect reason- 
 ing in which we assume as true the Proposition whose 
 Contradictory it is our object to prove ; and deducing 
 regularly from it an absurd Conclusion, infer thence 
 that the Premiss in question is false ; the alternative 
 proposed in all correct reasoning- being, either to admit 
 the Conclusion, or to deny one of the Premises. But 
 by adopting the form of a Destructive Conditional,* the 
 same argument as this, in substance, may be stated 
 directly. E. G. We may say, " let it be admitted, that 
 no testimony can satisfactorily establish such a fact as 
 is not agreeable to our experience : thence :t will follow 
 that the Eastern Prince judged wisely and rightly, in at 
 
 * See Logic, b. ii. c 4. 5) 6. 
 
Chap III §7] OF CONVICTION. 117 
 
 once rejecting, as a manifest falsehood, the account 
 given him of the phenomenon of ice ; but he was evi- 
 dently mistaken in so doing ; therefore the Principle 
 assumed is unsound." Now the substance of this Ar- 
 gument remaining the same, the form of it may be so 
 altered as to make the Argument Direct; viz. "if it he 
 true that no testimony, &c. that Eastern Prince must 
 have judged wisely, &c. but he did not ; therefore that 
 principle is not true." 
 
 Universally indeed a Conditional Proposi- character 
 tion may be regarded as an assertion of the of condi- 
 validity of a certain Argument ; the Antece- tlon .f} P™- 
 
 i j. v ..in- j *i positions, 
 
 dent corresponding to the Premises, and the 
 Consequent to the Conclusion ; and neither of them 
 being asserted as true, only, the dependence of the one 
 on the other ; the alternative then is, to acknowledge 
 either the truth of the Consequent, as in the Constructive 
 Syllogism, or (as in the Destructive,) the falsity of the 
 antecedent : and the former accordingly corresponds to 
 ■ Direct reasoning, the latter to Indirect ; being, as has 
 been said, a mode of stating it in the Direct form ; as is 
 evident from the examples adduced. 
 
 The difference between these two modes of i ronical ef . 
 stating such an Argument is considerable, feet of inch 
 when there is a long chain of reasoning. rect ar S u 
 For when we employ the Categorical form, m 
 and assume as true the Premises we design to disprove, 
 it is evident we must be speaking ironically, and in the 
 character, assumed for the moment, of an adversary, 
 when, on the contrary, we use the hypothetical form, 
 there is no irony. Butler's Analogy is an instance of 
 the latter procedure : he contends that if such and such 
 objections were admissible against Religion, they would 
 be applicable equally to the constitution and course of 
 Nature. Had he, on the other hand, assumed, for the 
 argument's sake, that such objections against Religion 
 are valid v and had thence proved the condition of the 
 natural world to be totally different from what we se» 
 
118 ELEMENTS OF RHETORIC. [Paut I 
 
 it to be, his arguments, which woula have been the 
 same in substance, would have assumed an ironical 
 form. This form has been adopted by Burke in his 
 celebrated Defence of Natural Society, by a late noble 
 Lord; in which, assuming the person of Bolingbroke, 
 he proves, according to the principles of that author, 
 that the arguments he brought against ecclesiastical, 
 would equally lie against civil, institutions This is an 
 Argument from Analogy, as well as Bishop Butler's, 
 though not relating to the same point; Butler's being a 
 defence of the Doctrines of Religion ; Burke's, of ila 
 Institutions and practical ef/ects. A defence of the 
 Evidences of our religion, (the third point against which 
 objections have been urged,) on a similar plan with the 
 work of Burke just mentioned, and consequently, like 
 that, in an ironical form, I attempted a few years ago, 
 in a pamphlet, (published anonymously, merely for the 
 preservaiion of its ironical character,) whose object was 
 to show, that objections, (" Historic Doubts,") similar 
 to those against the Scripture-history, and much more 
 plausible, might be urged against all the received ac- 
 counts of Napoleon Buonaparte. 
 
 It is in some respects a recommendation of this latter 
 method, and in others an objection to it, that the soph- 
 istry of an adversary will often be exposed by it in a 
 ludicrous point of view: and this even where no such 
 effect is designed ; the very essence of jest being its 
 mimic sophiHry.* This will often give additional force 
 to the Argument, by the vivid impression which ludi- 
 crous images produce ;f but again it will not unf re- 
 cently have this disadvantage, that weak men, per- 
 ceiving the wit, are apt to conclude that nothing but 
 wit is designed; and lose sight, perhaps, oi a solid and 
 convincing Argument, which they regard as no more 
 than a good joke. Having been warned that " ridicule 
 
 • See Logic, Chapter on Fallacies, at the conclusion, 
 f Discit enim citius, meminitque libentius illud 
 
 Quodquis deridet, quam quod probut et veneratur. 
 Hoi . En. i b. 3 
 
Chap. III. § 7.] OF CONVICTION. 119 
 
 is not the test of truth," and " that wisdom and wit" 
 are not the same thing, they distrust .every thing that 
 can possibly be regarded as witty ; not having judg- 
 ment to perceive the combination, when it occurs, of 
 wit with sound reasoning. The ivy- wreath completely 
 conceals from their view the point cf the Thyrsus. 
 
 And moreover if such a mode of Argument Danger 
 be employed on serious subjects, the " weak of «'ony- 
 brethren" are sometimes scandalized by what appears 
 to them a profanation ; not having discernment to per- 
 ceive when it is that the ridicule does, and when it does 
 not, affect the solemn subject itself. But for the respect 
 paid to Holy Writ, the taunt of Elijah against the pro- 
 phets of Baal would probably appear to such persons 
 irreverent. And the caution now implied will appear 
 the more important, when it is considered how large a 
 majority they are, who, in this point, come under the 
 description of " weak brethren." He that can laugh at 
 what is ludicrous, and at the same time preserve a clear 
 discernment of sound and unsound Reasoning, is no or- 
 dinary man. There seem indeed to be some persons so 
 constituted as to be incapable of comprehending the 
 plainest irony ; though they have not in other points 
 any corresponding weakness of intellect. The humo- 
 rous satirical pamphlet, (attributed to an eminent litera- 
 ry character,) entitled " Advice to a Reviewer," 1 have 
 known persons read without perceiving that it was 
 ironical. And the same, with the " Historic Doubts" 
 lately referred to. 
 
 There is also this danger in the use of irony ; that 
 sometimes when titles, in themselves favourable, arc 
 applied (or their application retained) to any set of men, 
 in bitter scorn, they will then sometimes be enabled to 
 appropriate such titles in a serious sense ; the ironical 
 force gradually evaporating, f mean, such titles as 
 "Orthodox," " Evangelical," " Saints," "Reformers," 
 "Liberals," "Political-Economists," " Rational," &c. 
 The advantage thus given nay be illustrated by the 
 
a20 ELEMENTS OF RHETORIC [1 f.i * 
 
 story of the cocoa-nuts in Sinbad the Sailor's fi/tfc 
 voyage. 
 
 It may be observed generally, that too much stress is 
 often laid, especially by unpractised reasoners, on Refu- 
 tation ; (in the strictest and narrowest sense, i. e. ol 
 Objections to the Premises, or to the Reasoning,) I mean 
 that they are apt both to expect a Refutation where 
 none can fairly be expected, and to attribute to it, when 
 satisfactorily made out, more than it really accomplishes. 
 
 TJnanswer- ^ 0I ^ 1St ' n0t 0T ^Y s P ecious > Dut reai and 
 
 able argu" solid arguments, such as it would be diffi- 
 ments may cult, or impossible to refute, may be urged 
 both £des. a g ainst a Proposition which is nevertheless 
 true, and may be satisfactorily established 
 by a preponderance of probability.* It is in strictly 
 scientific Reasoning alone that all the arguments which 
 lead to a false Conclusion must be fallacious : in what 
 is called moral or probable Reasoning, there may be 
 sound arguments and valid objections on both sides.f 
 E. G. it may be shown that each of two contending 
 parties has some reason to hope for success ; and this, 
 by irrefragable arguments on both sides ; leading to 
 conclusions which are not (strictly speaking) contra- 
 dictory to each other ; for though only one party can 
 obtain the victory, it may be true that each has some 
 reason to expect it. The real question in such cases is 
 which event is the more probable ; — on which side the 
 Evidence preponderates. Now it often happens that 
 the inexperienced reasoner, thinking it necessary that 
 every objection should be satisfactorily answered, will 
 have his attention drawn off from the arguments of the 
 opposite side, and will be occupied perhaps in making 
 a weak defence, while victory was in his hands. The 
 objection perhaps may be unanswerable, and yet may 
 
 * See above, ch. ii. § 4. and also Logic, Part iii. § 17. 
 
 t Bacon, in his rhetorical commonplaces — heads of argument* 
 pro and contra, on several questions — has some admirable illustra- 
 tions of what has been here remarked. I have accordingly (in 
 Appendix A.) inserted some selections from them 
 
Chap. III. § 7.] OF CONVICTION. 121 
 
 eafely be allowed, if it can be shown that more and 
 weightier objections lie against every other supposition. 
 Phis is a most important caution for those who are 
 studying the Evidences of Religion. Let the opposei 
 of them be called on, instead of confining himself to 
 detached cavils, and saying, " how do you answer 
 this?" and " how do you explain that ?" to frame some 
 consistent hypothesis to account for the introduction of 
 Christianity by human means ; and then to consider 
 whether there are more or fewer difficulties in his hy- 
 pothesis than in the other. 
 
 On the other hand, one may often meet sophistical 
 with a sophistical refutation of objections, Refutation, 
 consisting in counter-objections urged against some 
 thing else which is taken for granted to be, though it 
 is not, the only alternative. E. G. Objections against 
 an unlimited Monarchy may be met by a glowing de- 
 scription of the horrors of the mob-government of the 
 Athenian and Roman Republics. If an exclusive atten- 
 tion to mathematical pursuits be objected to, it may be 
 answered by deprecating the exclusion of such studies. 
 It is thus that a man commonly replies to the censure 
 passed on any vice he is addicted to, by representing 
 some other vice as worse ; c. g. if he iff blamed fcr 
 being a sot, he dilales on the greater enormity of being 
 a thief ; as if there were any need he should be either. 
 And it is in this way alone that the advocates of Trans- 
 portation have usually defended it : describing some 
 very ill-managed penitentiary-system, and assuming as 
 self-evident and admitted that this must be the only 
 possible substitute for Penal-Colonies.* This fallacy 
 may be stated logically, as a Disjunctive Hypothetical 
 with the Major false. 
 
 Secondly, the force of a Refutation is often Over-esti- 
 
 over-rated: an argument which is satisfac- mate of tQ « 
 .. , o lorce 01 re- 
 
 tonly answered ought merely to gojor no- futation. 
 
 See Letter to Earl Grey on the subject — Report of Committee 
 Mid " Substance of a Speech," &c. 
 10 
 
122 ELEMENTS OF RHETORIC. [Part I 
 
 thing : it is possible that the conclusion drawn 
 may nevertheless be true : yet men are apt to take 
 for granted that the conclusion itself is disproved, 
 when the arguments brought forward to establish it 
 have been satisfactorily refuted ; assuming, when pt > 
 haps there is no ground for the assumption, that these 
 are all the arguments that could be urged.* This maybe 
 considered as the fallacy of denying the Consequent of 
 a Conditional Proposition, from the Antecedent having 
 been denied : " if such and such an Argument be ad- 
 mitted, the Assertion in question is true ; but that Argu- 
 ment is inadmissible ; therefore the Assertion is not true." 
 Hence the injury done to any cause by a weak advocate ; 
 
 * Another form of ignoratio elenchi. (irrelevant conclusion,) 
 Which is rather the more serviceable on the side of the respondent, 
 is, to prove or disprove some part of that which is required, ami 
 dwell on that, suppressing all the rest. 
 
 " Thus, if a University is charged with cultivating only the mere 
 elements of Mathematics, and in reply a list of the books studied 
 there is produced, should even any one of those books be not ele- 
 mentary, the charge is in fairness refuted ; but the sophist may then 
 earnestly contend that some of those books are elementary ; and 
 thus keep out of sight the real question, viz. whether they are all 
 so. This is the great art of the answerer of a book : suppose the 
 main positions in any work to be irrefragable, it will be strange if 
 some illustration of them, or some subordinate part, in short, will 
 not admit of a plausible objection ; the opponent then joins issue on 
 ono of these incidental questions, and comes forward with ' a Re- 
 ply ' to such and such a work." — Logic, pp. 199, 200. § 18. Another 
 expedient which answerers sometimes resort to, and which is less 
 likely to remain permanently undetected, is to garble a book ; ex- 
 hibiting statements without their explanations— conclusions with- 
 out their proofs — and passages brought together out of their origin 
 al order ; — so as to produce an appearance of falsehood, confusion, 
 or inconclusiveness. The last and boldest step is for the " answer- 
 er," to make some false statement or absurd remark, and then fa- 
 ther it upon the author. And even this artifice will sometimes sue 
 ceed for a time, because many persons do not suspect that any one 
 would venture upon it. Again, it is no uncommon manoeuvre of a 
 dexterous sophist when there is some argument, statement, scheme 
 &c. which he cannot directly defeat, to assent with seeming cordi 
 ality, but with some exception, addition, or qualification, (as e. g 
 an additional clause in an Act,) which, though seemingly unimpor 
 tant, shall entirely nullify all the rest. This has been humorously 
 compared to the trick of the pilgrim in the well-known tale, who 
 ' took the liberty to boil his pease." i 
 
Chap. III. § 7.] OF CONVICTION. 128 
 
 the cause itself appearing to the vulgar to be over- 
 thrown, when the Arguments brought forward are 
 answered. 
 
 " Hence the danger of ever advancing more than can 
 be well maintained ; since the refutation of that will 
 often quash the whole : a guilty person may often es- 
 cape by having too much laid to his charge ; so he may 
 also by having too much evidence against him, i. e. 
 some that is not in itself satisfactory : thus a prisonei 
 may sometimes obtain acquittal by showing that one of 
 the witnesses against him is an infamous informer and 
 spy ; though perhaps if that part of the evidence had 
 been omitted, the rest would have been sufficient for 
 conviction."* 
 
 The maxim here laid down, however, applies only to 
 those causes in which, (waiving the consideration of 
 honesty,) first, it is wished to produce not merely a 
 temporary, but a lasting impression, and that, on read- 
 ers or hearers of some judgment; and secondly, where 
 there really are some weighty arguments to be urged. 
 When no charge e.' g. can really be substantiated, and 
 yet it is desired to produce some present effect on the 
 unthinking, there may be room for the application of 
 the proverb, " Slander stoutly, and something will 
 stick ;" the vulgar are apt to conclude, that where a great 
 deal is said, something must be true ; and many are fond 
 of that lazy contrivance for saving the trouble of think- 
 ing — "splitting the difference;" imagining that they 
 show a laudable caution in believing only a part of 
 what is said. And thus a malignant sophist may gain 
 Buch a temporary advantage by the multiplicity of his 
 attacks, as the rabble of combatants described by Homer 
 sometimes did by their showers of javelins, which en- 
 cumbered and weighed down the shield of one of his 
 heroes, though they could not penetrate it. 
 
 On the above principle — that a weak argument is 
 •^sitively hurtfuJ, is founded a most, important maxim, 
 
 » See Logic, p 2Q0 
 
124 ELEMENTS OF RHETORIC. [Part I 
 
 Objections that it is not only the fairest, but also the 
 stated 1 \n wisest P lan > to state Objections in tJteir full 
 their full force , at least, wherever there does exist 
 force. a satisfactory answer to them; otherwise, 
 
 those who hear them stated more strongly than by the 
 uncandid advocate who had undertaken to repel them, 
 will naturally enough conclude that they are unan- 
 swerable. It is but a momentary and ineffective 
 triumph that can be obtained by manoeuvres like those 
 of Turnus's charioteer, who furiously chased the feeble 
 stragglers of the army, and evaded the main front of 
 the battle. 
 
 And when the objections urged are not only unan- 
 swerable, but (what is more) decisive — when some 
 argument that has been adduced, or some portion of a 
 system, &c. is perceived to be really unsound, it is the 
 wisest way fairly and fully to confess this ; and abandon 
 it altogether. There are many who seem to make it a 
 point of honour never to yield a single point — never to 
 retract : or (if this be found unavoidable) " to back out" 
 — as the phrase is — of an untenable position, so as to 
 display their reluctance to make any concession ; as if 
 their credit was staked on preserving unbroken the 
 talisman of professed infallibility. But ihere is little 
 wisdom (the question of honesty is out of the province 
 of this treatise) in such a procedure; which in fact is 
 very liable to cast a suspicion on that which is really 
 sound, when it appears that the advocate is ashamed to 
 abandon what is unsound. And such an honest avowal 
 as 1 have been recommending, though it may raise at 
 first a feeble and brief shout of exultation, will soon be 
 followed by a general and increasing murmur of appro- 
 bation. Uncandid as the world often is, it seldom fails 
 to applaud the magnanimity of confessing a defect or a 
 mistake, and to reward it with an increase of conlidence. 
 Indeed this increased confidence is often rashly be- 
 stowed, by a kind of over-generosity in the public; 
 which is apt too hastily to consider the confession of 
 
Shap. III. § 8.] OF CONVICTION. 125 
 
 an error as a proof of universal sincerity. Some of the 
 most skilful sophists accordingly avail themselves of 
 this; and gain credence for much that is false, by 
 acknowledging with an air of frankness some one 
 mistake; which, like a tub thrown to the whale, they 
 sacrifice for the sake of persuading us that they have 
 committed only one error. I fear it can hardly be 
 affirmed as yet, that " this trick has been so long used 
 m controversy, as to be almost worn out."* 
 
 § 8. It is important to observe, that too Too earnest 
 earnest and elaborate a refutation of argu- refutation, 
 ments which are really insignificant, or which their 
 opponent wishes to represent as such, will frequently 
 have the effect of giving them importance. Whatever 
 is slightly noticed, and afterwards passed by with 
 contempt, many readers and hearers will very often 
 conclude (sometimes for no other reason) to be really 
 contemptible. But if they are assured of this again 
 and again with great earnestness, they often begin to 
 doubt it. They see the respondent plying artillery and 
 musketry — bringing up horse and foot to the charge ; 
 and conceive that what is so vehemently assailed must 
 possess great strength. One of his refutations might 
 perhaps have left them perfectly convinced ; all of 
 them together, leave them in doubt. 
 
 But it is not to Refutation alone that this Danger of 
 principle will apply. In other cases also it writing too 
 may happen (paradoxical as it is at first forcibl > r - 
 sight) that it shall bp possible, and dangerous, to write 
 too forcibly. Such a caution may remind some readers 
 of the personage in the fairy-tale, whose swiftness was 
 so prodigious, that he was obliged to tie his legs, lest 
 he shoula overrun, and thus miss, the hares he was 
 pursuing. But on consideration it will be seen that 
 the caution is not unreasonable. When indeed the 
 point maintained is one which most persons admit or 
 are disposed to admit, but which they are prone to loss 
 
 * See Defence of Oxford Second Reply, p. SS, 
 
i26 ELEMENTS OF RHETORIC. [Part I. 
 
 sight of, or to underrate in respect of its importance, 01 
 not to dwell on with an attention sufficiently practical, 
 that is just the occasion which calls on us to put forth 
 all our efforts in setting it forth in the most forcible 
 manner possible. Yet even here, it is often necessary 
 to caution the hearers against imagining that a point is 
 difficult to establish, because its importance leads us to 
 dwell very much on it. Some e. g. are apt to suppose, 
 from the copious and elaborate arguments which have 
 been urged in defence of the authenticity of the Chris- 
 tian Scriptures, that these are books whose authenticity 
 is harder to be established than that of other supposed- 
 ancient works ;* whereas the fact is, in the very highest 
 degree, the reverse. But the importance, and the 
 difficulty, of proving any point, are very apt to be 
 confounded together, though easily distinguishable. 
 We bar the doors carefully, not merely when we 
 expect an unusually formidable attack, but when we 
 have an unusual treasure in the house. 
 
 But when any principle is to be established, which, 
 though in itself capable of being made evident to the 
 humblest capacity, yet has been long and generally 
 overlooked, and to which established prejudices are 
 violently opposed, it will sometimes happen that to set 
 forth the absurdity of such prejudices in the strongest 
 point of view, (though in language perfectly decent and 
 temperate,) and to demonstrate the conclusion, over and 
 over, so clearly and forcibly that it shall seem the most 
 palpable folly or dishonesty to deny it, will, with some 
 minds, have an opposite tendency to the one desired 
 Some perhaps, conscious of having been the slaves or 
 the supporters of such prejudices as are thus held up to 
 contempt, (not indeed by disdainful language, but simply 
 by being placed in a very clear light,) and of having 
 
 * See Taylor's History of the Transmission of Ancient Books ; a 
 very interesting and valuable work ; and also the Review of it— 
 which is still more so— in the London Review, No. 2, 1829 
 (Saunder? and Otley.) 
 
Chap. III. § 8.] OF CONVICTION. 127 
 
 overlooked truths which, when thus clearly explained 
 and proved, appear perfectly evident even to a child, 
 will consequently be stung by a feeling of shame pass- 
 ing off into resentment, which stops their ears against 
 argument. They could have borne perhaps to change 
 their opinion ; but not, .so to change it as to tax their for- 
 mer opinion with the grossest folly. They would be 
 so sorry to think they had been blinded to such an 
 excess, and are so angry with him who is endeavouring 
 to persuade them to think so, that these feelings deter- 
 mine them not to think it. They try (and it is an at- 
 tempt which few persons ever make in vain) to shut 
 their eyes against an humiliating conviction : and thus, 
 the very triumphant force of the reasoning adduced, 
 serves to Harden them against admitting the conclusion . 
 much as one may conceive Roman soldiers desperately 
 holding out an untenable fortress to the last extremity, 
 from apprehension of being made to pass under the 
 yoke by the victors, should they surrender. 
 
 Others again, perhaps comparatively strangers to the 
 question, and not prejudiced, or not strongly prejudiced, 
 against your conclusion, but ready to admit it if sup- 
 ported by sufficient arguments, will sometimes, if your 
 arguments are very much beyond what is sufficient, have 
 their suspicions roused by this very circumstance. 
 "Can it be possible," they will say, "that a conclusion 
 so very obvious as this is made to appear, should not 
 have been admitted long ago ? Is it conceivable that 
 such and such eminent philosophers, divines, statesmen, 
 &c. should have been all their lives under delusions so 
 gross ?" Hence they are apt to infer, either that the 
 author has mistaken the opinions of those he imagines 
 opposed to him, or else, that there is some subtle fallacy 
 in his arguments. 
 
 The former of these suspicions is a matter of little 
 
 or no consequence, except as far as regards the author's 
 
 credit for acuteness.* As far as the legitimate province 
 
 * " The more simple, clear, and obvious any principle is rendered, 
 
128 ELEMENTS GF RHETORIC. [Part 1 
 
 of the Orator is concerned, he may be satisfied with 
 establishing a just principle, and leaving men to imagine 
 if they will, that nobody had ever doubted it. But the 
 other suspicion may lead to very serious evil ; and it is 
 not by any means unlikely to occur. Many a one will 
 be convinced that there must be some flaw in a Course 
 of argument in which he is conscious, and perhaps 
 ready to confess, that he cannot point out any ; merely 
 on the ground, that if there is none, but the whole is 
 perfectly sound and valid, he cannot conceive that it 
 should have been overlooked, (so obvious as it is made 
 to appear,) for perhaps ages together, by able men who 
 had devoted their thoughts to the subject. That of so 
 many thousands of physicians w T ho for ages hail been 
 in the daily habit of feeling the pulse, no one before 
 Harvey should have suspected the circulation of the 
 blood, was probably a reason with many for denying 
 that discovery. And a man's total inability, as 1 have 
 said, to point out any fallacy, will by no means remove 
 his conviction or suspicion that there must be somefii 
 the conclusion be one, which, for the reason just men- 
 tioned, seems to him inconceivable. There are many 
 persons unable to find out the flaw in the argument 
 e. g. by which it is pretended to be demonstrated that 
 Achilles could not overtake the tortoise : but some flaw 
 every one is sure there must be, from his full conviction 
 that Achilles could overtake the tortoise. 
 
 In this way it is very possible that our reasoning may 
 be " dark with excess of light." 
 
 Of course it is not meant that a Refutation should 
 
 the more likely is its exposition to elicit those common remarks, 
 • of course ! of course ! no one could ever doubt that ; this is all 
 very true, but there is nothing new brought to light ; nothing that 
 was not familiar to every one ;' ' there needs no ghost to tell us 
 that.' I am convinced that a verbose, mystical, and pnrtially ob- 
 scure way of writing, on such a subject, is the most likely to catch 
 the attention of the multitude. The generality verify the observa- 
 tion of Tacitus, ' omneignotum pro mirifico :' and when any thing 
 is made very plain to them, are apt to fancy that they knew it 
 already."— Preface to Elements of Losi? 
 
Chap. III. <*j 8.] OF CONVICTION. 129 
 
 ever appear (when that can be avoided) insufficient; 
 — that a conclusion should be left doubtful which we 
 are able, to establish fully. But in combating deep, 
 rooted prejudices, and maintaining unpopular and para- 
 doxical truths, the point to be aimed at should be, to 
 adduce what is sufficient, and not much more than is 
 sufficient, to prove your conclusion. If (in such a case) 
 you can but satisfy men that your opinion is decidedly 
 more probable than the opposite, you will have carried 
 your point more effectually, than if you go on, much 
 beyond this, to demonstrate, by a multitude of the most 
 forcible arguments, the extreme absurdity of thinking 
 differently, till you have affronted the self-esteem of 
 some, and awakened the distrust of others.* Labourers 
 who are employed in driving wedges into a block of 
 wood, are careful to use blows of no greater force than 
 is just sufficient. If they strike too hard, the elasticity 
 of the wood will throw out the wedge. 
 
 There is in some cases another danger also Danger of 
 to be apprehended from the employment of using topics 
 a great number and variety of arguments ; not dir .e<jtly 
 (whether for refutation, or otherwise;) to the per- 
 namely, that some of them, though really sons ad- 
 unanswerable, may be drawn from topics of dresse ■ 
 which the unlearned reader or hearer is not, by his own 
 knowledge, a competent judge ; and these a crafty op- 
 ponent will immediately assail, keeping all the rest out 
 of sight ; knowing that he is thus transferring the 
 contest to another rield, in which the result is sure to 
 be, practically, a drawn battle. 
 
 Suppose for instance you could maintain or oppose 
 some doctrine or practice, by arguments drawn from 
 Scripture, and also from the most eminent of the 
 Fathers, and from a host of the ablest commentators and 
 biblical Critics : in a work designed for the learned few, 
 
 * A French writer, M. Say, relates a story of some one who, 
 for a wager, s*ood a whole day on one of the bridges in Paris, 
 offering to sell a five-franc-piece. for one franc, and (naturally) 
 not finding a purchaser. 
 
130 ELEMENTS OF RHETORIC [Part I. 
 
 it might be well to employ all these : but in a popular 
 work, designed for the uneducated — and nine- tenths of 
 what are called the educated-classes, it would be better 
 to omit all except those drawn from plain undisputed 
 passages of the Common Version of the Bible. Else, 
 however decisively your conclusion might be estab- 
 lished, in the eyes of competent judges, you might 
 expect to be met "by an artful opponent who would join 
 issue on that portion of the arguments (keeping the 
 rest out of sight) which turned most on matters of mul. 
 tifarious and deep research : boldly denying your 
 citations, or alleging misrepresentation of the authors 
 appealed to, or asserting that you had omitted the 
 weightiest authorities, and that these were on the op- 
 posite side; &c. Who, of the unlearned, could tell 
 which was in the right ? You might reply, and fully 
 disprove all that had been urged ; but you might be met 
 by fresh and fresh assertions — fresh denials — fresh 
 appeals to authorities, real or feigned ; and so the con- 
 test might be kept up for ever. The mass of the read- 
 ers, meantime, would be in the condition of a blind 
 man who should be a bystander at a battle, and could 
 not judge which party was prevailing, except from the 
 reports of those who stood near him. 
 
 It is generally the wisest course therefore, not only to 
 employ such arguments as are directly accessible to the 
 persons addressed, but to confine one-self to these, lest 
 the attention should be drawn off from them., 
 Difficulty On the whole, the arguments which it re- 
 
 of refuting quires the greatest nicety of art to refute ef 
 cessiveiy X " fectually, (I mean, for one who has truth on 
 weak. his side,) are those which are so very weak 
 
 and silly that it is difficult to make their absurdity more 
 palpable than it is already ; at least without a risk ol 
 committing the error formerly noticed. The task re- 
 minds one of the well-known difficult feat of cutting 
 through a cushion with a sword. And what augments 
 the perplexity, is, that such arguments are usually 
 
Chap. IV. § 1.] OF CONVICTION. 131 
 
 brought forward by those who, we feel sure, are not 
 themselves convinced by them, but are ashamed to avow 
 their real reasons. So that in such a case we know that 
 the refutation of these pretexts will not go one step to- 
 wards convincing those who urge them ; any more than 
 the justifications of the lamb in the fable against the 
 wolf's charges. 
 
 § 9. The arguments which should be The most 
 placed first in order are, ceteris paribus, obvious 
 the most obvious, and such as naturally first have pre" * 
 OCCUr. cedence. 
 
 This is evidently the natural order ; and the adherence 
 to it gives an easy, natural air to the Composition. It 
 is seldom, therefore, worth while to depart from it for 
 the sake of beginning with the most powerful argu- 
 ments, (when they happen not to be also the most ob- 
 vious,) or on the other hand, for the sake of reserving 
 these to the last, and beginning with the weaker ; or 
 again, of imitating, as some recommend, Nestor's plan 
 of drawing up troops, placing the best first and last, and 
 the weakest in the middle. It will be advisable how- 
 ever (and by this means you may secure this last ad- 
 vantage) when the strongest arguments naturally oc- 
 cupy the foremost place, to recapitulate in a reverse 
 order ; which will destroy the appearance of anti-cli- 
 max, and is also in itself the most easy and natural mode 
 of recapitulation. Let, e- g. the arguments 
 be A, B, C, D, E, &c. each less weighty than Reverse 
 the preceding ; then in recapitulating, pro- [ation? 11 
 ceed from E to D, C, B, concluding with A. 
 
 Chap. IV. — Of Introductions. 
 
 § 1. A Proeme, Exordium, or Introduction, is, as 
 Aristotle has justly remarked, not to be accounted one 
 of the essential parts of a Composition, since it is not in 
 every case necessary. In most, however, except such 
 
132 ELEMENTS OF RHETORIC. [Part I 
 
 as are extremely short, it is found advisable to premise 
 something before we enter on the main argument, to 
 avoid an appearance of abruptness, and to facilitate, in 
 some way or other, the object proposed. In larger works 
 this assumes the appellation of Preface or Advertise- 
 ment; and not unfrequently two are employed, one un- 
 der the name of Preface, and another, more closely con- 
 nected with the main work, under that of Introduction. 
 
 The rules which have been laid down already will 
 apply equally to that preliminary course of argument of 
 which Introductions often consist. 
 
 The writers before Aristotle are censured by him foi 
 inaccuracy, in placing under the head of Introductions, 
 as properly belonging to them, many things which are 
 not more appropriate in the beginning than elsewhere ; 
 as, e. g. the contrivances for exciting the hearers' at- 
 tention; which, as he observes, is an improper arrange- 
 ment ; since, though such an Introduction may some- 
 times be required, it is, generally speaking, any where 
 else rather th« 
 likely to flag. 
 
 introduc- The ru ^ e * a ^ down by Cicero, {Be Orat.) 
 
 tions not not to compose the Introduction first, but to 
 to b6 d C fi m t cons ^er first the main argument, and let that 
 pose rs . SU o-g es t the Exordium, is just and valuable ; 
 .for otherwise, as he observes, seldom any thing will 
 suggest itself but vague generalities; "common" topics, 
 as he calls them, i. e. what would equally well suit 
 several different compositions; whereas, the Introduc- 
 tion, which is composed last, will naturally spring out 
 of the main subject, and appear appropriate to it. 
 T , , § 2. 1st. One of the. objects most fre- 
 
 Jntroduc- * . . . T J , 
 
 tioninqui- quently proposed in an Introduction, is, to 
 sitive. show that the subject in a uestion is important, 
 curious, or otherwise interesting, and worthy of atten- 
 tion. This may be called an " Introduction inquisitive."* 
 
 » See Tacitus in the opening of his " History ;" and the beginning 
 of Paley's Natural Theology. 
 
Chap. IV. § 2.] OF CONVICTION. 133 
 
 2dly. It will frequently happen also, when introduce 
 the point to be proved or explained is one tion para, 
 which may be very fully established, or on oxlca 
 which there is little or no doubt, that it may neverthe- 
 less be strange, and different from what might have 
 been expected ; in which case it will often have a good 
 effect in rousing the attention, to set forth as strongly 
 as possible this paradoxical character, and dwell on the 
 seeming improbability of that which must, after all, be 
 admitted. This may be called an " Introduction para- 
 doxical." For instance : — " If you should see a flock 
 of pigeons in a field of corn : and if (instead of each 
 picking where and what it liked, taking just as much 
 as it wanted, and no more) you should see ninety-nine 
 of them gathering all they got into a heap ; reserving 
 nothing for themselves, but the chafT and the refuse ; 
 keeping this heap for one, and that the weakest, per- 
 haps worst, of the flock ; sitting round, and looking on, 
 all the winter, whilst this one was devouring, throwing 
 about, and wasting it; and if a pigeon, more hardy or 
 hungry than the rest, touched a grain of the hoard, all 
 the others instantly flying upon it, and tearing it to 
 pieces ; if you should see this, you would see nothing 
 more than what is every day practised and established 
 among men. Among men, you see the ninety and nine 
 toiling and scraping together a heap of superfluities for 
 one, (and this one too, oftentimes the feeblest and worst 
 of the whole set, a child, a woman, a madman, or a 
 fool ;) getting nothing for themselves all the while, but 
 a little of the coarsest of the provision, which their own 
 industry produces ; looking quietly on, while they see 
 the fruits of all their labour spent or spoiled ; and if one 
 of the number take or touch a particle of the hoard, 
 the others joining against him, and hanging him foi 
 the theft. 
 
 " There must be some very important advantages to 
 account for an institution, which, in the view of it above 
 given, is so paradoxical and unnatural. 
 
134 ELEMENTS OF RHETORIC. [Part „ 
 
 " The principal of these advantages are the follow- 
 ing:" &c.* 
 
 introduc- 3c ^y* What may be called an " Introduc- 
 
 tion cor- tion corrective," is also in frequent use ; viz. 
 rcctive. to show that the subject has been neglected % 
 misunderstood, or misrepresented by others. This will, 
 in many cases, remove a most formidable obstacle in 
 the hearer's mind, the anticipation of triteness, if the 
 subject be — or may be supposed to be — a hacknied one ; 
 and it may also serve to remove or loosen such preju- 
 dices as might be adverse to the favourable reception 
 of our Arguments. 
 
 introduc- 4thly. It will often happen also, that 
 
 tion prepa- there may be need to explain some pecu 
 ratory. Uarity in the mode of reasoning to be 
 adopted ; to guard against some possible mistake as to 
 the object proposed ; or to apologize for some deficiency 
 this may be called the " Introduction preparatory." 
 introduc- 5thly, and lastly, in many cases there 
 
 tion narra- will be occasion for what may be called a 
 tive. « Narrative Introduction," to put the reader 
 
 or hearer in possession of the outline of some transac- 
 tion, or the description of some state of things, to which 
 references and allusions are to be made in the course 
 of the Composition. Thus, in Preaching, it is generally 
 found advisable to detail, or at least briefly to sum up, 
 a portion of Scripture-history, or a parable, when either 
 of these is made the subject of a Sermon. 
 
 Two or more of the introductions that have been 
 mentioned are often combined , especially in the Preface 
 to a work of any length. And very often the Introduc- 
 tion will contain appeals to various passions and feelings 
 in the hearers ; especially a feeling of approbation 
 towards the speaker, or of prejudice against an opponent 
 who has preceded him ; but this is, as Aristotle has 
 remarked, by no means confined to Introductions.! 
 
 * Paley'e Moral Philosophy, book iii. part i. c. 1 and 2. 
 
 t It has not been thought necessary to treat of Conclusion, Per© 
 
Part U.] OF PERSUASION. 132 
 
 PART II. 
 
 OF PERSUASION. 
 
 Chap. I — Introductory. 
 
 § 1. Persuasion, properly so called, i. e Analysis of 
 the art of influencing the Will, is the next Persuasion, 
 point to be considered. And Rhetoric is often regarded 
 (as was formerly remarked) in a more limited sense, as 
 conversant about this head alone. But even, according 
 to that view, the rules above laid down will be found not 
 the less relevant ; since the conviction of the understand- 
 ing (of which I have hitherto been treating) is an essen- 
 tia] -part of Persuasion ; and will generally need to be ef- 
 fected by the arguments of the writer or speaker. For 
 in order that the will may be influenced, two things are 
 requisite; viz. 1. that the proposed object should appear 
 desirable ; and 2. that the means suggested should be 
 proved to be conducive to the attainment of that object ; 
 and this last, evidently must depend on a process of 
 reasoning. In order, e. g., to induce the Greeks to 
 unite their efforts against the Persian invader, it was 
 necessary both to prove that co-operation could alone 
 
 ration, or Epilogue, as a distinct head : the general rules that t. 
 Conclusion should be neither sudden and abrupt (so as to induce 
 the hearer to say, " I did not know he was going to leave off,") 
 nor, again, so long as to excite the hearer's impatience after he has 
 been led to expect an end, being so obvious as hardly to need being 
 mentioned. The matter of which the concluding part of a Compo- 
 sition consists, will, of course, vary according to the subject and 
 the occasion : but that which is most appropriate, and conse- 
 quently most frequent, (in Compositions of any considerable 
 length,) is a Recapitulation, either of a part or the whole of the 
 arguments that have been csed ; respecting which a remark has 
 been made at the end of chap. iii. § 7. 
 
 Any thing relative to the Feelings and the Will, that may be 
 especially appropriate to the Conclusion, will be mentioned in its 
 proper place. 
 
136 ELEMENTS OF RHETORIC. [Part Q. 
 
 render their resistance effectual, and also to awaken 
 such feelings of patriotism, and abhorrence of a foreign 
 yoke, as might prompt them to make these combined 
 efforts. For, it is evident, that however ardent their 
 love of liberty, they would make no exertions if they 
 apprehended no danger ; or if they thought themselves 
 able, separately, to defend themselves, they would be 
 backward to join the confederacy; and on the other 
 hand, that if they were willing to submit to the Persian 
 yoke, or valued their independence less than their 
 present ease, the fullest conviction that the Means re- 
 commended would secure their independence, would 
 have had no practical effect. 
 
 Exhor- Persuasion, therefore, depends on, first, 
 
 tation. Argument, (to prove the expediency of the 
 
 means proposed,) and secondly, what is usually called 
 Exhortation, i. e. the excitement of men to adopt those 
 means, by representing the end as sufficiently desirable. 
 It will happen indeed, not unfrequently, that the one 
 or the other of these objects will have been already, 
 either wholly or in part, accomplished ; so that the 
 other shall be the only one that it is requisite to insist 
 on ; viz. sometimes the hearers will be sufficiently intent 
 on the pursuit of the end, and will be in doubt only as 
 to the means of attaining it ; and sometimes, again, 
 they will have no doubt on that point, but will be in- 
 different, or not sufficiently ardent, with respect to the 
 proposed end, and will need to be stimulated by exhor- 
 tations. Not sufficiently ardent, I have said, because it 
 will not so often happen that the object in question will 
 be one to which they are totally indifferent, as that they 
 will, practically at least, not reckon it, or not feel it, to 
 be wortb the requisite pains. No one is absolutely in- 
 different about the attainment of a happy immortality ; 
 and yet a great part of the Preacher's business consists 
 in exhortation, i. e. endeavouring to induce men to use 
 those exertions which they themselves believe to be 
 necessary for the attainment of it. 
 
Chap. I. § 1.] OF PERSUASION. 137 
 
 Aristotle, and many other writers, hsve . 
 
 spoken of appeals to the Passions as an un- 
 fair mode of influencing the hearers ; in answer to 
 which Dr. Campbell has remarked, that there can be no 
 Persuasion without an address to the Passions :* and il 
 is evident, from what has been just said, that he is right, 
 if under the term Passion is included every Active Prin- 
 ciple of our nature. This however is a greater latitude 
 of meaning than belongs even to the Greek word Uud?] ; 
 though the signification of that is wider than, according 
 to ordinary use, that of our term " Passions." 
 
 But Aristotle by no means overlooked the influence of 
 necessity with a view to Persuasion, proper- tlie wm - 
 ly so termed, of calling into action some motive that may 
 influence the Will ; it is plain that, whenever he speaks 
 
 * " To say, that it is possible to persuade without speaking to the 
 passions is but at best a kind of specious nonsense. The coolest 
 reasoner always in persuading, addiesseth himself to the passions 
 some way or other. This he cannot avoid doing, if he speak to the 
 purpose. To make me believe, it is enough to show me that things 
 are so ; to make me act, it is necessary to show that the action 
 will answer some End. That can never be an End to me which 
 gratifies no passion or affection in my nature. You assure me, 
 ' It is for my honour.' Now you solicit my pride, without which 
 I had never been able to understand the word. You say, ' It is for 
 my interest.' Now you bespeak my self-love. ' It is for the public 
 good.' Now you rouse my patriotism. ' It will relieve the mise- 
 rable.' Now you touch my pity. So far therefore is it from being 
 an unlair method of persuasion to move the passions, that there is 
 no persuasion without moving them. 
 
 " But if so much depend on passion, where is the scope for argu- 
 ment ? Before I answer this question, let it be observed, that, in 
 order to persuade, there are two things which must be carefully 
 studied by the orator. The first is, to excite some desire or passion 
 in the hearers ; the second is, to satisfy their judgment that there 
 js a connexion between the action to which he would persuade 
 them, and the gratification of the desire or passion which he ex- 
 cites. This is the analysis of persuasion. The former is effected 
 by communicating lively and glowing ideas of the object ; the 
 latter, unless so evident of itself as to supersede the necessity, by 
 presenting the best and most forcible arguments which the nature 
 of the subject admits. In the one lies the pathetic, in the other the 
 argumentative. These incorporated together constitute that vehe 
 mence of contention to which the greatest exploits of Eloquence 
 ought doubtless to be ascribed." — Campbell's Phihsipky of Rhcto 
 ric, book i. chap. vii. ^ 4 
 
138 ELEMENTS OF RHETORIC. [Part II 
 
 with reprobation of an appeal to the Passions, his mean- 
 ing is, the excitement of such feelings as ought not to 
 influence the decision of the question in hand A de- 
 sire to do justice, may be called, in Dr. Campbell's wide 
 acceptation of the term, a "Passion" or "Affection;" 
 this is what ought to influence a Judge ; and no one 
 would ever censure a Pleader for striving to excite and 
 aeighten this desire ; but if the decision be influenced 
 by an appeal to Anger, Pity, &c, the feelings thus ex- 
 cited being such as ought not to have operated, the 
 Judge must be allowed to have been unduly biassed. 
 And that this is Aristotle's meaning is evident from his 
 characterising the introduction of such topics, as elja 
 tov Trpuyfiaro^, " foreign to the matter in hand." It is 
 evident, also, that as the motives which ought to operate 
 will be different in different cases, the same may be ob- 
 jectionable and not fairly admissible, in one case, which, 
 in another, would be perfectly allowable.* An instance 
 occurs in Thucydides, in which this is very judiciously 
 and neatly pointed out ; in the debate respecting the 
 Mityleneans, who had been subdued after a revolt, 
 Cleon is introduced contending for the justice of inflict- 
 ing on them capital punishment ; to which Diodotus is 
 made to reply, that the Athenians are not sitting in 
 judgment on the offenders, but in deliberation as to 
 their own interest ; and ought, therefore, to consider, not 
 the right they may have to put the revolters to death, 
 but the expediency or inexpediency of such a procedure. 
 In judicial cases, on the contrary, any appeal to the 
 personal interests of the Judge, or even to public expe- 
 diency, would be irrelevant. In framing laws indeed, 
 and (which comes to the same thing) giving those deci- 
 sions which are to operate as Precedents, the public 
 good is the object to be pursued ; but in the mere ad' 
 ministering of the established laws, it is inadmissible. 
 Improper There are many feelings, again, which it 
 
 motives. j s evident should in no case be allowed to 
 * See the Treatise on Fallacies, 5j 14. 
 
Dhap. I. § 2.] OF PERSUASION. 139 
 
 operate ; as envy, thirst for revenge, &c. vhe excitement 
 of which by the orator is to be reprobated as an unfair 
 artifice ; but it is not the less necessary to be well ac- 
 quainted with their nature, in order to allay them when 
 previously existing in the hearers, or to counteract the 
 efforts of an adversary in producing or directing them. 
 It is evident, indeed, that all the weaknesses, as well as 
 the powers, of the human mind, and all the arts by 
 which the sophist takes advantage of these weaknesses, 
 must be familiarly known by a perfect orator ; who, 
 though he may be of such a character as to disdain em- 
 ploying such arts, must not want the ability to do so, 
 or he would not be prepared to counteract them. An 
 acquaintance with the nature of poisons is necessary to 
 him who would administer antidotes. 
 
 § 2. There is, I conceive, no point in 
 which the idea of dishonest artifice is, in listing 6 
 most people's minds, so intimately associated againstW 
 with that of Rhetoric, as the address to the f" ^^ ot 
 feelings or active principles of our nature. 
 This is usually stigmatized as " an appeal to the pas- 
 sions instead of the reason ;" as if reason alone could 
 ever influence the will, and operate as a motive ; which 
 it no more can, than the eyes, which show a man his 
 road, can enable him to move from place to place ; or 
 than a ship provided with a compass, can sail without 
 a wind. It may be said indeed, with truth, that an ora- 
 tor does often influence the will by improper appeals to 
 the passions ; but it is no less true that he often impo- 
 ses on the understanding of his hearers by sophistical 
 arguments : yet this does not authorize us to reprobate 
 the employment of argument. But it seems to be com. 
 monly taken for granted, that whenever the feelings are 
 excited they are of course over-excited. Now so far is 
 this from the fact — so far is it from being true, that 
 men are universally, or even generally, in danger of 
 being misled in conduct by»an excess oi feeling, that the 
 reverse is, at least as often, the case. The more gener- 
 
140 ELEMENTS OF RHETORIC. [Part 11 
 
 ous feelings, such as compassion, gratiJode, devotion, 
 nay, even rational and rightly-directed self-love, hope, 
 and fear, arc oftener defective than excessive, and that, 
 even in the estimation of the parties themselves, if they 
 are well-principled, judicious, reflective, and candid men. 
 Do the feelings of such a man, when contemplating, foi 
 instance, the doctrines and the promises of the Christian 
 religion, usually come up to the standard which he him- 
 self thinks reasonable ? And not only in the case of re- 
 ligion, but in many others also, a man will often won- 
 der at, and be rather ashamed of, the coldness and 
 languor of his own feelings, compared with what the 
 occasion calls for : and even makes efforts to rouse in 
 himself such emotions as he is conscious his reason 
 would approve. 
 
 The senti- In making such an effort, a curious and 
 ments, &c. important fact is forced on the attention of 
 the direct every one who reflects on the operations of 
 control of his own mind ; viz. that the feelings, propen- 
 the will. sities, and sentiments of our nature, are not, 
 like the intellectual Faculties, under the direct control of 
 volition. The distinction is much the same as between 
 the voluntary and the involuntary actions of different 
 parts of the body. One may, by a deliberate act of the 
 will, set himsell to calculate — to reason — to recall his- 
 torical facts, &c. just as he does, to move any of his 
 limbs: on the other hand, a volition to hope or fear, to 
 love or hate, to feel devotion or pity, and the like, is as 
 ineffectual as to will that the pulsations of the heart, or 
 the secretions of the liver, should be altered. Some in- 
 deed are. I believe, (strange as it would seem) not aware 
 of the total inefficacy of their own efforts of volition in 
 such cases : that is, they mistake for a. feeling of grati- 
 tude, compassion, &c. their voluntary reflections on the 
 subject, and their conviction that the case is one which 
 calls for gratitude or compassion. Avery moderate de- 
 gree of attention, however^ to what is passing in the 
 mind, will enable any one to perceive the difference. A 
 
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 A man of on the involuntary bodily organs,) a process 
 sense prac- f wmc h a man of well-regulated mind coli- 
 tises Rhe- . it n ■> • . ° . 1 • 
 
 toric on tinually finds occasion tc resort, he is pre- 
 himself- cisely acting the part of a skilful orator, 
 to himself ; and that too, in respect of the very point to 
 which the most invidious names are usually given, 
 " the appeal to the feelings." 
 
 Such being then the state of the case, how, it maybe 
 said, can it be accounted for, that the idea of unfair 
 artifice should be so commonly associated not only with 
 Rhetoric in general, but most especially with that parti- 
 cular part of it now under consideration? though no 
 other artifice is necessarily employed by the orator than 
 a man of sense makes use of towards himself. 
 Address to Many different circumstances combine to 
 the feelings produce this effect. In the first place, the 
 indirect. intellectual powers being, as has been said, 
 under the immediate control of the Will, which the 
 feelings, sentiments, &c. are not, an address to the 
 understanding is consequently, from the nature of the 
 case, direct ; to the feelings, indirect. The conclusion 
 you wish to draw, you may state plainly, as such ; and 
 avow your intention of producing reasons, which shall 
 effect a conviction of that conclusion : you may even 
 entreat the hearers' steady attention to the point to be 
 proved, and to the process of argument by which it is 
 to be established. But this, for the reasons above 
 mentioned, is widely different from the process by 
 which we operate on the Feelings. No passion, senti- 
 ment, or emotion, is excited by thinking about it, and 
 attending to it ; but by thinking about, and attending to, 
 such objects as are calculated to awaken it. Hence it 
 is, that the more oblique and indirect process which 
 takes place when we are addressing ourselves to this 
 part of the human mind, is apt to suggest the idea of 
 trick and artifice ; although it is, as I have said, just 
 such as a wise man practises towards himself. 
 
 In the next place, though men are often deluded by 
 
Chap. I. § 2.] OF PERSUASION. 143 
 
 sophistical arguments addressed to the under- Delusions 
 standing, they do not, in this case, so readily derstandiner 
 detect the deceit that has been practised harder to 
 on them, as they do in the case of their detect, 
 being misled by the excitement of passions. A few 
 days, or even hours, will often allow them to cool, 
 sufficiently, to view in very different colours, some 
 question on which they have perhaps decided in a 
 moment of excitement ; whereas any sophistical reason- 
 ing by which they had been misled, they are perhaps 
 as unable to detect as ever. The state of the feelings, 
 in short, varies from day to day ; the understanding 
 remains nearly the same : and hence the idea of deceit 
 is more particularly associated with that kind of deceit 
 which is the less permanent in its effects, and the 
 sooner detected. 
 
 To these considerations it may be added, Men dis- 
 that men have in general more confidence in | 1 ru ? t m ° re 
 the soundness of their understanding, than - mgs than 
 in their self-command and due regulation of their under 
 feelings: they are more unwilling, conse- staudin S- 
 quently, to believe that an orator has misled, or can 
 mislead them, by sophistical arguments — that is by 
 taking advantage of their intellectual weakness — than 
 by operating on their feelings ; and hence, the delusions 
 which an artful orator produces, are often attributed in 
 a greater degree than is really the case, to the influence 
 he has exerted on the passions. 
 
 But if every thing were to be regarded with aversion 
 or with suspicion that is capable of being employed 
 dishonestly, or for a bad purpose, the use of language 
 might be condemned altogether. It does indeed often 
 happen, that men's feelings are extravagantly excited 
 on some inadequate occasion: this only proves how 
 important it is that either they, or the person who 
 undertakes to advise them, should understand how to 
 bring down these feelings to the proper pitch. And it 
 happens full as often (which is what most persons are 
 
144 ELEMENTS OF RHETORIC. [Part II 
 
 The feel- apt to overlook) that their feelings fall fai 
 ings as apt short of what, even in their own judgment, 
 of aftfex- the occasion would call for : and in this case 
 ce'ed the an excitement of such feelings, though not 
 proper point. e ff ec ted directly hy a process of reasoning, 
 is very far from being any thing apposed to reason, or 
 tending to mislead the judgment. Stimulants are not 
 lo be condemned as necessarily bringing the body into 
 an unnatural state, because they raise the circulation : 
 in a fever this would be hurtful ; but there may be a 
 torpid, lethargic disease, in which an excitement of the 
 circulation is precisely what is wanted to bring it into a 
 healthy condition. 
 
 Division of § 3# The Active Principles of our nature 
 active prin- may be classed in various ways ; thearrange- 
 cipies. ment adopted by Mr. Dugald Stewart* is, 
 perhaps, the most correct and convenient ; the heads he 
 enumerates are Appetites, (which have their origin in the 
 body,) Desires, and Affections ; these last being such as 
 imply some kind of disposition relative to another 
 Person ; to which must be added, Self-love, or the desire 
 of happiness, as such ; and the Moral -faculty, called by 
 some writers Conscience, by others Conscientiousness, 
 by others the Moral sense, and by Dr. A. Smith, the 
 sense of Propriety. 
 
 Under the head of Affections may be included the 
 sentiments of Esteem, Regard, Admiration, &c. which 
 it is so important that the audience should feel towards 
 the Speaker. Aristotle has considered this as a distinct 
 head; separating the consideration of the Speaker's 
 character ('Htfoc rov Tieyovrog) from that of the dispo- 
 sition of the hearers; under which, however, it might, 
 according to his own views, have been included ; if 
 being plain from his manner of treating of the Speaker'* 
 character, that he means, not his real character, (accord 
 ing to the fanciful notion of Quinctilian,) but the im 
 
 * Outlines of Moral Philosophy. 
 
Chap. II. § 1.] OF PERSUASION. 145 
 
 pression produced on the minds of the hearers, by th« 
 Speaker, respecting himself. 
 
 He remarks, justly, that the character to 
 be established is that of, first, Good Princi- to bfesta^ 
 ple, secondly, Good Sense, and thirdly, Wished by- 
 Goodwill and friendly disposition towards the J^® spea * 
 audience addressed;* and that if the Orator 
 can completely succeed in this, he will persuade more 
 powerfully than by the strongest Arguments. He might 
 have added, (as indeed he does slightly hint at the con- 
 clusion of his Treatise,) that, where there is an Oppo- 
 nent, a like result is produced by exciting the contrary 
 feelings respecting him ; viz. holding him up to con- 
 tempt, or representing him as an object of reprobation 
 or suspicion. 
 
 To treat fully of all the different emotions and springs 
 of action which an orator may at any time find it neces- 
 sary to call into play, or to contend against, would be to 
 enter on an almost boundless field of metaphysical in- 
 quiry, which does not properly fall within the limits of 
 the subject now before us : and on the other hand, a 
 brief definition of each passion, &c. and a few general 
 remarks on it, could hardly fail to be trite and uninte- 
 resting. A few miscellaneous rules therefore may 
 suffice, relative to the conduct, generally, of those parts 
 of any Composition which are designed to influence the 
 will. 
 
 Chap. II. — Of the conduct of any address to the Feel 
 ings, generally. 
 
 § I . The first and most important point to be Men impa- 
 observed in every address to any Passion, tient of die 
 Sentiment, Feeling, &c. is, (as has been al- ^l?™ 1 * 
 ready hinted,) that it should not be inlro- their feel 
 duced as such, and plainly avowed ; other- in & 8 
 
 * 'A/>£r>j <l>p6i'r]jis, Evvoia, book ii. c. 1 
 
 19 
 
,146 ELEMENTS OF RHETORIC. [Paxt 1L 
 
 wise the effect will be, in great measure, if not entirely, 
 lost. This circumstance forms a remarkable distinction 
 between the head now under consideration, and that of 
 Argumentation. When engaged in Reasoning, properly 
 so called, our purpose not only need not be concealed 
 but may, (as I have said,) without prejudice to the 
 effect, be distinctly declared : on the other hand, even 
 ■when the Feelings we wish to excite are such as ought 
 to operate, so that there is no reason to be ashamed of 
 the endeavours thus to influence the hearer, still our 
 purpose and drift should be, if not absolutely concealed, 
 yet not openly declared, and made prominent. Whether 
 the motives which the orator is endeavouring to call 
 into action be suitable or unsuitable to the occasion — 
 such as it is right, or wrong, for the hearer to act upon, 
 the same rule will hold good. In the latter case it is 
 plain, that the speaker who is seeking to bias unfairly 
 the minds of the audience will be the more likely to 
 succeed by going to work clandestinely, in order thai 
 his hearers may not be on their guard, and prepare and 
 fortify their minds against the impression he wishes to 
 produce. In the other case — where the motives dwelt 
 on are such as ought to be present, and strongly to 
 operate, men are not likely to be pleased with the idea 
 that they need to have these motives urged upon them, 
 and that they are not already sufficiently under the in- 
 fluence of such sentiments as the occasion calls for. A 
 man may indeed be convinced that he is in such a pre- 
 dicament ; and may ultimately feel obliged to the Orator 
 for exciting or strengthening such sentiments ; but 
 while he confesses this, he cannot but feel a degree of 
 mortification in making the confession, and a kind of 
 jealousy of the apparent assumption of superiority, in 
 a speaker, who seems to say, " now I will exhort you 
 to feel as you ought on this occasion ;" " I will endea- 
 vour to inspire you with such noble, and generous, ana 
 amiable sentiments as you ought to entertain ;" which 
 is, in effect, the tone of him vvho avows the purpose of 
 
Chap. II. § ] .] OF PERSUASION. 147 
 
 Exhortation. The mind is sure to revolt from the hu 
 miliation of being thus moulded and fashioned, in respect 
 to its feelings, at the pleasure of another; and is apt, 
 perversely, to resist the influence of such a discipline. 
 
 Whereas, there is no such implied superiority in 
 avowing the intention of convincing the understanding. 
 Men know, and (what is more to the purpose) feel, that 
 he who presents to their minds a new and cogent train 
 of Argument, does not necessarily possess or assume 
 any offensive superiority ; but may, by merely having 
 devoted a particular attention to the point in question, 
 succeed in setting before them arguments and explana- 
 tions which have not occurred to themselves. And 
 even if the arguments adduced, and the conclusions 
 drawn, should be opposite to those with which they had 
 formerly been satisfied, still there is nothing in this so 
 humiliating, as in that which seems to amount to the 
 imputation of a moral deficiency. 
 
 It is true that sermons not unfrequently Caution 
 prove popular, which consist avowedly and against 
 almost exclusively of Exhortation, strictly ^Station 5 * 
 so called — in which the design of influencing 
 the sentiments and feelings is not only apparent, but 
 prominent throughout : but it is to be feared, that those 
 who are the most pleased with such discourses, are 
 more apt to apply these Exhortations to their neigh- 
 bours than to themselves ; and that each bestows his 
 commendation rather from the consideration that such 
 admonitions are much needed, and must be generally 
 useful, than from finding them thus useful to himself. 
 
 When indeed the speaker has made some progress in 
 exciting the feelings required, and has in great measure 
 gained possession of his audience, a direct and distinct 
 exhortation to adopt the conduct recommended will 
 often prove very effectual ; but never can it be needful 
 o: advisable to tell them (as some do) that you are going 
 to exhort them 
 
 It will, indeed, sometimes happen that the excitement 
 
148 ELEMENTS OF RHETORIC. [Part II. 
 
 of a certain feeling will depend, in some measure, on a 
 process of Reasoning ; e. g. it may be requisite to prove, 
 where there is a doubt on the subject, that the person 
 so recommended to the pity, gratitude, &c. of the hearers, 
 "\s really an object deserving of these sentiments : but 
 even then, it will almost always be the case, that the 
 chief point to be accomplished, shall be to raise those 
 feelings to the requisite height, after the understanding 
 is convinced that the occasion calls for them And this 
 is to be effected not by Argument, properly so called, 
 but by presenting the circumstances in such a point oJ 
 view, and so fixing and detaining the attention upon 
 them, that corresponding sentiments and emotions shall 
 gradually, and, as it were, spontaneously, arise. 
 
 Sermons would probably have more effect, 
 
 Hortatory -f i ns tead f being, as they frequently are, 
 Sermons. > »' J t- . J .' 
 
 directly hortatory, they were more m a di- 
 dactic form ; occupied chiefly in explaining some trans- 
 action related, or doctrine laid down, in Scripture. The 
 generality of hearers are too much familiarized to direct 
 exhortation to feel it adequately : if they are led to the 
 same point obliquely, as it were, and induced to dwell 
 with interest for a considerable time on some point, 
 closely, though incidentally, connected with the most 
 awful and important truths, a very slight application to 
 themselves might make a greater impression than the 
 most vehement appeal in the outset. Often indeed they 
 would themselves make this application unconsciously ; 
 and if on any this procedure made no impression, it can 
 hardly be expected that any thing else would. To use 
 a homely illustration, a moderate charge of powder will 
 have more effect in splitting a rock, if we begin by deep 
 boring, and introducing the charge into the very heart 
 of it, than ten times the quantity, exploded on the 
 surface. 
 
 Advantage § 2 - Hence arises another rule closely 
 of copious connected with the foregoing, though it also 
 detail. g0 f ar re ] ates to style that it might with suf- 
 
Chap II § 2.] OF PERSUASION. 149 
 
 ficient propriety have been placed under that head ; viz. 
 that in order effectually to excite feelings of any kind, 
 it is necessary to employ some copiousness of detail, 
 and to dwell somewhat at large on the several circum- 
 stances of the case in hand ; in which respect there is 
 a. wide distinction between strict Argumentation, with 
 a view to the Conviction of the Understanding alone, 
 and the attempt to influence the Will, by the excitement 
 of any Emotion.* With respect to Argument itself, in- 
 deed, different occasions will call for different degrees of 
 copiousness, repetition, and expansion ;— the chain of 
 reasoning employed, may in itself, consist of more or 
 fewer links ; — abstruse and complex arguments must 
 be unfolded at greater length than such as are more 
 simple ; and the more uncultivated the audience, the 
 more full must be the explanation and illustration, and 
 the more frequent the repetition, of the arguments pre- 
 sented to them ; but still the same general principle pre- 
 vails in all these cases ; viz. to aim merely at letting 
 the arguments be fully understood and admitted. This 
 will indeed occupy a shorter or longer space, according 
 to the nature of the case and the character of the hear- 
 ers ; but all expansion and repetition beyond what is ne- 
 cessary to accomplish Conviction, is, in every instance, 
 tedious and disgusting. Tn a Description, on the other 
 nand, of anything that is likely to act on the Feelings, 
 this effect will by no means be produced as soon as the 
 understanding is sufficiently informed; detail and ex- 
 pansion are here not only admissible, but absolutely 
 necessary, in order that the mind may have leisure and 
 
 * " Non enim, sicut argumentum, simulatque positum est, arripi- 
 tur, alterumque et tertium poscitur ; ita misericordiam ant invidiam 
 eut iracundiam, simulatque intuleris, possis eommovere : argumen- 
 tum enim ratio ipsa confirmat, quae, simulatque emissa est, adhrer6 
 Beit ; illud autem genus orationis non cognitionem judicis, sed ma- 
 giS perturbationem requirit, quam consequi, nisi multa et varia et 
 copiosa oratione, et simili contentione actionis, nemo potest. Quaro 
 qui aut breviter aut summisse dicunt, docere judicem possunt, 
 Eommovere non possunt ; in quo sunt omnia." Cic. de Orat. lib. ii 
 C. 53 
 
150 ELEMENTS OF RHETORIC. [Pakt II 
 
 opportunity to form vivid and distinct ideas. For, as 
 Quinctilian well observes, lie who tells us that a city 
 was sacked, although that one word implies all that oc- 
 curred, will produce little, if any, impression on the 
 feelings,* in comparison of one who sets before us a 
 lively description of the various lamentable circum- 
 stances. To tell the whole, he adds, is by no means the 
 same as to tell every thing. 
 
 Accordingly it may be observed, that though every 
 one understands what is meant by " a wound," there 
 are some who cannot hear a minute description of one 
 without fainting. 
 
 The death of Patroclus is minutely related by Homer, 
 for the interest of the reader; though to Achilles, whose 
 feelings would be sufficiently excited by the bare fact* 
 it is told in two words : Kelrai HuTponlog. 
 
 There is an instance related in a number of the Ad- 
 venturer, of a whole audience being moved to tears by 
 minute detail of the circumstances connected with the 
 death of a youthful pair at the battle of Fontenoy ; 
 though they had previously listened without emotion to 
 a general statement of the dreadful carnage in that en- 
 gagement. 
 
 It is not, however, with a view to the Feelings only, 
 that some copiousness of detail will occasionally be 
 needful ; it will often happen that the Judgment cannot 
 be correctly formed, without dwelling on circumstances, 
 imagina- ^ nas se ldom if ever been noticed, how 
 
 tion needed important among the intellectual qualifica- 
 in the ; study t ions f or the study of history, is a vivid 
 o lnstorj . j ma gi nat i on . a f acu lty which consequently 
 a skilful narrator must himself possess, and to whicl 
 he must be able to furnish excitement in others. Som 
 may perhaps be startled at this remark, who have bee., 
 accustomed to consider Imagination as having no otiici 
 
 * Dr. Campbell has treated very ably of some circumstance* 
 which tend to heighten any impression. The reader is referred t* 
 the Appendix, [H] for some extracts 
 
Chap. II. $ 3.] OF PERSUASION. 151 
 
 office than to feign and falsify. Every faculty is liable 
 to abuse and misdirection ; and Imagination among the 
 rest : but it is a mistake to suppose that it necessarily 
 tends to pervert the truth of history, and to mislead the 
 Judgment. On the contrary, our view of any transac- 
 tion, especially one that is remote in time or place, will 
 necessarily be imperfect, generally, incorrect, unless it 
 embrace something more than the bare outline of the 
 occurrences ; — unless we have before the mind a lively 
 idea of the scenes in which the events took place, the 
 habits of thought and of feeling of the actors, and all 
 the circumstances connected with the transaction ; — 
 unless, in short, we can in a considerable degree trans- 
 port ourselves out of our own age, and country, and 
 persons, and imagine ourselves the agents or spectators. 
 It is from a consideration of all these circumstances that 
 we are enabled to form a right judgment as to the facts 
 which History records, and to derive instruction from 
 it* What we imagine, may indeed be merely imagi- 
 nary, i. e. unreal ; but it may again be what actually 
 does or did exist. To say that Imagination, if not 
 regulated by sound judgment and sufficient knowledge, 
 may chance to convey to us false impressions of past 
 events, is only to say that man is fallible. But such 
 false impressions are even much the more likely to take 
 possession of those whose Imagination is feeble or 
 uncultivated. They are apt to imagine the things, 
 persons, times, countries, &c. which they read of, as 
 much less different from what they see around them, 
 than is really the case. 
 
 § 3. It is not, however, always advisable indirect 
 to enter into a direct detail of circumstances ; description, 
 which would often have the effect of wearying the 
 hearer beforehand, with the expectation of a long de- 
 scription oi something in which he probably does not, 
 as yet, feel much interest ; and would also be likely lo 
 prepare him too much, and forewarn him, as it were, of 
 
 * See Appendix, [I.] 
 
152 ELEMENTS OF RHETORIC. {Pari IL 
 
 the object proposed — the design laid against his feelings. 
 ft is observed by Opticians and Astronomers that aside- 
 view of a faint star, or, especially, of a comet, presents 
 it m much greater brilliancy than a direct-view. To 
 see a comet in its full splendour, you should look, not 
 straight at it, but at some star a little beside it. Some- 
 thing analogous to this, often takes place in mental per 
 ceptions. ft will often, therefore, have a better effect to 
 describe obliquely, (if I may so speak,) by introducing 
 circumstances connected with the main object or event, 
 and affected by it, but not absolutely forming a part of 
 it. And circumstances of this kind may not unfre- 
 quently be so selected as to produce a more striking 
 impression of any thing that is in itself great and re- 
 markable, than could be produced by a minute and 
 direct description ; because in this way the general and 
 collective result of a whole, and the effects produced by 
 it on other objects, may be vividly impressed on the 
 hearer's mind ; the circumstantial detail of collateral 
 matters not drawing off the mind from the contempla- 
 tion of the principal matter as one and complete. Thus, 
 the woman's application to the King of Samaria, to 
 compel her neighbour to fulfil the agreement of sharing 
 with her the infant's flesh, gives a more frightful im- 
 pression of the horrors of the famine than any more 
 direct description could have done ; since it presents to 
 us the picture of that hardening of the heart to every 
 kind of horror, and that destruction of the ordinary state 
 of human sentiment, which is the result of long con- 
 tinued and extreme misery. Nor could any detail of 
 the particular vexations to be suffered by the exiled 
 Jews for their disobedience, convey so lively an idea of 
 them as that description of their result contained in the 
 denunciation of Moses : " In the evening thou shall 
 say, Would God it were morning ! and in the morning 
 thou shalt say, Would God it were evening !" 
 
 In the poem of Rokeby, a striking exemplification 
 occurs of what has been said : Bertram, in describing 
 
Chap. II. § 4.] OF PERSUASION. 153 
 
 the prowess he had displayed as a Buccaneer, does not 
 particularise any of his exploits, but alludes to the 
 terrible impression they had left : 
 
 Panama's mauls shall long look pale, 
 When Risingham inspires the tale .; 
 Chili's dark matrons long shall tame 
 The f toward child with Bertram's name. 
 
 The first of Dramatists, who might have been, perhaps, 
 the first of Orators, has offered some excellent exempli- 
 fications of this rule ; especially in the speech of An- 
 tony over Caesar's body. 
 
 § 4. Comparison is one powerful means Compari- 
 of exciting or heightening any emotion : viz. son - 
 by presenting a parallel between the case in hand and 
 some other that is calculated to call forth such emotions ; 
 taking care, of course, to represent the present case as 
 stronger than the one it is compared with, and such as 
 ought to affect us more powerfully. 
 
 When several successive steps of this kind .. 
 
 are employed to raise the feelings gradually im 
 
 to the highest pitch, (which is the principal employ 
 ment of what Rhetoricians call the Climax/) a far 
 stronger effect is produced than by the mere presenta- 
 tion of the most striking object at once. It is observed 
 by all travellers who have visited the Alps, or other 
 stupendous mountains, that they form a very inadequate 
 notion of the vastness of the greater ones, till they 
 ascend some of the less elevated, (which yet are huge 
 mountains,) and thence view the others still towering 
 above them. And the mind, no less than the eye, 
 cannot so well take in and do justice to any vast object 
 at a single glance, as by several successive approaches 
 and repeated comparisons. Thus, in the well-known 
 Climax of Cicero in the Oration against Verres, shocked 
 as the Romans were likely to be at the bare mention of 
 
 * An analogous Arrangement of Arguments, in order to set forth 
 the full force of the one we mean to dwell upon, would also receive 
 the same appellation ; and in fact is very often combined and blend- 
 ed with that wh'ch is fceo spoken o f . 
 
154 ELEMENTS OF RHETORIC. [Part Hi 
 
 the crucifixion of one of their citizens, the successive 
 steps by which he brings them to the contemplation of 
 such an event, were calculated to work up their feel- 
 ings to a much higher pitch : " It is an outrage to bind 
 a Roman citizen ; to scourge him is an atrocious crime , 
 to put him to death is almost parricide ; but to crucify 
 him — what shall J. call it ?" 
 
 It is observed, accordingly, by Aristotle, in speaking 
 of Panegyric, that the person whom we would hold up 
 to admiration, should always be compared, and advan- 
 tageously compared, if possible, with those that are 
 already ililustrious, but if not, at least with some person 
 whom he excels : to excel, being in itself, he says, a 
 ground of admiration. The same rule will apply, as 
 has been said, to all other feelings as well as to Admi- 
 ration : Anger, or Pity, for instance, are more effectually 
 excited if we produce cases such as would call forth 
 those passions, and which, though similar to those be- 
 fore us, are not so strong ; and so with respect to the rest. 
 
 When it is said, however, that the object which we 
 compare with another, introduced for the purpose, should 
 be one which ought to excite the feeling in question in 
 a higher degree than that other, it is not meant that this 
 must actually be, already, the impression oi the hear- 
 ers : the reverse will more commonly be the case ; that 
 the instances adduced will be such as actually affect 
 their feelings more strongly than that to which we are 
 endeavouring to turn them, till the flame spreads, as it 
 were, from the one to the other. This will especially 
 hold good in every case where self is concerned ; e. g. 
 men feel naturally more indignant at a slight affront 
 offered to themselves, or those closely connected with 
 them, than at the most grievous wrong done to a 
 Granger ; if, therefore, you would excite their utmost in- 
 dignation in such a case, it must be by comparing ii with 
 a parallel case that concerns themselves ; i. e. by lead- 
 ing them to consider how they would feel were such and 
 such an injury done to themselves. And, on the other 
 
Chap. II. § 5.J OF PERSUASION. 156 
 
 hand, if you would lead them to a j ust sense of their own 
 faults, it must be by leading them to contemplate like 
 faults in others ; of which the celebrated parable of Na- 
 than, addressed to David, affords an admirable instance. 
 
 It often answers very well to introduce in this manner 
 an instance not only avowedly fictitious, but even mani- 
 festly impossible, provided it be but conceivable. A case 
 may thus be exhibited more striking and apposite than 
 any real or possible one that could be found. I have 
 •nserted in the Appendix some examples of this kind.* 
 
 <$» 5 Another Rule, (which also is con- 
 nected in some degree with style,) relates to rating and 
 the tone of feeling to be manifested by the extenuating 
 writer or speaker himself, in order to excite methods - 
 the most effectually the desired emotions in the minds 
 of the hearers. And this is to be accomplished by two 
 opposite methods: the one, which is the more obvious, 
 is to express openly the feeling in question ; the other, 
 to seem labouring to suppress it : in the former method, 
 the most forcible remarks are introduced 1 — the most 
 direct as well as impassioned kind of description is em- 
 ployed — and something of exaggeration introduced, in 
 order to carry the hearers as far as possible in the same 
 direction in which the Orator seems to be himseli 
 hurried, and to infect them, to a certain degree, with the 
 emotions and sentiments which he thus manifests : the 
 other method, which is often no less successful, is to 
 abstain from all remarks, or from all such as come up 
 to the expression of feeling which the occasion seems 
 to authorize — to use a gentler mode of expression than 
 the case might fairly warrant — to deliver " an unvar- 
 nished tale," leaving the hearers to make their own 
 comments — and to appear to stifle, and studiously to 
 keep within bounds such emotions as may seem natural. 
 This produces a kind of reaction in the hearers' minds: 
 and being struck with the inadequacy of the expressions, 
 end the studied calmness of the speaker's manner oi 
 * See Appendix, [K.1 
 
ib6 ELEMENTS OF RHETORIC. [Pakt II 
 
 stating things, compared with what he may naturally be 
 supposed to feel, they will often rush into the opposite 
 extreme, and become the more strongly affected by that 
 which is set before them in so simple and modest a form. 
 And though this method is in reality more artificial than 
 the other, the artifice is the more likely (perhaps for 
 that very reason) to escape detection : men being less 
 on their guard against a speaker who does not seem so 
 much labouring to work up their feelings, as to repress 
 or moderate his own ; provided that this calmness and 
 coolness of manner be not carried to such an extreme 
 as to bear the appearance of affectation ; which caution 
 is also to be attended to in the other mode of procedure 
 no less ; an excessive hyperbolical exaggeration being 
 likely to defeat its own object. Aristotle mentions, 
 (Rhet. book ix ) though very briefly, these two modes 
 of rousing the feelings, the latter under the name of 
 Eironeia, which in his time was commonly employed 
 to signify, not according to the modern use of " Irony," 
 saying " the contrary to what is meant," but, what 
 later writers usually express by Litotes, i. e. " saying 
 less than is meant." 
 
 The two methods may often be both used on the same 
 occasion, beginning with the calm, and proceeding to 
 the impassioned, afterwards, when the feelings of the 
 hearers are already wrought up to a certain pitch.* 
 Universally, indeed, it is a fault carefully to be avoid- 
 ed, to express feelings more vehemently than that the 
 audience can go along with the speaker; who would, 
 in that case, as Cicero observes, seem like one raving 
 among the sane, or intoxicated in the midst of the sober. 
 And accordingly, except where from extraneous causes 
 the audience are already in an excited state, we must 
 carry them forward gradually, and allow time for the 
 (ire to kindle. The blast which would heighten a 
 strong flame, would, if applied too soon, extinguish the 
 
 * "Orav exn i'l^n robs inpoards, Kal ito'iniay Ivdovoidaia* — Aristotle, 
 Rh't. book. iii. ch. 7. 
 
Chap. II. § 5.] OF PERSUASION. 157 
 
 Arst faint spark. The speech of Antony over Cesar's 
 corpse, which has been already mentioned, affords an 
 admirable exam; 'o of that combination of the two me- 
 thods which has just been spoken of. 
 
 Generally, however it will be found that the same 
 orators do not excel equally in both modes of exciting 
 the feelings ; and it should be recommended to each to 
 employ principally that in which he succeeds best ; 
 since either, if judiciously managed, will generally prove 
 effectual for its object. The well-known tale of Inkle 
 and Yarico, which is an instance of the extenuating 
 method, (as it may be called,) could not, perhaps, have 
 been rendered more affecting, if equally so, by the most 
 impassioned vehemence and rhetorical heightening. 
 
 in no point, perhaps, more than in that i mpor t a nce 
 now under consideration, is the importance of arrange- 
 of a judicious arrangement to be perceived. ment - 
 The natural and suitable order of the parts of a dis- 
 course (natural it maybe called, because corresponding 
 with that in which the ideas suggest themselves to the 
 mind) is, that the statements and arguments should first 
 be clearly and calmly laid down and developed, which 
 are the ground and justification of such sentiments and 
 emotions as the case calls for ; and that, then, the im- 
 passioned appeal (supposing the circumstances such as 
 admit of or demand this) should be made, to hearers 
 well prepared by their previous deliberate conviction, 
 for resigning themselves to such feelings as fairly arise 
 out of that conviction. The former of these two parts 
 may be compared to the back of a sabre ; the latter to 
 its edge. The former should be firm and weighty ; the 
 latter keen. The writer who is deficient in strength of 
 Argument, seems to want weight and stoutness of me- 
 tal ; his strokes make but a superficial impression, or 
 the weapon is shivered to fragments in his hand. He 
 again, whose Logic is convincing, but whose deficiency 
 is in the keenness of his application to the heart and to 
 the will of the hearer, seems to be wielding a blunt 
 
163 ELEMENTS OF RHETORIC [Part II 
 
 though ponderous weapon ; we wonder to find that such 
 weighty blows have not cut deeper. And he who re- 
 verses the natural order — who begins with a vehement 
 address to the feelings, and afterwards proceeds to the 
 arguments which alone justify such feelings, reminds 
 us of one wielding an excellent sword, but striking with 
 the back of it : if he did but turn it round, its blows 
 would take effect. 
 
 Diversion § 6- When the occasion or object in ques- 
 
 of feelings, tion is not such as calls for, or as is likely 
 to excite in those particular readers or hearers, the emo- 
 tions required, it is a common rhetorical artifice to turn 
 their attention to some object which will call forth these 
 feelings : and when they are too much excited to be ca- 
 pable of judging calmly, it will not be difficult to turn 
 their passions, once roused, in the direction required, 
 and to make them view the case before them in a very 
 different light. When the metal is heated, it may easily 
 be moulded into the desired form. Thus, vehement in- 
 dignation against some crime may be directed against a 
 person who has not been proved guilty of it ; and vague 
 declamations against corruption, oppression, &c. 01 
 against the mischiefs of anarchy ; with high-flown 
 panegyrics on liberty, rights of man, &c. or on social 
 order, justice, the constitution, law, religion, &c. will 
 gradually lead the hearer to take for granted, without 
 proof, that the measure proposed will lead to these evils 
 or these advantages ; and it will in consequence become 
 the object of groundless abhorrence or admiration. Fo. 
 the very utterance of such words as have a multitude 
 of what may be called stimulating ideas associated with 
 them, will operate like a charm on the minds, especially 
 of the ignorant and unthinking, and raise such a tu- 
 mult of feeling as will effectually blind their judgment ; 
 so that a string of vague abuse or panegyric, will often 
 have the effect of a train of sound Argument. This arti- 
 fice falls under the head of " Irrelevant Conclusion," 01 
 ignoratio elenchi, mentioned in 4 iie Treatise on Fallacies 
 
Chap. III. § 1.] OF PERSUASION. lfi§ 
 
 Chap. IK. — Of the favourable or unfavourable dispo- 
 sition of the hearers towards the Speaker or his 
 opponent. 
 
 § 1. In raising a favourable impression of indirect 
 the speaker, or an unfavourable one of his seif-com- 
 opponent, a peculiar tact will of course be mendatlon - 
 necessary; especially in the former, since direct self- 
 commendation will usually be disgusting, to a greatei 
 degree, even than a direct personal attack on another ; 
 though, if the Orator is pleading his own cause, or one 
 in which he is personally concerned, (as was the case 
 in the speech of Demosthenes concerning the Crown,) 
 a greater allowance will be made for him on this point ; 
 especially if he.be a very eminent person, and one who 
 mav safely appeal to public actions performed by him. 
 Thus Pericles is represented by Thucydides as claiming, 
 directly, when speaking in his own vindication, exactly 
 the qualities (good Sense, good Principle, and Good- 
 will) which Aristotle lays down as constituting the 
 character which we must seek to appear in. But then 
 it is to be observed, that the historian represents him as 
 accustomed to address the people with more authority 
 than others for the most part ventured to assume. It 
 is by the expression of wise, amiable, and generous 
 Sentiments, that Aristotle recommends the speaker to 
 manifest his own character ;* but even this must 
 generally be done in an oblique] and seemingly inci- 
 dental manner, lest the hearers be disgusted with s 
 
 * When (as of course will often happen) the hearers are thus 
 induced, on insufficient grounds, to give the speaker full credit for 
 moral excellence, from his merely uttering the language of it, the 
 fallacy which in this case misleads them may be regarded as that of 
 undistributed middle : " a good man would speak so and so ; the 
 speaker does this ; therefore he must be a good man." 
 
 \ E. G. " It would be needless to impress upon you the maxim," 
 fcc. " You cannot be ignorant," &c. &c. " I am not advancing 
 any high pretensions in expressing the sentiments which sue!/ an 
 occasion must call forth in every honest heart," &c. 
 
160 ELEMENTS OF RHETORIC. [Part 11 
 
 pompous and studied display of fine sentiments ; and 
 care must also be taken not to affront them by seeming 
 to inculcate, as something likely to be new te them, 
 maxims which they regard as almost truisms. Of course 
 the application of this last caution must vary according 
 to the character of the persons addressed ; that might 
 excite admiration and gratitude in one audience, which 
 another would receive with indignation and ridicule. 
 Most men, however, are disposed rather to overrate than 
 to extenuate their own moral judgment ; or at least to be 
 jealous of any one's appearing to underrate it. 
 Eloquence Universally indeed, in the Arguments used, 
 relative. as we \\ as i n the appeals made to the feelings, 
 a consideration must be had of the hearers, whether 
 they are learned or ignorant — of this or that profession 
 — nation — character, &c. and the address must be 
 adapted to each ; so that there can be no excellence of 
 writing or speaking, in the abstract ; nor can we any 
 more pronounce on the Eloquence of any Composition, 
 than upon the wholesomeness of a medicine, without 
 knowing for whom it is intended. The less enlightened 
 the hearers, the harder, of course, it is to make them 
 comprehend a long and complex train of Reasoning ; 
 so that sometimes the arguments, in themselves the most 
 cogent, cannot be employed at all with effect ; and the 
 rest will need an expansion and copious illustration 
 which would be needless, and therefore tiresome, (as 
 has been above remarked,) before a different kind of 
 audience. On the other hand, their feelings may be 
 excited by much bolder and coarser expedients ; such as 
 those are the most ready to employ, and the most likely 
 to succeed in, who are themselves a little removed 
 above the vulgar ; as may be seen in the effec ts produced 
 by fanatical preachers. But there are none whose feel- 
 ings do not occasionally need and admit of excitement 
 by the powers of eloquence ; only there is a mere 
 exquisite skill required in thus affecting the educated 
 classes, than the populace. " The less improved in 
 
Chap. III. § 1.] OF PERSUASION. i6l 
 
 knowledge and discernment the hearers are, the easier 
 it is for the speaker to work upon their passions, and by 
 working on their passions, to obtain his end. This, it 
 must be owned, appears on the other hand to give a 
 considerable advantage to the preacher ; as in no con- 
 gregation can the bulk of the people be regarded as on 
 a footing, in point of improvement, with either House 
 of Parliament, or with the Judges in a Court of Judica- 
 ture. It is certain, that the more gross the hearers are, 
 (he more avowedly may you address yourself to their 
 passions, and the less occasion there is for argument; 
 whereas, the more intelligent they are, the more covertly 
 must you operate on their passions, and the more atten- 
 tive must you be in regard to the justness, or at least 
 the speciousness, of your reasoning. Hence some have 
 strangely concluded, that the only scope for eloquence 
 is in haranguing the multitude ; that in gaining over to 
 your purpose men of knowledge and breeding, the 
 exertion of oratorical talents hath no influence. This 
 is precisely as if one should argue, because a mob is 
 much more easily subdued than regular troops, there is 
 no occasion for the art of war, nor is there a proper 
 field for the exertion of military skill, unless when you 
 are quelling an undisciplined rabble. Every body sees, 
 in this case, not only how absurd such a way of argu- 
 ing would be, but that the very reverse ought to be the 
 conclusion. The reason why people do not so quickly 
 perceive the absurdity in the other case, is, that they 
 affix no distinct meaning to the word eloquence, often 
 denoting no more by that term than simply the power 
 of moving the passions. But even in this improper 
 acceptation, their notion is far from being just; for 
 wherever there are men, learned or ignorant, civilized 
 or barbarous, there are passions; and the greater the 
 difficulty is in affecting these, the more art is requisite.* 
 It may be added to what Dr. C. has here remarked, 
 that the title of eloquent may have come to be often 
 
 • Campbell's Rhetoric, b. i. ch. x. sec. 2, pp. 2*24, 2 23 
 13 
 
162 ELEMENTS OF RHETORIC. [Part II 
 
 limited to such compositions as he is speaking of, from 
 the circumstance that their eloquence is (to readers of 
 cultivated mind) more conspicuous. That which affects 
 our own feelings is not, by us, at the time at least, per 
 ceived to be eloquence. See note to the next section. 
 
 On the other hand, it is, as has been said, in the same 
 degree more difficult to bring the uneducated to a com- 
 prehension of the arguments employed; and this, not 
 only from their reasoning-powers having less general 
 cultivation, but also, in many instances, from their ig- 
 norance of the subject; — their needing to be informed of 
 the facts, and to have the principles explained to them, 
 on which the argument proceeds. And I cannot but 
 think that the generality of sermons seem to pre-sup- 
 pose a degree of religious knowledge in the hearers 
 greater than many of them would be found on exami- 
 nation to possess. When this is the case, the most an- 
 gelic eloquence must be unavailing to any practical 
 purpose. 
 
 In no point more than in that now under consideration, 
 viz. the Conciliation (to adopt the term of the Latin 
 writers) of the hearers, is it requisite to consider who 
 and what the hearers are ; for when it is said that good 
 Sense, good Principle, and Good-will, constitute the 
 character which the speaker ought to establish of him- 
 self, it is to be remembered that every one of these i3 
 to be considered in reference to the opinions and habits 
 of the audience. To think very differently from hia 
 hearers, may often be a sign of the Orator's wisdom and 
 worth ; but they are not likely to consider it so. A 
 witty satirist* has observed, that " it is a short way to 
 obtain the reputation of a wise and reasonable man, 
 whenever any one tells you his opinion, to agree with 
 him." Without going the full length of completely act- 
 ing on this maxim, it is absolutely necessary to remem- 
 ber, that in proportion as the speaker manifests hi* 
 dissent from the opinions and principles of his audience 
 * Swift. 
 
Uuaf. III. § 1.] OF PERSUASION. 163 
 
 so far, he runs the risk at least of impairing vheir esti- 
 mation of his judgment. But this it is often necessary 
 to do when any serious object is proposed ; because it 
 will commonly happen that the very End aimed at shall 
 be one which implies a change of sentiments, or even 
 of principles and character, in the hearers. 
 
 This must be very much the case with any preacher 
 of the Gospel ; but must have been much more so with 
 its first promulgators. "Christ crucified" was "to 
 the Jews a stumbling-block, and to the Greeks, foolish- 
 ness." The total change required in all the notions, 
 habits, and systems of conduct in the first converts, con- 
 stituted an obstacle to the reception of the new religion, 
 whicr. ^o other that has prevailed ever had to contend 
 with. Txie striking contrast which Mahommedism pre- 
 sents, in this respect, to Christianity, constitutes the ra- 
 pid diffusion of the two, by no means parallel cases. 
 
 Those indeed who aim only at popularity, are right 
 in conforming their sentiments to those of the hearers, 
 rather than the contrary ; but it is plain that though in 
 this way they obtain the greatest reputation for Elo- 
 quence, they deserve it the less ; it being much easier 
 according to the tale related of Mahomet, to go to the 
 mountain, than to bring the mountain to us. " Little 
 force is necessary to push down heavy bodies placed on 
 the verge of a declivity ; but much force is requisite to 
 stop them in their progress, and push them up. If a 
 man should say, that because the first is more frequent- 
 ly effected than the last, it is the best trial of strength, 
 and the only suitable use to which it can be applied, we 
 should at least not think him remarkable for distinct- 
 ness in his ideas. Popularity alone, therefore, is no 
 lest at all of the eloquence of the speaker, no more than 
 velocity alone would be, of the force of the external 
 impulse originally given to the body moving. As in 
 this the direction of the body, and other circumstances, 
 must be taken into the account ; so, in that, you must 
 cons/ ier the tendency of the teaching, whether it fa- 
 
164 ELEMENTS OF RHETORIC. [Part II 
 
 vours or opposes the vices of the hearers. To head a 
 sect, to infuse party spirit, to make men arrogant, un- 
 charitable, and malevolent, is the easiest task imagina- 
 ble, and to which almost any blockhead is fully equal. 
 But to produce the contrary effect, to subdue the spirit 
 of faction, and that monster, spiritual pride, with which 
 it is invariably accompanied, to inspire equity, modera- 
 tion, and charity into men's sentiment's and conduct 
 with regard to others, is the genuine test of eloquence."* 
 There is but little Eloquence in convincing men that 
 they are in the right, or inducing them to approve a 
 character which coincides with their own. 
 Difficul- The Christian preacher therefore is in thia 
 
 ties of a respect placed in a difficult dilemma ; since 
 
 Preacher. J^ ma y £ e sure t ^ at t } ie } esg fog complies with 
 
 the depraved judgments of man's corrupt nature, the less 
 acceptable is he likely to be to that depraved judgment 
 But he who would claim the highest rank as an Ora- 
 tor, (to omit all nobler considerations,) must be the one 
 who is the most successful, not in gaining popular ap- 
 plause, but in carrying his 'point, whatever it be. The 
 preacher, however, who is intent on this object, should 
 use all such precautions as are not inconsistent with 
 it, to avoid raising unfavourable impressions in hia 
 hearers. Much will depend on a gentle and concilia- 
 tory manner ; nor is it necessary that he should, at 
 once, in an abrupt and offensive form, set forth all the 
 differences of sentiment between himself and his con- 
 gregation, instead of winning them over by degrees; 
 and in whatever point, and to whatever extent, he may 
 suppose them to agree with him, it is allowable, and 
 for that reason advisable, to dwell on that agreement ; 
 as the Apostles began every address to the Jews by an 
 appeal to the Prophets, whose authority they admitted ; 
 and as Paul opens his discourse to the Athenians 
 (though unfortunately the words of our translation are 
 likely to convey an opposite idea) by a commendation 
 
 * Campbell's Rhetoric, b. i. ch. x. sec. 5. p. 239 
 
Chap. III. § 2.] Off PERSUASION 16<J 
 
 of their respect for religion.* And above all, where 
 censure is called for, the speaker should avoid, not 
 merely on Christian, but also on rhetorical principles, 
 all appearance of exultation in his own superiority — 
 of contempt — or of uncharitable triumph in the detec- 
 tion of faults : " in meekness, instructing them that op- 
 pose themselves." 
 
 Of all hostile feelings, Envy is, perhaps, the hardest 
 to be subdued ; because hardly any one owns it, even 
 to himself ; but looks out for one pretext after another 
 to justify his hostility. 
 
 § 2. 6f intellectual qualifications, there is Danc , er of 
 one which, it is evident, should not only not reputation 
 be blazoned forth, but should in a great mea- for eio- 
 sure be concealed, or kept out of sight; viz. I" 6110 * 3 - 
 rhetorical skill; since whatever is attributed to the 
 Eloquence of the speaker, is so much deducted from the 
 strength of his cause. Hence, Pericles is represented 
 by Thucydides as artfully claiming, in his vindication 
 of himself, the power of explaining the measures he 
 proposes, not, Eloquence in persuading their adoption. f 
 And accordingly a skilful orator seldom fails to notice 
 and extol the eloquence of his opponent, and to warn 
 the hearers against being misled by it. It is a peculi- 
 arity therefore in the rhetorical art, that in it, more 
 than in any other, vanity has a direct and immediate 
 tendency to interfere with the proposed object. Exces- 
 sive vanity may indeed, in various ways, prove an im- 
 pediment to success in other pursuits ; but in the endea- 
 vour to persuade, all wish to appear excellent in that 
 art, operates as a hindrance. A Poet, a Statesman, or 
 a General, &c. though extreme covetousness of applause 
 may mislead them, will, however, attain their respec- 
 tive Ends, certainly not the less for being admired as 
 excellent, in Poetry, Politics, or War : but the Orator 
 
 * AeHnSainoreoTepjvs, not " too superstitious," but (as almost all 
 tommentators are now agreed) " very much disposed to the worship 
 ti Divine Beings." 
 
 t See the Motto, which it from his speech. 
 
166 ELEMENTS OF RHETORIC. [Tart II, 
 
 attains his End the better the less he is regarded as an 
 Orator ; if he can make the hearers believe that he is 
 not only a stranger to all unfair artifice, but even des- 
 titute of all persuasive skill whatever, he will persuade 
 them the more effectually,* and if there ever could be 
 an absolutely perfect Orator, no one would (at the time 
 at least) discover that he was so.f And this considera- 
 tion may serve to account for the fact which Cicero re- 
 marks upon (De Oratore, book i.) as so inexplicable ; 
 viz. the small number of persons who, down to his time 
 had obtained high reputation as orators, compared with 
 those who had obtained excellence in other pursuits. 
 Few men are destitute* of the desire of admiration ; and 
 most are especially ambitious of it in the pursuit to 
 which they have chiefly devoted themselves ; the Ora- 
 tor therefore is continually tempted to sacrifice the sub- 
 stance to the shadow, by aiming rather at the admira- 
 tion of the hearers, than their conviction ; and thus to 
 fail of that excellence in his art which he might other- 
 wise be well qualified to attain, through the desire of a 
 reputation for it. And on the other hand, some may 
 have been really persuasive speakers who yet may not 
 
 * "lam no orator, as Brutus is," &c. Shaksp. Julius Cassar. 
 
 t The following passage from a review of " The Heart of Mid- 
 Lothian," coincides precisely with what has here been remarked : 
 " We cannot bestow the same unqualified praise on another cele- 
 brated scene, Jeannie's interview with Queen Caroline. Jeannie's 
 pleading appears to us much too rhetorical for the person and foi 
 the occasion : and the queen's answer, supposing her to have been 
 overpowered by Jeannie's entreaties, ' This is eloquence, 5 is still 
 worse. Had it been eloquence, it must necessarily have been un 
 perceived by the queen. If there is any art of which celare artem 
 is the basis, it is this. The instant it peeps out, it defeats its own 
 object, by diverting our attention from the. subject to the speaker 
 and that, with a suspicion of his sophistry equal to our admiratior 
 of his ingenuity. A man who, in answer to an earnest address to the 
 feelings of hig hearer, is told, ' you have spoken eloquently,' feels 
 that he has failed. Efiie, when she entreats Sharpitlaw to allow her 
 to see her sister, is eloquent ; and his answer accordingly betraj-8 
 perfect unconsciousness that she has been so ; * You shall see your 
 sister,' he began, ' if you'll tell me ' — then interrupting himself, he 
 added in a more hurried tone, 'no, you shall see your sister, 
 •whether you tell me or no.' " Quarterly Review, No. Li. p. 1 18 
 
Chap. HI. § 2.] OF PERSUASION. 167 
 
 have ranked high in men's opinion, and may not have 
 been known to possess that art of which they gave proof 
 by their skilful concealment of it. There is no point, 
 in short, in which report is so little to be trusted. 
 
 If I were asked to digress a little from my Piude nt 
 subject, and to say what I should recommend and con- 
 in point of morality and of prudence, to the scientious 
 
 <-, r i ttt • , J n . ,i i i course. 
 
 Speaker or Writer, and to those whom he 
 addresses with respect to the precept just given, I should 
 in reply, counsel him who wishes to produce a perma- 
 nent effect, (for 1 am not now adverting to the case of 
 a barrister,) to keep on the side of what he believes to 
 be truth ; and, avoiding all sophistry, to aim only at 
 setting forth that truth as strongly as possible, (com- 
 bating of course, any unjust personal prejudice against 
 himself,) without any endeavour to gain applause for 
 his own abilities. If he is himself thoroughly con- 
 vinced, and strongly impressed, and can keep clear of the 
 seductions of vanity, he will be more likely in this way 
 to gain due credit for the strength of his cause, than by 
 yielding to a feverish anxiety about the opinion that 
 others may form of him. And as I should of course 
 advise the reader or hearer to endeavour, in each case, 
 to form his judgment according to the real and valid 
 arguments urged, and to regulate his feelings and sen- 
 timents according to what the case justly calls for, so, 
 with a view to this end, I would suggest these two 
 cautions ; first, to keep in mind that there is danger of 
 over-rating as well as of under-rating the eloquence of 
 what is said ; and that to attribute to the skill of the 
 advocate what really belongs to the strength of his 
 cause, is just as likely to lead to error as the opposite 
 mistake : and secondly, to remember that when the 
 feelings are strongly excited, they are not necessarily 
 over-excited : it may be that they are only brought into 
 the state which the occasion fully justifies ; or even 
 that they still fall short of this.* 
 
 * Seo Part ii. chap. 1. §ii. 
 
168 ELEMENTS OF RHETORIC. [PA*r U. 
 
 A character § 3. Of the three points which Aristotle 
 v[il g as°\veil directs tne 01 ' ator to claim credit for, it might 
 as integrity seem at first sight that one, viz. " Good- 
 requisite, will," is unnecessary to be mentioned ; since 
 Ability and Integrity would appear to comprehend, in 
 most cases at least, all that is needed. A virtuous man, 
 it maybe said, must wish well to his countrymen, or to 
 any persons whatever whom he may be addressing. 
 But on a more attentive consideration, it will be manifest 
 that Aristotle had good reason for mentioning this head. 
 If the speaker were believed to wish well to his Country, 
 and to every individual of it, yet if he were suspected 
 of being unfriendly to the political or other Party to 
 which his hearers belonged, they would listen to him 
 with prejudice. The abilities and the conscientiousness 
 of Phocion seem not to have been doubted by any ; but 
 these were so far from gaining him a favourable hear- 
 ing among th'- Democratical party at Athens, (who 
 knew him \j be no friend to Democracy,) that they 
 probably distrusted him the more ; as one whose public 
 spirit would induce him, and whose talents might 
 enable him, to subvert the existing Constitution. 
 
 Party-spirit. ® nQ °^ tne most P oweri ul engines, accord- 
 ingly, of the orator, is this kind of appeal 
 to party-spirit. Party-spirit may, indeed be considered 
 in another point of view, as one of the Passions which 
 may be directly appealed to, when it can be brought to 
 operate in the direction required ; i. e. when the con- 
 duct the writer or speaker is recommending appears 
 likely to gratify party-spirit; but it is the indirect 
 appeal to it which is now under consideration ; viz. 
 the favour, credit, and weight which the speaker will 
 derive from appearing to be of the same pajty with the 
 hearers, or at least not opposed to it. And this is a 
 sort of credit which he may claim more openly and 
 avowedly than any other; and he may likewise throw 
 discredit on his opponent in a less offensive, but not 
 less effectual manner. A man cannot say in direct 
 
Chap. III. § 3.] OF PERSUASION. 169 
 
 terms, "Iaraa wise and worthy man, and my adver- 
 sary the reverse;" but he is allowed to say, "I adhere 
 to the principles of Mr. Pitt or of Mr. Fox ;" "lama 
 friend to Presbyterianism or to Episcopacy," (as the 
 case may be,) and " my opponent, the reverse;" which 
 is not regarded as an offence against modesty, and yet 
 amounts virtually to as strong a self-commendation, 
 and as decided vituperation, in the eyes of those imbued 
 with party. spirit, as if every kind of merit and of 
 demerit had been enumerated : for to zealous party-men, 
 zeal for their party will very often either imply, or stand 
 as a substitute for, every other kind of worth. 
 
 Hard, indeed, therefore is the task of him whose 
 object is to counteract party-spirit, and to soften the 
 violence of those prejudices which spring from it.*" His 
 only resource must be to take care that he give no 
 ground for being supposed imbued with the violent and 
 unjust prejudices of the opposite party — that he give his 
 audience credit, (since it rarely happens but that each 
 party has some tenets that are reasonable,) for whatever 
 there may be that deserves praise — that he proceed gra- 
 dually and cautiously in removing the errors with which 
 they are infected- — and above all, that he studiously dis- 
 claim and avoid the appearance of any thing like a 
 feeling of personal hostility, or personal contempt. 
 
 [f the orator's character can be sufficiently a character 
 established in respect of Ability, and also of lor integri- 
 Good-will towards the hearers, it might at ty re( i uisite - 
 first sight appear as if this would be sufficient ; since 
 the former of these would imply the Power, and the 
 latter the Inclination, to give the best advice, whatever 
 might be his Moral character. But Aristotle (in his 
 
 * " Of all the prepossessions in the minds of the hearers, which 
 tend to impede or counteract the design of the speaker, party-spirit, 
 where it happens to prevail, is the most pernicious : being at once 
 the most inflexible, and the most unjust. * * * * Violent party-men 
 not only lose all sympathy with those of the opposite side, but even 
 contract an antipathy to them. This, on some occasions, even taa 
 dirinest eloquence wiAl not surmount." — Campbell's Rhetoric 
 14 
 
170 ELEMENTS OF RHETORIC. [Part II 
 
 Politics) justly remarks thai this last is also requisite 
 
 to be insisted on, in order to produce entire confidence : 
 ; e, though a man cannot be suspected oj 
 wanting Good- will towards himadf, ye! man] 
 men acl mosl absurdly* even in their own af&irs, foi 
 want of Moral virtue ; being either blinded or overcome 
 by their Passioi to sacrifice their own moa 
 
 important interests to their present gratification ; and 
 much more, therefore, maj they be expected to be thus 
 seduced by persona] temptations, in the advice they 
 give to others, Pericles, accordingly, in the speech 
 which has been already referred' to, is represented by 
 Phucydides as insisting nol only on his political ability 
 ami his patriotism, but also on Ins unimpeai 
 
 a a qualification absolutely necessarj to entitle 
 him to then- confidence ; " tor the man.'* sa] a he, " w ho 
 I i \<tv other requisite, but is overcome by the 
 
 temptation of interest, will be ready to sell i ■ 
 for the gratification oi his avarice. M 
 
 Prom what has been said of the 
 
 ' ,nt - Speaker's recommendation ol himself to the 
 audience, and establishment oi his authority with them, 
 
 sufficient rules may readily he deduced for the analo- 
 
 umu^ process the depreciation of an opponent Both 
 oi these, and especially the latter, under the oft 
 
 title oi personal /'if. are by many indiscriminately < : ., 
 as unfair rhetorical tricks: and doubtless they are, in 
 the majority oi cases. BOphistically employed : anil by 
 none more effectually than by those w ho are perpetu- 
 ally declaiming against sue h \\ the unthinking 
 
 hearers not being prepared any from 
 
 who represent th< as holding them in such ab- 
 
 horrent surely it is not in itself an unfair topic 
 
 oi argument, in cases not admitting of decisive and un- 
 DUesUonable proof, to urge that the one party deserves 
 the hearurs' confidence, or that the other is justly an 
 object of their distrust. "If the measun 
 one," it has been said, " will it become bad because it 
 
<:*Ar MI ', 4 | OF I'll:' i v< hi , 7I 
 
 m lupporti 'i b) •• bad "'.in I ii iii bad, ■• ill 11 ha o nu 
 
 |'«" "I f)l I "l ' ■ l | > | «' »r 1«-<| liy .1 j .1 in .in ' I'll,, mm .i 
 
 ■ nu |)i I. ..ii; mm i pi iii. iii ■■ h ■, nol - 11 om i how thai 
 It ii id \ ""i produi ing it" • irri Ii • ani and Im on 
 
 • In iv< .n ■in, i. ill I, iii Ii. ii .,1 .In. . I ..ii. ■. III. Mii-I I 
 
 i Kill. I. Ill l.i |||.,\ r lll.ll III. III. .1 Ml. ', .Ml ll,M OppQ I I I 
 
 I i JmiI. |fl |M-r. < l||.,| \ mm \ <mii < II ii 
 
 gard it a •' | i '"" " Nmw io iii < ihu foi grant* .i. 
 
 ill., I p Ifl ( . ! ... [|| ■ I I . .11 ;■ MUM III | if) |. ..' - .1 III. .1 
 
 ; mi. I,.,. I .,1 good, « r i - 1 * |m ii< I. ill <>l .ill < .,ii i.l. i.,I|.,ii .,1 llir 
 
 1 1. ii.,. i.i .,i ii .,,!■. ... .ii. . . ould i" found) and al o< ould 
 
 l.< im.mI.- ,/,,i, (0 llu 00] .... ,1,1,1,, qd , .i I.,., mi. I 
 
 i" nu "i ii.. .jn. iijon 'I I" re I nd ddubl thai the 
 
 i-< I., i . 1 1 1 1 y i,i km ii mm too much di i I Id considei 
 
 i.i.,i< nil,, pmpo i h "" •' "!■ . Mi. hi what ll i I that ii 
 propo it 'i (and probabl v ■•• ould i ontinui todd ■ ■■ 
 iiimI.i .i j i< in oi annual Pai liami hi i and uni • ■ i al 
 
 •.iilli.r-i , .,,,.1 i| ., ••. eh mi,:- I., a ivcrt |: ' mm l .in . ci 
 
 • !•..- 1, in i. ii- t to iin ■ .1-, ',i judging ii i H -i idnnbli . -'"'i 
 m.iy in- M < i n I i mm I,. mi i, i any one eacapi censure whd 
 
 i m,ii in . iii i ii iii to i in ii topii i, or d waifs principally on 
 iin hi. iii . ..I : "in ii- •■ dlfi 1 1 argunij nl bm to bi i • 
 pi . i. ,i but thi v an ndl to bi < ondi mm (| in totoe lrr< 
 i, ,,i I,,, .,ni in I-. . . .,n iii. ground thai that ar< only 
 probable, -""i nol in themselves deci si v< ii I onl) in 
 iii.,i'« i of itricl ' iem • . and thai loo, in arguing to cii n 
 i, in men, thai the i harai U i ol tin adi o< al< i (as Will ah 
 .■ll (iiii.i probable Arguments) ihduld be •• holly pul oul 
 oj the uuc ilion I ever) on< i hargi abh with vi al ni ■ 
 
 • m .j, in. hi-, ••. hd bi Iii '.i iii.ii (hi earth mo\ * f,<nt<\ 
 ii,. in,. ,,i, id. mhiIkm ii y ol ."•• tronomi i i "• ithoul 
 
 I,..-. In a him ell n ii " li1 " all) th mon tratid H ' 
 
 An. i ii 1 1 i< marl abli thai tin m o it\ di el ti el 
 
 allowing • omi ••■ eighl td thi i on id< ration 
 
 in politn al matU i . im reasei in proportion ,„','! .',',, ""' 
 
 n .in y country enjo) a fret ■••,,, mn, ,,i ■■ ... i ..., r ...i 
 
 ll ..ii the powii be ." the hand oi •• U oi gj .';;_ '"" 
 Oj'- high* ' ofdt ' . ■■•• ho bavi the oppoftunit) 
 
172 ELEMENTS OF RHETORIC. [Part II 
 
 at least, of obtaining education, it is conceivable, 
 whether probable or not, that they may be brought 
 to try each proposed measure exclusively on its intrin- 
 sic merits, by abstract arguments; but can any man, in 
 his senses, really believe that the great mass of the 
 people, or even any considerable portion of them, can 
 ever possess so much political knowledge., patience in 
 investigation, and sound Logic, (to say nothing of can- 
 dour,) as to be able and willing to judge, and to judge 
 correctly, of every proposed political measure, in the 
 abstract, without any regard to their opinion of the per- 
 sons who propose it ? And it is evident, that in every 
 case in which the hearers are not completely competent 
 judges, they not only will, but must, take into conside- 
 ration the characters of those who propose, support, or 
 dissuade any measure ; — the persons they are connected 
 with — the designs they may be supposed to entertain, 
 &c. ; though, undoubtedly, an excessive and exclusive 
 regard to Persons rather than Arguments, is one of the 
 chief Fallacies against which men ought to be cautioned. 
 But if the opposite mode of judging in every case 
 were to be adopted without limitation, it is plain that 
 children could not be educated. Indeed, happily for the 
 world, most of them, who should be allowed to proceed 
 on this plan, would, in consequence, perish in childhood. 
 A pious Christian, again, has the same implicit reliance 
 on his God, even where unable to judge of the reason- 
 ableness of his commands and dispensations, as a duti- 
 ful and affectionate child has on a tender parent. Now,, 
 though such a man is of course regarded by an Atheist 
 as weak and absurd, it is surely on account of his be- 
 lief, not of his consequent conduct, that he is so regarded. 
 Even Atheists would in general admit that he is acting 
 reasonably, on the supposition that there is a God, who 
 has revealed Himself to man. 
 Authority § 5. In no way, perhaps, are men, not bi- 
 
 ^ riV o e s d edex. o 0ted t0 P art ^' m0re likel y t0 be misled ty 
 
 perience. eX " their favourable or unfavourable judgmen' 
 
Chap III. § 5.] OF PERSUASION 173 
 
 of their advisers, than in what relates to the authority 
 derived from Experience. Not that Experience ought 
 not to be allowed to have great weight: hut that 
 men are apt not to consider with sufficient attention, 
 what it is that constitutes Experience in each point ; 
 so that frequently one man shall have credit for much 
 experience, in what relates to the matter in hand, and 
 another, who, perhaps, possesses as much, or more, 
 shall be underrated as wanting it. The vulgar, of all 
 ranks, need to be warned, first, that time alone does 
 not constitute Experience : so that many years may 
 have passed over a man's head, without his even 
 having had the same opportunities of acquiring it as 
 another, much younger; secondly, that the longest 
 practice in conducting any business in one way, does 
 not. necessarily confer any Experience in conducting 
 it in a different way : e. g. an experienced Husbandman, 
 or Minister of State, in Persia, would be much at a loss 
 in Europe ; and if they had some things less to learn 
 than an entire novice, on the other hand they would 
 have much to unlearn : and, thirdly, that merely being 
 conversant about a certain class of subjects, does not 
 confer Experience in a case, where the Operations and, 
 the End proposed, are different It is said that there 
 was an Amsterdam merchant, who had dealt largely 
 in corn all his life, who had never seen a field of wheat 
 growing ; this man had doubtless acquired by Experi- 
 ence, an accurate judgment of the qualities of each de- 
 scription of corn — of the best methods of storing it — of 
 the arts of buying and selling it at proper times, &c. ; 
 but he would have been greatly at loss in its cultiva- 
 tion ; though he had been, in a certain way, long con- 
 versant about eorn. Nearly similar is the Experience 
 of a practised Lawyer, (supposing him to be nothing 
 more,) in a case of Legislation ; because he has been 
 long conversant about Law, the unreflecting atU-Hute 
 great weight to his legislative judgment ; wherea his 
 constant habits of fixing his thoughts on what the •* 
 
174 ELEMENTS OF RHETORIC. [Pabt II 
 
 is, and withdrawing it from the irrelevant question oi 
 what the law ought to be ; — his careful observance of 
 a multitude of rules, (which afford the more scope foi 
 the display of his skill, in proportion as they are arbi- 
 trary, unreasonable, and unaccountable,) with a studied 
 indifference as to that which is foreign from his busi- 
 ness, the convenience or inconvenience of those Rules, 
 — may be expected to operate unfavourably on his judg- 
 ment in questions of Legislation : and are likely ta 
 counterbalance the advantages of his superior know- 
 ledge, even in such points as do bear on the question. 
 
 In matters connected with Political- economy, the ex- 
 perience of practical men is often appealed to in opposi- 
 tion to those who are called Theorists ; even though 
 the latter perhaps are deducing conclusions from a wide 
 induction of facts, while the experience of the others 
 will often be found only to amount to their having been 
 long conversant with the details of office, and having 
 all that time gone on in a certain beaten track, from 
 which they never tried, or witnessed, or even imagined, 
 a deviation. 
 
 So also the authority derived from experience of a 
 practical Miner — i, e. one who has wrought all his life 
 in one mine — will sometimes delude a speculator into 
 a vain search for metal or coal, against the opinion per- 
 haps of Theorists, i. e. persons of extensive geological 
 observation. 
 
 " It may be added, that there is a proverbial maxim 
 which bears witness to the advantage sometimes pos- 
 sessed by an observant by-stander over those actually 
 engaged in any transaction. ' The looker-on often seea 
 more of the game than the players.' Now the looker- 
 on is precisely (in Greek Qeopbg) the Theorist. 
 
 "When then you find anyone contrasting, in this 
 and in other subjects, what he calls experience, with 
 theory, you will usually perceive on attentive exami- 
 nation, that he is in reality comparing the results of y 
 confined with that of a wider, experience ; — a more im. 
 
Chap. III. § 5.] OF PERSUASION. 175 
 
 perfect and crude theory, with one more cautiously 
 framed, and based on a more copious induction."* 
 
 The consideration then of the character of the speak- 
 er, and of his opponent, being of so much importance, 
 both as a legitimate source of Persuasion, in many instan- 
 ces, and also as a topic of Fallacies, it is evidently in- 
 cumbent on the orator to be well versed in this branch 
 of the art, with a view both to the justifiable advance- 
 ment of his own cause, and to the detection and expo- 
 sure of unfair artifice in an opponent. It is neither 
 possible, nor can it in justice be expected, that this 
 mode of persuasion should be totally renounced and ex- 
 ploded, great as are the abuses to which it is liable ; but 
 the speaker is bound, in conscience, to abstain from 
 those abuses himself ; and, in prudence, to be on his 
 guard against them in others. 
 
 To enumerate the various kinds of impres- charge of 
 sions favourable and unfavourable, that inconsis 
 hearers or readers may entertain concerning tenc T- 
 any one, would be tedious and superfluous. But it may 
 be worth observing, that a charge of inconsistency ,as it 
 is one of the most disparaging, is also one that is per- 
 haps the most frequently urged with effect, on insuffi- 
 cient grounds. Strictly speaking, inconsistency (such 
 at least as a wise and good man is exempt from) is the 
 maintaining at the same time two contradictory proposi- 
 tions ; whether expressed in language, or implied in 
 sentiments or conduct. As e. g. if an author,f in an 
 argumentative work, while he represents every syllo- 
 gism as futile and fallacious reasoning, admits that all 
 reasoning may be exhibited in the form of syllogisms ; 
 or, if the same person who censures and abhors 
 oppression, yet practises it towards others; or if a 
 man prescribes two medicines which neutralize each 
 other's effects, &c 
 
 But a man is often censured as inconsistent, if fa« 
 
 • See Political-Economy, Lect. Hi. p. 63. 
 t Dr. Stewart. 
 
176 ELEMENTS OF RHETORIC. [Part tl 
 
 Different ohanges his plans or his opinions on any 
 notions of point. And certainly if he does this often, 
 mconsis- anc j lightly, that is good ground for withhold 
 ing confidence from him. But it would be 
 more precise to characterize him asjickk and unsteady. 
 than as i7iconsistent ; because this use of the term tends 
 to confound one fault with another; viz. with the hold 
 in^of two incompatible opinions at once. 
 
 But, moreover, a man is often charged with inconsis 
 tency for approving some parts of a book — system — 
 character, &c. and disapproving others ; — for being now 
 an advocate for peace, and now, for war ; — in short, for 
 accommodating his judgment or his conduct to the cir- 
 cumstances before him, as the mariner sets his sails to 
 the wind. In this case there is not even any change of 
 mind implied ; yet for this a man is often taxed with 
 inconsistency ; though in many instances there would 
 even be an inconsistency in the opposite procedure ; e. g. 
 in not shifting the sails, when the wind changes. 
 
 In the other case indeed — when a man does change 
 his mind — he implies some error, either first or last. 
 But some errors every man is liable to, who is not in- 
 fallible. He, therefore, who prides himself on his con- 
 sistency, on the ground of resolving never to change his 
 plans or opinions, does virtually (unless he means to 
 proclaim himself either too dull to detect his mistakes, 
 or too obstinate to own them) lay claim to infallibility. 
 And if at the same time he ridicules (as is often done) 
 the absurdity of a claim to infallibility, he is guilty of 
 a gross inconsistency in the proper and primary sense 
 of the word. 
 
 But it is much easier to boast of consistency than to 
 preserve it. For, as, in the dark, or in a fog, adverse 
 troops may take post near each other, without mutual 
 recognition, and consequently without contest, but as 
 soon as daylight comes, the weaker give place to the 
 stronger ; so, in a misty and daikened mind, the most 
 "ncompatible opinions may exist together, without any 
 
tfHAP. III. § 6.] OF PERSUASION 177 
 
 perception of their discrepancy ; till the understanding 
 becomes sufficiently enlightened to enable the man to 
 reject the less reasonable opinions, and retain the op- 
 posites. 
 
 It may be added, that it is a very fair ground for dis- 
 paraging any one's judgment, if he maintains any doc- 
 trine or system, avowedly for the sake of consistency. 
 Thai must always be a bad reason. If the system, &c. 
 is right, you should pursue it because it is right, and 
 not because you have pursued it hitherto ; if it is wrong, 
 your having once committed a fault is a poor reason to 
 give for persisting in it. 
 
 It only remains to observe, on this head, that (as 
 Aristotle teaches) the place for the disparagement of an 
 opponent is, for the first speaker, near the close of his 
 discourse, to weaken the force of what may be said in 
 reply ; and, for the opponent, near the opening, to les- 
 sen the influence of what has been already said. 
 
 § 6. Either a personal prejudice, such as 
 has been just mentioned, or some other pas- SJie^pas 
 sion unfavourable to the speaker's object, sionstobe 
 may already exist in the minds of the hear- allayed or 
 
 i • x. •«. i. i i • i. a n diverted. 
 
 ers, which it must be his business to allay. 
 
 It is obvious that this will the most effectually be 
 done, not by endeavouring to produce a state of perfect 
 calmness and apathy, but by exciting some contrary 
 emotion. And here it is to be observed that some pas- 
 sions may be, rhetorically speaking, opposite to each 
 other, though in strictness they are not so ; viz. when- 
 ever they are incompatible with each other: e. g. the 
 opposite, strictly speaking, to anger, would be a feeling 
 of good-will and approbation towards the person in 
 question ; but it is not by the excitement of this, alone, 
 that anger may be allayed ; for fear is, practically, con- 
 trary to it also ; as is remarked by Aristotle, who philo- 
 sophically accounts for this, on the principle that anger, 
 implying a desire to inflict punishment, must imply also 
 a supposition that it is possible to do so ; and accordingly 
 
178 ELEMENTS OF RHETORIC. [Part It 
 
 men do not, he says, feel anger towards one who is so 
 much superior as to be manifestly out of their reach ; 
 and the object of their anger ceases to be so, as soon as 
 he becomes an object of apprehension. Of course the 
 converse also of this holds good ; anger, when it pre- 
 vails, in like manner subduing fear. Savage nations, 
 accordingly, having no military discipline, are accus- 
 tomed to work themselves up into a phrensy of rage by 
 their war-songs and dances, in order to excite them- 
 selves to courage.* Compassion, likewise, may be 
 counteracted either by disapprobation, by jealousy, by 
 fear, or by disgust and horror ; and envy, either by good- 
 will, or by contempt. 
 
 This is tbe more necessary to be attended to, in or- 
 der that the Orator may be on his guard against inad- 
 vertently defeating his own object, by exciting feelings 
 at variance with those he is endeavouring to produce, 
 though not strictly contrary to them. Aristotle accord- 
 ingly notices, with this view the difference between the 
 " Pitiable," (eleeivbv,) and the" Horrible or Shocking," 
 (Seivov,) which, as he observes, excite different feel- 
 ings, destructive of each other ; so that the Orator must 
 be warned, if the former is his object, to keep clear of 
 any thing that may excite the latter 
 
 It will often happen that it will be easier to give a 
 new direction to the unfavourable passion, than to sub- 
 due it ; e. g. to turn the indignation, or the laughter, of 
 the hearers against a different object. Indeed, when- 
 ever the case will admit of this, it will generally prove 
 the more successful expedient ; because it does not im- 
 ply the accomplishment of so great a change in the 
 minds of the hearers. 
 
 • See Arist. Rhet. b. ii. in his Treatises on '0/>yi) and $<f/3e$. 
 
Part III.} OF PERSPICUITY. tf$ 
 
 V A RT III. 
 
 OF STYLE. 
 
 Chap. I. — Of Perspicuity 
 
 § 1. Though the consideration of Style style not m 
 has been laid down as holding a place in a be treated 
 Treatise of Rhetoric, it would be neither ne- jf general, 
 cessary nor pertinent, to enter fully into a 5 ' 
 general discussion of the subject; which would evi- 
 dently embrace much that by no means peculiarly be- 
 longs to our present inquiry. It is requisite for an Or- 
 ator, e. g. to observe the rules of Grammar ; but the 
 same may be said of the Poet, and the Historian, &c. ; 
 nor is there any peculiar kind of grammatical propriety 
 belonging to persuasive or argumentative compositions; 
 so that it would be a departure from our subject to treat 
 at large under the head of Rhetoric, of such rules as 
 equally concern every other of the purposes for which 
 language is employed. 
 
 Conformably to this view, 1 shall, under the present 
 head, notice but slightly such principles of composition 
 as do not exclusively or especially belong to the pres- 
 ent subject ; confining my attention chiefly to such ob- 
 servations on Style as have an especial reference to Ai 
 gumentative and Persuasive works. 
 
 § 2. It is sufficiently evident (though the p ersp i cu ity 
 maxim is often practically disregarded) that a relative 
 the first requisite of Style not only in rheto- c l ualit y- 
 rical, but in all compositions,* is Perspicuity ; since, as, 
 Aristotle observes, language which is not intelligible, 
 
 *In Poetry, perspicuity is indeed by no means unimportant ; bul 
 the most perfect degree of it is by no means so essential as in Prose* 
 works. See part iii. ch. iii. § 3. 
 
180 ELEMENTS OF RHETORIC. [Part m. 
 
 or not clearly and readily intelligible, fails, in the same 
 proportion, of the purpose for which language is em- 
 ployed. And it is equally self-evident (though this 
 truth is still more frequently overlooked) that Perspi- 
 cuity is a relative quality, and consequently cannot 
 properly be predicated of any work, without a tacit re- 
 ference to the class of readers or hearers for whom it is 
 designed. 
 
 Nor is it enough that the Style be such as they are 
 capable of understanding, if they bestow their utmost 
 attention : the degree and the kind of attention, which 
 they have been accustomed or are likely to bestow, will 
 be among the circumstances that are to be taken into 
 the account, and provided for. I say the kind, as well 
 as the degree, of attention, because seme hearers and. 
 readers will be found slow of apprehension indeed, but 
 capable of taking in what is very copiously and gradu- 
 ally explained to them ; w T hile others, on the contrary, 
 who are much quicker at catching the sense of what is 
 expressed in a short compass, are incapable of long at- 
 tention, and are not only wearied, but absolutely be- 
 wildered, by a diffuse Style. 
 
 When a numerous and very mixed audience is to be 
 addressed, much skill will be required in adapting the 
 Style, (both in this, and in other respects,) and indeed 
 the Arguments also, and the whole structure of the 
 discourse, to the various minds which it is designed to 
 impress ; nor can the utmost art and diligence prove, 
 after all, more than partially successful in such a case ; 
 especially when the diversities are so many and so great, 
 as exist in the congregations to which most Sermona 
 are addressed, and in the readers for whom popular 
 works of an argumentative, instructive, and hortatory 
 character, are intended. ■ It is possible, however, to 
 approach indefinitely to an object which cannot be 
 completely attained; and to adopt such a Style, and 
 likewise such a mode of reasoning, as shall be levc 
 to the comprehension of the greater part, at least 
 
Chap I. § 2.] OF PERSPICUITY. ltfj 
 
 tven of a promiscuous audience, without being dis- 
 "fcsteful to any. 
 
 It is obvious, and has often been remarked, that 
 extreme conciseness is ill suited to hearers or readers 
 whose intellectual powers and cultivation are but small 
 The usual expedient, however, of employing Brevity and 
 a. prolix Style by way of accommodation to prolixity, 
 such minds, is seldom successful. Most of those who 
 could have comprehended the meaning, if more briefly 
 expressed, and many of those who could not do so, are 
 likely to be bewildered by tedious expansion ; and being 
 unable to maintain a steady attention to what is said, 
 they forget part of what they have heard, before the 
 whole is completed. Add to which, that the feebleness 
 produced by excessive dilution, (if such' an expression 
 may be allowed,) will occasion the attention to 
 languish; and what is imperfectly attended to, how- 
 ever clear in itself, will usually be but imperfectly 
 understood Let not an author, therefore, satisfy 
 himself by finding that he has expressed his meaning so 
 that, if attended to, he cannot fail to be understood ; he 
 must consider also (as was before remarked) what 
 attention is likely to be paid to it. If on the one hand 
 much matter is expressed in very few words to an unre- 
 flecting audience, or if, on the other hand, there is a 
 wearisome prolixity, the requisite attention may very 
 probably not be bestowed. 
 
 It is remarked by Anatomists, that the nutritive 
 quality is not the only requisite in food ; — that a certain 
 degree of distention of the stomach is required, to enable 
 it to act with its full powers, — and that it is for this 
 reason hay or straw must be given to horses, as well as 
 corn, in order to supply the necessary bulk. Some- 
 thing analogous to this takes place with respect to the 
 generality of minds ; which are incapable of thoroughly 
 digesting and assimilating what is presented to them, 
 however clearly, in a very small compass. Many a 
 one is capable of deriving that instruction from ? 
 
182 ELEMENTS OF RHETORIC. [Part HI 
 
 moderate sized volume, which he could not receive 
 from a very small pamphlet, even more perspicuously 
 written, and containing every thing that is to the pur- 
 pose. It is necessary that the attention should be 
 detained for a certain time on the subject : and persons 
 of unphilosophical mind, though they can attend to 
 what they read or hear, are unapt to dwell upon it in 
 the way of subsequent meditation. 
 Repetition. The DPst general rule for avoiding the 
 disadvantages both of conciseness and of 
 prolixity is to employ Repetition : to repeat, that is, the 
 same sentiment and argument in many different forms 
 of expression ; each, in itself brief, but all, together, 
 affording such an expansion of the sense to be conveyed, 
 and so detaining the mmd upon it, as the case may 
 require. Cicero among the ancients, and Burke among 
 the modern writers, afford, perhaps, the most abundant 
 practical exemplifications of this rule. The latter 
 sometimes shows a deficiency in correct taste, and lies 
 open to Horace's censure of an author, " Qui variarc 
 cupit rem prod igial iter unam ;" but it must be admitted 
 that he seldom fails to make himself thoroughly under- 
 stood, and does not often weary the attention, even 
 when he offends the taste, of his readers. 
 
 Care must of course be taken that the repetition may 
 not be too glaringly apparent ; the variation must not 
 consist in the mere use of other, synonymous, words; 
 but what has been expressed in appropriate terms may 
 be repeated in metaphorical ; the antecedent and conse- 
 quent of an argument, or the parts of an antithesis may 
 be transposed ; or several different points that have 
 been enumerated, presented in a varied order, &c. 
 Words de- ^ ^ s not necessary to dwell on that obvi 
 rived from ous rule laid down by Aristotle, to avoid un« 
 feTunde?-" common > an d> as tnev are vulgarly called, 
 stood by hard words, i. e. those which are such to 
 the lower the persons addressed ; but it may be worth 
 c asses. remarking, that to those who wish to be un- 
 
Chap. I. §2.] OF PERSPICUITY. 183 
 
 derstood by the lower orders of the English,* one of the 
 best principles of selection is to prefer terms of Saxon 
 origin, which will generally be more familiar to them, 
 than those derived from the Latin, (either directly, or 
 through the medium of the French,) even when the 
 latter are more in use among persons of education-! 
 Our language being (with very trifling exceptions) made 
 up of these elements, it is very easy for any one, 
 though unacquainted with Saxon, to observe this pre- 
 cept, if he has but a knowledge of French or of Latin ; 
 and there is a remarkable scope for such a choice as 1 
 am speaking of, from the multitude of synonymes de- 
 rived, respectively, from those two sources. The com- 
 pilers of our Liturgy being anxious to reach the under- 
 standings of all classes, at a time when our language 
 was in a less settled state than at present, availed them- 
 selves of this circumstance in employing many synony- 
 mous, or nearly synonymous, expressions, most of 
 which are of the description just alluded to. Take, as 
 an instance, the Exhortation: — "acknowledge" and 
 " confess;" — " dissemble" and " cloke ;" — " humble " 
 and " lowly ;" — " goodness " and " mercy ;" — " assem- 
 ble " and " meet together." And here it may be observ- 
 ed, that (as in this last instance) a word of French origin 
 will very often not have a single word of Saxon deri- 
 vation corresponding to it, but may find an exact equiva- 
 lent in a phrase of two or more words ; e. g. " consti- 
 tute," " go to make up ;" — " suffice," — " be enough 
 for;" — " substitute," " put in the stead," &c. &c. 
 
 It is worthy of notice, that a Style composed chiefly 
 of the words of French origin, while it is less intelligi- 
 ble to the lowest classes, is characteristic of those who 
 in cultivation of taste are below the highest. As in 
 
 • This does not hold good in an equal degree in Ireland, whsre 
 the language was introduced by the higher classes. 
 
 t A remarkable instance of this is, that while the children of the 
 kigher classes always call their parents " Papa !" and " Mamma !" 
 fh« children of the peasantry usually call them by the title* of 
 4 Father !" and " Mother !" 
 
184 ELEMENTS OF RHETORIC. [Pari ill 
 
 dress, furniture, deportment, &c. so also in language, the 
 dread of vulgarity constantly besetting those who are 
 half conscious that they are in danger of it, drives them 
 into the extreme of affected finery. So that the precept 
 which has been given with a view to perspicuity, may, 
 to a certain degree, be observed w r ith an advantage in 
 point of elegance also. 
 
 rs . . In adapting the Style to the comprehension 
 
 not KHJon- of the illiterate,* a caution is to be observed 
 sistent with against the ambiguity of the word "plain? 
 ornament. ^^^ j s opposed sometimes to obscurity, 
 and sometimes to ornament. The vulgar require a per- 
 spicuous, but by no means a dry and unadorned style; 
 on the contrary, they have a taste rather for the over- 
 florid, tawdry, and bombastic : nor are the ornaments of 
 style by any means necessarily inconsistent with per- 
 spicuity ; indeed Metaphor, which is among the prin- 
 cipal of them, is, in many cases, the clearest mode of 
 expression that can be adopted ; it being usually, much 
 easier for uncultivated minds to comprehend a similitude 
 or analogy, than an abstract term. And hence the lan- 
 guage of savages, as has often been remarked, is highly 
 metaphorical ; and such appears to have been the case 
 with all languages in their earlier, and consequently 
 ruder and more savage state ; all terms relating to the 
 mind and its operations, being, as appears from the 
 etymology of most of them, originally metaphorical; 
 though by long use they have ceased to be so : e. g. the 
 words " ponder," ' J deliberate," " reflect," and many 
 other such, are evidently drawn by analogy from ex- 
 ternal sensible bodily actions. 
 
 Construe- § 3. In respect to the Construction of sen 
 tion of Sen- tences, it is an obvious caution to abstain 
 from such as are too long ; but it is a mis- 
 take to suppose that the obscurity of many long sen- 
 tences depends on their length alone. A w T ell con- 
 structed sentence of very considerable length may be 
 * See Elements of Logic, Fallacies, Book iii. ^ 5. p. 187 
 
Chap. I. §3.] OF PERSPICUITY. 186 
 
 more readily undeistood, than a shorter one which is 
 more awkwardly framed. If a sentence be so con- 
 structed that the meaning of each part can be taken in 
 as we proceed, (though it be evident that the sense is 
 not brought to a close,) its length will be little or no 
 impediment to perspicuity ; but if the former part of the 
 sentence convey no distinct meaning till we arrive 
 nearly at the end, (however plain it may then appear,) 
 it will be, on the whole, deficient in perspicuity ; for it 
 will need to be read over, or thought over, a second time, 
 in order to be fully comprehended .; which is what few 
 readers or hearers are willing to be burthened with. 
 Take as an instance such a sentence as this : " It is not 
 without a degree of patient attention and persevering 
 diligence, greater than the generality are willing to 
 bestow, though not greater than the object deserves, that 
 the habit can be acquired of examining and judging of 
 our own conduct with the same accuracy and impar- 
 tiality as of that of another ;" this labours under the 
 defect I am speaking of; which may be remedied by 
 some such alteration as the following: " the habit of 
 examining our own conduct as accurately as that of 
 another, and judging of it with the same impartiality, 
 cannot be acquired without a degree of patient attention 
 and persevering diligence, not greater indeed than the 
 object deserves, but greater than the generality are 
 willing to bestow." The two sentences are nearly the 
 same in length, and in the words employed ; but the 
 alteration of the arrangement allows the latter to be un- 
 derstood clause by clause, as it proceeds.* The caution 
 just given is the more necessary to be insisted on, be- 
 
 * Care must be taken, however, in applying this precept, not to 
 let the beginning of a sentence so forestall what follows as to ren- 
 der it apparently feeble and impertinent : e. g. " Solomon, one of 
 the most celebrated of men for wisdom and for prosperity," .... 
 " why who needs" (the hearer will be apt to say to himself) " to 
 be told that?" and yet it may be important to the purpose in hand 
 to fix. the attention on these circumstances : let the description 
 come before the name, and the sentence, while it remains equally 
 perspicuous, will be free from the fault complained of. 
 15 
 
186 ELEMENTS OF RHETORIC. [Part 111 
 
 cause an author is apt to be misled by reading over a 
 sentence to himself, and being satisfied on finding it 
 perfectly intelligible ; forgetting that he himself has the 
 advantage, which a hearer has not, of knowing at the 
 beginning of the sentence what is coming in the close. 
 Clear ideas Universally, indeed, an unpractised writer 
 do not imply is liable to be misled by his own knowledge 
 clearness of f n i s own m ean ing, into supposing those 
 expression. eX p ress i ons dearly intelligible, which are so 
 to himself ; but which may not be so to the reader, 
 whose thoughts are not in the same train. And hence 
 it is that some do not write or speak with so much per- 
 spicuity on a subject which has long been very fami- 
 liar to them, as on one, which they understand indeed, 
 but with which they are less intimately acquainted, and 
 in which their knowledge has been more recently ac- 
 quired. In the former case it is a matter of some diffi- 
 culty to keep in mind the necessity of carefully and 
 copiously explaining principles which by long habit 
 have come to assume in our minds the appearance of 
 self-evident truths. So far from being correct is Blair's 
 notion, that obscurity of Style necessarily springs from 
 indistinctness of Conception. 
 
 Perspicuity § 4 - Tne foregoing rules have all, it is 
 not always evident, proceeded on the supposition that 
 aimed at. ft [ s ^g writer's intention to be understood ; 
 and this cannot but be the case in every legitimate ex- 
 ercise of the rhetorical art; and generally speaking, 
 even where the design is sophistical. For, as Dr. 
 Campbell has justly remarked, the Sophist may employ 
 for his purpose what are in themselves real and valid 
 arguments; since probabilities may lie on opposite 
 sides, though truth can be but on one ; his fallacious 
 artifice consisting only in keeping out of sight the 
 stronger probabilities which may be urged against him, 
 and in attributing an undue weight to those which he 
 has to allege. Or again he may, either directly or indi- 
 rectly, assume as self-evident, a premiss which there is 
 
Chap. I. § 4.] OF PERSPICUITY. 187 
 
 qo sufficient ground for admitting; or he may draw of! 
 the attention of the hearers to the proof of some irrele- 
 vant point, &c, according to the various modes de- 
 scribed hi the Treatise on Fallacies ;* but in all this 
 there ia no call for any departure from perspicuity of 
 Style, properly so called ; not even when he avails him- 
 self of an ambiguous term. " For though," as Dr 
 Campbell says, " a Sophism can be mistaken for an 
 Argument only where it is not rightly understood," it 
 is the aim of him who employs it, rather that the mat- 
 ter should be misunderstood than not understood ; — that 
 his language should be deceitful, rather than obscure or 
 unintelligible. The hearer must not indeed form acor- 
 rect, but he must form some, and if possible, a distinct, 
 though erroneous idea of the arguments employed, in 
 order to be misled by them. The obscurity in short, if 
 it is to be so called, must not be obscurity of Style \ it 
 must be not like a mist which dims the appearance of 
 objects, but like a coloured glass which disguises them. 
 
 There are, however, certain spurious Spurious 
 kinds, as they may be called, of writing or Oratory, 
 speaking, (distinct from what is strictly termed Soph- 
 istry,) in which obscurity of Style may be apposite. 
 The Object which has all along been supposed, is that 
 of convincing or persuading ; but there are some kinds 
 of Oratory, if they are to be so named, in which some 
 different End is proposed. 
 
 One of these Ends is, (when the cause is Appearing 
 such that it cannot be sufficiently supported to urge 
 even by specious Fallacies,) to appear to say somet] iing. 
 something, when there is in fact nothing to be said ; so 
 as at least to avoid the ignominy of being silenced. To 
 this end, the more confused and unintelligible the lan- 
 guage, the better, provided it carry with it the appear- 
 ance of profound wisdom, and of being something to the 
 purpose. 
 
 " Now though nothing (says Dr Campbell,) would 
 
 Logic, B. iii 
 
188 ELEMENTS OF RHETORIC 1*>art III. 
 
 seem to be easier than this kind of Style, where an au- 
 thor falls into it naturally ; that is, when he deceives 
 himself as well as his reader, nothing is more difficult 
 when altempted of design. Tt is besides requisite, if 
 this manner must be continued for any time, that it be 
 artfully blended with some glimpses of meaning ; else, 
 to persons of discernment, the charm will at length be 
 dissolved, and the nothingness of what has been spoken 
 will be detected ; nay, even the attention of the. unsus- 
 pecting multitude, when not relieved by any thing that 
 is level to their comprehension, will infallibly flag. 
 The Invocation in the Dunciad admirably suits the 
 Orator who is unhappily reduced to the necessity of 
 taking shelter in the unintelligible : 
 
 Of darkness visble so much he lent. 
 
 As half to show, half veil the deep intent." 
 
 Chap. viii. sec. 1, p. 119. 
 
 This artifice is distinguished from Sophistry, properly 
 bo called, (with which Dr. Campbell seems to confound 
 it,) by the circumstance that its tendency is not, as in 
 Sophistry, to convince, but to have the appearance of 
 arguing, when in fact nothing is urged. For in order 
 for men to be convinced, on however insufficient 
 grounds, they must (as was remarked above) under- 
 stand something from what is said, though if it be falla- 
 cious, they must not understand it rightly ; but if this 
 cannot be accomplished, the Sophist's next resort is the 
 unintelligible ; which indeed is very often intermixed 
 with the sophistical, when the latter is of itself too 
 scanty or too weak. Nor does the adoption of this 
 Style serve merely to save his credit as an Orator or 
 Author ; it frequently does more : ignorant and unre- 
 flecting persons, though they cannot be, strictly speak- 
 ing, convinced, by what they do not understand, yet 
 will very often suppose, each, that the rest understand 
 it; and each is ashamed to acknowledge, even to him- 
 self, his own darkness and perplexity : so that if the 
 speaker with a confident air announces his conclusion 
 
Chap. I. $ 5.] OF PERSPICUITY. 189 
 
 as established, they will often, according to the maxim 
 •' omnc ignoium pro mirijico? take for granted that he 
 has advanced valid arguments, and will be loth to seem 
 behind-hand in comprehending them It usually re- 
 quires that a man should have some confidence in his 
 own understanding, to venture to say, " what has been 
 spoken is unintelligible to me." 
 
 Another purpose sometimes answered by 
 a discourse of this kind is, that it serves to a pretext 2 
 furnish an excuse, flimsy indeed, but not un- for voting 
 frequently sufficient, for men to vote or act ac- a \-°^ is iD 
 cording to their own inclinations; which they 
 would perhaps have been ashamed to do. if strong argu 
 meats had been urged on the other side, and had remained 
 tonfessedhj unanswered ; but they satisfy themselves, if 
 something has been said in favour of the course they 
 wish to adopt ; though that something be only fair- 
 soundmg sentences that convey no distinct meaning. 
 They are content that an answer has been made, with- 
 out troubling themselves to consider what it is. 
 
 § 5. Another end, which in speaking is 
 oometimes proposed, and which is, if possi- jn^ume" 
 ble, still more remote from the legitimate 
 province of Rhetoric, is to occupy time. When an un- 
 favourable decision is apprehended, and the protraction 
 of the debate may afford time for fresh voters to be sum- 
 moned, or may lead to an adjournment, which will af- 
 ford scope for some other mancEuvre ; — when there is a 
 chance of so wearying out the attention of the hearers, 
 that they will listen with languor and impatience to 
 what shall be urged on the other side ; — when an advo- 
 cate is called upon to plead a cause in the absence of 
 those whose opinion it is of the utmost importance to 
 influence, and wishes to reserve all his Arguments till 
 they arrive, but till then, must apparently proceed in his 
 pleading ; in these and many similar cases, which it is 
 needless to particularize, it is a valuable talent to be 
 able to pour forth with fluency an unlimited quantity of 
 
190 ELEMENTS OF RHETORIC. [Part IE 
 
 well -sounding language which has little or no meaning, 
 yet which shall not strike the hearers as unintelligible 
 or nonsensical, though it convey to their minds no dis- 
 tinct idea. 
 
 Perspicuity of Style — real, not apparent, perspicuity 
 — is in this case never necessary, and sometimes, studi« 
 ously avoided. H any distinct meaning were conveyed, 
 then, if that which was said were irrelevant, it would 
 be perceived to be so, and would produce impatience in 
 the hearers, or afford an advantage to the opponents; if, 
 on the other hand, the speech were relevant, and there 
 were no arguments of any force to be urged, except such 
 as either had been already dwelt on, or were required 
 to be reserved (as in the case last alluded to) for a fuller 
 audience, the speaker would not further his cause by 
 bringing them forward. So that the usual resource on 
 these occasions, of such orators as thoroughly under, 
 stand the tricks of their art, and do not disdain to emplov 
 them, is to amuse their audience with specious empti- 
 ness. 
 
 It is most unfortunate, that in Sermons there should 
 be so much temptation to fall into the first two (to say 
 nothing of the third) of these kinds of spurious oratory. 
 When it is appointed that a Sermon shall be preached, 
 and custom requires that it shall be of a certain length, 
 there cannot but be more danger that the preacher should 
 chiefly consider himself as bound to say something, and 
 to occupy the time prescribed, without keeping in mind 
 the object of leaving his hearers the wiser or the better, 
 than if he were to preach solely in consequence of his 
 having such a specific object to accomplish.* 
 
 § 6. Another kind of spurious Oratory, 
 
 Eloquence. and the last tnat will be noticed, is that 
 
 which has for its object to gain the hearers 
 
 admiration of the Eloquence displayed. This, indeed, 
 
 constitutes one of the three k'nasof Oratory enumerated 
 
 * See part iii. chap. iii. § 2. 
 
Chap. I. 5 C] OF PERSPICUITY. 191 
 
 Dy Aristotle,* and is regularly treated of by him, along 
 with the deliberative and Judicial branches ; though it 
 hardly deserves the place he has bestowed on it. 
 
 When this is the end pursued, perspicuity is not in 
 deed to be avoided, but it may often without detriment 
 be disregarded. f Men frequently admire as eloquent, 
 and sometimes admire the most, what they do not at all, 
 or do not fully, comprehend, if elevated and high-sound- 
 ing words be arranged in graceful and sonorous periods. 
 Those of uncultivated minds, especially, are apt to think 
 meanly of any thing that is brought down perfectly to 
 the low level of their capacity ; though to do this with 
 respect to valuable truths which are not trite, is one of 
 the most admirable feats of genius. They admire the 
 profundity of one who is mystical and obscure ; mistak- 
 ing the muddiness of the water for depth; and magni- 
 fying in their imaginations what is viewed through a 
 log ; and they conclude that brilliant language must re- 
 present some brilliant ideas, without troubling them- 
 selves to enquire what those ideas are. 
 
 Many an enthusiastic admirer of a " fine discourse, 
 or a piece of " fine writing," would be found on exam- 
 ination to retain only a few sonorous, but empty phra- 
 ses ; and not only to have no notion of the general drift 
 of the Argument, but not even to have ever considered 
 whether the author had any such drift or not. 
 
 It is not meant to be insinuated that in every such 
 case the composition is in itself unmeaning, or that the 
 author had no other object than the credit of eloquence ; 
 he may have had a higher end in view ; and he may 
 have expressed himself very clearly to some hearers, 
 though not to all; but it is most important to be fully 
 aware of the fact, that it is possible to obtair the high- 
 
 * For he says, that in each of the two other kinds, the hearer is 
 a "judge;" in the first of the " expedient," in the other, of the 
 "just ;" but in the third kind he is only dewpbs, literally, a Specta 
 tcr-, and is a judge merely (r»/j oovapvas) of the ability of th« 
 Orator. 
 
 t See Appendix, [L."l 
 
192 ELEMENTS OF RHETORIC. [Part III 
 
 est applause from those who not only receive no edifi- 
 cation from what they hear, but absolutely do not un- 
 derstand it. So far is popularity from being a safe cri- 
 terion of the usefulness of a preacher. 
 
 Chap. II. — Of Energy 
 
 § 1. The next quality of Style to be noticed is what ma) 
 be called Energy ; the term being used in a wider sense 
 than the 'Evfyyeia of Aristotle, and nearly correspond 
 ing with what Dr. Campbell calls Vivacity ; so as tc 
 comprehend every thing that may conduce to stimulate 
 attention — to impress strongly on the mind the Argu- 
 ments adduced — to excite the Imagination, and to arouse 
 the Feelings. 
 
 This Energy then, or Vivacity of Style, must depend 
 (as is likewise the case in respect of Perspicuity) on 
 three things; 1st, the Choice of words, 2nd, their Num- 
 ber, and 3rd, their Arrangement. 
 n , . F With respect to the choice of words, it will 
 
 Choice oi ■■ r -tit 
 
 words with be most convenient to consider them under 
 a view to those two classes which Aristotle has de- 
 energy, scribed under the titles of Kuria and Xena, 
 tor which our language does not afford precisely cor? 
 responding names : " Proper," « Appropriate," or " Ordi- 
 nary," terms, will the most nearly designate the former ; 
 the latter class (literally the " Strange,") including all 
 others ; — all that are in any way removed from common 
 use; — whether uncommon terms, or ordinary terms, 
 either transferred to a different meaning from that which 
 strictly belongs to them, or employed in a different man- 
 ner from that of common discourse. All the Tropes and 
 Figures, enumerated by Grammatical and Rhetorical 
 Writers, will of course fall under this head 
 Caution With respect then to " Proper " terms, the 
 
 against ge- principal rule for guiding our choice with a 
 uera ems. T j ew tQ j^gj.^ 1S to prefer, ever» those 
 
Chap. II. § 1.] OF ENERGY. ifi 1 
 
 words which are tlie least abstract and general. Ini> 
 viduals alone having a real existence,* the term? 
 denoting them (called by Logicians " Singular terms") 
 will of course make the most vivid impression on the 
 mind, and exercise most the power of Conception ; and 
 the less remote any term is from these, i. e. the more 
 specific or individual, the more energy it will possess, 
 in comparison of such as are more general. The 
 impression produced on the mind by a " Singular term," 
 may be compared to the distinct view taken in by the 
 eye of any object (suppose some particular man) near 
 at hand, in a clear light, which enables us to distin- 
 guish the features of the individual ; in a fainter light 
 or rather further off, we merely perceive that the object 
 is a man ; this corresponds with the idea conveyed by 
 the name of the Species ; yet further off, or in a still 
 feebler light, we can distinguish merely some living 
 object ; and at length, merely some object ; these views 
 corresponding respectively with the terms denoting the 
 genera, less or more remote. And as each of these 
 views conveys, as far as it goes, an equally correct 
 impression to the mind, (for we are equally certain that 
 the object at a distance is something, as that the one 
 close to us is such and such an individual,) though 
 each, successively, is less vivid; so, in language, a 
 general term may be as clearly understood, as a Specific, 
 or a Singular term, but will convey a much less forcible 
 impression to the hearer's mind. " The more General 
 
 * Thence called by Aristotle, (Categ. sec. 3.) " primary substan- 
 ces •' (izfibirai ovaiai,) Genus and Species, being denominated 
 " secondary," as not properly denoting a " really-existing thing," 
 (toSc ti,) but rather an attribute. He has, indeed, been considered 
 £ s the great advocate of the opposite doctrine ; t. e. the system oi 
 ,; Realism ;" which was certainly embraced by many of his pro- 
 fessed followers ; but his own language is sufficiently explicit 
 Vlaaa 6t oiiuia Soku toSc^ ti arjfialvtiv. 'E^i (tip ovv twp howtujv 
 evauJv dvan(pi<?(3o-r)Tov Kal a^ijdes (otiv, oti Tti&tri armaivcv drofiov 
 
 )dp KCllCV upidjjltj) TO SljXoi'/XCVOP loTlV. 5 E7TJ(5f T01P 6eVTifH,)V OVCIUP 
 
 *AINETAI. flb> bfioius T(J> ax'H laTl r 'K ^Poarjyopias t66e ti arjjxaivEiv, 
 travsiin} avOpoxos, ?} $wov. OY MHN TE AAHGES. d\\d /xa\\oi, 
 walov ti oiuaivef k. r. A. Aristotle, Categ. t) 3. See Logic, Dissert- c V 
 
194 ELEMENTS OF RHETORIC. [Part Iu 
 
 the terms are," (as Dr. Campbell justly remarks,) " the 
 picture is the fainter; the more Special they are, the 
 brighter. The same sentiment may be expressed with 
 equal justness, and even equal perspicuity, in the former 
 way, as in the latter ; but as the colouring will in that 
 case be more languid, it cannot give equal pleasure to the 
 fancy, and by consequence will not contribute so much 
 either to fix the attention, or to impress the memory." 
 
 It might be supposed at first sight, that an Author 
 has little or no choice on this point, but must employ 
 either more or less general terms according to the 
 objects he is speaking of. There is, however, in 
 almost every case, great room for such a choice as w 
 are speaking of ; for, in the first place, it depends r 
 our choice whether or not we will employ terms vure 
 general than the subject requires ; which may almost 
 always be done consistently with Truth and Propriety, 
 though not with Energy ; if it be true that a man has 
 committed murder ; it may be correctly asserted, that he 
 has committed a crime : if the Jews were " extermi- 
 nated," and "Jerusalem demolished" by " Vespasian's 
 army," it may be said, with truth, that they were 
 "subdued" by "an. Enemy," and their "Capital" 
 taken. This substitution then of the General for the 
 Specific, or of the Specific for the Singular, is always 
 within our reach: and many, especially unpractised 
 writers, fall into a feeble style by resorting to it unne- 
 cessarily; either because they imagine there is more 
 appearance of refinement or of profundity, in the 
 employment of such terms as are in less common use 
 among the vulgar, or, in some cases, with a view to 
 give greater comprehensiveness to their reasonings, and 
 to increase the utility of what they say, by enlarging 
 the field of its application. Inexperienced Preachers 
 frequently err .n this way, by dwelling on Virtue and 
 Vice — Piety and Irreligion — in the abstract, withou 
 particularizing; forgetting that while they include 
 much, they impress little or nothing. 
 
Chap. II. § 2.] OF ENERGY. 1§& 
 
 The only appropriate occasion for this generic lan- 
 guage, (as it may be called,) is when we wish to avoid 
 giving a vivid impression — when our object is to soften 
 what is offensive, disgusting, or shocking; as when 
 we speak of an " execution," for the infliction of the 
 sentence of death on a criminal: of which kind of 
 expressions, common discourse furnishes numberless 
 instances. On the other hand, in Antony's speech over 
 Caesar's body, his object being to excite horror, Shak- 
 speare puts into his mouth the most particular expres- 
 sions ; " those honourable men (not, who killed Caesar, 
 but) whose daggers have stabbed Caesar."' 
 
 §2. But in the second place, not only Tropes, 
 does a regard for Energy require that we 
 should not use terms more general than are exactly ad- 
 equate to the objects spoken of, but we are also allow- 
 ed, in many cases, to employ less general terms than are 
 exactly appropriate. In which case we are employing 
 words not "appropriate," but belonging to the second 
 of the two classes just mentioned. The use of this 
 Trope* (enumerated by Aristotle among the Metaphors, 
 but since more commonly called Synecdoche) is very fre- 
 quent ; as it conduces much to the energy of the expres- 
 sion, without occasioning, in general, any risk of its 
 meaning being mistaken. The passage cited by Dr. 
 Campbell, f from one of our Lord's discourses, (which 
 are in general of this character,) together with the re- 
 marks made upon it, will serve to illustrate what has 
 been just said: "'Consider,' says our Lord, * the lilies 
 how they grow : they toil not, they spin not ; and yet 
 I say unto you, that Solomon in all his glory was not 
 arrayed like one of these. If then God so clothe the 
 grass, which to-day is in the field, and to- morrow is 
 cast into the oven, how much more will he clothe 
 
 * From rpsTih ; any word turned from its primary signification. 
 
 t The ingeniois Author cites this in the Section treating of 
 '' Proper terms," which is -a trifling oversight ; as it is plain thai 
 " lily " is used for the Genus " flower," " Solomon," for the Spo 
 cies "King," &c. 
 
196 ELEMENTS OF RHETORIC. [Part III 
 
 you ?' * Let us here adopt a attle of the tasteless 
 manner of modern paraphrasts by the substitution of 
 more general terms, one of their many expedients of in- 
 frigidating, and let us observe the effect produced by 
 this change. ' Consider the flowers, how they gradual- 
 ly increase in their size; they do no manner' of work, 
 and yet 1 declare to you, that no king whatever, in his 
 most splendid habit is dressed up like them. If then 
 God in his providence doth so adorn the vegetable pro- 
 ductions, which continue but little time on the land, and 
 arc afterwards devoted to the meanest uses, how much 
 more will he provide clothing for you ?' How spiritless is 
 the same sentiment rendered by these small variations ! 
 The very particularizing of to-day and to-morrow, is infi- 
 nitely more expressive of transitoriness, than any descrip- 
 tion wherein the terms are general, that can be substi- 
 tuted in its room." It is a remarkable circumstance that 
 this characteristic of style is perfectly retained in trans- 
 lation, in which every other excellence of expression 
 is liable to be lost ; so that the prevalence of this kind 
 of language in the Sacred writers may be regarded as 
 something exhibiting wisdom of design. It may be 
 said with truth, that the book which it is the most 
 necessary to translate into every language, is chiefly 
 characterised by that kind of excellence in diction which 
 is least impaired by translation. 
 
 § 3. But to proceed with the considera- 
 and simile, tion of Tropes ; the most employed and most 
 important of all those kinds of expressions 
 which depart from the plain and strictly appropriate 
 Style — all that are called by Aristotle, Xena — is the Me- 
 taphor, in the usual and limited sense ; viz. a word sub- 
 stituted for another, on account of the Resemblance or 
 Analogy between their significations. The Simile or 
 Comparison may be considered as differing in form only 
 from a Metaphor ; the resemblance being in that case 
 stated, which in the Metaphor is implied.* Each may be 
 * Luke x ji. 27, 28. \ See Lo?ic, clj ap. iij. 
 
Chap. II. § 3.] OF ENERGY. 197 
 
 founded either on Kesemblance, strictly so called, i. e 
 di'ect resemblance between the objects themselves in 
 question, (as when we speak of " fa6/e-land, or com- 
 pare great waves to mountains,) or on Analogy, which 
 is the resemblance of Ratios — a similarity of the rela- 
 tions they bear to certain other objects; as when we 
 speak of the "■ light of reason," or of " revelation ;" or 
 compare a wounded and captive warrior to a stranded 
 ship.* The analogical Metaphors and Comparisons are 
 both the more frequent and the more striking. They 
 are the more frequent, because almost every object has 
 such a multitude of relations, of different kinds, to many 
 other objects ; and they are the more striking, because 
 (as Dr. A. Smith has well remarked) the more remote 
 and unlike in themselves any two objects are, the more 
 is the mind impressed and gratified by the perception of 
 some point in which they agree. 
 
 It has been already observed, under the head of Ex- 
 ample, that we are carefully to distinguish between an 
 Illustration, (i. e. an Argument from analogy or re- 
 semblance,) and what is properly called a Simile or Com- 
 parison, introduced merely to give force or beauty to 
 the expression. The aptness and beauty of an Illustra- 
 tration sometimes leads men to overrate, and sometimes 
 to underrate, its force as an argument. f 
 
 With respect to the choice between the Metaphorical 
 form and that of Comparison, it maybe laid down as a 
 general rule, that the former is always to be preferred,! 
 wherever it is sufficiently simple and plain to be. imme- 
 diately comprehended ; but that which as a Metaphor 
 would sound obscure and enigmatical, may be well 
 received if expressed as a Comparison. We may say, 
 e. g. with propriety, that " Cromwell trampled on the 
 laws;" it would sound feeble to say that "he treated 
 the laws w T ith the same contempt as a man does any 
 
 * Roderick Dhu, in the I~.dy of the Lake. 
 t See part i. chap. iii. & 3. 
 
 j "Ectiv fj cikwv litrayopa, fiui(p£povaa vpoaQcacf did T)Ttoi ^tfc 
 in naKpoTcpw k- r. A Aristotle, Jthet. book iii. chap. 10 
 
198 ELEMENTS OF RHETORIC. [Part III. 
 
 thing which he tramples under his feet." On the other 
 hand it would be haish and obscure to say, " the 
 stranded vessel lay shaken by the waves," meaning the 
 wounded Chief tossing on the bed of sickness ; "it is 
 therefore necessary in such a case to state the I 
 blance. But this is never to be done more folly than 
 is necessary to perspicuity; because all men are more 
 Metaphori- gratified at catching me Resemblance for 
 :al simile, themselves, than at having it pointed out to 
 them.* And accordingly the greatest masters oi this 
 kind of style, when the case will not admit of pure 
 Metaphor, generally prefer a mixture of Metaphor with 
 Simile ; first pointing out the similitude, and after 
 employing metaphorical terms which imply it; or vice 
 ainmg a Metaphor by a Statement of the 
 Comparison. To take examples of both kinds from 
 an Author who particularly excels in this point; 
 (speaking of a morbid Fair 
 
 like the bat of -Indian brakes, 
 
 Her pinions fan the wound she makes, 
 And soothing thu3 the dreamer's pain, 
 She drinks the life-blood from the vein.f 
 
 The word -like'' makes this a Comparison ; but the 
 three succeeding lines are Metaphorical. Again, to 
 take an instance of the other k;. 
 
 They melted from the field, c? snovr, 
 "When streams are swofat, and south winds I 
 Dissolves in - . . 
 
 Of the words here put in italics, the former is a 
 Metaphor, the latter introduces a Comparison. Though 
 the instances here adduced are taken from a Poet, the 
 judicious management of Comparison which they exem- 
 plify, is even more essential to a Prose-writer, to whom 
 less license is allowed in the employment of it. It is a 
 remark of Aristotle, (Rhct. book iii. chap. 4,) that the 
 Simile is more suitable in Poetry, and that Metaphor ia 
 
 * T6 tie, Rhtt. book iii. chap. 5 
 
 t Rokeby. 
 t Marmion. 
 
Chap. II. § 3.] OF ENERGY. 19? 
 
 the only ornament of language in which the orator may 
 freely indulge. He should, therefore, be the more 
 careful to bring a Simile as near as possible to the 
 Metaphorical form. The following is an example of 
 ih" same kind of expression : " These metaphysic rights 
 entering into common life, like rays of light which 
 pierce into a dense medium, are, by the laws of nature, 
 refracted from their straight line Indeed, in the gros« 
 and complicated mass of human passions and concerns, 
 the primitive rights of man undergo such a variety of 
 refractions, and reflections, that it becomes absurd to 
 talk of them as if they continued in the simplicity of 
 their original direction."* 
 
 Metaphors may be employed, as Aristotle Elevating 
 observes, either to elevate or to degrade the or degrad- 
 Bubject, according to the design of the Au- !^L^ ela ' 
 thor; being drawn from similar or corres- 
 ponding objects of a higher or lower character. Thus 
 a loud and vehement speaker may be described either 
 as bellowing or as thundering. And in both cases, if 
 the Metaphor is apt and suitable to the purpose design- 
 ed, it is alike conducive to Energy. He remarks that 
 the same holds good with respect to Epithets also, which 
 may be drawn either from the highest or the lowest at- 
 tributes of the thing spoken of. Metonymy likewise 
 (in which a part is put for a whole, a cause for an ef- 
 fect, &c.) admits of a similar variety in its application?. 
 A happier example cannot be found than the one 
 which Aristotle cites from Simonides, who, when offer- 
 ed a small price for an Ode to celebrate a victory in a 
 mu/e-race, expressed his contempt for half-asses, 
 (tj/mlovol,) as they were commonly called; but when a 
 
 larger sum was offered, addressed them in an Ode as 
 
 1 Daughters of Steeds swift-as-the-storm." utXkonoduv 
 
 ivyaTpec Imruv. 
 Any Trope (as is remarked by Dr. Campbell) adds 
 
 Sorce to the expression when it tends to fix the mind on 
 
 • Burke, on ihe French Revohititn. 
 
HA) ELEMENTS OF RHETORIC. [Part in 
 
 that part, or circumstance, in the object spoken of, which 
 is most essential to the purpose in hand. Thus, there 
 is an Energy in Abraham's Periphrasis for "God," 
 when he is speaking of the allotment of Divine punish- 
 ment: " shall not the Judge of all the earth do right?" 
 Tf again we were alluding to His omniscience, it would 
 be more suitable to say, " this is known only to the 
 Searcher of hearts ;" if, to his power, we should speak 
 of Him as " the Almighty" &c. 
 
 Of Metaphors, those generally conduce most to that 
 Energy or Vivacity of style we are speaking of, which 
 illustrate an intellectual by a sensible object ; the latter 
 being always the most early familiar to the mind, and 
 generally giving the most distinct impression to it. 
 Thus we speak of " unbridled rage," " deep-rooted pre- 
 judice," " glowing eloquence," a " stony heart," &c. 
 And a similar use may be made of Metonymy also : as 
 when we speak of the " Throne," or the " Crown" foi 
 " Royalty," — the " sword" for " military violence," &c. 
 Personify- -But the highest degree of Energy (and to 
 ing Meta- which Aristotle chiefly restricts the term) is 
 phors. produced by such Metaphors as attribute 
 
 life and action to things inanimate ; and that, even when 
 by this means the last-mentioned rule is violated, i. e. 
 when sensible objects are illustrated by intellectual. For 
 the disadvantage is overbalanced by the vivid impres- 
 sion produced by the idea of personality or activity ; as 
 when we speak of the rage of a torrent, a furious storm, 
 a river disdaining to endure its bridge, &c* 
 
 The figure called by Rhetoricians Prosopopoeia (liter- 
 ally, Personification,) is, in fact, no other than a Meta- 
 phor of this kind : thus, in Demosthenes, Greece is 
 represented as addressing the Athenians. So also in 
 the book of Genesis, (chap. iv. ver. 10,) "the voice of 
 thy brother's blood crieth unto me from the ground " 
 
 Many such expressions, indeed, are in such common 
 use as to have lost all their Metaphorical force, sine* 
 
 * Pontemindignalus. 
 
Cbu*. II. § 3.] OF ENERGY. 201 
 
 they cease to suggest the idea belonging to their primary 
 signification, and thus are become, practically, Proper 
 terms. But a new, or at least unhackneyed, Metaphor 
 oi this kind, if it be not far-fetched and obscure, adds 
 greatly to the force of the expression. This was a fa- 
 vourite figure with Homer, from whom Aristotle has 
 cited several examples of it ; as " the raging arrow," 
 " the darts eager to taste of flesh,"* " the shameless," 
 (or as it might be rendered with more exactness, though 
 with less dignity, " the provoking) stone," (Adac 
 avacdris,) which mocks the efforts of Sisyphus, &c. 
 
 Our language possesses one remarkable advantage, 
 with a view to this kind of Energy, in the constitution 
 of its genders. All nouns in English, which express 
 objects that are really neuter, are considered as strictly 
 of the neuter gender ; the Greek and Latin, though pos- 
 sessing the advantage (which is wanting in the lan- 
 guages derived from Latin) of having a neuter gender, yet 
 lose the benefit of it, by fixing the masculine or feminine 
 genders upon many nouns denoting things inanimate ; 
 whereas in English, when we speak of any such object 
 in the masculine or feminine gender, that form of ex- 
 pression at once confers personality upon it. When 
 " Virtue," e g. or our " Country," are spoken of as 
 females, or " Ocean," as a male, &c. they are, by that 
 very circumstance, personified ; and a stimulus is thus 
 given to the imagination, from the very circumstance, 
 that in calm discussion or description, all of these would 
 be neuter ; whereas in Greek or Latin, as in French or 
 Italian, no such distinction could be made. The em- 
 ployment of " Virtus" and " 'Aper^," in the feminine 
 gender, can contribute, accordingly, no animation to the 
 Style, when they could not, without a Solecism, be em- 
 ployed otherwise. 
 
 * There is a peculiar aptitude in some of these expressions which 
 »he modern student is very likely to overlook; an arrow or dart, 
 from its flying with a spinning motion, quivers violently when it is 
 *ixed ; thus suggesting the idea of a person trembling with eager 
 MM 
 
 1C 
 
202 ELEMENTS OF RHETORIC. [Pam 53* 
 
 Novelty in There is, however, very little, compara* 
 Metaphor, tively, of Energy produced by any Meta- 
 phor or Simile that is in common use, and already 
 familiar to the hearer. Indeed, what were originally 
 the boldast Metaphors, arc become, by long use, virtu- 
 ally, Proper terms; (as is the case with the words 
 " source," " reflection," &c. in their transferred senses) 
 and frequently are even nearly obsolete in the literal 
 sense, as in the words " ardour," " acuteness," " rumi- 
 nate," ** edification,"* &c. If, again, a Metaphor or 
 Simile that is not so hackneyed as to be considered 
 common property, be taken from any known Author, 
 it strikes every one, as no less a plagiarism than if an 
 entire argument or description had been thus transfer- 
 red. And hence it is, that, as Aristotle remarks, the 
 skilful employment of these, more than of any other, 
 ornaments of language, may be regarded as a " mark of 
 genius," (evepvia? ctjuuov.) Not that he means to say, 
 as some interpreters suppose, that this power is entirely 
 a gift of nature, and in no degree to be learnt ; on the 
 contrary, he expressly affirms, that the " perception of 
 resemblances,"! on which it depends, is the fruit of 
 " Philosophy ;"t but he means that Metaphors are not 
 to be, like other words and phrases, selected from com- 
 mon use, and transferred from one composition to an- 
 other^ but must be formed for the occasion. 
 Expiana- Some care is accordingly requisite, in or- 
 
 tion of Me- der that they may be readily comprehended, 
 taphors. an( j ma y not ^ ave tne a pp earanC e of being 
 far-fetched and extravagant. For this purpose it is 
 usual to combine with the Metaphor a Proper term 
 which explains it; viz. either attributing to the term in 
 its transferred sense, something which does not belong 
 to it in its literal sense ; or vice versa, denying of it ii 
 
 • See Hinds's " Three Scruples ;" Preface. 
 
 f To Snotov bp$v. Aristotle, Rhet. book ii. 
 
 i 'Taov Ik <pt\ooo<f>ias. Aristotle. Rhet. book ii. and iii 
 
 I Ovk eon nap' a\\ov \afieiv. Ibid, book iii. 
 
Chap. II. § 4.] OF ENERGY. 203 
 
 its transferred sense, something which does belong to it 
 in its literal sense. To call the Sea the " watery bul- 
 wark " of our island, would be an instance of the former 
 kind ; an example of the latter is the expression of a 
 writer who speaks of the dispersion of some hostile 
 fleet, by the winds and waves, " those ancient and un- 
 subsidized allies of England." 
 
 It is hardly necessary to mention the ob- Mixed and 
 vious and hackneyed cautions against mix- Complex 
 ture of Metaphors ; and against any that are Meta P hor3 
 complex and far-pursued, so as to approach to Allegory. 
 
 In reference to the former of these faults, Dr. Johnson 
 justly censures Addison for speaking of " bridling in 
 his muse, who longs to launch into a nobler strain ;" 
 "which," says the critic, "is an act that was never 
 restrained by a bridle." Some, however, are too fastidi 
 ous on this point. Words, which by long use in a 
 transfen^d sense, have lost nearly all their metaphorical 
 force, may fairly be combined in a manner which, 
 taking them literally, would be incongruous. It would 
 savour of hypercriticism to object to such an expression 
 as " fertile source." 
 
 In reference to the other fault — that of the too complex 
 Metaphor — it should be observed that the more apt and 
 striking is the Analogy suggested, the more will it have 
 of an artificial appearance ; and will draw off the read- 
 er's attention from the subject, to admire the ingenuity 
 displayed in the Style. Young writers of genius ought 
 especially to be admonished to ask themselves frequent- 
 ly, not whether this or that is a striking expression, but 
 whether it makes the meaning more striking than an- 
 other phrase would — whether it impresses more forcibly 
 the sentiment to be conveyed. 
 
 § 4. Epithets, in the rhetorical sense, de- 
 note, not every adjective, but those only pi 
 which do not add to the sense, but signify something 
 already implied in the noun itself ; as, if one says, " the 
 glorious sun :" on the other hand, to speak of the 
 
*04 ELEMENTS OF RHETORIC. IPaetIII 
 
 " rising " or " meridian sun " would not be considered 
 as, in this sense, employing an Epithet. 
 
 It is a common practice with some writers to endea- 
 vour to add force to their expressions by accumula- 
 ting high-sounding Epithets, denoting the greatness, 
 beauty, or other admirable qualities of the things spoken 
 of: but the effect is generally the reverse of what is in- 
 tended. Most readers, except those of a very vulgar 
 or puerile taste, are disgusted at studied efforts to point 
 out and force upon their attention whatever is remark- 
 able; and this, even when the ideas conveyed are 
 themselves striking. But when an attempt is made to 
 cover poverty of thought with mock sublimity of lan- 
 guage, and to set off trite sentiments and feeble argu- 
 ments by tawdry magnificence, the only result is, that 
 a kind of indignation is superadded to contempt; as 
 when (to use Quinctilian's comparison) an attempt is 
 made to supply, by paint, the natural glow of a youthful 
 and healthy complexion. 
 
 " A principal device in the fabrication of this Style," 
 (the mock-eloquent,) "is to multiply epithets — dry ep- 
 thets, laid on the outside, and into which none of the 
 vitality of the sentiment is found to circulate. You may 
 take a great number of the words out of each page, and 
 find that the sense is neither more nor less for your 
 having cleared the composition of these Epithets of 
 chalk of various colours, with which the tame thoughts 
 had submitted to be rubbed over, in order to be made 
 fine."* 
 
 We expect, indeed, and excuse in ancient 
 style writers, as a part of the unrefined simplicity 
 
 of a ruder language, such a redundant use of 
 Epithets as would not be tolerated in a modern, even in 
 a translation of their works ; the " white milk." and 
 " dark gore," &c. of Homer, must not be retained: at 
 'east, not so frequently as they occur in the original. 
 4.r'stotle, indeed, gives us to understand *hat in his tinui 
 
 Foster, Essay iv 
 
Chap. II. § 4.] OF ENERGY. 205 
 
 this liberty was still allowed to Poets ; but later taste ig 
 more fastidious. He censures, however, the adoption, 
 by prose-writers, of this, and of every other kind of or- 
 nament that might seem to border on the poetical ; and 
 he bestows on such a style the appellation of "frigid" 
 (ipvxpdv,) which, at first sight, may appear somewhat 
 remarkable, (though the same expression, " frigid," 
 might very properly be so applied in our own language 
 also) because the words "warm" "glowing," and 
 such-like Metaphors, seem naturally applicable to poe- 
 try. This very circumstance, however, does in reality 
 account for the use of the other expression. We are, 
 in poetical prose, reminded of, and for that reason dis- 
 posed to miss, the " warmth and glow" of poetry. It 
 is on the same principle that we are disposed to speak 
 of coldness in the rays of the moon, because they remind 
 us of sunshine, but want its warmth ; and that (to use 
 an humbler and more familiar instance) an empty fire- 
 place is apt to suggest an idea of cold. 
 
 The use of Epithets, however, in prose composition, 
 is not to be proscribed ; as the judicious employment of 
 them is undoubtedly conducive to Energy. It is 
 extremely difficult to lay down any precise rules on 
 such a point. The only safe guide in practice must be 
 a taste formed from a familiarity with the best authors, 
 and from the remarks of a skilful critic on one's own 
 compositions. It may, however, be laid down as a 
 general caution, more particularly needful for young 
 writers, that an excessive luxuriance of style, and 
 especially a redundancy of Epithets, is the worse of the 
 two extremes ; as it is a positive fault, and a very 
 offensive one ; while the opposite is but the absence of 
 an excellence. 
 
 It is also an important rule, that the Caution 
 boldest and most striking, and almost poeti- against uni- 
 cal, turns of expression, should be reserved [? rm bril * 
 (as Aristotle has remarked, book iii. chap. 7,) ancy ' 
 \o\ '.he most impassioned parts of a discourse ; and that 
 
206 ELEMENTS OF RHETORIC [Pabt III. 
 
 an author should guard against the vain ambition ot 
 expressing every thing in an equally high-wrought, 
 brilliant, and forcible style. The neglect of this caution 
 often occasions the imitation of the best models, to prove 
 detrimental. When the admiration of some fine and 
 animated passages leads a young writer to take those 
 passages for his general model, and to endeavour to 
 make every sentence he composes equally fine, he will, 
 on the contrary, give a flatness to the whole, and 
 destroy the effect of those portions which would have 
 been forcible if they had been allowed to stand promi- 
 nent. To brighten the dark parts of a picture, produces 
 much the same result as if one had darkened the bright 
 parts; in either case there is a want of relief and 
 contrast ; and Composition, as well as Painting, has its 
 lights and shades, which must be distributed with no 
 less skill, if we would produce the desired effect.* 
 Uses of In no place, however, will it be advisable 
 
 spithets. to introduce any Epithet which does not 
 fulfil one of these two purposes; 1st, to explain a 
 Metaphor ; a use which has been noticed under that 
 head, and which will justify, and even require, the 
 introduction of an Epithet, which, if it had been joined 
 to the Proper term, would have been glaringly super- 
 fluous; thus iEschylusf speaks of the " winged hound 
 of Jove," meaning the eagle : to have said the " winged 
 eagle," would have had a very different effect ; 2dly, 
 when the Epithet expresses something which, though 
 implied in the subject, would not have been likely to 
 Dccur at once spontaneously to the hearer's mind, and 
 yet is important to be noticed with a view to the purpose 
 in hand. Indeed, it will generally happen, that "he 
 Epithets employed by a skilful orator, will be foun** to 
 be, in fact, so many abridged arguments, the fore* of 
 which is sufficiently conveyed by a mere hint : e. £ »< 
 
 * Omnia vult belle Matho dicere : die aliquandfi 
 
 Et bene ; die neutrum : die aliquando male. 
 t Prometheus. 
 
Chap. II. § 5.] OF ENERGY. 207 
 
 any one says, " we ought to take warning from the 
 bloody revolution of France," the Epithet suggests one 
 of the reasons for our being warned ; and that, not less 
 clearly, and more forcibly, than if the argument had 
 been stated at length.* 
 
 § 5. With respect to the use of Antiqua- uncommon 
 ted, Foreign, New-coined, or New-corn- Expression! 
 pounded words,f or words applied in an unusual sense 
 it may be sufficient to observe, that all writers, and 
 prose-writers most, should be very cautious and sparing 
 in the use of them ; not only because in excess they 
 produce a barbarous dialect, but because they are so 
 likely to suggest the idea of artifice ; the perception of 
 which js most especially adverse to Energy. The oc- 
 casional apt introduction of such a term will sometimes 
 produce a powerful effect ; but whatever may seem to 
 savour of affectation, or even of great solicitude and 
 study In the choice of terms, will effectually destroy 
 the true effect of eloquence. The language which be- 
 trays art, and carries not an air of simplicity and sincer- 
 ity, may, indeed, by some hearers, be thought not only 
 very fine, but even very energetic ; this very circum- 
 stance, however, may be taken for a proof that it is not 
 so ; for if it had been they would not have thought 
 about it, but would have been occupied, exclusively, 
 with the subject. An unstudied and natural air, there- 
 fore, is an excellence to which the true orator, i. e. he 
 who is aiming to carry his point, will be ready to sac- 
 rifice any other that may interfere with it. 
 
 The principle here laid down will espe- -words 
 cially apply to the choice of words, with a considered 
 view to their Imitative, or otherwise appro- as sound » 
 
 * See Part i. ch. Hi. § 3. 
 
 t It is a curious instance of whimsical inconsistency, that many 
 who, with justness, censure as pedantic the frequent introduction 
 of Greek and Latin words, neither object to, nor refrain from, a 
 similar pedantry with respect to French and Italian. 
 
 This kind of affectation is one "of the dangers " of a little learn- 
 ing ;" those who are really good linguists are seldom so anxiom 
 to display their knowledge. 
 
263 ELEMENTS OF RHETORIC. [Paet III. 
 
 priate Sound. The attempt to make "the sound an 
 echo to the sense," is indeed more frequently to be met 
 with in poets than in prose writers ; but it may be 
 worth remarking, that an evident effort after this kind 
 of excellence, as it is offensive in any kind of composi- 
 tion, would in prose appear peculiarly disgusting. 
 Cri'.ics treating on this subject have gone into opposite 
 extremes; some fancifully attributing to words, or com 
 binations of words, an imitative power far beyond what 
 they can really possess* and representing this kind of 
 Imitation as deserving to be studiously aimed at; and 
 others, on the contrary, considering nearly the whole oi 
 this kind of excellence as no better than imaginary, 
 and regarding the examples which do occur, and have 
 been cited, of a congruity between the sound and the 
 sense, as purely accidental. 
 
 The truth probably lies between these two extremes 
 In the first place, that words denoting sounds, or em- 
 ployed in describing them, may be imitative of those 
 sounds, must be admitted by all ; indeed, this kind of 
 Imitation is, to a certain degree, almost unavoidable, in 
 our language at least ; which abounds, perhaps more 
 than any other, in these, as they maybe called, natu- 
 rally expressive terms ; such as '•' hiss," 1: rattle," 
 " clatter," " splash," and many others.f 
 
 In the next place, it is also allowed by most, that 
 quick or slow motion may, to a certain degree at least, 
 be imitated or represented by words ; many short syl- 
 lables (unincumbered by a clash either of vowels, or of 
 consonants coming together) being pronounced in the 
 
 * Pope has accordingly been justly censured for his inconsistency 
 in making the Alexandrine represent both a quick and a slow mo 
 tion: » 
 
 1. • Flies o*er the unbending corn, and skim3 along the main. r ' 
 
 2. '• Which, like a wounded snake drags its slow length along.' 
 In the first instance, he forgot that an dltxandrine is long from 
 contain irg more feet than a common verse : whereas a long hexan* 
 tier has but the same number of feet as a short one. and therefore 
 aeing pronounce! in the same time, seems to move more rapidly. 
 
 t see Walks, dram. Anglic. 
 
Chap II $ 5.] OF ENERGY C09 
 
 same time with a smaller number of long syllables, 
 abounding with these incumbrances, the former seems 
 to have a natural correspondence to a quick, and the 
 latter to a slow motion ; since in the one a greater, and 
 in the other a less space, seem to be passed over in the 
 same time. In the ancient Poets, their hexameter ver- 
 Afis being always considered as of the same length, i. e 
 in respect of the time taken to pronounce them, what- 
 ever proportion of dactyls or spondees they contained, 
 this kind of Imitation of quick or slow motion, is the 
 more apparent; and after making all allowances for 
 fancy, it seems impossible to doubt that in many in- 
 stances it does exist ; as, e. g. in the often-cited line 
 which expresses the rolling of Sisyphus's stone down 
 the hill : 
 
 Avdif e~cira iridovSt kv\Iv$cto \das avaiSrjs. 
 
 The following passage from the JEneid can hardly 
 be denied to exhibit a correspondence with the slow 
 and quick motions at least, which it describes; that of 
 the Trojans laboriously hewing the foundations of a 
 tower on the top of Priam's palace, and that of its sud- 
 den and violent fall : 
 
 " Aggrissi ferro ctrcum, qua sum ma labantcs* 
 Juncturds tabulata dabant, divcllimus altis 
 Sedtbus, impulimttsque, ea lapsa repente riiinam 
 Cum sotiitu truhtt, ct Danuum super agmtna late 
 IncicTit." 
 
 But, lastly, it seems not to require any excessive ex- 
 ercise of fancy to perceive, if not, properly speaking, an 
 Imitation, by words, of other things besides sound and 
 motion, at least, an Analogical aptitude. That there is 
 
 * The slow movement of this line would he much more percep- 
 tible, if we pronounced (as doubtless the Latins did) the doubled 
 
 consonants; " ag-^res si far ro sum-ma:" but in English, and 
 
 consequently in the English way of reading Latin or Greek, the 
 doubling of a consonant only serves to fix the place of the accent ; 
 the latter of the two bt ing never pronounced, except in a very few 
 compound words ; ss " innate," " connatural," " poor-rate,"' " hop 
 
 17 
 
eiO ELEMENTS OF RHETORIC. [1>art IS 
 
 at least an apparent Analogy between things sensible, 
 and things intelligible, is implied by numberless Meta- 
 phors; as when we speak of "rough, or harsh, soft, 
 or smooth, manners," " turbulent passions," the " stroke, 
 or the storms of adversity," &c. Now if there are any 
 words, or combinations of words, which have in their 
 sound a congruity with certain sensible objects, there 
 is no reason why they should not have the same con- 
 gruity with those emotions, actions, &c. to which <hese 
 sensible objects are analogous. Especially, as it is 
 universally allowed that certain musical combinations 
 are, respectively, appropriate to the expression of grief, 
 anger, agitation, &c 
 
 On the whole, the most probable conclusion seems to 
 be, that many at least of the celebrated passages that 
 are cited as Imitative in sound, were, on the one hand, 
 not the result of accident, nor yet, on the other hand, of 
 study ; but that the idea in the author's mind spontane- 
 ously suggested appropriate sounds ; thus, when Mil- 
 ton's mind was occupied with the idea of the opening 
 of the infernal gates, it seems natural that his expression, 
 
 and on their hinges grate 
 
 Harsh thunder," 
 
 should have occurred to him without any distinct in- 
 tention of imitating sounds 
 
 It will be the safest rule, therefore, for a prose-writer 
 at least, never to make any distinct effort after this kind 
 of Energy of expression, but to trust to the spontaneous 
 occurrence of suitable sounds on every occasion where 
 the introduction of them is likely to have good effect. 
 Technical § 6. It is hardly necessary to give any 
 language, warning, generally, against the unnecessary 
 Introduction of Technical language of any kind, when 
 Ihe meaning can be adequately, or even tolerably, ex- 
 pressed in common, i. e. unscientific words The terms 
 and phrases of Art have an air of pedantic affectation, 
 for which they do not compensate, by even the smallest 
 
Chap. 11. §6.] OF ENERGY 211 
 
 appearance of increased Energy.* But there rheologi 
 is an apparent exception to this rule, in the ca t7 e " 
 case of what may be called the "Theological Style;" 
 a peculiar phraseology, adopted more or less by a large 
 proportion of writers of Sermons and other religious 
 works ; consisting partly of peculiar terms, but chiefly 
 of common words used in a peculiar sense or combina- 
 tion, so as to form altogether a kind of diction widely 
 differing from the classical standard of the language.. 
 This phraseology having been formed partly from the 
 style of some of the most eminent Divines, partly, and 
 to a much greater degree, from that of the Scriptures, 
 i. e. of our Version, has been supposed to carry with it 
 an air of appropriate dignity and sanctity, which greatly 
 adds to the force of what is said. And this may, per- 
 haps, be the case when what is said is of little or no 
 intrinsic weight, and is only such meagre common-place 
 as many religious works consist of : the associations 
 which such language will excite in the minds of those 
 accustomed to it, supplying in some degree the deficien- 
 cies of the matter. But this diction, though it may 
 serve as a veil for poverty of thought, will be found to 
 produce no less the effect of obscuring the lustre of what 
 is truly valuable : if it adds an appearance of strength 
 to what is weak, it adds weakness to what is strong ; 
 and ii pleasing to those of narrow and ill-cultivated 
 
 * Of course this rule does not apply to avowedly technical sys- 
 tems of instruction. In such works the usual and the best rule is, 
 to employ, as far as possible, such technical terms as custom has 
 already established ; defining, modifying, restricting, extending, 
 8tc. these, if uecessary, as the occasion may require. Sometimes, 
 nowever, the introduction of new ones will be called for, either in 
 addition to the others, or in their stead, when there are very strong 
 objections against these. 
 
 It is no uncommon trick with some writers to invent and adopt, 
 on the slightest pretext, complete new sets of technical terms, the 
 more strange and uncouth, the better for their purpose ; and thus 
 to pass off long-known truths for prodigious discoveries, and gain 
 the credit of universal originality by the boldness of their innova- 
 tions in language : like some voyagers of discovery, who talc, pos- 
 tession of countries, whether before-visited or not, by formully 
 giving them new names. 
 
212 ELEMENTS OF RHETORIC. [Part III. 
 
 minds, it is in a still higher degree repulsive to person! 
 of taste. 
 
 It may be said, indeed, with truth, that the improve- 
 ment of the majority is a higher object than the gratifi- 
 cation of a refined taste in a few ; but it may be doubted 
 whether any real Energy, even with respect to any class 
 of hearers, is gained by the use of such a diction as that 
 of which I am speaking. For it will often be found 
 that what is received with great approbation, is yet 
 (even if, strictly speaking, understood) but very little 
 attended to, or impressed upon the minds of the hearers 
 Terms and phrases which have been long familiar tc 
 them, and have certain vague and indistinct notions 
 associated with them, men often suppose themselves to 
 understand much more fully than they do ; and still 
 oftener give a sort of indolent assent to what is said, 
 without making any effort of thought. 
 
 It is justly observed by Mr. Foster, {Essay iv.) when 
 treating on this subject, that " with regard to a con- 
 siderable proportion of Christian readers and hearers, a 
 reformed language would be excessively strange to 
 them ;" but that ** its being so strange to them, would 
 be a proof of the necessity of adopting it, at least, in 
 part, and by degrees. For the manner in which some 
 of them would receive this altered diction, would prove 
 that the customary phraseology had scarcely given 
 them any clear ideas. It would be found that the 
 peculiar phrases had been not so much the vehicles of 
 ideas, as the substitutes for them.* These readers and 
 hearers have been accustomed to chime to the sound, 
 without apprehending the sense ; insomuch, that if they 
 hear the very ideas which these phrases signify, 
 expressed ever so simply in other language, they do 
 not recognise them." 
 
 * It may be added that many would at once take for granted that 
 any alteration in the statement of any doctrine, though the phrase! 
 they had been accustomed to were avowedly of Man's friming- 
 imphes a rejection of the doctrine itself,: and they would accord 
 ingly raise a cry of Heresy. 
 
Chap. II. § 6.] OF ENERGY. 213 
 
 He observes also, with much truth, that the studied 
 incorporation and imitation of the language of the Scrip- 
 tures in the texture of any discourse, neither indicates 
 reverence for the sacred composition, nor adds to the 
 dignity of that which is human : but rather diminishes 
 that of such passages as might be introduced from the 
 sacred writings in pure and distinct quotation, standing 
 contrasted with the general Style of the work. 
 
 Of the Technical terms, as they may be called, of 
 Theology, there are many, the place of which might 
 easily be supplied by corresponding expressions in com- 
 mon use : there are many, again, which are remnants 
 of the philosophy of the School-men, but are employed 
 frequently by persons who know nothing of the meta- 
 physical theories which gave rise to the use of such 
 terms :* there are others, doubtless, which, denoting 
 ideas exclusively belonging to the subject, could not be 
 avoided without a tedious circumlocution ; these, there- 
 fore, may be admitted as allowable peculiarities of dic- 
 tion; and the others, perhaps, need not be entirely dis- 
 used ; but it is highly desirable that both should be very 
 frequently exchanged for words or phrases entirely free 
 fr-om any technical peculiarity, even at the expense 01 
 some circumlocution. Not that this should be done so 
 constantly as to render the terms in question obsolete ; 
 but by introducing frequently, both the term, and a sen- 
 tence explanatory of the same idea, the evil just men- 
 tioned — the habit of not thinking, or not thinking at- 
 tentively, of the meaning of what is said — will be, in 
 great measure, guarded against ; the technical words 
 themselves will make a more forcible expression — and 
 the danger of sliding into unmeaning cant will be materi- 
 ally lessened. Such repetitions, therefore, will more than 
 compensate for, or rather will be exempt from, any ap- 
 pearance of tediousness, by the addition both of Perspi- 
 euity and Energy. 
 
 ** It must indeed be acknowledged, that in many cases. 
 
 * See Hampden, Bampton Led. 
 
214 ELEMENTS OF RHETORIC. [Pabt II- 
 
 innovations have been introduced, partly by the ceasing 
 to employ the words designating those doctrines which 
 were designed to be set aside : but it is probable they 
 may have been still more frequently and successfully 
 introduced under the advantage of retaining the terms, 
 while the principles were gradually subverted. And 
 therefore, since the peculiar words can be kept to one 
 invariable signification only by keeping that significa- 
 tion clearly in sight, by means of something separate 
 from these words themselves, it might be wise in Chris- 
 tian authors and speakers sometimes to express the 
 ideas in common words, either in connexion with the 
 peculiar terms, or, occasionally, instead of them. 
 Common words might less frequently be applied as 
 affected denominations of things which have their own 
 direct and common denominations ; and be less fre- 
 quently combined into uncouth phrases. Many peculiar 
 and antique words might be exchanged for other single 
 words of equivalent signification, and in common use. 
 And the small number of peculiar terms acknowledged 
 and established, as of permanent use and necessity, 
 might, even separately from the consideration of modi- 
 fying the diction, be, occasionally, with advantage to 
 the explicit declaration and clear comprehension of 
 Christian truth, made to give place to a fuller expression, 
 in a number of common words, of those ideas of which 
 they are single signs."* 
 
 It may be asserted, with but too much truth, that a 
 very considerable proportion of Christians have a habit 
 oi laying aside in a great degree their common sense, 
 and letting it, as it were, lie dormant, when points of 
 Religion come before them ; — as if Reason were utterly 
 at variance with Religion, and the ordinary principles 
 of sound Judgment were to be completely superseded 
 on that subject. And accordingly it will be found, that 
 there are many errors which are adopted — many tmtha 
 which are overlooked, or not clearly understood— and 
 
 * Foster, Essay iv. p. 3Q4. 
 
Chap II. §7.] OF ENERG5T. 215 
 
 many difficulties which stagger and perplex them — for 
 want, properly speaking, of the exercise of their 
 common sense; i. e. in cases precisely analogous to 
 such as daily occur in the ordinary affairs of life ; in 
 which those very same persons would form a correct, 
 clear, prompt, and decisive judgment. It is well worthy 
 of consideration, how far the tendency to this habit 
 might be diminished by the use of a diction conformable 
 to the suggestions which have been here thrown out. 
 
 § 7. With respect to the Number of words 
 employed, " it is certain," as Dr. Campbell fe^Sant 
 observes, " that of whatever kind the senti- on the 
 ment be, witty, humorous, grave, animated, or ^ u e ™ be r<j 0t 
 sublime, the more briefly it is expressed, the 
 Energy is the greater " — " As when the rays of the sun 
 are collected into the focus of a burning-glass, the smaller 
 the spot is which receives them compared with the 
 surface of the glass, the greater is the splendour, so, in 
 exhibiting our sentiments by speech, the narrower the 
 compass of words is, wherein the thought is comprised, 
 the more energetic is the expression. Accordingly, we 
 find that the very same sentiment expressed diffusely, 
 will be admitted barely to be just ; expressed concisely, 
 will be admired as spirited." He afterwards remarks, 
 that though a languid redundancy of words is in all 
 cases to be avoided, the energetic brevity which is the 
 most contrary to it, is not adapted alike to every subject 
 and occasion. " The kinds of writing which are less 
 susceptible of this ornament, are the Descriptive, the 
 Pathetic, the Declamatory,* especially the last. It is, 
 besides, much more suitable in writing than in speaking. 
 A reader has the command of his time ; he may read 
 fast or slow, as he finds convenient ; he can peruse a 
 sentence a second time when necessary, or lay down 
 the book and think. But if, in haranguing the people, 
 you comprise a great deal in few words, the hearer 
 
 * This remark is made, and the principle of it (which Dr. Camp» 
 k*li hw emitted) subjoined, in part ii, chap. ii. § 2, of this Tren*it« 
 
216 ELEMENTS OF RHETORIC. [Part ID 
 
 must have uncommon quickness of apprehension tc 
 catch the meaning before you have put it out of his 
 power, by engaging his attention to something else." 
 
 The mode in which this inconvenience should be 
 obviated, and in which the requisite expansion may be 
 given to any thing which the persons addressed cannot 
 comprehend in a very small compass, is, as I have 
 already remarked, not so much by increasing the num- 
 ber of words in which the sentiment is conveyed in each 
 sentence, (though in this, some variation must of course 
 be admitted,) as by repeating it in various forms. The 
 uncultivated and the dull will require greater expansion, 
 and more copious illustration of the same thought, than 
 the educated and the acute ; but they are even still more 
 liable to be wearied or bewildered by prolixity. If the 
 material is too stubborn to be speedily cleft, we must 
 patiently continue our efforts for a longer time, in order 
 to accomplish it : but this is to be done, not by making 
 each blow fall more slowly, which would only enfeeble 
 them, but by often-repealed blows. 
 Verbos't ^ * s neec ^ u l to ins i st the more on th< 
 
 adverse to energetic effect of Conciseness, because sc 
 perspicuity many, especially young writers and speakers 
 energy. are a Pt to fall into a style of pompous verbo- 
 sity, not from negligence, but from an idea thaf 
 they are adding both Perspicuity and Force to what is 
 said, when they are only incumbering the sense with a 
 needless load of words. And they are the more likely 
 to commit this, mistake, because such a style will often 
 appear not only to the author, but to the vulgar, (i. e. 
 the vulgar in intellect,) among his hearers, to be very 
 majestic and impressive. It is not uncommon to hear 
 a speaker or writer of this class, mentioned as having a 
 " very fine command of language," when, perhaps, it 
 might be said with more correctness, that " his language 
 has a command of him ;" i e. that he follows a train of 
 words rather than of thought, and strings together all 
 the striking expressions that occur to him on the subject, 
 
Chap. II. § 7.] OF ENERGY. 217 
 
 instead of first forming- a clear notion of the sense he 
 wishes to convey, and then seeking for the most appro- 
 priate vehicle in which to convey it. He has but the 
 same " command of language " that the rider has of a 
 horse which runs away with him. 
 
 If, indeed, any class of men are found to be the most 
 effectually convinced, persuaded, or instructed, by a. tur- 
 gid amplification, it is the orator's business, true to his 
 object, not to criticise or seek to improve their taste, but 
 to accommodate himself to it. But it will be found that 
 this is not near so often the case as many suppose. The 
 orator may often by this kind of style gain great admi- 
 ration, without being the nearer to his proper end, 
 which is to carry his point. It will frequently happen 
 lhat not only the approbation, but the whole attention 
 of the hearers will have been confined to the Style, 
 which will have drawn their minds, not to the subject, 
 but from it. In those spurious kinds of oratory, indeed, 
 which have been above mentioned, (p. iii. chap. ii. § 4, 
 5, 6,) in which the inculcation of the Subject-matter is 
 not the principal object proposed, a redundancy of words 
 may often be very suitable ; but in all that comes with- 
 in the legitimate province of Rhetoric, there is no fault 
 to be more carefully avoided.* 
 
 * " By a multiplicity of words the sentiment is not set off and ac 
 commodated, but like David, in Saul's armour, it is incumbered and 
 oppressed. 
 
 " Yet this is not the only, or perhaps the worst consequence re 
 suiting from this manner of treating Sacred writ ;" [■paraphrasing] 
 "we are told of the torpedo, that it has the wonderful quality oi 
 numbing every thing it touches ; a paraphrase is a torpedo. By its 
 influence the most vivid sentiments become lifeless, the most sub- 
 lime are flattened, the most fervid chilled, the most vigorous ener- 
 vated. In the very best compositions of this kind that can be ex 
 pected, the Gospel may be compared to a rich wine of a high 
 flavour, diluted in such a quantity of water as renders it extremely 
 wrii ' Campbell, Rhetoric, book iii. chap. ii. § 2. 
 
 It should be observed, however, that to some palates or stomachs 
 a dilution may be necessary. Nor does Dr. Campbell mean, I ap- 
 prehend, that there are not many passages in Scripture which 
 require expansion with a view to their being fully comprehend 
 ed by an ordinary reader. But a regular paraphrase genera 1$ 
 
218 ELEMENTS OF RHETORIC. [PartIIL 
 
 It will therefore be advisable for a tyro in composi- 
 tion to look over what he has written, and to strike out 
 every word and clause which he finds will leave the 
 passage neither less perspicuous nor less forcible than 
 it was before : " quamvis invito, recedant ;" remember- 
 ing that, as has been aptly observed, " nobody knows 
 what good things you leave out :" if the general effect 
 is improved, that advantage is enjoyed by the reader, 
 unalloyed by the regret which the author may feel at 
 the omission of any thing which he may think in itself 
 excellent. 
 
 But this is not enough ; he must study contraction as 
 well as omission. There are many sentences which 
 would not bear the omission of a single word consistent- 
 ly with perspicuity, which yet may be much more con- 
 cisely expressed, with equal clearness, by the employ- 
 ment of different words, and by recasting a great part 
 of the expression. Take for example such a sentence 
 as the following : 
 
 " A severe and tyrannical exercise of power must 
 become a matter of necessary policy with Kings, when 
 their subjects are imbued with such princi- 
 sion PreS " pies as justify and authorize rebellion ;" this 
 sentence could not be advantageously, nor 
 to any considerable degree abridged, by the mere omis- 
 sion of any of the words ; but it may be expressed in a 
 much shorter compass, with equal clearness and far 
 greater energy, thus ; " Kings will be tyrants from 
 policy, when subjects are rebels from principle."* 
 
 The hints I have thrown out on this point coincide 
 pretty nearly with Dr. Campbell's remark on " Verbo- 
 sity," as contradistinguished from " Tautology ,"f and 
 
 expands every passage, easy or hard, nearly to the same degree •. 
 it applies a magnifying-glass of equal power to the gnat and to the 
 camel. 
 
 * Burke. 
 
 t Tautology, which he describes as " either a repetition of the 
 same sense in different words, or a representation of any thing as 
 the cause, condition, or consequence, of itself," is, in most instan 
 •es, (of the latter kind at least,) accounted an offence rather against 
 
Chap. II. § 8.] OF ENERGY. 219 
 
 from " Pleonasm." " The third and last fault 1 shall 
 mention against vivid Conciseness is Verbosity. This, 
 it may be thought, coincides with the Pleonasm already 
 discussed. One difference however is this ; in the Pie 
 onasm there are words which add nothing to the sense 
 in the Verbose manner, not only single words, but 
 whole clauses, may have a meaning, and yet it were 
 better to omit them, because what they mean is unim- 
 portant. Instead, therefore, of enlivening the expres- 
 sion, they make it languish. Another difference is, that 
 in a proper Pleonasm, a complete correction is always 
 made by razing. This will not always answer in the 
 Verbose style ; it is often necessary to alter as well as 
 blot."* 
 
 § 8. ft is, of course, impossible to lay down 
 precise rules as to the degree of Conciseness nesTtobe 
 which is, on each occasion that may arise, reconciled 
 allowable and desirable ; but to an author J^ h P er " 
 who is, in his expression of any sentiment, pi 
 wavering between the demands of Perspicuity and ol 
 Energy, (of which the former of course requires the 
 first care, lest he should fail of both,) and doubting 
 whether the phrase which has the most of forcible bre- 
 vity, will be readily taken in, it may be recommended 
 to use both expressions ; — first to expand the sense, suf- 
 ficiently to be clearly understood, and then to contract 
 it into the most compendious and striking form. This 
 expedient might seem at first sight the most decidedly 
 adverse to the brevity recommended ; but it will be 
 found in practice, that the addition of a compressed and 
 
 correctness than brevity the example he gives from Bolingbroke, 
 " how many are there by whom these tidiiigs of good news were 
 never heard," would usually be reckoned a blunder rather than an 
 instance of prolixity; like the expression of " Sinecure places 
 which have no duty annexed to them." " The Pleonasm," he ob- 
 serves, " implies merely superfluity. Though the words do not, 
 is in the Tautology, repeat the sense, they add nothing to it ; e. g. 
 They returned [back again] to the [same] city [from] whence they 
 came [forth."] Campbell, Rhetoric, book iii. chap. ii. § 2. 
 9 Campbell, Rhetoric, book. iii. chap. ii. sec. 2, part iii. 
 
220 ELEMENTS OF RHETORIC. [Part III. 
 
 pithy expression of the sentiment, which has been al- 
 ready stated at greater length, will produce the effect of 
 brevity. For it is to be remembered that it is not on 
 account of the actual number of words that diffuseness 
 is to be condemned, (unless one were limited to a cer- 
 tain space, or time,) but to avoid the flatness and te- 
 diousness resulting from it ; so that if this appearance 
 can be obviated by the insertion of such an abridged 
 repetition as is here recommended, which adds poig- 
 nancy and spirit to the whole, Conciseness will be* 
 piactically, promoted by the addition. The hearers 
 will be struck by the forcibleness of the sentence which 
 they will have been prepared to comprehend; they 
 will understand the longer expression, and remembei 
 the shorter. But the force will, in general, be totally 
 destroyed, or much enfeebled, if the order be reversed ; 
 — if the brief expression be put first, and afterwards ex- 
 panded and explained ; for it loses much of its force 
 if it be not clearly understood the moment it is uttered; 
 and if it be, there is no need of the subsequent expan- 
 sion. The sentence recently quoted from Burke, as an 
 instance of energetic brevity, is in this manner brought 
 in at the close of a more expanded exhibition of the 
 sentiment, as a condensed conclusion of the whole. 
 '• Power, of some kind or other, will survive the shock 
 in which manners and opinions perish ; and it will find 
 other and worse means for its support. The usurpation 
 which, in order to subvert ancient institutions, has de- 
 stroyed ancient principles, will hold power by arts sim- 
 ilar to those by which it has acquired it. When the 
 old feudal and chivalrous spirit of fealty, which, by 
 by freeing kings from fear, freed Hfcth kings and sub- 
 jects from the precaution of tyranny, shall be extinct 
 in the minds of men, plots and assassinations will be 
 anticipated by preventive murder and preventive confis- 
 cation, and that long roll of grim and bloody maxims, 
 which form the political code of all Power, not stand- 
 ing on its own honour, and the honour of those who 
 
ftlUF. II. § 8.] OF ENERGY. 291 
 
 are to obey it. Kings will lie tyrants from policy when 
 subjects arc rebels from principle."* 
 
 The BaiAC writer, ill another passage of the same 
 work, has a paragraph in like manner closed and sum- 
 med tip by a striking metaphor, (which will often pro\ e 
 the mo^f concise, as well as in other respects striking, 
 
 form of expression.) such as would not have heen SO 
 
 readily taken in if placed at the beginning. "To avoid, 
 therefore, the evil? of inconstancy and versatility, ten 
 thousand tune- worse than those of obstinacy and the 
 
 blindest prejudice, we haTe consecrated the State, that 
 no man should approach to look into its defects or cor- 
 ruptions but with due caulion ; that he should never 
 dream of beginning its reformation by its subversion*; 
 
 that he should approach to the faults of the State ns to 
 the wounds of a father, with pious awe and trembling 
 solicitude. By this wise prejudice we an; taught to 
 look with horror on those children of their country who 
 are prompt rashly to hack that aged parent in pieces, 
 and put him into the kettle of musicians, m hopes that 
 by their poisonous weeds, and wild incantations, they 
 may regenerate the paternal constitution, and renovate 
 their father's life."f 
 
 This, however, being an instance of what may be 
 called the classical Metaphor, no preparation or explana- 
 tion, even though sufficient to make it intelligible, could 
 lender it very striking to those not thoroughly and 
 early familiar with the ancient fables of Medea. 
 
 The Preacher lues aconsiderable resource, of an ana- 
 logous kind, in similar allusions toll." history, descrip- 
 tion-, parables, &c. of SCKIPTURE, wLich wil 1 oOen 
 furnish useful illustrations and forcible metaphors, n 
 an address to those well acquainted with the riible, 
 though these would be frequently unintelligible, anc 
 
 * Burke, Reflections on the Revolution in Fiance, IVorks, vol. T 
 p 168. 
 
 t Burke, Reflections on the Revolution in France, Works, vol. f 
 p. 183 
 
222 ELEMENTS OF RHETORIC. [Paet III. 
 
 always comparatively feeble, to persons not fam:liar 
 with Scripture.* 
 
 style of Dr. So great, indeed, is the effect of a skilful 
 Johnson. interspersion of short, pointed, forcible sen- 
 tences, that even a considerable violation of some of the 
 foregoing rules may be, by this means, in a great degree, 
 concealed; and vigour may thus be communicated (if 
 vigour of thought be not wanting) to a style chargeable 
 even with tautology. This is the case with much of 
 the language of Dr. Johnson, who is certainly on the 
 whole an energetic writer ; though he would have been 
 much more so, had not an over-attention to the round- 
 ness and majestic sound of his sentences, and a delight 
 in balancing one clause against another, led him so 
 frequently into a faulty redundancy. Take, as an in- 
 stance, a passage in his life of Prior, which may be 
 considered as a favourable specimen of his style : " So- 
 lomon is the work to which he intrusted the protection 
 of his name, and which he expected succeeding ages to 
 regard with veneration. His affection was natural ; it 
 had undoubtedly been written with great labour ; and 
 who is willing to think that he has been labouring in 
 vain ? He had infused into it much knowledge, and 
 much thought ; had often polished it to elegance, often 
 dignified it with splendour, and sometimes heightened 
 it to sublimity ; he perceived in it many excellences, 
 and did not discover that it wanted that without which 
 all others are of small avail, the power of engaging 
 attention and alluring curiosity. Tediousness is the 
 most fatal of all faults ; negligences or errors are single 
 or local ; but tediousness pervades the whole ; other 
 faults are censured and forgotten, but the power of 
 tediousness propagates itself. He that is weary the 
 first hour, is more weary the second ; as bodies forced 
 into motion contrary to their tendency, pass more and 
 more slowly through every successive interval of space. 
 Unhappily this pernicious failure is that which *-- 
 • See Appendix, [M.] 
 
Chap. II. § 8.] OF ENERGY. 221 
 
 author is least able to discover. We are seldom tire- 
 some to ourselves ; and the act of composition fills and 
 delights the mind with change of language and succes- 
 sion of images : every couplet when produced is new ; 
 and novelty is the great source of pleasure. Perhaps 
 no man ever thought a line superfluous when he first 
 wrote it ; or contracted his work till his ebullitions of 
 invention had subsided." 
 
 It would not have been just to the author, nor even 
 so suitable to the present purpose, to cite less than the 
 whole of this passage, which exhibits the characteristic 
 merits, even more strikingly than the defects, of the 
 writer. Few could be found in the works of Johnson, 
 and still fewer in those of any other writer, more 
 happily and forcibly expressed ; yet it can hardly be 
 denied that the parts here distinguished by italics are 
 chargeable, more or less, with Tautology. 
 
 It happens, unfortunately, that Johnson's 
 style is particularly easy of imitation, even jj}**^* of 
 by writers utterly destitute of his vigour of 
 thought ; and such imitators are intolerable. They 
 bear the same resemblance to their model, that the 
 armour of the Chinese, as described by travellers, con- 
 sisting of thick quilted cotton covered with stiff glazed 
 paper, does to that of the ancient knights ; equally 
 glittering, and bulky, but destitute of the temper and 
 firmness which was its sole advantage. At first sight, 
 indeed, this kind of style appears far from easy of 
 attainment; on account of its being remote from the 
 colloquial, and having an elaborately artificial appear- 
 ance; but in reality, there is none less difficult to 
 acquire. To string together substantives, connected by 
 conjunctions, which is the characteristic of Johnson's 
 style, is, in fact, the rudest and clumsiest mode oi 
 expressing our thoughts : we have only to find names 
 for our ideas, and then put them together by connec- 
 tives, instead of interweaving, or rather felting then* 
 together, by a due admixture of verbs, participles, pre 
 
224 ELEMENTS OF RHETORIC. [Pakt III 
 
 positions, &c. So that this way of writing, as contrasted 
 with the other, may be likened to the primitive rude 
 carpentry, in which the materials were united by coarse 
 external implements, pins, nails, and cramps, when 
 compared with that art in its most improved state, after 
 the invention of dovetail-joints, grooves, and mortices, 
 when the junctions are effected by forming properly the 
 extremities of the pieces to be joined, so as at once to 
 consolidate and conceal the juncture. 
 Various If any one will be at the pains to compare 
 
 proportions a few pages, taken from almost any part of 
 tirinnaS- Johnson's Works, with the same quantity 
 ferent from any other of our admired writers, noting 
 
 styles. down the number of substantives in each, he 
 
 will be struck with the disproportion. This would be 
 still greater, if he were to examine with the same view 
 an equal portion of Cicero ; but it must be acknowledged 
 that the genius of the Latin language allows and 
 requires a much smaller proportion of substantives than 
 are necessary in our own : especially such as express 
 qualities in the abstract. 
 
 § 9. In aiming at a concise Style, how- 
 fivf?tvie. ever > care must °f course be taken that it be 
 not crowded. The frequent recurrence of 
 considerable ellipses, even when obscurity does not 
 result from them, will produce an appearance of affected 
 and laborious compression, which is offensive. The 
 author who is studious of energetic brevity, should aim 
 at what may be called a suggestive style ; such, that is, 
 as, without making a distinct, though brief, mention of 
 a multitude of particulars, shall put the hearer's mind 
 into the same train of thought as the speaker's, and 
 suggest to bim more than is actually expressed. 
 
 Such a *tyK may be compared to a good map, whicn 
 ma-k* distinct!) the great outlines, setting down the 
 pUffipal nvevs, towns mountains, &c-, leaving the 
 imagination to suppiy the villagns, nillocks, and 
 streamlets which, if they were a^ f inserted in their 
 
Chap. II. § 9.] OF ENERGY. 225 
 
 due proportions, would crowd the map, though after all 
 they could not be discerned without a microscope. 
 
 Aristotle's style, which is frequently so elliptical as 
 to be dry and obscure, is yet often, at the very same 
 time, unnecessarily diffuse, from his enumerating much 
 that the reader would easily have supplied, if the rest 
 had been fully and forcibly stated. He seems to have 
 regarded his readers as capable of going along with him 
 readily, in the deepest discussions, but not, of going 
 beyond him, in the most simple ; i. e. of filling up his 
 meaning, and inferring what he does not actually 
 express ; so that in many passages a free translator 
 might convey his sense in a shorter compass, and yet 
 in a less cramped and elliptical diction. A particular 
 statement, example, or proverb, of which the general 
 application is obvious, will often save a long abstract 
 rule, which needs much explanation and limitation ; 
 and will thus suggest much that is not actually said ; 
 thus answering the purpose of a mathematical diagram, 
 which, though itself an individual, serves as a repre- 
 sentative of a class. Slight hints also respecting the 
 subordinate branches of any subject, and notices of the 
 principles that will apply to them, &c. may often be 
 substituted for digressive discussions, which, though 
 laboriously compressed, would yet occupy a much 
 greater space. Judicious divisions likewise and classi- 
 fications, save much tedious enumeration ; and, as has 
 been formerly remarked, a well-chosen epithet may 
 often suggest, and therefore supply the place of, an 
 entire argument. 
 
 It would not be possible, within a moderate compass, 
 to lay down precise rules for the suggestive kind of 
 writing I am speaking of ; but if the slight hints here 
 given are sufficient to convey an idea of the object to 
 be aimed at, practice will enable a writer gradually to 
 form the habit recommended. It may be worth while, 
 however, to add, that those accustomed to rational con- 
 ver$atio?i, will find in that, a very useful exercise, with 
 18 
 
226 ELEMENTS CF RHETORIC. [Pabt lit 
 
 a view to this point, (as well as to almost every other 
 connected with Rhetoric ;) since, in conversation, a man 
 naturally tries first one and then another mode of ex- 
 pressing his thoughts, and stops as soon as he perceives 
 that his companion fully comprehends his sentiments, 
 and is sufficiently impressed with them. 
 
 § 10. I have dwelt the more earnestly on the head of 
 Conciseness, because it is a quality in which young 
 writers (who are the most likely f*> seek for practical 
 benefit in a Treatise of this kind) are usually most de- 
 ficient ; and because it is commonly said that, in them, 
 exuberance is a promising sign; without sufficient care , 
 being taken to qualify this remark, by adding, that this 
 over-luxuriance must be checked by judicious pruning. 
 If an early proneness to redundancy be an indication of 
 natural genius, those who possess this genius should be 
 the more sedulously on their guard against that fault. 
 And those who do not, should be admonished that 
 the want of a natural gift cannot be supplied by copy- 
 ing its attendant defects. 
 
 The praises which have been bestowed on 
 ness° US " Copiousness of diction, have probably tended 
 dependent to mislead authors, into a cumbrous verbosity. 
 s'^n^ 6 * 1 " ^ s ^ ou ^ De remembered, that there is no real 
 Copiousness in a multitude of synonymes 
 and circumlocutions. A house would not be the better 
 furnished for being stored with ten times as many of 
 some kinds ol articles as were needed, while it was 
 perhaps destitute of those required for other purposes , 
 nor was Lucullus's wardrobe, which, according to 
 Horace, boasted five thousand mantles, necessarily well 
 stocked, if other articles of dress were wanting. The 
 completeness of a library does not consist in the number 
 of volumes, especially if many of them are duplicates; 
 but in its containing copies of each of the most valuable 
 works. And in like manner, true Copiousness of lan- 
 guage consists in having at command, as far as possible, 
 a suitable expression for each different modification cj 
 
Chap. II. § 11.] OF ENERGY. 227 
 
 thought, This, consequently, will often save much cir 
 cumlocution ; so that the greater our command of Ian 
 guage, the more concisely we shall be enabled to write. 
 
 In an author who is attentive to these principles, dif 
 fuseness may be accounted no dangerous fault of style, 
 because practice will gradually correct it ; but it is oth- 
 erwise with one who pleases himself in stringing to- 
 gether weli-sounding words into an easy, flowing, and 
 (falsely called) copious style, destitute of nerve ; and 
 who is satisfied with a small portion of matter; seeking 
 to increase, as it were, the appearance of his wealth by 
 hammering out his metal thin. This is far from a cura- 
 ble fault. When the style is fully formed in other re- 
 spects, pregnant fulness of meaning is seldom superadded; 
 but when there is a basis of energetic condensation of 
 thought, the faults of harshness, baldness, or even ob- 
 scurity, are much more likely \o be remedied. Solid 
 gold may be new moulded and polished ; but what can 
 give solidity to gilding ? 
 
 § 11. Lastly, the Arrangement of words Energy de- 
 may be made highly conducive to Energy, pendent on 
 The importance of an attention tc this point, *^| " rang0 
 with a view to Perspicuity, has been already 
 noticed ; but of two sentences equally perspicuous, and 
 consisting of the very same words, the one may be a 
 feeble and languid, the other a striking and energetic 
 expression, merely from the difference of Arrangement. 
 
 Some, among the moderns, are accustomed 
 to speak of the natural order of the words in ^rder'o^ 
 a sentence, and to consider, each, the estab- words, 
 lished arrangement of his own language as 
 the nearest to such a natural order ; regarding that which 
 prevails in Latin and in Greek as a sort of deranged and 
 irregular structure. We are apt to consider that as most 
 natural and intrinsically proper, which is the most fa- 
 miliar to ourselves ; but there seems no good ground for 
 asserting, that the customary structure of sentences in 
 the ancient languages is less natural, or less suitable lor 
 
228 ELEMENTS CF RHETORIC. [r A R T III 
 
 the purposes for which language is employed, than in 
 the modern. Supposing the established order in English 
 or in French, for instance, to be more closely conformed 
 to the grammatical or logical analysis of a sentence, thai 
 that 01 Latin or Greek, because we place the Subject first, 
 the Copula next, and the Predicate last, &c, it does ivot 
 follow that such an arrangement is necessarily the best 
 fitted in every case, to excite the attention, to direct it to 
 the most essential points — to gratify the imagination 
 — or to affect the feelings. It is, surely the natural 
 object of language to express as strongly as possil le 
 the speaker's sentiments, and to convey the same to 
 the hearers ; and that arrangement of words may 
 fairly be accounted the most natural, by which aH 
 men are naturally led, as far as the rules of thtir re- 
 spective languages allow them, to accomplish this ob- 
 ject. The rules of many of the modern languages do 
 indeed frequently confine an author to an order which 
 he would otherwise never have chosen ; but what 
 translator of any taste would ever voluntarily alter the 
 arrangement of the words in such a sentence as hLeyaki, 
 i] "Apre/itc 'Efeoiov, which our language allows us tr 
 render exactly, " Great is Diana of the Ephesians !" 
 How feeble in comparison is the translation of Le Clerc- 
 "La Diane des Ephisiens est une grande DtcsreJ' 
 How imperfect that of Beausobre, " La grande Diane 
 des EphJsiens /" How undignified that of Saci, "Vive 
 la grande Diane des Ephesicns !" 
 
 Advantage Our language indeed is, though to a less 
 in point of degree, very much hampered by the same re- 
 mentfn'the strictions ; it being in general necessary, for 
 ancient lan- the expression of the sense, to adhere to an 
 guages. order which may not be in other respects the 
 most eligible : " Cicero praised Caesar," and " Caesai 
 praised Cicero," would be two very different proposi- 
 tions; the situation of the words being all that indicates, 
 (from our want of Cases,) which is to be taken as the 
 nominative, and which as the accusative ; but such a 
 
Chap. II. § 11.] OF ENERGY 229 
 
 restriction ia far from being an advantage 'Mi'- trans* 
 position "i words which the ancieni languages admil 
 
 Of, (•(iiifiiif.es, not meiely If) v;u iely, hul to ESnei gy , and 
 even to Preci ion. 
 
 If, for in tance, a Roman had been directing the atten- 
 tion of his hearer ■ to the circuno tance thai even Ca m 
 had been the objeel of Cicero's praise, he would, most 
 likely, have pul " ( '•<• irem ' first ; but be would have 
 put "Cicero" first, ii he had been remarking that, not 
 jnly others, but even he had prai ed ( !a ai 
 
 It is for want, of this Liberty of Arrange^ 
 rueiii. that we we often compelled to mark l;',', 1 , 1 ,, 1 ';''"'' 
 ■lie emphatic words of our sentence i by the 
 voice, in speaking, and byitalics,in writing; which 
 would, in Greek 01 in Latin, be plainly indicated, in 
 no 1 instance , by tlje collocation alone. The sentence 
 ,vln< h ha 1 been often brought forward a an example 
 )f the varieties of expression winch may be given to 
 •he ■tine, words, '< Will you rule w> London to-morrow ■'' ,, 
 win! which may be pronounced and understood in at 
 least five different ways, according a 1 the first, second, 
 Sec. of the words is printed in italics, would be, by a 
 Latin orGreelc writer, arranged in as many different 
 ordei jo.ni ver these several intentions. Theadvan* 
 tage thu gained mu 1 be evident to any one who con* 
 how impoi tanl the object 1 1 w huh 1 . thus accom* 
 jili bed, and foi the akeoi winch we are often com- 
 pelled to resort to Mich clumsy expedients , it is like 
 the proper dii tribution of the lights in a pw ture ; winch 
 1 hardf) oi le scon equence than the correct and lively 
 reprc entation of the objeel 1. 
 
 The. 4th book of Q. Curtius begins with a pa age 
 winch affords a good instance of the energetic effect 
 produced l»y a skilful u e of the licence oi the Latin 
 arrangement: "Darius tanti modo exercitui rex, qui 
 triuinphantis magis quam dimicanti 1 more, curru ubli- 
 mis 1111e1.1i pnslium, pei loca qua! prope immensis agmi* 
 * Im f."t'i'-, book ii. chap. 4. •> 1. 
 
230 ELEMENTS OF RHETORIC. [Part III 
 
 nibus compleverat, jam inania, et ingenti solitudine 
 vasta, fugiebat." The effect of the concluding verb, 
 placed where it is, is most striking, 
 italics and It must be the aim then of an author, who 
 underscor- would write with Energy, to avail himself 
 ,ng " of all the liberty which our language does 
 
 allow, so to arrange his words that there shall be the 
 least possible occasion for underscoring and italics ; and 
 this, of course, must be more carefully attended to by 
 the writer than by the speaker ; who may, by his mode 
 of utterance, conceal, in great measure, a defect in this 
 point. It may be worth observing, however, that some 
 writers, having been taught that it is a fault of style to 
 require many of the words to be in italics, fancy they 
 avoid the fault, by omitting those indications where they 
 are really needed ; which is no less absurd than to at- 
 tempt remedying the intricacies of a road by removing 
 the direction posts.* The proper remedy is, to endea- 
 vour so to construct the style, that the collocation of 
 the words may, as far as is possible, direct the attention 
 to those which are emphatic. 
 
 And the general maxim that should chiefly guide us, 
 is, as Dr. Campbell observes, the homely saying, 
 " Nearest the heart, nearest the mouth ;" the idea, 
 which is the most forcibly impressed on the author's 
 mind, will naturally claim the first utterance, as nearly 
 as the rules of the language will permit. And it will 
 be found that, in a majority of instances, the most Em- 
 phatic word will be the Predicate ; contrary to the rule 
 which the nature of our language compels us, in most 
 instances, to observe. It will often happen, however, 
 that we do place the Predicate first, and obtain a great 
 increase of Energy by this arrangement. Of this licence 
 our translators of the Bible have, in many instances, 
 
 * The censure of frequent and long Parentheses also leads some 
 writers into the like preposterous expedient of leaving out th« 
 marks ( ) by which they are indicated, and substituting commas 
 instead of so framing each sentence that they shall not be needed 
 It is no cure to a lame man, to take away" his crutches. 
 
Chap. II. § 12.] OF ENERGY. 2« 
 
 very happily availed themsehes; as, e. g in the sen. 
 tence lately cited, " Great is Diana of the Ephesians;" 
 so also, " Blessed is he that cometh in the name of the 
 Lord :" it is evident how much this would be enfeebled 
 by altering the arrangement into " He that cometh in 
 the name of the Lord is blessed." And, again, " Silver 
 and Gold have I none ; but what I have, that give I 
 unto thee."* Another passage, in which they might 
 advantageously have adhered to the order of the origi- 
 nal, is, " "Etvegev, eizeos BafSvTiuv, rj fisydlTi^j which 
 would certainly have been rendered as correctly, and 
 more forcibly, as well as more closely, " Fallen, fallen 
 is Babylon, that great city," than, " Babylon is fallen, 
 is fallen." 
 
 The word "IT" is frequently very ser- 
 viceable in enabling us to alter the arrange- ^ordlT 6 
 ment : thus, the sentence, " Cicero praised 
 Caesar," which admits of at least two modifications of 
 sense, may be altered so as to express either of them, 
 by thus varying the order : " It was Cicero that praised 
 Caesar," or, " It was Ceesar that Cicero praised." " IT " 
 % in this mode of using it, the representative of the 
 Subject, which it thus enables us to place, if we will, 
 after the Predicate. 
 
 Of whatever gender or number the subject referred 
 to may be, " IT " may, with equal propriety, be employ- 
 ed to represent that subject. Our translators of the 
 Bible have not scrupled to make " IT " refer to a mas- 
 culine noun : " It is I, be not afraid;" but they seem to 
 have thought it not allowable, as perhaps it was not, 
 at the time when they wrote, to make such a reference 
 to a plural noun. " Search the Scriptures — they are 
 they which testify of Me :" we should now say, without 
 any impropriety, " IT is they" fyc. 
 
 § 12. With respect to Periods, it would 
 be neither practically useful, nor even suita- Penods - 
 b\e to the present object, to enter into an examination 
 *Acts v. 6. f R jv. xviii. 2. 
 
232 ELEMENTS OF RHETORIC. [Part III. 
 
 of the different senses in which various authors have 
 employed the word. A technical term may allowably 
 be employed, in a scientific work, in any sense not very 
 remote from common usage, (especially when common 
 usage is not uniform and invariable in the meaning affix 
 ed to it,) provided it be clearly defined, and the defini- 
 tion strictly adhered to. 
 
 "By a Period, then, is to be understood in this place, 
 any sentence, whether simple or complex, which is so 
 framed that the Grammatical construction will not admit 
 of a close, before the end of it ; in which, in short, the 
 meaning remains suspended, as it were, till the whole 
 
 is finished. A loose sentence, on the con- 
 tences. en " trary, is, any that is not a Period ; — any, 
 
 whose construction will allow of a stop, so 
 as to form a perfect sentence, at one or more places be- 
 fore we arrive at the end. E. G. " We came to our 
 journey's end — at last — with no small difficulty — after 
 much fatigue — through deep roads — and bad weather." 
 This is an instance of a very loose sentence ; (for it is 
 evident that this kind of structure admits of degrees,) 
 there being no less than five places, marked by dashes, 
 at any one of which the sentence might have terminat- 
 ed, so as to be grammatically perfect. The same words 
 may be formed into a Period, thus : " At last, after much 
 fatigue, through deep roads, and bad weather, we came, 
 with no small difficulty, to our journey's end." Here, 
 no stop can be made at any part, so that the preceding 
 words shall form a sentence before the final close. 
 These are both of them mnple sentences ; i. e. not con- 
 eisting of several clauses, but having only a single verb ; 
 so that it is plain we ought not, according to this view, 
 to confine the name of Period to complex sentences ; as 
 Dr. Campbell has done, notwithstanding his having 
 adopted the same definition as has been here laid down 
 Periods con- Periods, or sentences nearly approaching 
 duce to En- to Periods, have certainly, when other things 
 K S7- are equal, the advantage in point of Energy. 
 
Chap. II § 12.] OF ENERGY. 233 
 
 An unexpected continuation of a sentence which the 
 reader had supposed to be concluded, especially if in 
 reading aloud, he had, under that supposition, dropped 
 his voice, is apt to produce a sensation in the mind of 
 being disagreeably balked ; analogous to the unpleasant 
 jar which is felt, when in ascending or descending stairs, 
 we meet with a step more than we expected : and if 
 this be often repeated, as in a very loose sentence, a 
 kind of weary impatience results from the uncertainty 
 when the sentence is to close. The objection, however, 
 to loose sentences and consequent tendency towards the 
 periodic structure, must have been greater among the 
 Ancients than the Moderns ; because the variety of ar- 
 rangement which the ancient languages permitted, and, 
 in particular, the liberty of reserving the verb, on which 
 the whole sense depends, to the end, made that struc- 
 ture natural and easy, in many instances in which, in 
 our language, it would appear forced, unnatural, and 
 affected. 
 
 But the agreeableness of a certain degree, Tendency 
 at least, of periodic structure, in all Ian- towards the 
 guag-es, is apparent from this ; that they all Pf riodic 
 
 ? • j i • i i_ • . * t, structure. 
 
 contain words which may be said to have no 
 other use or signification but to suspend the sense, and 
 lead the hearer of the first part of the sentence to ex- 
 pect the remainder. He who says, " The world is not 
 eternal, nor the work of chance ;" expresses the same 
 sense as if he said, " The world is neither eternal, nor 
 the work of chance ;" yet the latter would be generally 
 preferred. So also, " The vines afforded both a refresh- 
 ing shade and a delicious fruit ;" the word ~" both " 
 would be missed, though it adds nothing to the sense. 
 Again, " While all the Pagan nations consider Religion 
 as one part of Virtue, the Jews, on the contrary, regard 
 Virtue as a "part of Religion ;"* the omission of the first 
 word would not alter the sense, bnt w r ould destroy the 
 Period ; to produce which is its only use. The MEN, 
 • Josephus. 
 
234 ELEMENTS OF RHETORIC. [Part IIL 
 
 AE,* and TE of the Greek are, in many places, subser- 
 vient to this use alone. 
 
 The modern languages do not indeed admit, as was 
 observed above, of so Periodica style as the ancient do: 
 but an author, who does but clearly understand what a 
 Period is, and who applies the test I have laid down, 
 will find it very easy, after a little practice, to compose 
 in Periods, even to a greater degree than, in an English 
 writer, good taste will warrant. His skill and care will 
 be chiefly called for in avoiding all appearance of stiff- 
 ness and affectation in the construction of them — in not 
 departing, for the sake of a Period, too far from collo- 
 quial usage — and in observing such moderation in the 
 employment of this style, as shall prevent any betrayal 
 of artifice, any thing savouring of elaborate stateliness ; 
 which is always to be regarded as a worse fault than 
 the slovenliness and languor which accompany a very 
 loose style. 
 
 Loose and § 13. It should be observed, however, 
 periodic that, as a sentence which is not strictly a 
 clauses. Period, according to the foregoing definition ., 
 may yet approach indefinitely near to it, so as to pro- 
 duce nearly the same effect, so, on the other hand, 
 Periods may be so constructed as to produce much of 
 the same feeling of weariness and impatience which 
 results from an excess of loose sentences. If the clauses 
 be very long, and contain an enumeration of many 
 circumstances, though the sentence be so framed, that 
 vve are still kept in expectation of the conclusion, yet 
 it will be an impatient expectation ; and the reader will 
 feel the same kind of uneasy uncertainty when the 
 clause is to be finished, as would be felt respecting the 
 sentence, if it were loose. And this will especially be 
 the case, if the rule formerly given with a view to 
 Perspicuity, be not observed,! cf taking care that each 
 
 * These two particles seem to be formed from nivtiv, to u stop- 
 wait," and 6eav, to " bind— add on " 
 f Part iii. chap. i. § 3. 
 
Chap. II. § 13.] OF LxVERGY.. 23d 
 
 pari of the sentence be understood, as it proceeds. 
 Each clause, if it consist of several parts, should be 
 continued with the same attention to their mutual con- 
 nexion, so as to suspend the sense, as is employed in 
 the whole sentence ; that it may be, as it were, a Perio- 
 dic clause. And if one clause be long and another 
 short, the shorter should, if possible, be put last. 
 
 Universally, indeed, a sentence will often 
 be, practically, too long, i. e. will have a f e t he enCe 
 tedious dragging effect, merely from its con longer or 
 eluding with a much longer clause than it sllorter 
 began with ; so that a composition which 
 most would censure as abounding too much in long 
 sentences, may often have its defects, in great measure, 
 remedied, without shortening any of them ; merely by 
 reversing the order of each. This of course holds good 
 with respect to all complex sentences of any consider 
 able length, whether periods, or not. An instance of 
 the difference or effect produced by this means, may be 
 seen in such a sentence as the following : " The State 
 was made, under the pretence of serving it, in reality, 
 the prize of their contention, to each of those opposite 
 parties, who professed, in specious terms, the one, a 
 preference for moderate Aristocracy, the other, a desire 
 of admitting the people at large to an equality of civil 
 privileges." This may be regarded as a complete 
 period; aud yet, for the reason just mentioned, has a 
 tedious and cumbrous effect. Many critics might recom- 
 mend, and perhaps with reason, to break it into two or 
 three ; but it is to our present purpose to remark, that it 
 might be, in some degree at least, decidedly improved, 
 by merely reversing the clauses; as thus : "The two 
 opposite parties, who professed in specious terms, the 
 one a preference for moderate Aristocracy, the other a 
 desire of admitting the people at large to an equality of 
 civil privileges, made the State, which they pretended 
 to serve, in reality the prize of their contention "* 
 * Thucydides, on the Corcyrean sedition. 
 
236 ELEMENTS OF RHETORIC. [PaktIXV 
 
 Another instance may be cited from a work, in which 
 any occasional awkwardness of expression is the more 
 conspicuous, on account of its general excellence, the 
 Church Liturgy ; the style of which is so justly admired 
 for its remarkable union of energy with simplicity, 
 smoothness, and elegance : the following passage from 
 the Exhortation is one of the very few, which, from 
 the fault just noticed, it is difficult for a good reader to 
 deliver with spirit; "And although we ought at all 
 times humbly to acknowledge our sins before God,|] 
 yet ought we most chiefly so to do,|| when we assemble 
 — and meet together — to render thanks for the great 
 benefits that we have received at his hands — to set forth 
 his most worthy praise, to hear his most holy word, and 
 to ask those things which are requisite and necessary — 
 as well for the body as the soul." This is evidently a 
 very loose sentence, as it might be supposed to conclude 
 at any one of the three places which are marked by 
 dashes ( — ) ; this disadvantage, however, may easily be 
 obviated by the suspension of voice, by which a good 
 reader, acquainted with the passage, would indicate that 
 the sentence was not concluded ; but the great fault is 
 the length of the last of the three principal clauses, in 
 comparison of the former two— (the conclusions of 
 which are marked|| ;) by which a dragging and heavy 
 effect is produced, and the sentence is made to appear 
 longer than it really is. This would be more manifest 
 to any one not familiar, as most are, with the passage ; 
 but a good reader of the Liturgy will find hardly any 
 sentence in it so difficult to deliver to his own satisfac- 
 tion. It is perhaps the more profitable to notice a 
 blemish occurring in a composition so well known 
 and so deservedly valued for the excellence, not only o\ 
 its sentiments, but of its language 
 
 It is a useful admonition to young writers 
 
 wmtenceF. with a view> t0 wnat has latel 3 r been Sai(J 
 
 that they should always attempt to recast I 
 
 sentence which does not please ; altering the arrange- 
 
Chap. II. § 14.] OF ENERGY. 237 
 
 merit and entire construction of it, instead of merely 
 seeking to change one word for another. This will 
 give a "great advantage in point of Copiousness also; 
 or there may be, suppose, a substantive, which, either 
 jecause it does not fully express our meaning, or for 
 some other reason, we wish to remove, but can find no 
 other to supply its place ; but the object may perhaps be 
 easily accomplished by means of a verb, adverb, or some 
 other part of speech, the substitution of which implies 
 an alteration of the construction. It is an exercise, 
 accordingly, which may be recommended as highly con- 
 ducive to the improvement of Style, to practise casting 
 a sentence into a variety of different forms. 
 
 It is evident, from what has been said, that 
 in compositions intended to be delivered, the JfffJucture 
 periodic style is much less necessary, and for the wri- 
 therefore much less suitable, than in those ter ?. nd the 
 designed for the closet. The speaker may, spe 
 in most instances, by the skilful suspension of his voice, 
 give to a loose sentence the effect of a Period : and 
 though, in both species of composition the display of 
 art is to be guarded against, a more unstudied air is 
 looked for in such as are spoken. 
 
 The study of the best Greek and Latin writers may 
 be of groat advantage towards the improvement of the 
 Style in the point concerning which [ have now been 
 treating, (for the reason lately mentioned,) as well as in 
 most others: and there is this additional advantage, 
 (which, at first sight, might appear a disadvantage,) that 
 the style of a foreign writer cannot be so closely imitated 
 as that of one in our own language : for this reason 
 there will be the less danger of falling into an obvious 
 and servile imitation.* 
 
 § 14. Antithesis has been sometimes reck- 
 oned as one form of the Period ; but it is 
 
 ♦ Bolingbroke may be noted as one of the most Periodic of Eng- 
 lish writers ; Swift and Addison (though in other respects verj 
 duRrent from each other) are among the most loose. 
 
238 ELEMENTS OF RHETORIC. [Part HI 
 
 evident that, according to the view here taken, it has no 
 necessary connexion with it. One clause may be op- 
 posed to another, by means of some contrast between 
 corresponding words in each, whether or not the clauses 
 be so connected that the former could not, by itself, be 
 a complete sentence. Tacitus, who is one of the most 
 Antithetical, is at the same time one of the least Perio- 
 dic, of all the Latin writers. 
 
 There can be no doubt that this figure is calculated 
 to add greatly to Energy. Every thing is rendered 
 more striking by contrast ; and almost every kind of 
 subject-matter affords materials for contrasted expres- 
 sions. Truth is opposed to error; wise conduct to 
 foolish ; different causes often produce opposite effects ; 
 different circumstances dictate to prudence opposite con- 
 duct ; opposite impressions may be made by the same 
 object, on different minds ; and every extreme is op- 
 posed both to the Mean, and to the other extreme. If, 
 therefore, the language be so constructed as to contrast 
 together these opposites, they throw light on each other 
 by a kind of mutual reflection, and the view thus pre- 
 sented will be the more striking. 
 Antithesis % tn ^ s means also we may obtain, con 
 conducive sistently with Perspicuity, a much greater 
 to concise- degree of Conciseness ; which in itself is so 
 conducive to Energy ; e. g. " When Reason 
 is against a man, he will be against Reason ;"* it would 
 be hardly possible to express this sentiment not An- 
 tithetically, so as to be clearly intelligible, except in a 
 much longer sentence. Again, " Words are the Coun- 
 ters of wise men, and the Money of fools ;"* here we 
 have an instance of the combined effect of Antithesis 
 and Metaphor in producing increased Energy, both di- 
 r ectly, and at the same time, (by the Conciseness result- 
 ing from them,) indirectly ; and accordingly in such 
 pointed and pithy expressions, we obtain the gratifica- 
 tion which, as Aristotle remarks, results from " the act 
 
 * Hobbes 
 
Chap. II. § 14.] OF ENERGY 23ft 
 
 of learning quickly and easily." The Antithetical ex- 
 pression, "Party is the madness of many, for the gain 
 of a few," affords an instance of this construction in a 
 sentence which does not contain two distinct clauses. 
 So also " A Proverb is the wisdom of many, and the 
 wit of one." 
 
 Frequently the same words, placed in different rela- 
 tions with each other, will stand in contrast to them- 
 selves ; as in the expression, "A fool with judges; 
 among fools, a judge ;"* and in that given by Quinc- 
 tilian, " -non ut edam vivo, sed ut vivam edo ;" " I do 
 not live to eat, but eat to live ;" again, *.« Persecution is 
 not wrong because it is cruel ; but it is cruel because 
 it is wrong :"f and again, in the beautiful lines, from 
 the Arabic, by Sir W. Jones: 
 
 " On Parent knees, a naked new-born child 
 Weeping thou sat'st while all around thee smil'd ; 
 So live, that sinking on thy last long sleep, 
 Thou then may'st smile, while all around thee weep." 
 
 All of these are instances also of perfect Antithesis, 
 without Period ; for each of these sentences might, 
 grammatically, be concluded in the middle. So also, 
 "It is [indeed] a just maxim, that honesty is the best 
 policy ; but he who is governed by that maxim is not 
 an honest man." This Antithetical sentence is or is not 
 a Period, according as the word "indeed" is inserted 
 or omitted. Of the same kind is an expression n\ a 
 Speech of Mr. Wyndham's, " Some contend that I dig- 
 approve of this plan, because it is not my own ; it would 
 be more correct to say, that it is not my own, because I 
 disapprove it."$ 
 
 The use of Antithesis has been censured by some, as 
 Hi it were a paltry and affected decoration, unsuitable to 
 a chaste, natural and masculine style. Pope, accord- 
 
 * Cowper. f Romish Errors, chap. v. § 3. 
 
 \ Great pointedness and force is added to the argument from con 
 ».-ort'e« (part i. chap. ii. § 6.) by the antithetical form of expression 
 Bee note to part iv. chap. iv. ^ 1. 
 
240 ELEMENTS OF RHETORIC. [Part III 
 
 ingly, himself one of the most antithetical of our wn 
 Cers, speaks of it, in the Duneiad, with contempt : 
 
 " I see a Chief, who leads my chosen sons, 
 All arm'd with Points, Antitheses, and Puns." 
 
 Caution The excess > indeed, of this style, by be- 
 
 against ex- traying artifice, effectually destroys Energy ; 
 Ant'th ' an( ^ draws °ff ^ ie attention, even of those 
 who are pleased with effeminate glitter, from 
 the matter, to the style. But, as Dr. Campbell observes, 
 " the excess itself into which some writers have fallen 
 is an evidence of its value — of the lustre and emphasis 
 which Antithesis is calculated to give to the expression. 
 There is no risk ot intemperance in us ; ng a liquor which 
 has neither spirit nor flavour." 
 
 It is, of course, impossible to lay down precise rules 
 for determining, what will amount to excess, in the use 
 of this, or of any other figure : the great safeguard will 
 be the formation of a pure taste, by the study of the 
 most chaste writers, and unsparing self-correction. ■ But 
 one rule always to be observed in respect to the antithe- 
 tical construction, is to remember that in a true Antithe- 
 sis the opposition is always in the ideas expressed. 
 Some writers abound with a kind of mock-antithesis, in 
 which the same, or nearly the same sentiment which is 
 expressed by the first clause, is repeated in a second ; or 
 at least, in which there is but little of real contrast be- 
 tween the clauses which are expressed in a contrasted 
 form. This kind of style not only produces disgust in- 
 stead of pleasure, when once the artifice is detected, 
 which it soon must be, bi t also, instead of the brevity 
 and vigour resulting from true Antithesis, labours under 
 the fault of prolixity and heaviness. Sentences which 
 might have been expressed as simple ones, are expand- 
 ed into complex, by the addition of clauses, which ado 
 little or nothing to the sense ; and which have been com- 
 pared to the false handles and keyholes with which fur- 
 niture is decorated, that serve no other purpose than to 
 
Chap. II. § 14.] OF ENERGY 24, 
 
 correspond to the real ones. Much of Dr. Johnson's 
 writing is chargeable with this fault. 
 
 Bacon, in his Rhetoric, furnishes, in his common- 
 places, (t. e. heads of Arguments, pro and contra, on a 
 variety of subjects,) some admirable specimens of com- 
 pressed and striking Antitheses ; many of which are 
 worthy of being enrolled among the most approved pro- 
 verbs ; e. g. " He who dreads new remedies, must abide 
 old evils." " Since thing? alter for the worse sponta- 
 neously, if they be not altered for the better designedly, 
 what end will there be of the evil ?" " The humblest 
 of the virtues the vulgar praise, the middle ones they 
 admire, of the highest they have no perception:" &c* 
 
 It will not unfrequently happen that an Antithesis 
 Antithesis may be even more happily ex- without 
 pressed by the sacrifice of the Period, if the P enod - 
 clauses are by this means made of a more convenient 
 length, and a resting-place provided at the most suita- 
 ble point : e. g. " The persecutions undergone by the 
 Apostles, furnished both a trial to their faith, and a con- 
 firmation to ours: — a trial to them, because if human 
 honours and rewards had attended them, they could not, 
 even themselves, have been certain that these were not 
 their object ; and a confirmation to us, because they 
 would not have encountered such sufferings in the cause 
 of imposture." If this sentence were not broken as it 
 is, but compacted into a Period, it would have more 
 heaviness of effect, though it would be rather shorter . 
 e. g. " The persecutions undergone hy the Apostles, 
 furnished both a trial of their faith, since if human hon- 
 ours, &c. &c., and also a confirmation of ours, because," 
 &c. Universally, indeed, a complex sentence, whether 
 antithetical or not, will often have a degree of spirit and 
 liveliness from the latter clause being made to turn back, 
 as it were, upon the former, by containing or referring 
 to, some word that had there been mentioned : e. g. 
 * The introducers of the now-established principles of 
 
 Sec Appendix, [A] for some additional specimens 
 19 
 
24S ELEMENTS OF RHETORIC. [Part HI. 
 
 Political-economy may fairly be considered to have made 
 a great discovery ; a discovery the more creditable, from 
 the circumstance that the facts on which it was founded 
 had long been well-known to all." This kind of style 
 also may, as well as the Antithetical, prove offensive if 
 carried to such an excess as to produce an appearance 
 of affectation or mannerism. 
 
 § 15. Lastly, to the Speaker especially, 
 gation°' ^ e occasional employment of the interroga- 
 tive form, will often prove serviceable with a 
 view to Energy. It calls the hearer's attention more 
 forcibly to some important point, by a personal appeal 
 to each individual, either to assent to what is urged, or 
 to frame a reasonable objection ; and it often carries 
 with it an air of triumphant defiance of an opponent to 
 refute the argument if he can. Either the Premiss* or 
 the Conclusion, or both, of any argument, may be sta- 
 ted in this form ; but it is evident, that if it be introduced 
 too frequently, it will necessarily fail of the object of 
 directing a particular attention to the most important 
 points. To attempt to make every thing emphatic, is 
 to make nothing emphatic. The utility, however, of 
 this figure, to the Orator at least, is sufficiently estab- 
 lished by the single consideration, that it abounds in the 
 Speeches of Demosthenes. 
 
 Chap. III.— Of Elegance. 
 
 § 1. On the last quality of Style to be noticed — Ele- 
 gance or Beauty — it is the less necessary to enlarge, 
 both because the most appropriate and characteristic 
 excellence of the class of compositions here treated of, 
 is, that Energy of which [ have been speaking ; and 
 
 * The interrogative form Is particularly suitable to the minor 
 
 E remiss of a Dilemma, because that does not categorically assert, 
 ut leaves an opponent his choice of several alternatives See Lo 
 glc, Supp. to part iii. ^ 5. 
 
G.4P. IIT. § 2.] OF ELEGANCE. 243 
 
 also, because many of the rules lair, down under that 
 head, are equally applicable with a view to Elegance. 
 The same Choice, Number, and Arrangement of words, 
 will, foi the most par., conduce both to Ener- E i egance 
 gy, and to Beauty. The two qualities, how- and Energy 
 ever, are by no means undistinguishable : a not the 
 Metaphor, for instance, may be apt, and 
 striking, and consequently conducive to Energy of ex 
 pression, even though the new image, introduced by it, 
 have no intrinsic beauty, or be even unpleasant ; in 
 which case it would be at variance with Elegance, or 
 at least would not conduce to it. Elegance requires that 
 all homely and coarse words and phrases should be 
 avoided, even at the expense of circumlocution ; though 
 they may be the most apt and forcible that language 
 can supply. And Elegance implies a smooth and e^sy 
 flow of words in respect of the sound of the sentences ; 
 though a more harsh and abrupt mode of expression 
 may often be, at least, equally energetic. 
 
 Accordingly, many are generally acknowledged to be 
 forcible writers, to whom no one would give the credit 
 of Elegance ; and many others, who are allowed to be 
 elegant, are yet by no means reckoned among the vig- 
 orous and energetic. 
 
 § 2. When the two excellencies of Style 
 are at variance, the general rule to be ob- on^ne^. 
 served.by the orator is to prefer the energetic 
 to the elegant. Sometimes, indeed, a uJain or even a 
 somewhat homely expression, may have even a more 
 energetic effect, from that very circumstance, than one 
 of more studied refinement ; since it may convey the 
 idea of the speaker's being thoroughly in earnest, and 
 anxious to convey his sentiments, where he uses an 
 expression that can have no other recommendation; 
 whereas a strikingly elegant expression may sometimes 
 convey a suspicion that it was introduced for the sake 
 of its Elegance ; which will greatly diminish the force 
 wf what is said Th« appearance of a too uniform 
 
244 ELEMENTS OF RHETORIC. [Part III 
 
 elegance or stateliness of style, is apt to cloy ; like a 
 piece of music without any discords. 
 
 Universally, a writer or speaker should 
 afif one S endeavour to maintain the appearance of ex* 
 had some- pressing himself, not, as if he wanted to say 
 thing to something, but as if he had something to say : 
 i e. not as if he had a subject set him, and 
 was anxious to compose the best essay or declamation 
 on it that he could ; but as if he had some ideas to 
 which he was anxious to give utterance ; — not as if he 
 wanted to compose (for instance) a sermon, and was 
 desirous of performing that task satisfactorily ; but as 
 if there was something in his mind which he was de- 
 sirous of communicating to his hearers. 
 
 It is an admonition which probably will give offence 
 to some, and excite the scorn of others, but which I can- 
 not but think may sometimes prove useful to a young 
 preacher, that he should ask himself, at the beginning, 
 and in the course of his composition, "for what pur- 
 pose am I going to preach ? Wherein would any one 
 be a loser if I were to keep silence ? Is it likely that 
 any one will learn something he was ignorant of, or be 
 reminded forcibly of something he had forgotten, or that 
 something he was familiar with shall be set before him 
 in a new and striking point of view, or that some diffi- 
 culty will have been explained, or some confused ideas 
 rendered clear ; or, in short, that I shall at all have ed- 
 ified any one ? Let it not be said, that [ preached be- 
 cause there was to be a Sermon, and concluded when 1 
 had said enough to — occupy the requisite time ;* careful 
 only to avoid any thing thing that could excite censure, 
 and content to leave the hearers just as I found them. 
 Let me not be satisfied with the thousandth iteration of 
 common-places, on the ground that it is all very true, 
 and that it is the fault of the congregation if they do not 
 believe and practise it; for all this is eqvally the cas8 
 whether I preach or not ; and if all I say is what they 
 * See aboye, Part iii. chap 1. § o. 
 
Chap. Ill § 2.] OF ELEGANCE. 245 
 
 not only knew before, but had heard in the same trite 
 and general statements an hundred times before, I might 
 as well hold my peace. 1 ought not to be considering 
 merely whether these arguments — motives doctrines, 
 &c, are themselves likely to produce an effect; but 
 whether my urging them will be likely to make any 
 difference as to the effect. Am I then about to preach 
 merely because I want to say something, or because 1 
 have something to say ?" 
 
 It is true, a man cannot expect constant success in his 
 endeavours ; but he is not very likely to succeed in any 
 thing that is not even the object of his endeavours. 
 
 This speaking as if one had something to say, is 
 probably what Bp. Butler means by the expression of 
 a man's writing " with simplicity and in earnest." His 
 manner has this advantage, though it is not only inele- 
 gant, but often obscure : Dr. Paley's is equally earnest, 
 and very perspicuous : and though often homely, is 
 more impressive than that of many of our most polished 
 writers. It is easy to discern the prevalence of these 
 two different manners in different authors, respectively, 
 and to perceive the very different effects produced by 
 them ; it is not so easy for one who is not really wri- 
 ting "■ with simplicity and in earnest," to assume the 
 appearance of it.* But certainly nothing is more ad- 
 verse to this appearance than over refinement. Any 
 expression indeed that is vulgar, in bad taste, and un- 
 suitable to the dignity of the subject, or of the occasion, 
 is to be avoided ; since, though it might have, with 
 some hearers, an energetic effect, this would be more 
 than counter-balanced by the disgust produced in 
 others ; and where a small accession of Energy is to be 
 gained at the expense of a great sacrifice of Elegance, 
 the latter will demand a preference. But still, the gen- 
 eral rule is not to be lost sight of by him who is in ear- 
 nest aiming at the true ultimate end of the Orator, to 
 
 * This may be one reason why wx* Author's notes are oftea more 
 iFpirited and more interesting than the rest of his work. 
 
246 ELEMENTS OF KIIErOiCC. [Part III 
 
 which all others are to he made subservient; viz. not 
 the arim semenl oi In- hearers, nor their admiration of 
 himself, but their Conviction or Persuasion 
 
 1 1 is from this view of the subject that I have dwei: 
 most mi that quality of style which seems most espe- 
 cially adapted to that object! Perspicuity is required in 
 all compositions; ami rnaj even be considered as the 
 ultimate end of a Scientific writer, considered as such. 
 1 [e may indeed practically increase his utility by writing 
 o a to excite curiosity, and recommend his subject to 
 general attention ; but id doing so, he is, in Borne degree, 
 superadding the office of the Orator to his own ; as a 
 Philosopher, he may assume' the existence in bis reader 
 of a desire for knowledge, and has only to convey that 
 knowledge in language that may be clearly understood 
 of the style of the Orator, (in the wide sense in which 
 
 I have Seen using this appellation, as including all 
 
 who are aiming at Conviction,) the appropriate object 
 
 ifl to impress the meaning strongly upon men's minds. 
 
 Of the Poet, again, as such,* the ultimate end is to give 
 "pleasure; and accordingly Elegance or Beauty (in the 
 
 most extensive sense of those terms) will be the appro- 
 priate qualities of his language. 
 
 $ :*. Some indeed have contended, that to 
 
 B t e ^ ut (juf tf lV0 l'l ( ' :islll,! ' s not the ultimate end of 
 
 appropriate l'oetry;|- not distinguishing between the 
 onaracter object which the Poet may have in new, as a 
 SicSfon. wan > :iml ,hal u llH ■■'' ,s the objectof Poetry, 
 
 BS Poetry. Many, DO doubt, may have pro- 
 posed to themselves the far more important objectof 
 
 producing moral improvement in their hearers through 
 the medium of Poetry; and so have others, the incul- 
 cation of their own political or philosophical tenets; 01. 
 
 (as is supposed in the case of the Georgics,) the encou- 
 ragement of Agriculture. But if the views of tha 
 
 » Sec Biihop Copleiton'i Lecture on Poetry. 
 
 \ Supported la lome degree by the authority of Horace . 
 
 J&Utpro&ttt* rolitut, ant dclcclare I'oclir. 
 
Chai>. III. § 3.] OF ELEGANCE. 247 
 
 individual are to be taken into account, it should be 
 considered that the personal fame or emolument of the 
 author is very frequently his ultimate object. The true 
 test is easily applied : that which to competent judges 
 affords the appropriate pleasure of Poetry, is good 
 poetry, whether it answer any other purpose or not . 
 that which does not afford this pleasure, however 
 instructive it may be, is not good Poetry, though it may 
 be a valuable work. 
 
 It may be doubted, however, how far these _ . 
 
 , * 1.1 ,' .• Poetry not 
 
 remarks apply to the question respecting constituted 
 Beauty of style ; since the chief gratification such by the 
 afforded by Poetry arises, it may be said, thou s hts - 
 from the beauty of the thoughts. And undoubtedly if 
 these be mean and common-place, the Poetry will be 
 worth little ; but still, it is not any quality of the 
 thoughts that constitutes Poetry. Notwithstanding all 
 that has been advanced by some French critics,* to 
 prove that a work, not in metre, may be a Poem, 
 (which doctrine was partly derived from a misinterpre- 
 tation of a passage in Aristotle's Poetics.]) universal 
 opinion has always given a contrary decision. Any 
 composition in verse, (and none that is not,) is always 
 called, whether good or bad, a Poem, by all who have 
 no favourite hypothesis to maintain. It is indeed a 
 common figure of speech to say, in speaking of any 
 work that is deficient in the qualities which Poetry 
 ought to exhibit, that it is not a Poem ; just as we say 
 of one who wants the characteristic excellences of the 
 species, or the sex, that he is not a man :% and thus 
 some have been led to confound together the appro- 
 priate excellence of the thing in question, with its 
 
 * Sec Preface to "Telemaque." 
 
 t ViXoi \6yoi has been erroneously interpreted language without 
 metre, in a pasage where it certainly means metre without music; 
 »r, os he calls it in another passage of the same work, \^i\o^tjpia- 
 
 \ " I dare do all that may become a man ; 
 Who dares do more, is ->iona "—Macbeth. 
 
248 ELEMENTS OF RHETORIC. [Part ill 
 
 essence;* but the use of such an expression as, an 
 " indifferent " or a " dull Poem," shows plainly that 
 the title of Poetry does not necessarily imply the re- 
 quisite Beauties of Poetry. 
 
 . . Poetry is not distinguished from Prose by 
 
 ?f roe.?ry 0n superior Beauty of thought or of expression, 
 and Prose, but is a distinct kind of composition ;f and 
 they produce, when each is excellent in its 
 kind, distinct kinds of pleasure. Try the experiment, of 
 merely breaking up the metrical structure of a fine Poem, 
 and you will find it injlated and bombastic Prose :$ remove 
 this defect by altering the words and the arrangement, 
 and it will be better Prose than before ; then, arrange 
 this again into metre, without any other change, and it 
 will be tame and dull Poetry ; but still it will be Poetry, 
 as is indicated by the very censure it will incur ; for if 
 it were not, there would be no fault to be found with it ; 
 since while it remained Prose, it was (as w T e have sup- 
 posed) unexceptionable. The circumstance that the 
 
 * It is, perhaps, hardly necessary to remark that I do not mean to 
 employ the word " essential " in a sense which it sometimes bears, 
 viz. important. The essential circumstance in " Fresco-painting," 
 is that the colours are laid on wet plaister 5 in an " oil painting," 
 that they shall have been mixed in oils; in an "etching," that 
 aqua fortis shall have been employed ; &c. But no one would be 
 understood to mean by this, that these circumstances are of more 
 consequence (and in that sense more essential) than the display of the 
 artist's genius. So, in the present case, the beauty of the thoughts 
 is a more important and, in that sense, a more essential circum 
 stance, than metre. 
 
 f I wish it to be observed, that I am not defending or seeking 
 to introduce any unusual or new sense of the word Poetry ; but, oiv 
 the contrary, explaining and vindicating that which is the most 
 customary among all men who have no particular theory to sup 
 port. The mass of mankind often need, indeed, to have the mean- 
 ing of a word (t. e their own meaning) explained and developed , 
 but not to have it determined what it shall mean, since that is de- 
 termined by their use ; the true sense of each word being, thai 
 which is understood by it. 
 
 f Hence the impropriety of the practice, by no means uncommon, 
 of learning a language from its poetry. It is like learning Botany 
 in a flower garden ; which is filled with what are, to the Botanist's 
 eye, beautiful monsters ; — every variety of curious and ornamental 
 deviation from the simple forms. 
 
Chap. Ill § 4.] OF ELEGANCE. 249 
 
 same style which was even required in one kind of com- 
 position, proved offensive in the other, shows that a 
 different kind of language is suitable for a composition 
 in metre. 
 
 Another indication of the essential differ- 
 ence between the two kinds of composition, Poetry not 
 and of the superior importance of the expres- ^ s ata * 
 sion in Poetry, is, that a good translation of 
 a Poem, (though, perhaps, strictly speaking, what is so 
 called is rather an imitation,*) is read by one well-ac- 
 quainted with the original, with equal or even superior 
 pleasure to that which it affords to one ignorant of that 
 original ; whereas the best translation of a Prose-work, 
 (at least of one not principally valued for beauty of 
 style,) will seldom be read by one v familiar with the 
 original. And for the same reason, a fine passage of 
 Poetry will be re-perused, with unabated pleasure, for 
 the twentieth time, even by one who knows it by 
 heart, f 
 
 According to the views here taken, good Poetry 
 might be defined, " Elegant and decorated language, 
 in metre, expressing such and such thoughts;" and 
 good Prose -composition " such and such thoughts ex- 
 pressed in good language ;" that which is primary in 
 each, being subordinate in the other. 
 
 § 4. What has been said may be iiiustra- Analogy 
 ted as fully, not as it might be, but as is suit- between 
 able to the present occasion, by the follow- poetry™* 
 tng passages from Dr. A. Smith's admirable Walking 
 fragment of an Essay on the Imitative arts ? n £ § &nc ' k 
 " Were I to attempt to discriminate between ^ U g, and* 
 Dancing and any other kind of movement, singing. 
 
 * And accordingly it should be observed, that, as all admit, none 
 Cut a poet can be qualified to translate a poem, 
 t Hence it is that the want of complete Perspicuity (such t. e. as 
 
 fiuts the reader instantly in possession of the whole sense) is a faj 
 ess fault in poetry than in prose. For poetry, if it be worth read' 
 ing at all, is worth reading over and over ; which it willbe, if it be 
 sufficiently intelligible, on a first perusal, to excite vivid and 
 pleasing emotions. 
 
 20 
 
250 ELEMENTS OF RHETORIC. [Part III 
 
 1 should observe, that though in performing any ordi 
 nary action — in walking, for example, across the room, 
 a person may manifest both grace and agility, yet if he 
 betrays the least intention of showing either, he is sure 
 of offending more or less, and we never fail to accuse 
 him of some degree of vanity and affectation. In the 
 performance of any such ordinary action, every one 
 wishes to appear to be solely occupied about the proper 
 purpose of the action ; if he means to show either grace 
 or agility, he is careful to conceal that meaning ; and 
 in proportion as he betrays it, which he almost always 
 does, he offends. In Dancing, on the contrary, every 
 one professes and avows, as it were, the intention of 
 displaying some degree either of grace or of agility, or 
 of both. The display of one or other, or both of these 
 qualities, is, in reality, the proper purpose of the action ; 
 and there can never be any disagreeable vanity or affec- 
 tation in following out the proper purpose of any action 
 When we say of any particular person, that he gives 
 himself many affected airs and graces in Dancing, we 
 mean either that he exhibits airs and graces unsuitable 
 to the nature of the dance, or that he exaggerates those 
 which are suitable. Every Dance is, in reality, a suc- 
 cession of airs and graces of some kind or other, which, 
 if f may say so, profess themselves to be such. The 
 steps, gestures, and motions which, as it were, avow the 
 intention of exhibiting a succession of such airs and 
 graces, are the steps, gestures, and motions which are 
 peculiar to Dancing. * * * The distinction between the 
 sounds or tones of Singing, and those of Speaking, 
 seems to be of the same kind with that between the 
 steps, &c. of Dancing, and those of any other ordinary 
 action. Though in Speaking a person may show a 
 very agreeable tone of voice, yet if he seems to intend 
 to show it — if he appears to listen to the sound of his 
 own voice, and, as it were, to tune it into a pleasing 
 modulation, he never fails to offend, as guilty of a most 
 disagreeable affectation. In Speaking, as in every othei 
 
Chap. III. § 4.] OF ELEGANCE. 251 
 
 ordinary action, we expect and require that tne speaker 
 should attend only to the proper purpose of the action- 
 trie clear and distinct expression of what he has to say 
 In Singing, on the contrary, every one professes the 
 intention to please by the tone and cadence ol his voice ; 
 and he not only appears to be guilty of no disagreeable 
 affectation in doing so, but we expect and require that 
 he should do so. To please b) r the Choice and Ar- 
 rangement of agreeable sounds, is the proper purpose of 
 all music, vocal as well as instrumental ; and we always 
 expect that every one should attend to the proper pur- 
 pose of whatever action he is performing. A person 
 may appear to sing 1 , as well as to dance, affectedly ; he 
 may endeavour to please by sounds and tones which 
 are unsuitable to the nature of the song, or he may 
 dwell too much on those which are suitable to it. The 
 disagreeable affectation appears to consist always, not 
 in attempting to please by a proper, but by some im- 
 proper modulation of the voice." It is only necessary 
 to add, (what seems evidently to have been in the au- 
 thor's mind, though the Dissertation is left unfinished,) 
 that Poetry has the same relation to Prose, as Dancing 
 to Walking, and Singing to Speaking ; and that what 
 has been said of them, will apply exactly, mutatis mu- 
 tandis, to the other. It is needless to state this at length ; 
 as any one, by going over the passages just cited, 
 merely substituting for " Singing," " Poetry," — for 
 •' Speaking," " Prose,"— for " Voice," " Language," 
 &c will at once perceive the coincidence.* 
 
 What. has been said will not be thought an unneces- 
 sary digression, by any one who considers (not to men- 
 tion the direct application of Dr. Smith's remarks, to 
 Elocution) the important principle thus established in 
 respect of the decorations of style : viz. that though it 
 
 * This probably was in Aristotle's mind when he reckoned Poetry 
 among theimitative arts ; viz. that it is imitative of Prose-composi 
 tion, in the same manner as Singing, of ordinary Speaking; and 
 Dancing, of ordinary action. 
 
252 ELEMENTS OF RHETORIC. [Part III 
 
 is possible for a poetical style to be affectedly and offen- 
 sively ornamented, yet the same degree and kind of 
 decoration which is not only allowed, but required, in 
 Verse, would in Prose be disgusting ; and that the ap~ 
 vearance of attention to the Beauty of the expression, 
 and to the Arrangement of the words, ^hich in Verse 
 is essential, is to be carefully avoided iJBProse. 
 Elegance of ^ n ^ s * nce > as ^* r Smith observes, " such 
 style in a design, when it exists, is almost always 
 prose not to betrayed ;" the safest rule is, never, during 
 of during^ ' tne act °f composition, to study Elegance, 
 the act of or think about it at all. Let an author study 
 •writing. ^ e k est moc j e ] s — m ark their beauties of style, 
 and dwell upon them, that he may insensibly catch the 
 habit of expressing himself with Elegance ; and when 
 he has completed any composition, he may revise it, 
 and cautiously alter any passage that is awkward and 
 harsh, as well as those that are feeble and obscure : but 
 let him never, while writing, think of any beauties of 
 style ; but content himself with such as may occur 
 spontaneously. He should carefully study Perspicuity 
 as he goes along ; he may also, though more cautiously, 
 aim, in like manner, at Energy ; but if he is endeavour- 
 ing after Elegance, he will hardly fail to betray that 
 endeavour; and in proportion as he does this, he will 
 be so far from giving pleasure, to good judges, that h« 
 will cfiend more than by the rudest simplicity. 
 
Part IV. 1 OF ELOCUTION 253 
 
 PART IV. 
 
 0*F ELOCUTION 
 
 Chap. I. — General Considerations relative to 
 Elocution. 
 
 § 1. On the importance of this branch, it is hardly 
 necessary to offer any remark. Few need to be told 
 that the effect of the most perfect composition may be 
 entirely destroyed, even by a Delivery which does not 
 render it unintelligible ; that one, which is inferior both 
 in matter and style, may produce, if better spoken, a 
 more powerful effect than another which surpasses it in 
 both those points ; and that even such an Elocution as 
 does not spoil the effect of what is said, may yet fall far 
 short of doing full justice to it. " What would you 
 have said," observed .^schines, when his recital of his 
 great rival's celebrated Speech on the Crown was re- 
 ceived with a burst of admiration — " what would you 
 have said, had yon heard him speak it ?" 
 
 The subject is far from having failed to engage atten- 
 tion : of the prevailing deficiency of this, more than of 
 any other qualification of a perfect Orator, many have 
 complained ; and several have laboured to remove it : 
 l>ut it may safely be asserted, that their endeavours have 
 6een, at the very best, entirely unsuccessful. Probably 
 not a single instance could be found of any one who has 
 attained, by the study of any system of instruction that 
 has hitherto appeared, a really good Delivery ; but there 
 are many — probably nearly as many as have fully tried 
 the experiment — who have by this means been totally 
 spoiled ; — who have fallen irrecoverably into an affect- 
 ed style of spouting, worse, in all respects, than their 
 
254 ELEMENTS OF RHETORIC. [Part IV 
 
 original mode of Delivery. Many accordingly have, 
 not unreasonably, conceived a disgust for the subject 
 altogether; considering it hopeless that Elocution should 
 be taught by any rules; and acquiescing in the conclu- 
 sion that it is to be regarded as entirely a gift of nature, 
 or an accidental acquirement of practice. It is to coun- 
 teract the prejudice which may result from these feel- 
 ings, that I profess in the outset a dissent from the prin- 
 ciples generally adopted, and lay claim to some degree 
 of originality in my own. Novelty affords at least an 
 opening for hope ; and the only opening, when former 
 attempts have met with total failure.* 
 Requisites § 2. The requisites of Elocution corres- 
 of Elocu- pond in great measure with those of Style : 
 tlon- Correct Enunciation, in opposition both to 
 
 indistinct utterance, and to vulgar and dialectic pronun- 
 ciation, may be considered as answering to Purity, 
 Grammatical Propriety, and absence of Obsolete or 
 otherwise Unintelligible words. These qualities, of 
 Style, and of Elocution, being equally required in com- 
 mon conversation, do not properly fall within the pro- 
 vince of Rhetoric. The three qualities, again, which 
 have been treated of, under the head of Style, viz. Per- 
 spicuity, Energy, and Elegance, may be regarded as 
 equally requisites of Elocution ; which, in order to be 
 perfect, must convey the meaning clearly, forcibly, and 
 agreeably. 
 
 Reading § 3. Before, however, I enter upon any 
 
 and Speak- separate examination of these requisites, it 
 ing * will be necessary to premise a few remarks 
 
 on the distinction between the two branches of Delivery, 
 viz. Reading aloud, and Speaking. The object of cor- 
 rect Reading is, to convey to the hearers, through the 
 medium of the ear, what is conveyed to the reader by 
 the eye; — to put them in the same situation with him 
 who has the book before him; — to exhibit to them, in 
 short, by the voice, not only each word, but also all tha 
 * This is, in substance, one of Bacon's Aphorisms. 
 
CfcAP. I. § 3.] OF ELOCUTION. 253 
 
 stops, paragraphs, italic characters, notes of interroga- 
 tion, &c* which his sight presents to him. His voice 
 seems to indicate to them, " thus and thus it is written 
 in the book or manuscript before me." Im- 
 pressive reading superadds to this, some de- r ™ a p &ng! Ve 
 gree of adaptation of the tones of voice to 
 the character of the subject, and of the style. What is 
 usually termed fine Heading seems to convey, in addi- 
 tion to these, a kind of admonition to the hearers re- 
 specting the feelings which the composition ought to 
 excite in them : it appears to say, " this deserves your 
 admiration ; — this is sublime ; — this is pathetic, &c." 
 
 But Speaking, i. e. natural speaking, when speaking 
 the Speaker is uttering his own sentiments, 
 and is thinking exclusively of them, has something in 
 it distinct from all this; it conveys, by the sounds 
 which reach the ear, the idea, that what is said is the 
 effusion of the Speaker's own mind, which he is desi- 
 rous of imparting to others. A decisive proof of which 
 is, that if any one overhears the voice of another, to 
 whom he is an utter stranger — suppose in the next room 
 — without being able to catch the sense of what is said, 
 
 * It may be said, indeed, that even tolerable reading aloud, sup 
 plies more than is exhibited by a book to the eye ; since though 
 italics, e. g. indicate which word is to receive the emphasis, they 
 do not point out the tone in which it is to be pronounced ; which 
 may be essential to the right understanding of the sentence ; «. g. 
 in such a sentence as in Genesis i. " God said, Let there be light ; 
 and there was light :" here we can indicate indeed to the eye that 
 the stress is to be upon "was;" but it maybe pronounced in dif- 
 ferent tones ; one of which would alter the sense, by implying 
 that there was light already. 
 
 This is true indeed ; and it is also true, that the very words them 
 selves are not always presented to the eye with the same distinc 
 tions as are to be conveyed to the ear ; as, t. g. " abuse," " refuse, '- 
 " project," and many others, are pronounced differently, as nouns 
 and as verbs. This ambiguity, however, in our written signs, as 
 well as the other, relative to the emphatic words, are imperfections 
 which will not mislead a moderately practised reader. My mean- 
 ing, in saying that such' reading as I am speaking of puts tha 
 hearers in the same situation as if the book were before them, is 
 to be understood on the supposition of their being able not only to, 
 read, but to read so as to take in the full sense of what is written.. 
 
258 ELEMENTS OF RHETORIC. [Part IV 
 
 he will hardly ever be for a moment at a loss to decide 
 whether he is Reading or Speaking ; and this, though 
 the hearer may not be one who has ever paid any criti- 
 cal attention to the various modulations of the human 
 voice. So wide is the difference of the tones employed 
 on these two occasions, be the subject what it may.* 
 Attention ^he difference of effect produced is pro- 
 
 eonnested portionably great : the personal sympathy 
 with sym- f e j t towards one who appears to be deliver- 
 ing his own sentiments is such, that it usu 
 ally rivets the attention, even involuntarily, though to 
 a discourse which appears hardly worthy of it. It is 
 not easy for an auditor to fall asleep while he is hear- 
 ing even perhaps feeble reasoning, clothed in indiffer- 
 ent language, delivered extemporaneously, and in an 
 unaffected style ; whereas it is common for men to find 
 a difficulty in keeping themselves awake, while listen- 
 ing even to a good dissertation, of the same length, or 
 even shorter, on a subject, not uninteresting to them, 
 when read, though with propriety, and not in a languid 
 manner And the thoughts, even of those not disposed 
 to be drowsy, are apt to wander, unless they use an ef- 
 fort from time to time to prevent it ; while on the other 
 hand it is notoriously difficult to withdraw our attention 
 even from a trifling talker of whom we are weary, and 
 to occupy the mind with reflections of its own. 
 
 Of the two branches of Elocution which have been 
 
 * " At every sentence let them ask themselves this question ; 
 How should I utter this, were I speaking it as my own immediate 
 sentiments? — I have often tried an experiment to show the great 
 difference between these two modes of utterance, the natural and 
 the artificial ; which was, that when I found a person of vivacity 
 delivering his sentiments with energy, and of course with all that 
 variety of tones which nature furnishes, I have taken occasion to 
 put something into his hand to read, as relative to the topic of con- 
 versation ; and it was surprising to see what an immediate change 
 there was in his Delivery, from the moment he began to read. A 
 different pitch of voice took place of his natural one, and a tedioua 
 uniformity of cadence succeeeded to a spirited variety ; insomuch 
 that a blind man could hardly conceive the person who read to ba 
 the same who had just been speaking." Sheridan, Jlrt of Reading 
 
Shap. I. § 4.] OF ELOCUTION. 257 
 
 just mentioned, it might, at first sight, appear as if one 
 only, that of the Speaker, came under the province of 
 Rhetoric. But it will be evident, on consideration, thai 
 both must be, to a certain extent, regarded as connected 
 with our present subject ; not merely because many of 
 the same principles are applicable to both, but because 
 any one who delivers (as is so commonly the case) a 
 written composition of his own, may be reckoned as 
 belonging to either class ; as a Reader who is the author 
 of what he reads, or as a Speaker who supplies the 
 deficiency of his memory by writing. And again, in 
 the (less common) case where a speaker is delivering 
 without book, and from memory alone, a written com- 
 position, either his own or another's, though this cannot 
 in strictness be called Reading, yet the tone of it will be 
 very likely to resemble that of Reading. In the other 
 case — that where the author is actually reading his own 
 composition, he will be still more likely, notwithstand- 
 ing its being his own, to approach in the Delivery of it 
 to the Elocution of a Reader ; and, on the other hand, it 
 is possible for him, even without actually deceiving the 
 hearers into the belief that he is speaking extempore, to 
 approach indefinitely near to that style. 
 
 The difficulty however of doing this, to one who has 
 the writing actually before him, is considerable; and it 
 is of course far greater when the composition is not his 
 own. And as it is evident from what has been said, 
 that this (as it may be called) Extemporaneous style of 
 Elocution, is much the more impressive, it becomes an 
 interesting inquiry, how the difficulty in question may 
 be best surmounted. 
 
 § 4. Little, if any, attention has been Artificial 
 bestowed on this point by the writers on style of 
 Elocution ; the distinction above pointed out Elocution - 
 between Reading and Speaking having seldom, or never, 
 been precisely stated and dwelt on. Several however 
 have writen elaborately on " good Reading," or on 
 E'jcution, generally.- and it is not to be denied, that 
 
-;j Zli: 
 
 -:. : - 
 
 .'-■ z :-.-.-. -• -— ;-•' :-.:.- . -_.:. ; _: : r ? .;. 
 
 £_:-:: - z'z: - : -t ~: '.' -. \ :-.-. : t_ ~ I 
 
 :.:. t " : . :'z .:-'. . - r . . '. i:;r:: 
 
 : 
 
 .' 
 
 - :. -.r. . .- ■ _-: .:' ":.: ^ v - ~- : -. : :::-:: ritiate crerjr 
 
 : 7- : .;:__■_ : T :~~ : .;" - ; = : I : very : iirZ^s.z 
 
 - 
 
 - : 
 
 each poBBag — .-ame ru/«s 
 
 . - 
 .\:--ir.y :.-: carefully k ::':::- Ike 
 form a complete 
 ---.-..: I ..-■.. ' 
 
 .: .-:-. ■ :-.- ::~: .-. : . \ ■- :i - ::' :: -.: very object, and even 
 produces, onener than not, e5e: 
 
 .■ 
 
 - 
 
 ■_:.: :_ _r :.: ::: :i = vr; 7:.---. •: . .-. :—;:.: :: :1t :: - 
 
 a.-.: :.^r.z ■■-7--.; k :.:• .-' i:r-~~v.-. in: 
 — :_i: ::: :~ ;:' 1.--. ^ :.r :lz--. ;- ~i::_ ;^ : . :; .•■- 
 
 - - . - - 
 n mmriMk rt stnikw eij to obser 
 
 - ■ . . 
 
 1 r. A. Smith rem:, 
 ovri utterance, which will aim : 
 
Chap. I. § i.] OF ELOCUTION. 253 
 
 the case with every one who is doing so, Excellence 
 is sure to give offence, and to be censured in matter 
 for an arlected delivery ; because every one is ^ n ^ n t de £ i " 
 expected to attend exclusively to the proper aimed at in 
 object of the action he is engaged in : which, orp- 
 in this case, is the expression of the thoughts * ajs ' 
 — not the sound of the expressions. Whoever therefore 
 learns, and endeavours to apply in practice, any artifi- 
 cial rules of Elocution, so as "deliberately to modulate 
 his voice comformably to the principles he has adopted, 
 (however just they may be in themselves,) will hardly 
 ever fail to betray his intention : which always gives 
 offence when perceived. Arguments, on the contrary, 
 m ust be deliberately framed. Whether any one's course 
 of reasoning be sound and judicious, or not, it is neces- 
 asd :: is expected, that it should be the result of 
 thought. No one, as Dr. Smith observes, is charged 
 with affectation for giving his attention to the proper 
 object of the action he is engaged in. As therefore the 
 proper object of the Orator is to adduce convincing 
 Arguments, and topics of Persuasion, there is nothing 
 offensive in his appearing deliberately to aim at this 
 object. He may indeed weaken the force of what is 
 urged by too great an appearance of elaborate compo- 
 sition, or by exciting suspicion of rhetorical trick; but 
 3 90 far from being expected to pay no attention to 
 the sense of what he says, that the most powerful argu- 
 ment would lose much of its force, if it were supposed 
 to have been thrown out casually, and at random. 
 Here therefore the employment of a regular system (if 
 founded on just principles) can produce no" such ill 
 effect as in the case of Elocution : since the habitual 
 attention which that implies, to the choice and arrange- 
 ment of arguments, is such as must take place, at anv 
 rate ; whether it be conducted on any settled principles 
 or not. The only difference is, that he who proceeds 
 on a correct system, will think and deliberate concerning 
 the course of his Reasoning, to better purpose, than ha 
 
260 ELEMENTS OF RHETORIC. [Past IV 
 
 who does not : he will do well and easily, what the 
 other does ill, and with more labour. Both alike must 
 bestow their attention on the Matter of what they say, 
 if they would produce any effect ; both are not only 
 allowed, but expected to do so. 
 
 The two opposite modes of proceeding therefore, 
 which are recommended in respect of these two points, 
 (the Argument and the Delivery.) are, in fact, both the 
 result of the same circumstance ; viz. that the speaker 
 
 expected to bestow his whole attention on the proper 
 Dusiness of his speech ; which is, not the Elocution, 
 but the Matter.* 
 
 Natural § 5- ^ nen however I protest against ail 
 
 style of artificial systems of Elocution, and all direct 
 Elocution, attention to Delivery, at the time, it must not 
 be supposed that a general inattention to that point is 
 recommended ; or that the most perfect Elocution is to 
 be attained by never thinking at all on trie subject; 
 though it may safely be affirmed that even this negative 
 plan would succeed far better than a studied modulation. 
 But it is evident that if any one wishes to assume the 
 Speaker as far as possible, i. e. to deliver a written com- 
 position with some degree of the manner and effect of one 
 that is extemporaneous, he will have a considerable diffi- 
 culty to surmount : since though this may be called, in a 
 certain sense, the Natural Manxer, it is far from being 
 what he will naturally, i. e. spontaneously, fall into. It 
 is by no means natural for any one to read as if he were 
 not reading, but speaking. And again, even when any 
 Dne is reading what he does not wish to deliver as his 
 own composition, a*, for instance, a portion of the Scrip- 
 tures, or the Liturgy, it is evident that this may be done 
 better or worse, in infinite degrees ; and that though 
 (according to the views here taken) a studied attention 
 
 * Style occupies in some respects an intermediate place between 
 these two ; in what degree each quality of it should or should not 
 be made an object of attention at the time of composing, and how far 
 the appearance of such attention is tolerated, has oeen already 
 treated of in the preceding part. 
 
Chap II § 2.] OF ELOCUTION. 261 
 
 to the sounds uttered, at the time of uttering them, leads 
 to an affected and offensive delivery, yet, on the other 
 hand, an utterly careless reader cannot be a good one 
 
 Chap. II. — Artificial and Natural Methods compared, 
 
 § 1. With a view to Perspicuity then, the 
 first requisite in all Delivery, viz. that quality ea Jns * 
 which makes the meaning fully understood by the 
 hearers, the great point is that the Reader (to confine our 
 attention for the present to that branch) should appear 
 to understand what he reads. If the composition be, 
 in itself, intelligible to the persons addressed, he will 
 make them fully understand it, by so delivering it. But 
 to this end, it is not enough that he should himself ac- 
 tually understand it ; it is possible, notwithstanding, to 
 read it as if he did not. And in like manner with a 
 view to the quality, which has been here called Energy, 
 it is not sufficient that he should himself feel, and be 
 impressed with the force of what he utters ; he may, 
 notwithstanding, deliver it as if he were unimpressed. 
 
 § 2. The remedy that has been commonly 
 proposed for these defects, is to point out in 
 such a work, for instance, as the Liturgy, which words 
 ought to be marked as emphatic — in what places the 
 voice is to be suspended, raised, lowered, &c. One of 
 the best writers on the subject, Sheridan, in his Lectures 
 on the art of Reading,* (whose remarks on many points 
 coincide with the principles here laid down, though he 
 differs from me on the main question — as to the System 
 to be practically followed with a view to the proposed 
 object,) adopts a peculiar set of marks for denoting the 
 different pauses, emphases, &c. and applied these, with 
 
 » See note, p. 256. It is to be observed, however, that most of 
 the objections I have adduced do not apply to this or that system 
 in particular ; to Sheridan's for instance, as distinguished from 
 Walker's ; but, to all such systems generally ; as may be seen 
 from what is said in the present section. 
 
262 ELEMENTS OF RHETORIC. [Part IV 
 
 accompanying explanatory observations, to the greatei 
 part of the Liturgy, and to an Essay subjoined ;* re- 
 commending that the habit should be formed of regu- 
 lating the voice by his marks; and that afterwards 
 readers should " write out such parts as they want to 
 deliver properly, without any of the usual stops; and, 
 after having considered them well, mark the pauses and 
 emphases by the new signs which have been annexed 
 to them, according to the best of their judgment," &c. 
 
 To the adoption of any such artificial scheme, there 
 are three weighty objections ; first, that the proposed 
 system must necessarily be imperfect ; secondly, that if 
 it were perfect, it would be a circuitous path to the ob- 
 ject in view ; and thirdly, that even if both those objec- 
 tions were removed, the object would not be effectually 
 obtained. 
 
 Imperfec- First, such a system must necessarily be 
 
 tionofthe imperfect; because, though the emphatic 
 artificial word in each sentence may easily be point- 
 ed out in writing, no variety of marks that 
 could be invented — not even musical notation — wouia 
 suffice to indicate the different tones] in which the 
 different emphatic words should be pronounced ; though 
 on this depends frequently the whole force, and even 
 sense of the expression. Take, as an instance, the 
 words of Macbeth in the witches' cave, when he is ad- 
 dressed by one of the Spirits which they raise, " Mac- 
 beth ! Macbeth ! Macbeth !" on which he exclaims, 
 " Had I three ears I'd hear thee ;" no one would dis- 
 pute that the stress is to be laid on the word " three;" 
 and thus much might be indicated to the reader's eye ; 
 but if he had nothing else to trust to, he might chance 
 to deliver the passage in such a manner as to be utterly 
 absurd ; for it is possible to pronounce the emphatic 
 word "three," in such a tone as to indicate that iC since 
 he has but two ears he cannot hear." Again, the fol- 
 lowing passage, (Mark iv. 21,) " Is a candle brought to 
 See Appendix, [INT.] t See Note. p. 355 
 
Chap. II. § 2.] OF ELOCUTION. 263 
 
 be put under a bushel, or under a bed," I have heard so 
 pronounced as to imply that there is no other alterna- 
 tive; and yet the emphasis was laid on the right words. 
 A would be nearly as hopeless a task to attempt ade- 
 quately to convey, by any written marks, precise direc- 
 tions as to the rate — the degree of rapidity or slowness 
 — with which each sentence and clause should be de- 
 livered. Longer and shorter pauses may indeed be 
 easily denoted ; and marks may be used, similar to those 
 in music, to indicate, generally, quick, slow, or moderate 
 time ; but it is evident that the variations which actu- 
 ally take place are infinite — far beyond what any marks 
 could suggest ; and that much of the force of what is 
 said depends on the degree of rapidity with which it is 
 uttered ; chiefly on the relative rapidity of one part in 
 comparison of another. For instance, in such a sen- 
 tence as the following, in one of the Psalms, which one 
 may usually hear read at one uniform rate ; " all men 
 that see it shall say, This hath God done ; for they shall 
 
 f)erceive that it is his work ;" the four words " this 
 lath God done," though monosyllables, ought to occupy 
 very little less time in utterance than all the rest of the 
 verse together. 
 
 2dly. But were it even possible to bring Circuitous 
 to the highest perfection the proposed sys- ness of the 
 tem of marks) it would still be a circuitous artifi cial 
 road to the desired end. Suppose it could be SJS em ' 
 completely indicated to the eye, in what tone each word 
 and sentence should be pronounced according to the se- 
 veral occasions, the learner might ask, " but why should 
 this tone suit the awful — this, the pathetic — this, the 
 narrative style ? why is this mode of delivery adopted 
 for a command — this, for an exhortation — this, for a 
 supplication ?" &c. The only answer that could be 
 given, is, that these tones, emphases, &c. are a part of 
 the language ; — that nature, or custom, which is a se- 
 cond nature, suggests spontaneously these different 
 modes of giving expression to the different thoughts, 
 
264 ELEMENTS OF RHETORIC. [Part IV 
 
 feelings, and designs, which are present to the mind of 
 any one who, without study, is speaking in earnest his 
 Dwn sentiments. Then, if this be the case, why not 
 leave nature to do her own work ? Impress but the 
 mind fully with the sentiments, &c. to be uttered ; with- 
 draw the attention from the sound, and fix it on the 
 sense ; and nature, or habit, will spontaneously suggest 
 the proper delivery. That this will be the case, is not 
 only true, but is the very supposition on which the ar- 
 tificial system proceeds ; for it professes to teach the 
 mode of delivery naturally adapted to each occasion. 
 It is surely, therefore, a circuitous path that is proposed, 
 when the learner is directed, first to consider how each 
 passage ought to be read ; i. e. what mode of delivering 
 each part of it would spontaneously occur to him, if he 
 were attending exclusively to the matter of it ; then, to 
 observe all the modulations, &c. of voice, which take 
 place in such a delivery ; then, to note these down, by 
 established marks, in writing ; and, lastly, to pronounce 
 according to these marks. This seems like recommend- 
 ing, for the purpose of raising the hand to the mouth, 
 that he should first observe, when performing that ac- 
 tion without thought of anything else, what muscles are 
 eontracted — in what degrees — and in what order ; then, 
 that he should note down these observations ; and lastly, 
 that he should, in conformity with these notes, contract 
 each muscle in due degree, and in proper order ; to the 
 end that he maybe enabled, after all, to — lift his hand to 
 his mouth ; which by supposition, he had already done 
 Such instruction is like that bestowed by Moliere's pe- 
 dantic tutor upon his Bourgeois Gentilhomme, who was 
 taught, to his infinite surprise and delight, what configu- 
 rations of the mouth he employed in pronouncing the 
 several letters of the alphabet, which he had been ac- 
 customed to utter all his life, without knowing how.* 
 
 * " QiCest-ce que vous faites quand vous prononcez O ? Mais jt 
 dis, 0!" 
 
 An answer which, if not savouring of Philosophical analysis 
 gave at least a good practical solution of the problem. 
 
Chap. II. § 3.] OF ELOCUTION. 265 
 
 3. Lastly, waiving both the above ob- 
 jections, if a person could learn thus to read Appearance 
 and speak, as it were, by note, with the same Jon Jesuit- 
 fluency and accuracy as are attainable in the ing from the 
 case of singing, still the desired object of a Jjjjjj 1 
 perfectly natural as well as correct Elocu- sys ° 
 tion, would never be in this way attained. The read- 
 er's attention being fixed on his own voice, (which in 
 singing, and there only, is allowed and expected,) the 
 inevitable consequence would be that he would betray 
 more or less his studied and artificial Delivery ; and 
 would, in the same degree, manifest an offensive arlec- 
 tation. 
 
 It should be observed, however, that, in the reading 
 of the Liturgy especially, so many gross faults are be- 
 come quite familiar to many, from what they are accus- 
 tomed to hear, if not from their own practice, as to ren- 
 der it peculiarly difficult to unlearn, or even detect them ; 
 and as an aid towards the exposure of such faults, there 
 may be great advantage in studying Sheridan's observa- 
 tions and directions respecting the delivery of it ; pro- 
 vided care be taken, in practice, to keep clear of his 
 faulty principle, by withdrawing the attention from the 
 sound of the voice, as carefully as he recommends it to 
 be directed to that point. 
 
 § 3. The practical rule then to be adopt- Natural 
 ed, in conformity with the principles here manner 
 maintained, is, not only to pay no studied h ° w to be 
 attention to the voice, but studiously to 
 withdraw the thoughts from it, and to dwell as intently 
 as possible on the Sense ; trusting to nature to suggest 
 spontaneously the proper emphases and tones. 
 
 Many persons are so far impressed with the truth of 
 the doctrine here inculcated, as to acknowledge that 
 " it is a great fault for a reader to be too much occupied 
 with thoughts respecting his own voice ; and thus they 
 think to steer a middle course between opposite extremes 
 But it should be remembered that this middle course 
 21 • 
 
266 ELEMENTS OF RHETORIC [Part IV. 
 
 entirely nullifies the whole advantage proposed by the 
 plan recommended. A reader is sure to pay too much 
 attention to his voice, not only if he pays any at all, but 
 if he does not strenuously labour to withdraw his at- 
 tention from it altogether. 
 
 He who not only understands fully what he is read- 
 ing, but is earnestly occupying his mind with the mat- 
 ter of it, will be likely to read as if he understood it, and 
 thus to make others understand it ;* and in like manner, 
 with a view to the impressiveness of the delivery, he 
 who not only feels it, but is exclusively absorbed with 
 that feeling, will be likely to read as if he felt it, and 
 to communicate the impression to his hearers. But this 
 cannot be the case if he is occupied with the thought 
 of what their opinion will be of his reading, and how his 
 voice ought to be regulated ; if, in short, he is thinking 
 of himself, and, of course, in the szme degree, abstract- 
 ing his attention from that which ought to occupy it 
 exclusively. 
 
 Tt is not, indeed, desirable, that in reading the Bible, 
 for example, or any thing which is not intended to ap- 
 pear as his own composition, he should deliver what 
 are avowedly, another's sentiments, in the same style, 
 as if they were such as arose in his own mind ; but it 
 is desirable that he should deliver them as if he were 
 reporting another's sentiments, which were both fully 
 understood, and felt in all their force by the reporter 
 
 * Who, for instance, that was really thinking of a resurrection 
 from the dead, would ever tell any one that our Lord " rose again 
 from the dead ;" (which is so common a mode of reading the creed,) 
 as if he had done so more than once 1 
 
 It is to be observed, however, that it is not enough for a readez 
 to have his mind fixed on the subject ; without regard to the occa 
 sion, &c. It is possible to read a prayer well, with the tone and 
 manner of a man %vhois not praying, i. e. addressing the Deity, but 
 addressing the audience, and reciting a form of words for their in 
 struction : and such is generally the case with those who are com- 
 mended as " fine readers " of the Liturgy. Extemporaneous prayers 
 again are generally delivered, with spirit indeed, but (after the few 
 first sentences) not as prayers, but as exhortation? to the congr* 
 gatien 
 
Chap. II. § 4.] OF ELOCUTION. 267 
 
 and the only way to do this effectually — with such 
 modulations of voice, &c. as are suitable to each word 
 and passage, is to fix his mind earnestly on the meaning, 
 and leave nature and habit to suggest the utterance. 
 § 4. Some may, perhaps, suppose that this Difficu i. 
 amounts to the same thing as taking no pains ties in the 
 at all ; and if with this impression, they at- n atural 
 tempt to try the experiment of a natural manner 
 Delivery, their ill-success will probably lead them to 
 censure the proposed method, for the failure resulting 
 from their own mistake. Jn truth, it is by no means a 
 very easy task, to fix the attention on the meaning, in 
 the manner and to the degree now proposed. The 
 thoughts of one who is reading anything very familiar 
 to him, are apt to wander to other subjects, though per- 
 haps such as are connected with that which is before 
 him ; if, again, it be something new to him, he is apt 
 (not indeed to wander to another subject, but) to get the 
 start, as it were, of his readers, and to be thinking, 
 while uttering each sentenee, not of that, but of the sen- 
 tence which comes next. And in both cases, if he is 
 careful to avoid those faults, and is desirous of reading 
 well, it is a matter of no small difficulty, and calls for 
 a constant effort to prevent the mind from wandering 
 in another direction; viz. into thoughts respecting his 
 own voice— respecting the effect produced by each sound 
 — the approbation he hopes for from the hearers, &c. 
 And this is the prevailing fault of those who are com- 
 monly said to take great pains in their reading ; pains 
 which will always be taken in vain with a view to the 
 true object to be aimed at, as long as the effort is thus 
 applied in a wrong direction. With a view, indeed, to 
 a very different object, the approbation bestowed on the 
 reading, this artificial delivery will often be more suc- 
 cessful than the natural. Pompous spouting, and many 
 other descriptions of unnatural tone and measured ca- 
 dence, are frequently admired by many as excellent 
 reading; which admiraion is itself a proof that it is 
 
268 ELEMENTS OF RHETORIC. [Part iv 
 
 not deserved ; for when the delivery is really good, the 
 hearers (except any one who may deliberately set him- 
 self to observe and criticise) never think about it, but 
 are exclusively occupied with the sense it conveys, and 
 the feelings it excites. 
 
 Advantages Still more to increase the difficulty of the 
 of imitation method here recommended, (for it is no less 
 precluded w j se than honest to take a fair view of diffi- 
 tion ofthe P " culties,) this circumstance is to be noticed, 
 natural that he who is endeavouring to bring it into 
 manner. practice, is in a great degree precluded from 
 the advantage of imitation. A person who hears and 
 approves a good reader in the Natural manner, may, 
 indeed, so far imitate him with advantage, as to adopt 
 his plan, ot fixing his attention on the matter, and not 
 thinking about his voice ; but this very plan, evidently, 
 by its nature, precludes any further imitation ; for if 
 while reading, he is thinking of copying the manner of 
 his model, he will, for that very reason, be unlike tha. 
 model ; the main principle of the proposed method be- 
 ing, carefully to exclude every such thought. Whereas 
 any artificial system may as easily be learned by imita- 
 tion as the notes of a song. 
 
 Advantages Practice, also (?'. e. private practice for the 
 of practice sake of learning) is much more difficult in 
 precluded t ne proposed method ; because, the rule be- 
 tion^the' in »> to use such a delivery as is suited, not 
 natural only to the matter of what is said, but also, 
 manner. Q f course) [ fa e pi ace an d occasion, and this, 
 not by any studied modulations, but according to the 
 spontaneous suggestions of the matter, place, and occa- 
 sion, to one whose mind is fully and exclusively occu- 
 pied with these, it follows, that he who would practise 
 this method in private, must, by a strong effort of a 
 vivid imagination, figure to himself a place and an oc- 
 casion which are not present; otherwise, he will eithei 
 be thinking of his delivery, (which is fatal to his pro- 
 posed object,) or else will ise a delivery suited to the 
 
Chap. III. § 1.] OF ELOCUTION. 269 
 
 situation in which he actually is, and not, to that for 
 which he would prepare himself. Any system, on the 
 contrary, of studied emphasis and regulation of the 
 voice, may be learned in private practice as easily as 
 
 Chap. III. — Considerations arising from the differences 
 between Reading and Speaking. 
 
 § 1. Some additional objections to the method I have 
 recommended, and some further remarks on the counter- 
 balancing advantages of it will be introduced presently, 
 when I shall have first offered some observations on 
 Speaking, and on that branch of Heading which the 
 most nearly approaches to it. 
 
 When any one delivers a written composition, of 
 which he is, or is supposed to profess himself, the au- 
 thor, he has peculiar difficulties to encounter,* if his 
 
 * It must be admitted, however, that to the members of our 
 Church) the difficulty of reading the Liturgy with spirit, and even 
 with propriety, is something peculiar, on account of (what has 
 been already remarked) the inveterate and long-established faults 
 to which almost every one's ears are become familiar ; so that such 
 a delivery as would shock any one of even moderate taste, in any 
 other composition, he will, in this, be likely to tolerate, and to 
 practise. Some, e. g- in the Liturgy, read, " have mercy xipon us, 
 miserable sinners ;" and others, " have mercy upon us, miserable 
 sinners :" both, laying the stress on a wrong word, and making 
 the pause in the wrong place, so as to disconnect " us " and " mis- 
 erable sinners ;" which the context requires us to combine. Every 
 one, in expressing his own natural sentiments, would say " have 
 mercy upon us-miserable-sinners." 
 
 Many are apt even to commit so gross an error, as to lay the 
 chief stress on the words which denote the most important things ; 
 without any consideration ol the emphatic xvord of each sentence : 
 e. g . in the Absolution, many read, " let us beseech Him to grant 
 us true repentance;" because, forsooth, "true repentance" is an 
 important thing ; not considering that, as it has been just mentioned, 
 ft is not the new idea, and that to which the attention should be 
 directed by the emphasis ; the sense being, that since God par- 
 doneth all that have true repentance, therefore, we should " beseech 
 Him to grant it to us." 
 
 Tn addition to the other difficulties of reading the Liturgy well, it 
 
270 ELEMENTS OF RHETORIC. [Part IV 
 
 object be to approach as nearly as possible to tne extem- 
 poraneous style. It is indeed impossible to produce the 
 full effect of that style, while the audience are aware 
 that the words he utters are before him : but he may 
 approach indefinitely near to such an effect ; and in pro- 
 portion as he succeeds in this object, the impression 
 Compara- produced will be the greater. It has been 
 tive advan- already remarked, how easy it is for the 
 tages of hearers to keep up their attention— indeed, 
 SmporaV how difficult for them to withdraw it— when 
 ry addres- they are addressed by one who is really 
 ses - speaking to them in a natural and earnest 
 
 manner ; though perhaps the discourse may be incum- 
 bered with a good deal of the repetition, awkwardness 
 of expression, and other faults, incident to extempora- 
 neous language; and though it be prolonged for an 
 hour or two, and yet contain no more matter than a good 
 writer could have clearly expressed in a discourse of 
 half an hour ; which last, if read to them, would not, 
 without some effort on their part, have so fully detained 
 their attention. The advantage in point of style, ar- 
 rangement, &c. of written, over extemporaneous, dis- 
 courses, (such at least as any but the most accomplish- 
 ed orators can produce,) is sufficiently evident :* and il 
 
 should be mentioned, that prayer, thanksgiving, and the like, even 
 when avowedly not of our own composition, should be delivered 
 as (what in truth they ought to be) the genuine sentiments of our 
 own minds at the moment of utterance ; which is not the case with 
 the Scriptures, or with any thing else that is read not professing 
 to be the speaker's own composition. 
 
 * Practice in public speaking generally — practice in speaking on 
 the particular subject in hand — and (on each occasion) premedita- 
 tion of the matter and arrangement, are all, circumstances of great 
 consequence to a speaker. 
 
 Nothing but a miraculous gift can supersede these advantages 
 The Apostles accordingly were forbidden to use any premeditation, 
 being assured that it " should be given them, in that same hour, 
 what they should say ;" and, when they found, in effect, this 
 promise fulfilled to them, they had experience, within themselves, 
 of a sensible miracle. This circumstance may furnish a person of 
 Bincerity with a useful test for distinguishing (in his own case) the 
 emotions of a fervid imagination, from actual inspiration. It is 
 evident that an inspired preacher can have nothing to gain from 
 
Chap. III. § 1.] OF ELOCUTION. 271 
 
 is evident also that other advantages, such as have been 
 just alluded to belong to the latter. Which is to be 
 preferred on each occasion, and by each orator, it does 
 not belong to the present discussion to inquire ; but it 
 's evidently of the highest importance, to combine, as 
 far as possible, in each case, the advantages of both. 
 
 A perfect familiarity with the rules laid down in the 
 First Part of this Treatise, would be likely, it is hoped, 
 to give the extemporaneous orator that habit of quickly 
 methodizing his thoughts on a given subject, which is 
 essential (at least where no very long premeditation is 
 allowed) to give to a speech something of the weight of 
 argument, and clearness of arrangement, which charac- 
 terize good Writing.* In order to attain the correspond- 
 ing advantage— to impart to the delivery of a written 
 discourse, something of the vivacity and interesting ef- 
 fect of real, earnest, speaking, the plan to be pursued, 
 conformably with the principles I have been maintain- 
 ing, is, for the reader to draw off his mind as much as 
 possible from the thought that he is reading, as well as 
 from all thought respecting his own utterance ; — to fix 
 his mind as earnestly as possible on the matter, and to 
 strive to adopt as his own, and as his own at the moment 
 of utterance, every sentiment he delivers ; — and to say 
 it to the audience, in the manner which the occasion 
 and subject spontaneously suggest to him who has ab- 
 stracted his mind both from all consideration of himself, 
 and from the consideration that he is reading. 
 
 practice, or study of any kind : he, therefore, who finds himself 
 improve bv practice, either in Argument, Style, or Delivery— or 
 who observes that he speaks more fluently and better, on subjects 
 on which he has been accustomed to speak — or better with premedi- 
 tation, than on a sudden, may indeed deceive his hearers by a pre 
 tence to inspiration, but can'hardly deceive himself. 
 
 * Accordingly, it may be remarked, that, (contrary to what 
 might at first sight be supposed,) though the preceding parts, as 
 well as the present, are intended for general application, yet it is 
 to the extemporary speaker that the rules laid down in the former 
 part (supposing them correct) will be the most peculiarly useful 
 while the suggestions offered in this last, respecting Elocution, are 
 more especially designed for the use of the reader 
 
272 ELEMENTS OF RHETORIC. [Part IV 
 
 Most men § 2 - The advantage of this Natural 
 speak well Manner, (t. e. the manner which- one natu- 
 
 d^s C °urTe° n ra ^ ^ a ^ s * nt0 w ^° ^ s rea ^!/ speaking, in 
 earnest, and with a mind exclusively intent 
 on what he has to say,) may be estimated from this 
 consideration ; that there are few who do not speak so 
 as to give effect to what they are saying. Some, indeed, 
 do this much better than others : — some have, in ordi- 
 nary conversation, an indistinct 01 incorrect pronuncia- 
 tion — an embarrassed and hesitating utterance, or a bad 
 choice of words : but hardly any one fails to deliver 
 (when speaking earnestly) what he does say, so as to 
 convey the sense and the force of it, much more com- 
 pletely than even a good reader would, if those same 
 words were written down and read. The latter might, 
 indeed, be more approved; but that is not the present 
 question ; which is, concerning the imp?-ession made on 
 the hearer's minds. It is not the polish of the blade, 
 that is to be considered, or the grace with which it is 
 brandished, but the keenness of the edge, and the weight 
 of the stroke. 
 
 There is, indeed, a wide difference between different 
 men, in lespect of the degrees of impressiveness with 
 w T hich, in earnest conversation, they deliver their 
 sentiments; but it may safely be laid down, that he 
 who delivers a written composition with the same 
 degree of spirit and energy with which he would natu- 
 rally speak on the same subject, has attained, not indeed, 
 necessarily, absolute perfection, but the utmost excel- 
 lence attainable by him. Any attempt to outdo his 
 own Natural manner, will inevitably lead to something 
 worse than failure. 
 
 On the contrary, it can hardly be denied that the 
 elocution of most readers, even when delivering their 
 own compositions, is such as to convey the notion, at 
 the very best, not that the preacher is expressing his 
 own real sentiments, but that he is making known to 
 his audience what is written in the book before him 
 
Chap. in. § 3.] OF ELOCUTION. 273 
 
 and, whether the composition is professedly the reader's 
 own, or not, the usual mode of deliv jry, though grave 
 and decent, is so remote from the energetic style of real 
 Natural Speech, as to furnish, if one may so speak, a 
 kind of running comment on all that is uttered, which 
 says, " I do not mean, think, or feel, all this ; I only 
 mean to recite it with propriety and decorum:" and 
 what is usually called fine Reading, only superadds to 
 this, (as has been above remarked,) a kind of admoni- 
 tion to the hearers, that they ought to believe, to feel, 
 and to admire, what is read. 
 
 § 3. It is easy to anticipate an objection 
 which many will urge against what they SSSnot 
 will call, a colloquial style of delivery ; viz. to be con 
 that it is indecorous, and unsuitable to the founded 
 solemnity of a serious, and especially, of femtEar 
 a religious discourse. The objection is 
 founded on a mistake. Those who urge it, derive all 
 their notions of a Natural Delivery from two, irrelevant, 
 instances ; that of ordinary conversation, the. usual 
 subjects of which, and consequently its usual tone, are 
 comparatively ngnt ; — anu, mat of tne coarse ana extra- 
 vagant rant of vulgar fanatical preachers. But to 
 conclude that the objections against either of these 
 styles, would apply to the Natural delivery of a man 
 of sense and taste, speaking earnestly, on a serious 
 subject, and on a solemn occasion — or that he would 
 naturally adopt, and is here advised to adopt, such a 
 style as those objected to, is no less absurd than, if any 
 one, being recommended to walk in a natural and 
 unstudied manner, rather than in a dancing step, (to 
 employ Dr. A. Smith's illustration,) or a formal march, 
 should infer that the natural gait of a clown following 
 the plough, or of a child in its gambols, were proposed 
 as models to be imitated in walking across a room 
 Should any one, on being told that both tragic-acting 
 and comic-acting ought to be a natural representation 
 of man, interpret this to mean, that Tragedy ought to 
 
274 ELEMENTS OF RHETORIC. [Part I V 
 
 be performed exactly like Comedy, he would be thought 
 very absurd, if he were supposed to be speaking seri- 
 ously. It is evident, that what is natural in one case, 
 or for one person, may be, in a diffeient one, very 
 unnatural. It would not be by any means natural to 
 an educated and sober-minded man, to speak like an 
 illiterate enthusiast; or to discourse on the most 
 important matters in the tone of familiar conversation 
 respecting the trifling occurrences of the day. Any one 
 who does but notice the style in which a man of ability, 
 and of good choice of words, and utterance, delivers 
 his sentiments in private, when he is, for instance, 
 earnestly and seriously admonishing a friend — defend- 
 ing the truths of religion — or speaking on any other 
 grave subject on which he is intent, may easily observe 
 how different his tone is from that of light and familiar 
 conversation — how far from deficient in the decent 
 seriousness which befits the case. Even a stranger 
 to the language might guess that he was not engaged 
 on any frivolous topic. And when an opportunity 
 occurs of observing how he delivers a written discourse, 
 of his own composition, on perhaps the very same, or a 
 similar subject, one may generally perceive how com- 
 paratively stiff, languid, and unimpressive is the effect. 
 Natural ^ mav De sa 'd> indeed, that a sermon 
 
 manner is should not be delivered before a congrega- 
 ^ c f om , m< ?' tion assembled in a place of worship, in the 
 
 dated to the , r , , i • 
 
 place, sub- same style as one would employ m convers- 
 ject and oc- ing across a table, with equal seriousness on 
 the same subject. This is undoubtedly true : 
 and it is evident that it has been implied in what has 
 here been said ; the Natural-manner having been de- 
 scribed as accommodated, not only to the subject, but to 
 the place, occasion, and all other circumstances ; so that 
 he who should preach exactly as if he were speaking 
 in private, though with the utmost earnestness, on the 
 same subject, would, so far, be departing from the 
 genuine Natural-manner. But it maybe safely assert- 
 
Uiap. III. § 4.] OF ELOCUTION. 276 
 
 ed, that even this would be far the less fault of the two. 
 He who appears unmindful, indeed, of the place and 
 occasion, but deeply impressed with the subject, and 
 utterly forgetful of himself, would produce a much 
 stronger effect than one, who, going into the opposite 
 extreme, is, indeed, mindful of the place and the occa- 
 sion, but not fully occupied with the subject, (though 
 he may strive to appeal' so ;) being partly engaged in 
 thoughts respecting his own voice. The latter would, 
 indeed, be the less likely to incur censure ; but the other 
 would produce the deeper impression. 
 
 The object, however, to be aimed at, (and it is not 
 unattainable,) is to avoid both faults ; — to keep the mind 
 impressed both with the matter spoken, and with all the 
 circumstances also of each case ; so that the voice may 
 spontaneously accommodate itself to all; carefully 
 avoiding all studied modulations, and, in short, all 
 thoughts of self ; which, in proportion as they intrude, 
 will not fail to diminish the effect. 
 
 § 4. It must be admitted, indeed, that the 
 different kinds of Natural delivery of any delivery" 
 one individual on different subjects and oc- one species 
 casions, various as they are, do yet bear a °^ the natu " 
 much greater resemblance to each other, than 
 any of them does to the Artificial-style usually employ- 
 ed in reading; a proof of which is, that a person fami- 
 liarly acquainted with the speaker, will seldom fail to 
 recognise his voice, amidst all the variations of it, when 
 he is speaking naturally and earnestly ; though it will 
 often happen that, if he have never before heard him 
 read, he will be at a loss, when he happens accidentally 
 to hear without seeing him, to know who it is that is 
 reading ; so widely does the artificial cadence and in- 
 tonation differ in many points from the natural. And 
 a consequence of this is, that the Natural-manner, how- 
 ever perfect — however exactly accommodated to the 
 subject, place, and occasion — will, even when these are 
 the most solemn, in some degree remind tfce hearers of 
 
276 ELEMENTS OF RHETORIC. [Part IV. 
 
 the tone of conversation. Amidst all the differences 
 that will exist, this one point of resemblance — that of 
 the delivery being unforced and unstudied — will bo 
 likely, in some degree, to strike them. Those who are 
 good judges will perceive at once, and the rest, aftei 
 being a little accustomed to the Natural-manner, tha f 
 there is not necessarily any thing irreverent or indeco- 
 rous in it ; but that, on the contrary, it conveys the idea 
 of the speaker's being deeply impressed with that which 
 is his proper business. But, for a time, many will be 
 disposed to find fault with such a kind of elocution ; 
 and, in particular, to complain of its indicating a want 
 of respect for the audience. Yet even while this dis- 
 advantage continues, a preacher of this kind may be 
 assured that the doctrine he delivers is much more for- 
 cibly impressed, even on those who censure his style 
 of delivering it, than it could be in the other way 
 
 A discourse delivered in this style has been known 
 to elicit the remark, from one of the lower orders, who 
 had never been accustomed to any thing of the kind, 
 that " it was an excellent sermon, and it was great pity 
 it had not been preached:" a censure which ought to 
 have been very satisfactory to the preacher : had he 
 employed a pompous spout, or modulated whine, it is 
 probable such an auditor would have admired his preach- 
 ing, but would have known and thought little or noth- 
 ing about the matter of what was taught. 
 
 Which of the two objects ought to be preferred by a 
 Christian Minister, on Christian principles, is a question, 
 not indeed hard to decide, but foreign to the present dis- 
 cussion. It is important, however, to remark, that an 
 Orator is bound, as such, not merely on moral, but (if 
 such an expression may be used) on rhetorical princi- 
 ples, to be mainly, and indeed exclusively, intent on 
 carrying his point; not, on gaining approbation, or 
 even avoiding censure, except with a view to that point. 
 He should, as it were, adop". as a motto, the reply of 
 Themistocles to the Spartan commander, Eurybiades» 
 
C7HAP. III. § S.J OF ELOCUTION. 277 
 
 who lifted his staff to chastise the earnestness with 
 which his own opinion was controverted ; " Strike, but 
 hear me." 
 
 I would not, indeed, undertake to maintain (like 
 Quinctilian) that no one can be an Orator who is not a 
 virtuous man ; but there certainly is a kind of moral 
 excellence implied in that renunciation of all effort after 
 display — in that forgetfulness of self — which is abso- 
 lutely necessary, both in the manner of writing, and in 
 the delivery, to give the full force to what is said. 
 
 § 5. Besides the inconvenience just mentioned — the 
 censure, which the proposed style of elocution will be 
 liable to, from perhaps the majority of hearers, till 
 they shall have become somewhat accustomed to it — 
 this circumstance also ought to be mentioned, as what 
 many, perhaps, would reckon (or at least feel) to be 
 one of the disadvantages of it; that, after Natural 
 all, even when no disapprobation is incurred, manner not 
 no praise will be bestowed, (except by ob- P raised - 
 servant critics,) on a truly Natural delivery ; on the 
 contrary, the more perfect it is, the more will it with- 
 draw, from itself, to the arguments and sentiments de- 
 livered, the attention of all but those who are studiously 
 directing their view to the mode of utterance, with a 
 design to criticise or to learn. The credit, on the contra- 
 ry, of having a very fine elocution, is to be obtained at 
 the expense of a very moderate share of pains ; though 
 at the expense also, inevitably, of much of the force of 
 what is said. 
 
 § 6. One inconvenience, which will at first 
 be experienced by a person who, after hav- ness feiton 
 ing been long accustomed to the Artificial first adop- 
 delivery, begins to adopt the Natural, is, that N n f u J.^ 
 he will be likely suddenly to feel an embar- manner, 
 rassed bashful, and, as it is frequently called, 
 nervous sensation, to which he had before been com- 
 paratively a stranger. He will find himself in a new 
 situation — standing before his audience in a different 
 
278 ELEMENTS OF RHETORIC. [Part IV 
 
 character — stripped, as it were, of the sheltering veil of 
 a conventional and artificial delivery ; — in short, deliv- 
 ering to them his thoughts, as one man speaking to 
 other men ; not, as before, merely reading in public 
 And he will feel that he attracts a much greater share 
 of their attention, not only by the novelty of a manner 
 to which most congregations are little accustomed, but 
 also, (even supposing them to have been accustomed to 
 extemporary discourses,) from their perceiving them- 
 selves to be personally addressed, and feeling that he is 
 not merely reciting something before them, but saying 
 it to them. The speaker and the hearers will thus be 
 brought into a new and closer relation to each other : 
 and the increased interest thus excited in the audience, 
 will cause the Speaker to feel himself in a different sit- 
 uation — in one which is a greater trial of his confidence, 
 and which renders it more difficult than before to with- 
 draw his attention from himself. It is hardly necessary 
 to observe that this very change of feelings experienced 
 by the speaker, ought to convince him the more, if the 
 causes of it (to which I have just alluded) be attentively 
 considered, how much greater impression this manner 
 is likely to produce. As he will be likely to feel much 
 of the bashfulness which a really extemporary speaker 
 has to struggle against, so he may produce much of a 
 similar effect. 
 
 After all, however, the effect will never be completely 
 the same. A composition delivered from writing, and 
 one actually extemporaneous, will always produce feel- 
 ings, both in the hearer and the speaker, considerably 
 different ; even on the supposition of their being word 
 for word the same, and delivered so exactly in the same 
 tone, that by the ear alone no difference could be de- 
 tected : still the audience will be differently affected ac- 
 cording to their knowledge that the words uttered, are, 
 or are not, written down and before the speaker's eyes 
 And the consciousness of this will produce a correspond- 
 ing effect on the mind of "he speaker. For were this 
 
Chap. III. § 7.] OF ELOCUTION. 27$ 
 
 not so, any one who, on any subject, can speak (as 
 many can) fluently and correctly in private conversa- 
 tion, would rind no greater difficulty in saying the same 
 things before a large congregation, than in reading to 
 them a written discourse. 
 
 § 7. And here it may be worth while inquiry 
 briefly to inquire into the causes of that re- respecting 
 markable phenomenon, as it may justly be the bashful 
 accounted, that a person who is able with fa- addressing 
 cility to express his sentiments in private to a large au- 
 a friend, in such language, and in such a dience - 
 manner, as would be perfectly suitable to a certain au- 
 dience, yet finds it extremely difficult to address to that 
 audience the very same words, in the same manner ; 
 and is, in many instances, either completely struck 
 dumb, or greatly embarrassed, when he attempts it. 
 Most persons are so familiar with the fact, as hardly 
 to have ever considered that it requires explanation : but 
 attentive consideration shows it to be a very curious, as 
 well as important one ; and of which no explanation 
 as far as I know, has been attempted. It cannot be from 
 any superior deference which the speaker thinks it right 
 to feel for the judgment of the hearers ; for it will often 
 happen that the single friend, to whom he is able to speak 
 fluently, shall be one whose good opinion he more val- 
 ues, and to whose wisdom he is more disposed to look 
 up, than of all the others together. The speaker may 
 even feel that he himself has a decided and acknowledged 
 superiority over every one of the audience ; and that he 
 should not be the least abashed in addressing any two oi 
 three of them, separately : yet still all of them, collec- 
 tively, will often inspire him with a kind of dread. 
 
 Closely allied in its causes with the phe- rf . 
 
 nomenon I am considering, is that other excitement 
 curious fact, that the very same sentiments, produced 
 expressed in the same manner, will often audience, 
 have a far more powerful effect on a large 
 audience, than they would have on any one or two W 
 
280 ELEMENTS OF RHETORIC. [Pakt IV. 
 
 ihese very persons separately. That is in a great degree 
 true of all men, which was said of the Athenians, that 
 they were like sheep, of which a flock is more easity 
 driven than a single one. 
 
 Different Another remarkable circumstance, con- 
 
 language nected with the foregoing, is the difference in 
 employed reS pect of the style which is suitable, respect- 
 to the num- ively in addressing a multitude, and two or 
 ber ad- three even of the same persons. A much 
 resse . holder, as well as less accurate, kind of lan- 
 guage is both allowable and advisable, in speaking to a 
 considerable number ; as Aristotle has remarked,"* in 
 speaking of the Graphic and Agonistic styles — the 
 former suited to the closet, the latter, to public speak- 
 ing before a large assembly. And he ingeniously com- 
 pares them to the different styles of painting - ; the greater 
 the crowd, he says, the more distant is the view ; so 
 that in scene-painting, for instance, coarser and boldei 
 touches are required, and the nice finish, which would 
 delight a close spectator, would be lost. He does not, 
 however, account for the phenomena in question. 
 
 y 8. The solution 01 tnem wiii De lounu 
 nome^sT DV attention to a very curious and complex 
 referred to play of sympathies which takes place in a 
 parti* S> m * k* r £ e assembly ; and, (within certain limits,) 
 the more, in proportion to its numbers. 
 First, it is to he observed that we are disposed to 
 sympathize with any emotion which we believe to ex- 
 ist in the mind of any one present ; and hence, if we 
 are at the same time otherwise disposed to feel that 
 emotion, such disposition is in consequence heightened. 
 In the next place, we not only ourselves feel this ten- 
 dency, but we are sensible that others do the same 
 and thus, we sympathize not only with the other emo 
 tions of the rest, but also, with their sympathy towards 
 us. Any emotion accordingly which we feel, is still 
 further heightened by the knowledge that there are 
 
 * Rhetoric, book iii 
 
Chap. Ill § 8.] OF ELOCUTION 281 
 
 others present who not onJy feel the same, but feel it 
 the more strongly in consequence of their sympathy 
 with ourselves. Lastly, we are sensible that those 
 around us sympathize not only with ourselves, but with 
 each other also ; and as we enter into this heightened 
 feeling of theirs likewise, the stimulus to our own minds 
 is thereby still further increased. 
 
 The case of the Ludicrous affords the most ni us t ra tion 
 obvious illustration of these principles, from from the 
 the circumstance that the effects produced £^ s | ° f the 
 are so open and palpable. If any thing of 
 this nature occurs, you are disposed, by the character 
 of the thing itself, to laugh : but much more if any one 
 else is known to be present whom you think likely 
 to be diverted with it ; even though that other should 
 not know of you presence ; but much more still, if he 
 does know it; because you are then aware that sym- 
 pathy with your emotion heightens his: and most of 
 all will the disposition to laugh be increased, if many 
 are present ; because each is then aware that they all 
 sympathize with e~ach other, as well as with himself. 
 It is hardly necessary to menl/on the exact correspond- 
 ence of the faej, with the above explanation- So im- 
 portant, in this case, is the operation ot the causes here 
 noticed, that hardly any one ever laughs when he is 
 quite alone : or if he does, he will find on consideration 
 that it is from a conception of some compamon whom 
 he thinks likely to have been amused, had he been 
 present, and to whom he thinKs of describing - , or re- 
 peating, what had diverted himself Indeed, in other 
 cases, as well as the one just insianced, almost every 
 one is aware of the infectious nature of any emotion 
 excited in a large assembly. It may be compared to the 
 increase of sound by a number p' echoes, or of light, 
 by a number of mirrors ; or to the blaze of a heap ot 
 firebrands, each of which would speedily have gone out 
 if kindled separately, but which, wheiuhrown together, 
 help to kindle each other. 
 22 
 
282 ELEMENTS OF RHETORIC. [Part IV. 
 
 The application of what has been said, to the case 
 before us, is sufficiently obvious. In addressing a large 
 assembly, you know that each of them sympathizes 
 both with your own anxiety to acquit yourself well, 
 and also with the same feeling in the minds of the rest. 
 You know also, that every slip you may be guilty of, 
 that may tend to excite ridicule, pity, disgust, &c. makes 
 the stronger impression on each of the hearers, from 
 their mutual sympathy, and their consciousness of it. 
 This augments your anxiety. Next, you know that 
 each hearer, putting himself mentally, in the speaker's 
 place,* sympathizes with this augmented anxiety : 
 which is by this thought increased still further. And 
 if you become at all embarrassed, the knowledge that 
 there are so many to sympathize, not only with that 
 embarrassment, but also with each other's feelings on the 
 perception of it, heightens your confusion to the utmost. 
 
 The same causes will account for a skilful orator's 
 being able to rouse so much more easily, and more 
 powerfully the passions of a multitude ; they inflame 
 each other by mutual sympathy, and mutual conscious- 
 ness of it. And hence it is that a bolder kind of 
 language is suitable to such an audience; a passage 
 which, in the closet, might, just at the first glance, tend 
 to excite awe, compassion, indignation, or any other 
 such emotion, but which would, on a moment's cool 
 reflection, appear extravagant, may be very suitable 
 for the Agonistic style; because, before that moment's 
 reflection could take place in each hearer's mind, he 
 would be aware that every one around him sympathized 
 in that first emotion which would thus become so much 
 neightened as to preclude, in a great degree, the ingress 
 of any counteracting sentiment. 
 
 If one could suppose such a case as that of a speaker, 
 (himself aware of the circumstance,) addressing a multi- 
 
 * Hencf it is that shy persons are, as is matter of common remark, 
 the more distressed by this infirmity when in company with thw» 
 who are subject to the same. 
 
Chap. Ill Q 10.] OF ELOCUTION. 284 
 
 tude, each of whom believed himself to be the sole 
 hearer, it is probable that little or no embarrassment 
 would be felt, and a much more sober, calm, and 
 finished style of language would be adopted. 
 6 9. The impossibility of bringing the n 
 
 j v c Kj. J -a i t 7 Sympathy 
 
 delivery of a written composition completely W ith the ex. 
 to a level with a real extemporary speaking, temporane- 
 ( though, as has been said, it may approach Jj^J 681 "* 
 indefinitely near to such an effect,) is ex- mounting 
 plained on the same principle. Besides that his diffi - 
 the audience are more sure that the thoughts 
 they hear expressed, are the genuine emanation of the 
 speaker's mind at the moment,* their attention and 
 interest are the more excited by their sympathy with 
 one whom they perceive to be carried forward solely by 
 his own unaided and unremitted efforts, without having 
 any book to refer to ; they view him as a swimmer 
 supported by his own constant exertions ; and in every 
 such case, if the feat be well accomplished, the sur- 
 mounting of the difficulty affords great gratification ; 
 especially to those who are conscious that they could 
 not do the same. And one proof, that part of the 
 pleasure conveyed does arise from this source, is, that 
 as the spectators of an exhibition of supposed unusual 
 skill in swimming, would instantly withdraw most of 
 their interest and admiration, if they perceived that the 
 performer was supported by corks, or the like ; so would 
 the feelings alter of the hearers of a supposed extempo- 
 raneous discourse, as soon as they should perceive, or 
 even suspect, that the orator had it written down 
 Defore him 
 
 § 10. The way in which the respective 
 inconveniences of both kinds of discourses proposed, 
 may best be avoided, is evident from what 
 
 * It is not meant by this that an extemporary speaker necessarily 
 composes (in respect of his matter) extempore, or that he professes 
 to do so • but only, that if he frames each sentence at the momeut, 
 he must, at that moment, have the sentiment which is expressed 
 in it strongly present to his mind. 
 
2S4 ELEMENTS OF RHETORIC. [Part IV 
 
 has been already said. Let both the extemporary 
 Speaker, and the Reader of his own compositions, study 
 to avoid, as far as possible, all thoughts of self, earnestly 
 fixing 3he mind on the matter of what is delivered ; and 
 the one will feel the less of that embarrassment which 
 arises from the thought of what opinion the hearers will 
 form of him ; while the other will appear to be speaking, 
 because he actually will be speaking, the sentiments, nol 
 indeed wiu>h at that time first arise in his own mind, but 
 which are then really present to, and occupy his mind 
 
 Chap. IV. — Practical deductions from the foregoing 
 views. 
 
 Original § 1- One of the consequences of the adop- 
 
 Composi- tion of the mode of elocution here recom- 
 bTe U to S "he mend ed, is, that he who endeavours to em- 
 natural de- ploy it will find a growing reluctance to the 
 livery delivery, as his own, of any but his own 
 
 compositions. Conclusions, indeed, and arguments he 
 may freely borrow ; but he will be led to compose his 
 own discourses, from finding that he cannot deliver 
 those of another to his own satisfaction, without labo- 
 riously studying them, as an actor does his part, so as 
 to make them, in some measure, his own. And with 
 this view, he will generally find it advisable to intro- 
 duce many alterations in the expression, not with any 
 thought of improving the style, absolutely, but only with 
 a view to his own delivery And indeed, even his own 
 previous compositions, he will be led to alter, almost as 
 much, in point of expression, in order to accommodate 
 them to the Natural manner of delivery. Much that 
 would please in the closet — much of the Graphic style 
 described by Aristotle, will be laid aside for the Agon- 
 istic ;—- for a style somewhat more blunt and homely — ■ 
 more simple, and, apparently unstudied in its structure, 
 and, at the same time, more daringly energetic. And 
 
«iiap. IV. § l.] OF ELOCUTION. 285 
 
 If again he is desirous of fitting his discourses for the 
 press, he will find it expedient to reverse this process, 
 and alter the style afresh. In many instances accord- 
 ingly, the perusal of a manuscript sermon would afford, 
 from the observation of its style, a tolerably good ground 
 of conjecture as to the author's customary elocution. 
 For instance, a rapid elocution suits the more full, and 
 a slow one, the more concise style ; and great varia- 
 tions in the degree of rapidity of delivery are suited to 
 the corresponding variations in the style. 
 
 A mere sermon-reader, on the contrary, will avoid 
 this inconvenience, and this labour ; he will be able to 
 deliver another's discourses nearly as well as his own; 
 and may send his own to the press, without the neces- 
 sity of any great preparation : but he will purchase 
 these advantages at the expense of more than half the 
 force which might have been given to the sentiments 
 uttered. And he will have no right to complain that 
 his discourses, though replete perhaps with good sense, 
 learning, and eloquence, are received with languid apa- 
 thy, or that many are seduced from their attendance on 
 his teaching, by the vapid rant of an illiterate fanatic. 
 Much of these evils must indeed be expected, after all, 
 to remain : but he does not give himself a fair chance 
 for diminishing them, unless he does justice to his own 
 arguments, instructions, and exhortations, by speaking 
 them, in the only effectual way, to the hearts of his 
 hearers ; that is, as uttered naturally from his own. 
 
 1 have seen, somewhere, an anecdote of some cele- 
 brated actor being asked by a divine, " How is it that 
 people listen with so much emotion to what you say, 
 which they know to be all fictitious, besides that it 
 would be no concern of their's, even if true ; while they 
 hear with comparative apathy, from us, truths, the most 
 Bublime, and the most important to them?" The an- 
 swer was, " Because we deliver fiction like truth, and 
 you deliver truth like fiction." 
 
 The principles here laid down may help to explain a 
 
286 ELEMENTS OF RHETORIC. Part IV 
 
 remarkable fact which is usually attributed 
 Effects of t ther than the true causes. The power- 
 counted for. f ul effects often produced by some fanatical 
 
 preachers, not superior in pious and sincere 
 zeal, and inferior in learning, in good sense, and in taste, 
 to men who are listened to with comparative apathy, 
 are frequently considered as a proof of superior elo- 
 quence; though an eloquence tarnished by barbarism, 
 and extravagant mannerism. Now may not such effects 
 result, not from any superior powers in the preacher, 
 but merely from the intrinsic beauty and sublimity, and 
 the measureless importance of the subject ? But why 
 then, it may be replied, does not the other preacher, 
 whose subject is the very same, produce the same ef- 
 fect ? The answer is, because he is but half -at tended 
 to. The ordinary measured cadence of reading, is not 
 only in itself dull, but is what men are familiarly ac- 
 customed to : religion itself also, is a subject so familiar, 
 in a certein sense, (familiar, that is. to the ear,) as to 
 be trite, even to those who know and think little about 
 it. Let but the attention be thoroughly roused, and in- 
 tently fixed on such a stupendous subject, and that sub- 
 ject itself will produce the most overpowering emotion. 
 And not only unaffected earnestness of manner, but 
 perhaps, even still more, any uncouth oddity, and even 
 ridiculous extravagance, will, by the stimulus of novelty, 
 have the effect of thus rousing the hearers from their 
 ordinary lethargy. So that a preacher of little or no 
 real eloquence, will sometimes, on such a subject, pro- 
 duce the effects of the greatest eloquence, by merely 
 forcing the hearers (often, even by the excessively glar« 
 ing faults of his style and delivery) to attend, to a sub- 
 ject which no one can really attend to unmoved. 
 
 It will not of course be supposed that my intention 
 is to recommend the adoption of extravagant rant. The 
 good effects which it undoubtedly does sometimes pro- 
 duce, incidentally, in some, is more than counterbalanced 
 by the mischievous consequences to another. 
 
Chap. IV. § 2.] OF ELOCUTION. 287 
 
 § 2. One important practical maxim re- Practice of 
 suiting from the views here taken, is the de- recitation at 
 cided condemnation of all recitation of schools in- 
 speec/ies by school -boys ; a practice so much Junous - 
 approved and recommended b} many, with a view to 
 preparing youths for Public Speaking in after life. It 
 is to be condemned, however, (supposing the foregoing 
 principle correct,) not as useless merely, but absolutely 
 pernicious, with a view to that object. The justness, 
 indeed, of this opinion will, doubtless, be disputed ; but 
 its consistency with the plan I have been recommending, 
 is almost too obvious to be insisted on. In any one 
 who should think a natural delivery desirable, it would 
 be an obvious absurdity to think of attaining it by prac- 
 tising that which is the most completely artificial. If 
 there is, as is evident, much difficulty to be surmounted, 
 even by one who is delivering, on a serious occasion, 
 his own composition, before he can completely succeed 
 in abstracting his mind from all thoughts of his own 
 voice — of the judgment of the audience on his perfor- 
 mance, &c. and in fixing it on the Matter, Occasion, and 
 Place — on every circumstance which ought to give the 
 character to his elocution — how much must this diffi- 
 culty be enhanced, when neither the sentiments he is to 
 utter, nor the character he is to assume, are his own, or 
 even supposed to be so, or anywise connected with 
 him : — when neither the place, the occasion, nor the 
 audience, which are actually present, have any thing to 
 do with the substance of what is said. It is therefore 
 almost inevitable, that he will studiously form to him- 
 self an artificial manner ;* which (especially if he suc- 
 ceed in it) will probably cling to him through life, even 
 
 * Some have used the expression of " a conscious manner," to 
 denote that which results (either in conversation — in the ordinary 
 actions of life — or in public speaking) from the anxious attention 
 which some persons feel to the opinion the company may form of 
 them ; a eonsciousness of being watched and scrutinized in every 
 word and gesture, together with an extreme anxiety for approba 
 tfon. and dread of censure 
 
288 ELEMENTS OF RHETORIC. [Pabt IV, 
 
 when he is delivering his own compositions on real 
 occasions. The very best that can be expected, is, that 
 he should become an accomplished actor — possessing 
 the plastic power of putting himself, in imagination, so 
 completely into the situation of him whom he perso- 
 nates, and of adopting, for the moment, so perfectly, all 
 the sentiments and views of that character, as to ex- 
 press himself exactly as such a person would have done, 
 i-n the supposed situation. Few are likely to attain 
 such perfection ; but he who shall have succeeded in 
 accomplishing this, will have taken a most circuitous 
 route to his proposed object, if that object be, not to 
 qualify himself for the Stage, but to be able impressively 
 to deliver in public, on real, and important occasions, 
 his own sentiments. He will have been carefully learn- 
 ing to assume, what, when the real occasion occurs, 
 need not be assumed, but only expressed. Nothing, 
 surely, can be more preposterous than labouring to ac- 
 quire the art of pretending to be, what he is not, and, 
 to feel, what he does not, in order that he may be 
 enabled, on a real emergency, to pretend to be and to 
 feel just what the occasion itself requires and suggests : 
 in short to personate himself. 
 
 The Barmecide, in the Arabian Nights, who amused 
 himself by setting down his guest to an imaginary feast, 
 and trying his skill in imitating, at an empty table, the 
 actions of eating and drinking, did not propose this as 
 an advisable mode of instructing him how to perform 
 those actions in reality. 
 
 Let all studied recitation therefore — every kind of 
 speaking which from its nature must necessarily be arti- 
 ficial — be carefully avoided, by one whose object is to 
 attain the only truly impressive— the Natural Delivery. 
 
 It should be observed, that the censure here pro- 
 nounced on school-recitations, and all exercises of the 
 like nature, relates, exclusively, to the effect produced 
 on the style of Elocution. With any other objects that 
 may be proposed, the present work has, obviously, no 
 
Chap. IV. § 2.] OF ELOCUTION. 289 
 
 concern. Nor can it be doubted that a familiarity with 
 me purest forms of the Latin and Greek languages, may- 
 be greatly promoted by committing to memory, and 
 studying, not only to understand, but to recite with 
 propriety, the best orations and plays in those languages 
 The familiar knowledge too, and temporary adoption, 
 of the characters and sentiments, for instance, of 
 Terence's plays, can hardly fail to produce a powerful 
 effect on the moral character If the spectators of a 
 play which strongly interests them are in any degree 
 disposed (as the Poet expresses it) to " live o'er each 
 6cene, and be what they behold," much more may this 
 be expected in the actor, who studies to give the fullest 
 effect to his performance, by fancying himself, as far as 
 possible, the person he represents. If any one, there- 
 fore, is more anxious for his son's proficiency in the 
 Latinity, and in the morality, of Terence, than for his 
 excellence in public speaking, he is right in encourag- 
 ing such exercises.* But let no one seek to attain a 
 
 * To those who do wish their sons to imbibe the morality of 
 Terence, I have, of course nothing more t;> say. But if there are 
 any, as I must hope there are not a few, who would deprecate such 
 a result, and who yet patronize the practice in question, I cannot 
 but express my unfeigned wonder at their doing so. Can they 
 doubt that some effect is likely to be produced on a young and 
 unformed mind, forwarder in passions than in reason, by — not 
 reading merely — not learning by heart merely — but studying as an 
 actor, and striving to deliver with effect, the part of an accomplished 
 debauchee ? And this too, such a character as Terence's poetical 
 justice never fails to crown with success and applause. The foulest 
 obscenity, such as would create disgust in any delicate mind, would 
 probably be less likely to corrupt the principles, than the more 
 gentleman-like profligacy, which is not merely represented, bnt 
 recommended in Terence ; and which approaches but too nearly 
 to what the youth may find exemplified among the higher classes 
 in this country. 
 
 Will it be answered, that because the same boys are taught to 
 say their Catechism — are sent to Chapel — and are given to under- 
 stand that they are not to take Pamphilus as a model, a sufficient 
 safeguard is thus provided, against the effects of an assiduous effort 
 to gain applause by a lively and spirited representation of such a 
 character ? I can only reply, in the words of Thucydides, MA- 
 KAPISANTE2 'YMJiN TO AllEfPOKAKON, OY ZHAOYMEN 
 TO A<l>PON. 
 
 I am aware that I run a risk of giving offence by these remarks j 
 23 
 
290 ELEMENTS OF RHETORIC. [Part IV. 
 
 natural, simple, and forcible Elocution, by a practice 
 which, the more he applies to it, will carry him still the 
 farther from the object he aims at. 
 
 What has been said, may perhaps be considered by 
 some as applicable only in the case where the design is 
 merely to qualify a man for extemporaneous speaking ; 
 — not for delivering a written discourse with the effect 
 of one that is actually extemporaneous. For it may be 
 urged, that he who attempts this, must be, to a certain 
 extent, an Actor : he may, indeed, really think, and 
 strongly feel, at the moment, all that he is saying ; but 
 though, thus far, no disguise is needed, he cannot, 
 without a distinct effort, deliver what he is, in fact, 
 reading, with the air of one who is not reading, but is 
 framing each sentence as he delivers it : and to learn to 
 do this, it may be said, practice is requisite ; not such 
 practice indeed as that of ordinary school-recitations, 
 which has a directly contrary tendency ; but such as 
 might be adopted, on the principles above laid down. 
 And it must be admitted, (indeed the remark has been 
 frequently made in the foregoing pages,) that the task 
 of him who delivers a written discourse, is very different 
 from that of the truly extemporary speaker, supposing 
 the object be to produce at all a similar effect. For, as 
 I have formerly observed, what has been here called 
 the Natural Delivery, is that which is natural to the 
 real Speaker alone ; and is by no means what will spon- 
 
 but a sense of duty forbids their suppression. If the practice is 
 capable of vindication, let it receive one : if not, let it be abolished. 
 
 It is now (1S41) a good many years since this remonstrance was 
 first published ; during which interval the work has gone through 
 several editions. I cannot but suppose, therefore, that some refu- 
 tation of my reasoning would, before now, have been at least at- 
 tempted, (which as far as I know, no one ever did attempt) were 
 it not felt and practically acknowledged by the parties concerned 
 to be unanswerable. 
 
 Let the experiment be tried, of placing in the hands of the Moth- 
 ers of the boys, when they come to witness the exhibition, a close 
 translation of the play their sons are acting. I will be satisfied to 
 abide by the decision of the right-minded and judicious among 
 them. 
 
Chap IV. § 2.] OF ELOCUTION 29 J 
 
 fcaneously suggest itself to one who has (even his own) 
 written words before him. To attain the delivery I 
 have been recommending, he must make a strong and 
 continual effort so to withdraw his mind, not only from 
 studied modulation of voice, but from the knowledge 
 that he is reading — and so to absorb himself, as it were, 
 not only in the general sentiments, but in each separate 
 expression, as to make it thoroughly his own at the 
 moment of utterance. And I am far from supposing 
 that in doing this he will not improve by practice ; 
 indeed 1 have all long implied, that np one can expect 
 at once to attain perfection in it. But whether any 
 such system of recitation as would afford beneficial 
 practice could be adopted at schools, 1 am more doubtful. 
 Supposing the established mode of spouting to be totally 
 exploded, and every effort used to make a boy deliver a 
 Speech of Caesaf, for instance, or Lear, in the natural 
 manner, i. e. according to the Masters' view of what is 
 natural — still, the learner himself will be reciting in a 
 manner, to him, wholly artificial ; not merely because 
 he is reading, or repeating from memory, what he is 
 endeavouring to utter as if extempore ; — nor again, 
 merely because the composition is another's, and the 
 circumstances fictitious ; but because the composition, 
 the situation, and the circumstances could not have been 
 his own. A School-boy has no natural way of his own 
 to express himself on the topics on which he is made 
 to declaim ; because as yet these topics form no part of 
 the furniture of his mind. And thus the object pro- 
 posed, viz. to qualify him for delivering well, on real 
 occasions, his own, or such as his own, written compe- 
 titions, will have been defeated ; and we shall have 
 Anticipated, and corrupted, by a studied elocution, what 
 would have been, in after-life, his own natural mode of 
 expressing himself on such occasions. 
 
 However serviceable practice may be, there is none, 
 I think, that will not do more harm than good, except 
 the practice of reciting, either on real occasions, or on 
 
292 ELEMENTS OF RHETORIC. [Part IV 
 
 such as one can fully conceive and enter into, expres- 
 sions either actually his own, or at least such as he 
 would naturally have uttered on the occasion. Should 
 the School-boy be limited to the recitation of composi- 
 tions of his own, or of a fellow- student, and that too, 
 compositions not written as a task on a given subject, 
 (on such subjects at least as are usually set for exer- 
 cises,*) but on some real occasion interesting to a 
 youthful mind, (a narrative e. g. of some recent occur- 
 rence, or the like,) a system of practice might perhaps 
 be adopted which would prove beneficial. 
 
 Such exercises as these, however, would make but a 
 sorry display, in comparison of the customary decla- 
 mations. The " pomp and circumstance " of annual 
 public recitations has much that is attractive to Masters, 
 Parents, and Scholars ; and it is easily believed, by 
 those who wish to believe it, that for a boy who is 
 destined hereafter to speak in public, the practice of 
 making public speeches, and of taking great pains to 
 deliver them well, must be a very beneficial exercise. 
 Natural de- § 3 * The ^ ast circumstance to be noticed 
 livery more among the results of the mode of delivery 
 easily recommended, is, that tbe speaker will find 
 
 it much easier, in this Natural manner, to 
 make himself heard : he will be heard, that is, much 
 more distinctly at a greater distance — and with far less 
 exertion and fatigue to himself. This is the more 
 necessary to be mentioned, because it is a common, if 
 not prevailing opinion, that the reverse of this is the 
 fact. There are not a few who assign as a reason for 
 their adoption of a certain unnatural tone, and measured 
 cadence, that it is necessary, in order to be heard by a 
 large congregation. But though such an artificial voice 
 and utterance will often appear to produce a louder 
 sound, (which is the circumstance that probably deceives 
 such persons,) yet a natural voice and delivery, provided 
 if be clear, though it be less laboured, and may even 
 
 • See Introd. ^ 5. 
 
Chap. IV. $ 4.] OF ELOCUTION. 293 
 
 Beem low to those who are near at hand, will be dis- 
 tinctly heard at a much greater distance. The only 
 decisive proof of this must be sought in experience ; 
 which will not fail to con\ince of the truth of it any 
 one who will fairly make the trial. 
 
 The requisite degree of loudness will be best obtain- 
 ed, conformably with the principles here inculcated, not 
 by thinking about the voice, but by looking at the most 
 distant of the hearers, and addressing one's self especi- 
 ally to him. The voice rises spontaneously, when we 
 are speaking to a person who is not very near. 
 
 It should be added, that a speaker's being well heard 
 does not depend near so much on the loudness of the 
 sounds, as on their distinctness ; and especially on the 
 clear pronunciation of the consonants. 
 
 That the organs of voice are much less strained and 
 fatigued by the natural action which takes place in real 
 speaking, than by any other, (besides that it is what 
 might be expected a priori,) is evident from daily ex- 
 perience. An extemporary Speaker will usually be 
 much less exhausted in two hours, than an elaborate 
 reciter (though less distinctly heard) will be in one. 
 Even the ordinary tone of reading aloud is so much 
 more fatiguing than that of conversation, that feeble pa- 
 tients are frequently unable to continue it for a quarter of 
 an hour without great exhaustion ; even though they 
 may feel no inconvenience from talking, with few or no 
 pauses, and in no lower voice, for more than double that 
 time.* 
 
 § 4. He then who shall determine to aim Recap jtuia 
 at the Natural-manner, though he will have tion of ad- 
 to contend with considerable difficulties and va " ta e^ s 
 discouragements, will not be without corres- vantages. ' 
 
 • " We can at will enlarge or diminish the area of the chest, and 
 stop, accelerate, or retard the act of respiration. When we attend 
 to our breathing, and regulate its rate, it quickly becomes fatigu- 
 ing ; but the same happens with any voluntary and babitual action, 
 if we attempt to perform it analytically, by directing the attention 
 to erery step in its progress."— Mauo's Physiology, p. 107. 
 
294 ELEMENTS OF RHETORIC. [Paet IV 
 
 ponding advantages, in the course he is pursuing 
 He will be at first, indeed, repressed to a greater de- 
 gree than another, by emotions of bashfulness ; but it 
 will be more speedily and more completely subdued ; 
 the very system pursued, since it foibids all thoughts of 
 self, striking at the root of the evil. He will, indeed, 
 on the outset, incur censure, not only critical but mor- 
 al : — he will be blamed for using a colloquial delivery • 
 and the censure will very likely be, as far as relates to 
 his earliest efforts, not wholly undeserved ; for his man- 
 ner will probably at first too much resemble that of con- 
 versation, though of serious and earnest conversation : 
 but by perseverance he may be sure of avoiding deser- 
 ved, and of mitigating, and ultimately overcoming, un- 
 deserved, censure. 
 
 He will, indeed, never be praised for a " very fine 
 ^elivery ;" but his matter will not lose the approbation 
 it may deserve ; as he will be the more sure of being 
 heard and attended to. He will not, indeed, meet with 
 many who can be regarded as models of the Natural- 
 manner ; and those he does meet with, he will be pre- 
 cluded, by the nature of the system, from minutely im- 
 itating ; but he will have the advantage of carrying with 
 him an Infallible Guide, as long as he is careful to fol- 
 low the suggestions of Nature ; abstaining from all 
 thoughts respecting his own utterance, and fixing his 
 mind intently on the business he is engaged in. 
 
 And though he must not expect to attain perfection 
 at once, he may be assured that, while he steadily ad- 
 neres to this plan, he is in the right road to it ; instead 
 of becoming, as on the other plan, more and more arti- 
 ficial, the longer he studies. And every advance he 
 makes will produce a proportional effect : it will give 
 him more and more of that hold on the attention, the 
 understanding, and the feelings of the audience, which 
 no studied modulation can ever attain. Others indeed 
 may be more successful in escaping censure, and ensu- 
 ring admiration ; but he will far more surpass them in 
 
Chap. IV. § 5.] OF ELOCUTION. 29* 
 
 respect of the proper object of the Orator, which is, to 
 carry his point. 
 
 § 5. Much need not be said on the subject Action 
 of Action, which is at present so little ap- 
 proved or, designedly, employed, in this country, that 
 it is hardly to be reckoned as any part of the Orator's 
 art. 
 
 Action, however, seems to be natural to man, when 
 speaking earnestly : but the state of the case at present 
 seems to be, that the disgust excited, on the one hand, 
 by awkward and ungraceful motions, and, on the other, 
 by studied gesticulations, has led to the general disuse 
 of action altogether ; and has induced men to form the 
 habit (for it certainly is a formed habit) of keeping 
 themselves quite still, or nearly so, when speaking 
 This is supposed to be, and perhaps is, the more rational 
 and dignified way of speaking : but so strong is the 
 tendency to indicate vehement internal emotion by some 
 kind of outward gesture, that those who do not encour 
 age or allow themselves in any, frequently fall uncon 
 sciously into some awkward trick of swinging the 
 body,* folding a paper, twisting a string, or the like 
 But when any one is reading, or even speaking-, in the 
 Artificial manner, there is little or nothing of this ten- 
 dency; precisely, because the mind is not whyactior 
 occupied by that strong internal emotion is generally 
 which occasions it. And the prevalence of disused - 
 this (the artificial) manner may reasonably be conjee 
 tured to have led to the disuse of all gesticulation, even 
 in extemporary speakers ; because if any one, whose 
 delivery is artificial, does use action, it will of course 
 be, like his voice, studied and artificial ; and savouring 
 still more of disgusting affectation ; from the circum- 
 
 * Of one of the ancient Roman Orators it was satirically remark- 
 ed, (on account of his having this habit,) that he must have learned 
 to speak in a boat. Of some other Orators, whose favourite action 
 is rising on tiptoe, it would perhaps have been said, that they had 
 oeen accustomed to address their audience over a high wall 
 
296 ELEMENTS OF RHETORIC. [Pari IV 
 
 stance that it evidently might be entirely omitted.* And 
 hence, the practice came to be generally disapproved, 
 and exploded 
 
 It need only be observed, that, in conformity with the 
 principles maintained throughout this Book, no care 
 should, in any case, be taken to use graceful or appro- 
 priate action ; which, if net perfectly unstudied, will 
 always be (as has been just remarked) intolerable. But 
 if any one spontaneously falls into any gestures that 
 are unbecoming, care should then be taken to break the 
 habit ; and that, not only in public speaking, but on all 
 occasions. The case, indeed, is the same with utter- 
 ance : if any one has, in common discourse, an indis- 
 tinct, hesitating, dialectic, or otherwise faulty delivery, 
 his Natural manner certainly is not what he should 
 adopt in public speaking ; but he should endeavour, by 
 care, to remedy the defect, not in public speaking only, 
 but in ordinary conversation also. And so also, with 
 respect to attitudes and gestures. It is in these points, 
 principally, if not exclusively, that the remarks of an 
 intelligent friend will be beneficial. 
 
 If, again, any one finds himself naturally and spon- 
 taneously led to use, in speaking, a moderate degree of 
 action, which he finds from the observation of others 
 not to be ungraceful or inappropriate, there is no reason 
 that he should study to repress this tendency. 
 Action na- § ®* ^ V,T ° U ^ De inconsistent with the 
 turaiiy pre- principle just laid down, to deliver any pre- 
 cedes the cepts for gesture; because the observance of 
 even the best conceivable precepts, would, 
 by destroying the natural appearance, be fatal to their 
 object : but there is a remark, which is worthy of atten- 
 tion, from the illustration it affords of the erroneousness, 
 ai detail, as well as in principle, of the ordinary systems 
 
 * " Gralas inter mensas symphonia discors, 
 
 Kt crassum unguenlum, el Sardo cum melle papavei 
 Qffeidunt ; poterat duci quia ccena sine istis." 
 
 Horace, Jlrs Poel. 
 
Cue. IV. § 6 J OF ELOCUTION. 297 
 
 of instruction in this point. Boys are generally taught 
 to employ the prescribed action either after, or during 
 the utterance of the words it is to enforce. The best 
 and most appropriate action must, from this circum- 
 stance alone, necessarily appear a feeble affectation. 
 It suggests the idea of a person speaking to those who 
 do not fully understand the language, and striving by 
 signs to explain the meaning of what he has been saying 
 The very same gesture, had it come at the pioper, thai 
 is, the natural, point of time might, perhaps have added 
 greatly to the effect ; viz. had it preceded somewhat the 
 utterance of the words. That is always the natural 
 order of action. An emotion,* struggling for utteranct, 
 produces a tendency to a bodily gesture, to express that 
 emotion more quickly than words can be framed ; the 
 words follow, as soon as they can be spoken. And 
 this being always the case with a real, earnest, un- 
 studied speaker, this mode of placing the action fore- 
 most, gives, (if it be otherwise appropriate) the appear- 
 ance of earnest emotion actually present in the mind. 
 And the reverse of this natural order would alone be 
 sufficient to convert the action of Demosthenes himself 
 into unsuccessful and ridiculous pantomime. 
 
 • " Format enim Natura prius nos inlus ad omnem 
 Fortunarum habitum ; juvat, aut impellit ad iram : 
 Jtut ad humum mrnwe gravi deducit, et angit : 
 Tost effert animi motus inftrprele lingua." 
 
 Horace, J&rs Poti. 
 
APPENDIX 
 
 Pages 20, 120, 241. [A.] 
 
 Omnino noc volumus, locos omnes, quorum frequens est 
 usus (sive ad probationes et refutationes, sive ad suasiones 
 etdissuasiones, sive ad laudeset vituperia spectent) medi- 
 tatos jam haberi, eosque ultimis ingenii viribus, et tanquam 
 improbe, et prorsus praeter veritatem, attolli, et deprimi. 
 Modum autem hujus collectionis, tarn ad usum, quam ad 
 brevitatem, optimum fore censemus, si hujusmodi loci 
 contrahantur in sententias quasdam acutas et concisas ; 
 tanquam glomos quosdam, quorum fila in fusiorem discur- 
 sum, cum res postulat, explicari possint. * * * * 
 Ejus generis, cum plurima parata habeamus, aliqua ad 
 exemplum proDonere visum est. Ea autem antitheta rerum 
 nominamus. 
 
 NOBILITAS. 
 
 PRO. 
 
 * * * 
 
 Nobilitas laurea, qua tem- 
 pus homines coronat. 
 
 Antiquitatem etiam in 
 monumentis mortuis vene- 
 ramur : quanto magis in 
 vivis 1 
 
 # • * 
 
 Nobilitasvirtutem invidia? 
 eubducit, graliae tradit. 
 
 CONTRA. 
 
 Raro ex virtute nobilitas ? 
 rarius ex nobilitate virtus. 
 
 Nobiles majorum depreca 
 tione ad veniam saepius ut- 
 untur, quam sufFragatione ad 
 honores. 
 
 Tanta solet esse industria 
 hominum novorum, ut no- 
 biles prae illis tanquam statuae 
 videantur. 
 
 Nobiles in stadio respect- 
 ant nimis saepe : quod mali 
 cursorisest. 
 
300 
 
 APPENDIX 
 
 JUVENTUS. 
 
 Senea .sibi sapiunt magis ; 
 aliis et reipublicae minus. 
 
 Si conspici daretur, magis 
 deformat animos, quam cor- 
 pora, senectus. 
 
 Senes omnia metuunt, 
 praeter Deos. 
 
 CONTRA. 
 
 Juventus pcenitentiae cam- 
 pus. 
 
 Ingenitus est juvenibus se- 
 nilis auctoritatis contempt- 
 us; ut quisque suo periculo 
 sapiat. 
 
 Tempus, ad quae consilia 
 non advocatur, nee rata 
 habet. * * 
 
 UXOR ET LIBERI. 
 
 PRO. 
 
 Charitas reipublicae incipit 
 a familia. 
 
 Uxor et liberi disciplina 
 quaedam humanitatis ; at 
 ccelibes tetrici et severi. 
 
 Ccelibatus et orbitas ad 
 nil aliud conferunt, quam ad 
 fugam. 
 
 CONTRA 
 
 Qui uxorem duxit, et k- 
 beros suscepit, obsides for- 
 tunae dedit. 
 
 * * * 
 
 Brutorum eternitas sobo- 
 les ; virorum fama, merita, 
 et instituta. 
 
 (Economical rationes pub 
 licas plerunque evertunt 
 
 DIVITkE. 
 
 PRO. 
 
 Divitias contemnunt, qui 
 •esperant. 
 
 # # * 
 
 Dum philosophi dubitant, 
 *itrum ad virtutem an volup- 
 vatem omnia sint referenda, 
 collige instrumenta utrius- 
 que. 
 
 Virtu3 per divitias vertitur 
 in commun bonum. 
 
 CONTRA. 
 
 Divitiarum magnarum vel 
 custodia est, vel dispensatio 
 quasdam, vel fama ; at nullus 
 usus. 
 
 Annon vides lapillis, et id 
 genus deliciis, fingi pretia, 
 ut possit esse aliquis mag- 
 narum divitiarum usus *! 
 
 Multi, dum divitiis suia 
 omnia venalia fore credide- 
 runt, ipsiinprimisvenierunt. 
 
 Non aliud divitias dix« 
 erim, quam impedimenta 
 
APPENDIX 
 
 301 
 
 CONTRA 
 
 virtutis: nam virtuti et ne> 
 cessariae sunt et graves. 
 
 Divitiae bona ancilla, pes 
 sima domina. 
 
 HONORES 
 
 TRO. 
 * * * 
 
 Honores faciunt et virtutes 
 et vitia conspicua; itaque 
 illas provocant, hasc refrae- 
 nant. 
 
 Non novit quispiam, quan- 
 tum in virtutis cursu pro- 
 fecerit; nisi honores ei cam- 
 pum praebeant apertum. 
 
 CONTRA. 
 
 Dum honores appelimus, 
 libertatem exuimus. 
 
 Honores dant fere potesta- 
 tem earum rerum, quas opti- 
 ma conditio est nolle, proxi- 
 ma non posse. 
 
 Honorum ascensus arduus, 
 statio lubrica, regressus prae- 
 ceps. 
 
 Qui in honore sunt, vulgi 
 opinionem mutuenter opor- 
 tet, ut seipsos beatos putent. 
 
 IMPERIA. 
 
 CONTRA. 
 
 Quam miserum, habere 
 
 PRO. 
 
 Felicitate frui, magnum 
 bonum est] sed earn et aliis nil fere, quod appetas ; infi 
 impertiri posse, adhucmajus. nita, quae metuas 1 
 
 LAUS, EXISTIMATIO. 
 
 PRO. 
 
 Virtutis radii reflexi lau- 
 des. 
 
 Laus honor is est, ad quern 
 liberis suffrages pervenitur. 
 
 Honores a diversis politiis 
 conferuntur, sed laudes ubi- 
 que sunt libertatis. 
 
 * * # 
 
 Ne mireris, si vulgus Ve- 
 nus loquatur, quam honora- 
 tiores ; quia etiam tutiua 
 loquitur. 
 
 CONTRA. 
 
 Famadeterior judex, quam 
 nuncia. 
 
 Fama veluti fluvius, levia 
 attollit, solida mergit. 
 
 Infimarum virtutum apud 
 vulgus laus est, mediarum 
 admiratio, supremarum scd- 
 sus nulius 
 
302 APPENDIX. 
 
 NATURA. 
 
 PRO. CONIRA. 
 
 Consuetudo contra natu- Cogitamus secundum na. 
 
 ram, quasi tyrannisquaedam turam ; loquimur secundum 
 
 est: etcito, aclevioccasione praecepta ; sed agimus se- 
 
 corruit. cundum consuetudinem. 
 
 FORTUNA. 
 
 PRO. CONTRA. 
 
 Virtutes apertae laudes pa- Stultitia unius, fortuna al- 
 riunt, occulta? fortunas. terius. 
 
 Fortuna veluti galaxia ; * * * 
 
 hoc est, nodus quarundam 
 obscurarum virtutum, sine 
 nomine. 
 
 VITA. 
 
 PRO. CONTRA. 
 
 Praestat ad omnia, etiam Non invenias inter hu- 
 
 ad virtutem, curriculum Ion- manos affectum tarn pusil- 
 
 gum, quam breve. lum, qui, si intendatur paulo 
 
 Absque spatiis vitas ma- vehementius, non mortis 
 
 joribus, nee perficere datur, metum superet. 
 nee perdiscere, nee pceni- 
 tere 
 
 SUPER STITIO. 
 
 PRO. CONTRA. 
 
 Qui zelo peccant, non pro- Ut simiae, similitudo cum 
 foandi, sed tamen amandi homine,deformitatemaddit: 
 sunt. ita superstitioni, similitudo 
 
 * * * cum religione. 
 
 Praestat nullam habere de 
 diis opinionem, quam con 
 tumeliosam 
 
 SUPERBIA. 
 
 PRO. CONTRA. 
 
 Superbia etiam vitiia in- Hebera virtutum ac bono 
 
APPENDIX. 
 
 303 
 
 PRO. 
 
 eoeiabilis; atque ut venerium 
 veneno, ita haud pauca vitia 
 superbia expelluntur. 
 
 Facilis, etiam alienis vitiis 
 obnoxius est : superbus, tan- 
 tum suis. 
 
 CONTRA 
 
 rum omnium superbia. 
 
 Castera vitia virtutibus 
 tantum contraria; superbia 
 sola contagiosa. 
 
 INVIDIA. 
 
 PRO. 
 
 Invidia in rebuspublicis, 
 tanquam salubris ostracis- 
 mus. 
 
 CONTRA 
 
 Nemo virtuti invidiam re 
 conciliaverit prater mortem. 
 
 Invidia virtutes laboribus 
 exercet, ut Juno Herculem 
 
 IMPUDICITIA. 
 
 CONTRA. 
 
 Omnes, ut Paris, qui for- 
 mae optionem faciunt, pru- 
 dentiae et potentiae jacturam 
 faciunt. 
 
 GLORIA VANA. 
 
 PRO. 
 
 Qui suas laudes appetit, 
 aliorum simul appetit utilita- 
 fes. 
 
 Turpe est proco solicitare 
 ancillam ; est autem virtutis 
 ancilla laus. 
 
 FORTITUDO. 
 
 PRO 
 
 Nil aut in voluptate soli- 
 dum, aut in virtute munitum, 
 ubi timot infestat. 
 
 Caeterae virtutes nos a do- 
 minatu liberant vitiorum ; 
 fortitudo sola a dominatu 
 fortunas 
 
 CONTRA. 
 
 Vitae suae prodigus, aliens 
 periculosus. 
 
 Virtus ferreae aetatis forti- 
 tudo. 
 
304 
 
 APPENDIX 
 
 CONSTANTIA. 
 
 PRO. 
 
 Basis virtutum constantia. 
 
 Miser est, qui qualis ipse 
 futurus sit, non novit. 
 
 Etiam vitiis decus aspirat 
 constantia. 
 
 Si ad fortur.ae inconstan- 
 tiam accedat etiam incon- 
 stantia mentis, in quantis 
 tenebris vivitur. 
 
 Fortuna, tanquam Proteus, 
 si perseveres, ad formam 
 redit. 
 
 CONTRA. 
 
 Constantia, ut janitrix mo* 
 rosa, multa utilia indicia 
 abigit. 
 
 JEquum est, ut constantia 
 res adversas bene toleret ; 
 nam fere inducit. 
 
 Stullitia brevissima op- 
 tima. 
 
 SCIENTIA, CONTEMPLATIO 
 
 PRO. 
 
 Ea demum voluptas est se- 
 cundum naturam, cujus non 
 e&t satietas. 
 
 * * * 
 
 Omnes affectus pravi, falsa? 
 astimationes sunt ; atque 
 eadem sunt bonitas et Veri- 
 tas. 
 
 CONTRA. 
 
 Contemplatio, speciosa m 
 ertia. 
 
 Bene cogitare, non multo 
 melius est, quam bene som- 
 niare. 
 
 LITERJE. 
 
 Lectio est conversatio 
 cum prudentibus ; actio fere 
 eum stultis. 
 
 Non inutiles scientiae ex- 
 istimandae sunt, quarum in se 
 nullus est usus, si ingenia 
 acuant, et ordinent. 
 
 CONTRA. 
 
 Quae unquam ars docmt 
 tempestivum artis usum 1 
 
 Artis saepissime ineptu* 
 usus est, ne sit nullus. 
 
APPENDIX. 
 
 305 
 
 PROMPTITUDO. 
 
 PRO. CONTRA. 
 
 Opportuna prudentia non * * * 
 
 est, quae celeris non est. Cujus consilia non maturat 
 
 Qui cito errat, cito errorem deliberatio, nee prudentiam 
 
 emendat. aetas. 
 
 POPULARITAS. 
 
 Qui ipsi magni viri sunt, 
 neminem unum fere habent, 
 quem vereantur, sed popu- 
 lum. 
 
 Infima assentatio est as- 
 sentatio vulgi. 
 
 DISSIMULATIO 
 
 PRO. 
 
 Dissimulatio, compendi- 
 ariasapientia. 
 
 Sepes consiliorum, dissi- 
 mulatio. 
 
 CONTRA. 
 
 Quibus artes civiles supra 
 captum ingenii sunt, iis dis- 
 simulatio pro prudentia erit 
 
 Qui dissimulat, praecipuo 
 
 Qui indissimulanter omnia ad agendum instrumento st 
 
 agit, asque decipit ; namplu- privat, i. e. fide, 
 rimi, aut non capiunt, aut Dissimulatio dissimulat 
 
 non credunt. ionem invitat. 
 
 CEREMONIJE, PUNCTOS, AFFECTATIO 
 
 Si et in verbis vulgo pare- 
 mus, quidni in habitu, et 
 gestu 1 
 
 Virtus et prudentia sine 
 punctis, velut peregrinae lin- 
 guas sunt ; nam vulgo non 
 intelliguntur. 
 
 Puneti translatio sunt vir- 
 tutis in linguam vernaculam. 
 
 CONTRA. 
 
 Quid deformius, quam 
 scenam in vitam transferre 1 
 
 Magis placent cerussata 
 buccae, et calamistratacoma, 
 quam cerussati et calami* 
 trati mores. 
 
 24 
 
306 
 
 APPENDIX. 
 
 AM1CITIA. 
 
 PRO. 
 
 Pessima solitudo, non 
 veras habere amicitias. 
 
 Digna make fidei ultio, 
 amicitiis privari. 
 
 CONTRA. 
 
 Qui amicitias arctas copu- 
 lat, novas necessitates sibi 
 imponit. 
 
 Animi imbecilli est, par- 
 tiri fortunam. 
 
 V1NDICTA. 
 
 PRO. 
 
 Vindicta privata, justitia 
 agrestis. 
 
 Qui vim rependit, legem 
 tantum violation hominem. 
 
 Utilis metus ultionis pri- 
 vatae ; nam leges nimium 
 saepe dormiunt. 
 
 CONTRA. 
 
 Qui injuriam fecit, prin- 
 cipium malo dedit ; qui red- 
 didit, modum abstulit. 
 
 Vindicta, quo magis natu- 
 ralis, eo magis coercenda. 
 
 Qui facile injuriam reddit, 
 is fortasse tempore, non 
 voluntate posterior erat. 
 
 INNOVATIO. 
 
 PRO. 
 
 Omnis medicina innova- 
 tio. 
 
 Qui nova remedia fugit, 
 nova mala operitur. 
 
 Novator maximus tempus : 
 quidni igitur tempus imite- 
 mur 1 
 
 Morosa morum retentio, 
 res turbulenta est, aeque ac 
 novitas. 
 
 Cum per se res mutentur 
 in deterius, si consilio in 
 melius non mutentur, quis 
 finis erit mali 1 
 
 CONTRA. 
 
 Nullus auctor placet, prae« 
 ter tempus. 
 
 Nulla novitas absque in- 
 juria ; nam praesentia con- 
 vellit. 
 
 Quaa usu obtinuere, si non 
 bona, at saltern apta inter se 
 sunt. 
 
 Quis novator tempus imi- 
 tatur, quod novationes ita in 
 sinuat, ut sensus fallant 1 
 
 Quod praster spem evenit, 
 cui prodest, minus accep- 
 tum ; cui obest, magis mo. 
 lestum. 
 
APPENDIX. 
 
 307 
 
 MORA. 
 
 PRO. CONTRA. 
 
 Fortuna multa festinanti Occasio instar Sibyllae mi 
 yendit, quibus morantem nuit oblatum, pretium auget. 
 donat Ccleritas, Orci galea 
 
 PRO. 
 
 Merito ejus fides suspecta 
 est, quam suspicio labefacit. 
 
 SUSPICIO. 
 
 Suspicio fidem absolvtt 
 * # # 
 
 CONTRA. 
 
 VERBA LEGIS. 
 
 PRO. 
 
 Non est interpretatio, sed 
 divinatio, quae recedit a 
 litera. 
 
 Cum receditur a litera, 
 judex transit in legislatorem. 
 
 CONTRA. 
 
 Ex omnibus verbis elicien- 
 dus est sensus, qui interpre- 
 tetur singula. 
 
 Pessima tyrannis lex in 
 equuleo. 
 
 PRO TESTIBUS CONTRA ARGUMENTA. 
 
 PRO. 
 
 Secundum oratorem, non 
 secundum causam pronun- 
 ciat, qui argumentis nititur. 
 
 Tutum foret argumentis 
 credere, si homines nihil 
 absurdi facerent. 
 
 Argumenta, cum sint con- 
 tra testimonia, hoc praestant, 
 ut res mira videatur, non 
 autem ut non vera. 
 
 CONTRA. 
 
 Si testibus credendum sit 
 contra argumenta, sufRcit, 
 tantum judicem esse non 
 surdum. 
 
 lis probationibus tutissimo 
 creditur, quae rarissime men- 
 tiuntur. 
 
 Page 45. [B.] 
 
 " there is a distinction to be made between the 
 
 unnatural and the merely improbable : a fiction is unnatu- 
 ral when there is some assignable reason against the events 
 
308 APPENDIX. 
 
 taking place as described — when men are represented as act- 
 ing contrary to the character assigned them, or to human 
 nature in general; as when a young lady of seventeen, 
 brought up in ease, luxury, and retirement, with no com- 
 panions but the narrow-minded and illiterate, displays (as 
 a heroine usually does) under the most trying circumstan- 
 ces such wisdom, fortitude, and knowledge of the world, 
 as lhe best instructors and the best examples can rarely 
 produce without the aid of more mature age and longer 
 experience. — On the other hand, a fiction is still improba- 
 ble though not unnatural, when there is no reason to be 
 assigned why things should not take place as represented, 
 except that the overbalance of chances is against it ; the 
 hero meets, in his utmost distress, most opportunely, with 
 the very person to whom he had formerly done a signal 
 service, and who happens to communicate to him a piece 
 of intelligence which sets all to rights. Why should he 
 not meet him as well as any one else 1 all that can be said 
 is, that there is no reason why he should. The infant 
 who is saved from a wreck, and who afterwards becomes 
 such a constellation of virtues and accomplishments, turns 
 out to be no other than tke nephew of the very gentleman 
 on whose estate the waves had cast him, and whose lovely 
 daughter he had so long sighed for in vain: there is no 
 reason to be given, except from the calculation of chances, 
 why he should not have been thrown on one part of the 
 coast as well as on another. Nay, it would be nothing 
 unnatural, though the most determined novel-reader would 
 be shocked at its improbability, if all the heroe's enemies, 
 while they were conspiring his ruin, were to be struck 
 dead together by a lucky flash of lightning: yet many de- 
 nouements which are decidedly unnatural, are better tole- 
 rated than this would be. We shall, perhaps, best explain 
 our meaning by examples, taken from a novel of great 
 merit in many respects. When Lord Glenthorn, in whom 
 a most unfavourable education has acted on a most unfa- 
 vourable disposition, after a life of torpor, broken only by 
 short sallies of forced exertion, on a sudden reverse of 
 fortune, displays at once the most presevering diligence in 
 the most repulsive studies; and in middle life, without 
 any previous habits of exertion, any hope of early busi- 
 ness, or the example of friends, or the stimulus of actual 
 
APPENDIX. 309 
 
 watt, to urge him, outstrips every competitor, though 
 every competitor has every advantage against him ; this ia 
 unnatural. — When Lord Glenthorn, the instant he is strip- 
 ped of his estates, meets, falls in love with, and is condi 
 tionally accented by, the very lady who is remotely enti- 
 tled to those estates; when the instant he has fulfilled »he 
 conditions of their marriage, the family of the person pos- 
 sessed of the estates becomes extinct, and by the concur- 
 rence of circumstances, against every one of which the 
 chances were enormous, the hero is re-instated in all his 
 old domains; this is merely improbable. The distinction 
 which we have been pointing out may be plainly perceived 
 in the events of real life ; when any thing takes place of 
 such a nature as we should call, in a fiction, merely im- 
 probable, because there are many chances against it, we 
 call it a lucky or unlucky accident, a singular coincidence, 
 something very extraordinary, odd, curious, &c. ; where 
 as any thing which, in a fiction, would be called unnatu- 
 ral, when it actually occurs, (and such things do occur,) 
 is still called unnatural, inexplicable, unaccountable, in- 
 conceivable, &c. epithets which are not applied to events 
 that have merely the balance of chances against them." — 
 Quarterly Review, No. xlviii. pp. 354, 355. The whole 
 article has been republished in Lockhart's edition of the 
 Works of Sir W. Scott (who however is not the author,) 
 Vol. xviii. p. 209. Miscellaneous Prose Works. 
 
 Page 56. [C] 
 
 " ' Clothed in authority derived from the authority, and 
 in symbolic robes analogous to the judge, the advocate, 
 observing in an honest witness a deponent whose testimo- 
 ny promises to be adverse, assumes terrific tones and de- 
 portment, and pretending to find dishonesty on the part of 
 the witness, strives to give his testimony the appearance 
 of it. I say a bond fide witness ; or in the case of a wit- 
 ness who by an adverse interrogator is really looked upon 
 as dishonest, this is not the proper course, nor is it taken 
 with him. For bringing to light the falsehood of a wit- 
 ness really believed to be mendacious, the more suitable, 
 or rather the only suitable course, is to forbear to express 
 the impression he has inspired. Supposing his tale cleaj 
 
110 APPENDIX. 
 
 of suspicion, the witness runs on his course, with fluency 
 till he is entangled in some irretrievable contradiction at 
 variance with other parts of his own story, or with facts 
 notorious in themselves, or established by proofs from 
 other sources.' 3 
 
 " We happen to be aware, from the practice of persons 
 of the highest experience in the examination of witnesses, 
 that this description is almost without exception correct, 
 and that, as a general rule, it is only the honest and timid 
 witness who is confounded by imperious deportment. The 
 practice gives pre-eminence to the unscrupulous witnesses 
 who can withstand such assaults. Sir Roger North, in his 
 ' Life of Sir Dudley North,' relates, that the law of Tur- 
 key, like our absurd law of evidence in some cases, re- 
 quired the testimony of two witnesses in proof of each fact, 
 and that a practice had, in consequence, arisen, and had 
 obtained the sanction of general opinion, of using a false 
 witness in proof of those facts whch admitted only of one 
 witness. Sir Dudley North, while in Turkey, had nu- 
 merous disputes which it became necessary to settle by 
 litigation : ' and,' says his biographer — 
 
 " • Our merchant found by experience, that in a direct 
 fact a false witness was a surer card than a true one ; for 
 if the judge has a mind to baffle a testimony, an honest, 
 harmless witness, that doth not know his play, cannot so 
 »vell stand his many captious questions as a false witness 
 used to the trade will do ; for he hath been exercised, and 
 >s prepared for such handling, and can clear himself, when 
 the other will be confounded ; therefore circumstances 
 may be such as to make the false one more eligible.' " 
 
 " Those who have been present in our common law 
 courts will say whether the bar does not avail itself of its 
 authoritative protection to cast off' all restraints against all 
 parties. To serve the client by ' all expedient means, to 
 protect that client at all hazards and costs to all others,' or, 
 according to the noble and learned lord who vindicates 
 the practice as a duty to disregard the 'alarm, the suffer- 
 ing, the torment, the destruction, he may bring upon any 
 others,' we have seen innocent and respectable females so 
 confused, an<i assailed with such imperious gestures and 
 condemnatory tones, on the assumptions (as groundless 
 as the assumptions in the conspicuous case of Courvoisier) 
 
APPENDIX. 311 
 
 that they had committed perjury, as would make any fa« 
 ther or brother shudder at exposing daughter or sister to, 
 and in such a manner as the counsel using the 'expedient 
 means' neither could nor would use under any circum- 
 stances in respectable private society. The most demor- 
 alizing effect produced by these exhibitions appears to us 
 to be the treatment given to persons of the labouring 
 classes, servants or policemen. If good conduct is to be 
 promoted in them, one means of doing so is surely to in- 
 crease their estimation of the value of character; one 
 means of raising their moral perceptions is rather to as- 
 sume that they are keenly alive to the pleasures and pains 
 of self and social estimation, than that they are dead to 
 them. We have frequently witnessed such treatment of 
 witnesses as that displayed in the case of Courvoisier, but 
 we never happened to witness an attempt ' to comfort ' the 
 shattered witness of that class. Though the depraved state 
 of the bar permits the practice of such inflictions in public 
 trials, it does not prevent the judge from doing justice, by 
 endeavouring to soothe the irritation, and at the same 
 time manifesting the feelings of a gentleman." 
 
 " The evil complained of is, it appears to us, implicated 
 in the rules that a prisoner shall be protected against being 
 •compelled' to criminate himself, and in the practice of 
 the English courts, that the character of the prisoner's de- 
 fence shall not affect the sentence. 
 
 " The counsel, it is held, must be free to do what the 
 prisoner may do in his defence, and the prisoner's defence 
 must be entirely free. 
 
 " Without acceding to the unqualified proposition as to 
 the extent of the prisoner's defence, we think it may be 
 observed that counsel do more for a guilty prisoner than he 
 could do for himself. It will aid in giving a correct con- 
 ception of the real character of the licence of counsel, if 
 we conceive the terms of a counsel's speech in defence, 
 or the counsel's general terms and tones of questions to 
 witnesses proceeding from the mouth of the prisoner, the 
 party whom the counsel represents. Innocence is calm and 
 gentle, and in meeting false testimony vindicates itself 
 without assuming the tone of furiously passionate condem- 
 nation. What would have been the Jury's conclusion 
 upon Courvoiser after he had poured forth a few sentences 
 
312 APPENDIX 
 
 of the description of those we have quoted, decorated with 
 the epithets ' gang,' ' ruffians,' conspirators,' • blood-money,' 
 and the insinuation * this woman,' against a respectable 
 female 1 
 
 " If the suppressio veri be permitted as the privilege of 
 counsel, and the Magna Charta of delinquents in England, 
 still we must venture to propose as an innovation that the 
 freedom of defence should be restricted so far as it may be 
 conceived to consist in the suggestio falsi. Inasmuch as 
 the law restricts the freedom of an accused person from the 
 use of such physical means of defending himself against 
 capture as a knife, so we think the use of foul weapons of 
 mental assault and injury, such as perjury and false im- 
 putations on parties, may be beneficially forbidden to the 
 prisoner, and, by consequence, to his counsel." 
 
 " It is said we abound in mercy, but we give so much 
 of it to the guilty, that we have none to spare for the in- 
 nocent. Criminal justice has been made to vacillate in 
 this country between two sets of blind presumptions — the 
 ancient one, which presumed guilt in all who were accused, 
 and the modern one, which presumes that all who are ac- 
 cused are innocent, and which even after conviction, over- 
 ooks the party injured and the tendency of the crime, and 
 bestows unbounded sympathy on the criminal. A treatise 
 might be written in illustration of the mischiefs of acting 
 on presumptions, when the facts of the particular case are 
 developed and require none. Our English practice, it ap- 
 pears to us, requires the tertium quid of not proven.' The 
 sympathies of the Old Bailey bar are, we must say, on the 
 same side with their lucre, and with all the inmates of the 
 gaol ; with them, all policemen are what they were desig- 
 nated in Courvoiser's case, bloodhounds — and witnesses, 
 persecutors of the innocent. Entire innocence is always in 
 peril in the dock, and has no other security than in the aid 
 of counsel."- From a Pamphlet on the "License of Counsel." 
 
 Page 59. [D.] 
 
 "To say that numerous old manuscripts exist; that 
 they admit of classification and date, and other character- 
 istics ; to speak of evidence, derived from contemporary 
 history, from the monuments of art, from national manner* 
 
APPENDIX. 31* 
 
 and customs ; to assert, that there have been persons 
 qualified for the task, who have examined duly these se- 
 veral branches of evidence, and have given a satisfactory 
 report of that research, is to make a statement concerning 
 the evidence of Christianity, which is intelligible indeed, 
 but is not itself the evidence, not itself the proof, of which 
 you speak. So far from this being the case, we cannot but 
 feel, that the author who is guiding us, and pointing out 
 these pillars of our faith, as they appear engraved on his 
 chart of evidence, can himself, whatever be his learning, 
 be personally acquainted with but a very small portion. 
 The most industrious and able scholar, after spending a 
 life on some individual point of evidence, the collation of 
 manuscripts, the illustrations derived from uninspired au- 
 thors, translations, or whatever the inquiry be, must, after 
 all, (it would seem,) rest by far the greater part of his faith, 
 immediately on the testimony of others ; as thousands in 
 turn will rest their faith on his testimony, to the existence 
 of such proof as he has examined. There is no educated 
 Christian who is not taught to appreciate the force of that 
 proof in favour of the genuineness of the New Testament, 
 which may be derived from the consent of ancient copies, 
 and the quotations found in a long line of fathers, and 
 other writers, and yet not one in a thousand ever reads the 
 works of the fathers, or sees a manuscript, or is even ca- 
 pable of deciphering one, if presented to him. He admits 
 the very groundwork of his faith on the assertion of those 
 who profess to have ascertained these points ; and even 
 the most learned are no further exceptions to this case, than 
 in the particular branch of evidence which they have stu- 
 died. Nay, even in their use of this, it will be surprising, 
 when we come to reflect on it, how great a portion must 
 be examined, only through statements resting on the tes- 
 timony of others. 
 
 Nor is it a question which can be waived, by throwing 
 the weight of disproof on those who cavil and deny. It 
 turns upon the use which is made, more or less, by all, of 
 the positive proofs urged in defence of Christianity. Chris- 
 tianity is established, and it may be fair to bid its assailants 
 prove, that it is not what it professes to be, the presump- 
 tion and prescriptive title being on its side ; but Christi- 
 anity does not intrench itself within this fortress: it 
 
314 APPENDIX. 
 
 brings out into the field an array of evidences to establish 
 that which, on the former view of the case, its adherents 
 are supposed not to be called on to maintain. It boasts of 
 the sacred volume having been transmitted pure by means 
 of manuscripts ; and by asserting the antiquity, the free- 
 dom from corruption, and the independence and agree- 
 ment of the several classes of these, the Christian contends 
 for the existence of his religion at the time when Christ 
 and the apostles lived. Ancient writings are appealed to, 
 and quotations cited by various authors from the New 
 Testament are adduced, which go to prove the same. Even 
 profane history is made to furnish contemporary evidence 
 of the first rise of Christianity. Now it is the way in which 
 this evidence is employed that is the point to be consider- 
 ed ; the question is, in what sense all this can be called 
 evidence to the mass of Christians. All this is, in short, 
 ■positive proof ; and he who has examined manuscripts, or 
 read the works in question, has gone through the demon- 
 stration ; but he who has not, (and this is the case with all, 
 making a very few exceptions,) has not gone through the 
 process of proof himself, but takes the conclusion on the 
 word of others. He believes those who inform him, that 
 they, or others, have examined manuscripts, read the fa- 
 thers, compared profane history with holy writ. Can this 
 be called reasonable faith 1 or at least, do we not pretend 
 to be believing on proofs of various kinds, when, in fact, 
 our belief rests on the bare assertions of others 1 
 
 " It is very important that the case should be set in its true 
 light, because, supposing the Christian ministry able, and 
 at leisure, to investigate and sift the Christian evidence 
 for themselves, the same cannot be done by the barrister, 
 the physician, the professional man of whatever depart- 
 ment besides theology, however enabled by education ; and 
 then, what is to be the lot of the great mass of the people 1 
 They, clearly, are incompetent even to follow up the several 
 steps of proof which each proposition would require. They 
 take it for granted, if they apply the evidence at all, that 
 these things are so, because wiser persons than they say it 
 is so. In the same spirit as the question was put of old 
 ' Have any of the rulers believed on Christ 1 but this people 
 who knoweth not the law are cursed,' Christians must ge- 
 nerally, it would seem, believe in Christ, because their 
 
APPENDIX. 315 
 
 •piritual rulers do, and reject the infidel's views, because 
 these people are pronounced accursed. Nay, the suppo- 
 sition of the clergy themselves having the qualification 
 and the opportunity to go through the process of proof, is 
 only a supposition. They often want either or both, and 
 it is impossible that it should not be so. The labour of a 
 life is scarcely sufficient to examine for one's self one 
 branch alone of such evidence. For the greater part, few 
 men, however learned, have satisfied themselves by going 
 through the proof. They have admitted the main asser- 
 tions, because proved by others. 
 
 " And is this conviction then reasonable 1 Is it more 
 than the adoption of truth on the authority of another 1 
 It is. The principle on which all these assertions are re- 
 ceived, is not that they have been made by this or that 
 credible individual or body of persons, who have gone 
 through the proof — this may have its weight with the criti- 
 cal and learned — but the main principle adopted by all, in- 
 telligible by all, and reasonable in itself, is, that these as- 
 sertions are set forth, bearing on their face a challenge of 
 refutation. The assertions are like witnesses placed in a 
 box to be confronted. Scepticism, infidelity, and scoffing, 
 form the very groundwork of our faith. As long as these 
 are known to exist and to assail it, so long are we sure 
 that any untenable assertion may and will be refuted. The 
 benefit accruing to Christianity in this respect from the 
 occasional success of those who have found flaws in the 
 several parts of evidence is invaluable. We believe what 
 is not disproved most reasonably, because we know that 
 there are those abroad who are doing their utmost to dis- 
 prove it. We believe the witness, not because we know 
 him and esteem him, but becase he is confronted, cross- 
 examined, suspected, and assailed by arts fair and unfair. 
 It is not his authority, but the reasonableness of the case 
 It becomes conviction well-grounded, and not assent to 
 man's words. 
 
 " At the same time nothing has perhaps more contribu- 
 ted to perplex the Christian inquirer, than the impression 
 which vague language creates of our conviction arising 
 not out of the application of this principle to the external 
 &nd monumental evidences of Christianity, but out of the 
 examination of the evidence itself. The mind feels dls- 
 
3*6 APPENDIX. 
 
 appointed and unsatisfied, not because it has not ground 
 for belief, but because it misnames it. The man who has 
 not examined any branch of evidence for himself, may, 
 according to the principle above stated, very reasonably 
 believe in consequence of it ; but his belief does not arise 
 immediately out of it, is not the same frame of mind which 
 would be created by an actual examination for himself. It 
 may be more, or it may be less a sure source of conviction ; 
 but the discontent is occasioned, not by this circumstance, 
 but by supposing that it is one of these things that does, 
 or ought to, influence us, when in fact it is the other ; by 
 putting ourselves in the attitude of mind which belongs to 
 the witness, instead of that which belongs to the bystander. 
 We very well know how the unbroken testimony of writers 
 during eighteen centuries to the truth of Christianity ought 
 to make us feel, if we had ascertained the fact by an ex- 
 amination of their writings ; and we are surprised at find- 
 ing that we are not in that frame of mind, forgetting that 
 our use of the evidence may be founded on a different 
 pri n c i pi e . ' ' — Hinds, on Jnspira Hon. 
 
 Page 74. EE ] 
 
 "Analogy does not mean the similarity of two things, 
 but the similarity, or sameness of two relations. There 
 must be more than two things to give rise to two relations : 
 there must be at least three ; and in most cases there are 
 four. Thus A may be like B, but there is no analogy 
 between A and B : it is an abuse of the word to speak so, 
 and it leads to much confusion of thought. If A has the 
 same relation to B which C has to D, then there is an 
 analogy. If the first relation be well known, it may serve 
 to explain the second, which is less known: and the 
 transfer of name from one of the terms in the relation best 
 known to its corresponding term in the other, causes no 
 confusion, but on the contrary tends to remind us of the 
 similarity that exists in these relations ; and so assists the 
 mind instead of misleading it. 
 
 " In this manner things most unlike and discordant in 
 their nature may be strictly analogous to one another. 
 Thus a certain projwsiiion may be called the basis of a 
 system The proposition is to the system what the basis 
 
APPENDIX. 317 
 
 is to a building. It serves a similar office and purpose •. 
 and this last relation being well known, is of use to illus- 
 trate the other which was less known. E. G. The system 
 rests upon it: it is useless to proceed with the argument 
 till this is well established : if this were removed, the sys- 
 tem must fall. The only cautions requisite in the use ot 
 this kind of analogy are, first, not to proceed to a com- 
 parison of the corresponding terms as they are intrinsically 
 in themselves or in their own nature, but merely as they 
 are in relation to the other terms respectively ; and, se- 
 condly, not to presume that because the relation is the 
 same or similar in one or two points, therefore it is the 
 same or similar in all. 
 
 " The first of these errors cannot be committed in the 
 instance before us, because the two things are of such 
 different natures that they have no one point of resem- 
 blance. But when the first and the third term are not 
 only corresponding in relation, but chance also to be of a 
 kindred nature, or when, from the circumstance of one 
 being visible and the other invisible, their discrepancies do 
 not strike us, it often happens that a comparison is pur- 
 sued between the things themselves, and this is one cause 
 of the promiscuous use of the terms similitude and analogy 
 As for example, when Locke, having once established ihe 
 comparison, proceeds to talk of Ideas as if they were really 
 images in the mind, or traces in the brain. 
 
 " It is from observing this tendency in men to regard 
 the metaphorical or analogous name as bringing along with 
 it something of the nature of the thing it originally signi- 
 fied, that Mr. Stewart is led to make the remark, not less 
 original than just, that it is well for the understanding, 
 though it may be a loss to the fancy, when a metaphorical 
 word has lost its pedigree* — that is, when it no longer 
 excites the primary idea denoted by it, and is reduced by 
 custom to a plain and direct appellation in its secondary 
 sense. He suggests alsof with equal ingenuity, in cases 
 
 * Philosophical Essays, Ess. v. chap. 3. 
 
 f Ibid. In the analysis here given of analogy, it will be perceiv 
 ed by those who are conversant with Mr. Stewart's writings, that 1 
 have ventured to depart widely from his use of the word. Indeed 
 M. Prevot's etymology, as given in a passage quoted with approba« 
 tion by Mr. Stewart, vol. ii chap. iv. (;4, appears to me quite erro 
 aeons. ' La mot A nalogie,. dans Vori%ine, n'exprime que la rossem* 
 
318 APPENDIX. 
 
 where words have not yet been worn down to this use, the 
 expedient of varying our metaphor when speaking of the 
 same subject, as a preservative against this dangerous and 
 encroaching error. Of the utility of this practice I have 
 no doubt : and I think it maybe regarded as an advantage 
 of the same kind, that the parables of the New Testament 
 are drawn from such a great diversity of objects, as to 
 check the propensity in man, especially in matters of reli- 
 gion, to attach some mystical character to the images so 
 employed, and to look upon them as emblems possessing 
 an intrinsic virtue, or at least a secret affinity with those 
 spiritual truths, to the illustration of which they are made 
 subservient. 
 
 " When the points in which the similarity of relation 
 holds are of secondary importance — when, instead of being 
 essential and characteristic, they are slight and superficial 
 — the analogy is often called a metaphor, and often a simi- 
 litude, as being addressed rather to the fancy than to the 
 judgment, and intended rather to adorn and illustrate, than 
 to explain. But it would perhaps be better to avoid the 
 name similitude in these cases, and to regard them as 
 being, what they really are, analogies, although subsisting - 
 in points of inferior moment. 
 
 " Thus when the swallow is called the herald of sum- 
 mer, or a ship is said to plough the waves, it is easy to 
 resolve the phrase into the form of analogy or proportion : 
 the swallow is to the summer what the herald is to his 
 prince ; he announces his approach. So the action of a 
 ship is to the sea, what the action of a plough is to the 
 land. But because in these cases the relation is fanciful 
 rather than real, that is, it consists not in essential points 
 but in mere circumstances of inferior importance, we leave 
 such things to the province of taste or amusement, and no 
 considerate man ever attempts to reason from them. 
 
 " * I am not of the mind of those speculators,' said Mr. 
 Burke, ' who seem assured that all states have the same 
 period of infancy, manhood, and decrepitude, that are 
 found in individuals. Parallels of this sort rather furnish 
 similitudes to illustrate or to adorn, than supply analogies 
 from whence to reason. The objects which are attempted 
 
 blance.' The reverse of which I take to be the fact. But this i» 
 not the place for entering 1 farther into discussion. 
 
APPENDIX 319 
 
 to be forced into an analogy are not found in the same 
 classes of existence. Individuals are physical beings — 
 commonwealths are not physical but moral essences.'* 
 
 " A remarkable example of this kind is that argument 
 of Toplady against free-will, who, after quoting the text, 
 Ye also as lively stones are built up a spiritual housej 
 triumphantly exclaims, 'This is giving free-will a stab 
 under the fifth rib : for can stones hew themselves, and 
 build themselves in a regular house V% 
 
 " Even whem we attribute to inanimate things the qua- 
 lities of animals, the same analysis may be adopted as 
 before. Thus the rage of the sea denotes a similarity of 
 effect to the effect of rage in animals. This is even more 
 the work of fancy than the example before given : for in 
 reducing it to the form of a proportion, one term is wholly 
 supplied by the imagination. We do not really believe 
 there is a principle in the sea producing these effects, an- 
 swering to rage in animals, but the imagination suggests 
 such a principle, and transfers the name of rage to it. 
 
 " In those cases where the analogy is traced between 
 things perfectly heterogeneous there is little danger of con- 
 founding the idea with that of similitude. But when the 
 subjects we are comparing are of a kindred nature, so that 
 the things spoken of not only stand in the same relation, 
 but also bear a close resemblance to each other, then it is 
 we are most apt to confound them together, and to substi- 
 tute resemblance for analogy. Thus because the heart or 
 the tooth of an animal not only serves the same office to 
 the animal that the heart or the tooth of a man does to 
 him, but is also an object very nearly resembling it in 
 structure and outward appearance, we are apt to imagine 
 that the same name is given to it solely on this last ac- 
 count. But if we pursue the inquiry throughout the animal 
 creation, we shall find that the form of the coiresponding 
 parts is infinitely varied, although the analogy remains the 
 same : till at length we arrive at such diversities, that it 
 is only persons conversant with comparative anatomy who 
 can readily detect the analogy. And long before the dif- 
 ference has reached this length in popular discourse, the 
 analogical name is dropped, and the scientific use of it v» 
 
 • Letters on a Regicide Peace, p. 4. t 1 Pet. ii. 6. 
 
 t Christian and Philosophical Necessity Asserted, p. 66, 
 
32t> APPENDIX. 
 
 such cases sounds pedantic to unlearned ears. Thus the 
 beak of a bird answers to the tooth of man, and the shel. 
 of a lobster to the bones of other animals. If the use and 
 office remain the same, no diversity of form impairs the 
 analogy : but we ought from such examples to learn even 
 when similitude of form does exist, not to regard it as the 
 true ground of the comparison we make, and of our affixing 
 the same name. 
 
 " Thus too when we speak of qualities of things which 
 are not cognizable by our senses except in their effects, 
 we bestow the same name on account of a real or supposed 
 analogy, not on account of any similarity in the qualities 
 themselves, which may or may not exist according as the 
 things ive speak of are more or less of a kindred nature. 
 Sagacity, courage, fidelity, love, jealousy, revenge, are all 
 predicated of brute animals not less than of man, although 
 they are not things or existences in themselves, but certain 
 attributes or affections in them, exhibiting symptoms and 
 producing effects corresponding with the symptoms and 
 effects attendant upon those qualities in ourselves. In 
 these instances, still more than in the former, we are prone 
 to confound analogy with resemblance — because as these 
 things have no form or existence of their own — as the 
 whole essence of them consists in their relation to some 
 thing else — if the relations be alike, the things are neces- 
 sarily alike, and we naturally slide into that form ol 
 speaking which makes no distinction between analogy 
 and resemblance : but even then we regard the qualities 
 as identical, only in proportion as the nature of the respec- 
 tive subjects to which they belong may be regarded as the 
 same. 
 
 " The second error above noticed as carefully to be 
 avoided in the use of analogy is, when we do not indeed 
 treat the corresponding terms as resembling one another in 
 their own nature, but when we presume that a similarity 
 of relation subsists in other paints besides those which are 
 the foundation of the analogy. 
 
 " When the analogy consists in slight or superficial cir- 
 cumstances, still more when it is fanciful only, no attempt 
 whatever should be made to reason from it ; as was ex- 
 emplified in the passage produced from Burke's writings : 
 but even when the analogy is solid and well-founded, we 
 
APPENDIX. 321 
 
 are liable to fall into error, if we suppose it to extend 
 farther than it really does. Errors of this nature are olten 
 committed by men of lively fancies, or of ardent minds, 
 and th-ey arc the more seducing because they set out not 
 only with a show of reason, but with reason and truth 
 actually on their side. 
 
 '•' Thus because a just analogy has been discerned be- 
 tween the metropolis of a country, and the heart in the 
 animal body, it has been sometimes contended that its 
 increased size is a disease — that it may impede some of its 
 most important functions — or even be the means of ita 
 dissolution. 
 
 " Another frequent example of this second error is found 
 in the use of the same titles of office or dignity in different 
 nations or in distant times. Although the relation de- 
 noted by them be (he same in one or in several important 
 particulars, yet it scarcely ever holds throughout ; and the 
 most false notions are in consequence entertsinedby people 
 of the nature of these corresponding offices in every coun- 
 try but their own. We have known what mischief has 
 been produced by the adoption of the phrase, ' servant of 
 the people,' although it cannot be denied that in some 
 points the duty of the magistrate is the same as the duty 
 of a servant — that his time, for instance, his thoughts, his 
 abilities, should be devoted to the benefit of the people — 
 and again, on the other hand, because the duty of a sub- 
 ject towards his sovereign coincides in many respects with 
 the duty of a child towards his parent, some speculative 
 writers have hastily concluded that the institution of mo- 
 narchy is equally founded in nature, and possesses the 
 same inherent authority with the parental." — Coplcston'a 
 Four Discourses on the Doctrines of Necessity and Predes- 
 tination,note to Disc. III. p. 122—130. 
 
 Page 103. [F.] 
 
 " No man is so obstinate an admirer of the old times, as 
 to deny that medicine, surgery, botany, chemistry, engi- 
 neering, navigation, are better understood now than in 
 any former age. ' "We conceive that it is the same with 
 political science. Like those other sciences which we have 
 mentioned, it has always been working itself clearer and 
 
322 APPENDIX. 
 
 clearer, and depositing imrurify after impurity. There 
 vhen the most powerful ol human intellects 
 • ! by the gibbet Ish of th I and the al> 
 
 chymisl . and just bo the most en- 
 
 lightened and virtuous statesmen thought it the first duty 
 
 ivernment to persecute hen tit : . to found : 
 to make w u on pact as But time advances, facts ac- 
 cumulate, doubts arise. Faint glimpses of truth begin to 
 appear, and shine more and more unto the perfect d iv 
 The highest intellects, like the top- ol mountains, are the 
 first to catch and to reflect the dawn. They are bright, 
 while the level below ifi Still in darkness. But soon the 
 light which at first ilium inati d Dnly the loftiest eminences, 
 
 ads on the plain, and penetrates to the deepest 
 
 First co ''■■ igmeuts of syst ms, then defectivei 
 
 systems, then • omplete and harmonious systems. The 
 sound opinion, held for a time by one bold speculator, 
 
 . s the opini i dl minority, oi a Btrong mi 
 
 nority, of a majority — of mankind. Thus, the grea 
 gresB goes on, till schoolboys laugh at th< [argon which 
 imposed on Bacon — till conn • ondemn the il- 
 
 ty and int • "!,.,■•; 
 
 Review.' July, 1835, p 
 
 "We have said that the history of England is the his* 
 ind, when we take a comprehensive view 
 of it, it is so. But, when e I imined in small separate por- 
 tions, it may with move propriety be called ; ' history ol 
 actions and reactions, we have often thought that the 
 
 " of the public mind in our country resembles that of 
 . when the tide is rising Each successive wave 
 rushes forward, breaks, and rolls back : but the gre;' 1 
 is steadily coming in \ person who looked on the waters 
 only foi ■> moment might fancy that they were retiring, or 
 that they obeyed no fixed law, but were rushing capi i< 
 
 But when he keeps his eye on them foi a 
 quarter of an bout, and ; es one sea-mark disappeal 
 another, it is impossible foi him to doubt of the g 
 direction in which the ocean is moved. Just Buch has been 
 the course of events in England* In the history ol the na- 
 tional mind, which is, in truth, the history ol the i 
 we must carefully distinguish to " recoil which regularly 
 follows every advance from a great general ebb If w*» 
 
APPENDIX. 323 
 
 take short intervals — if we compare 1640 and 1000, inso 
 and L685, 1708 and 1712, 1782 and 1794, we find a retro- 
 ion. But if we take centuries— if, for example, we 
 compare IT'.' I with L660, <>r with L68S — we cannot doubt 
 in which direction Bociety ia proceeding." — Edinb. Re- 
 view, July, L839, pp. 288, 289. 
 
 This laal paasage closely resembles one in the " Lectures 
 on Political I Iconomy.*' 
 
 "Another point which is attainable is, to perceive 
 amidst all the admixture of evil, and all the seeming di - 
 order of conflicting agencies, a general tendency neverthe- 
 less towards the accomplishment of wise .'Mid beneficent 
 '1 
 
 in contemplating an ebbing tide, we are sometimes 
 in doubt, on ;i short inspection, whether the sea is r>-allv 
 receding, because, from time to time, a wave will da h 
 t np the shore than those which had preceded it, bttt, 
 continue our observation long enough, we see plainly, 
 that tin.- boundary of the land ia on the whole advancing; 
 so here, by extending our view over many countries and 
 through several ages, we may distinctly perceive the ten- 
 dencies which would have escaped a more confined re- 
 search."— Lect. iv. p. l 1 "''. 
 
 The following, from the Edinburgh Review,* is an ad 
 mirable specimen of illustrative argument: — 
 
 " A blade which is designed both to shave and to carve, 
 will certainly not shave so well us :i razor, or carve so well 
 ns a carving-knife. An academy <•( painting, which should 
 also he a bank, would in all probability exhibit very bad 
 pictures and discount vry bad bills. A gas company, 
 
 which should also be an infant school society, would, we 
 apprehend, light the atreeta ill, and teach the children ill. 
 < >n this principle, we think thai government should be or- 
 ganized sol' ly with a view to its main end | and that no 
 
 part of its efficiency for that end should be sacrificed in 
 order to promote any other end however excellent. 
 
 " But doee it follow from hence that governments ought 
 never to promote any end other than their main end 1 In 
 no wise. Though it ia desirable thai every institution 
 uhould have a main end, and should be so formed as to be 
 in the highest degree efficient foe that main end; yet il 
 • No exxxix. April. 1839. 
 
324 APPENDIX 
 
 without any sacrifice of its efficiency for that end, it can 
 promote any other good end, it ought to do so. Thus, the 
 end for which a hospital is built is the relief of the sick, not 
 the beautifying of the street. To sacrifice the health of the 
 sick to splendonr of architectural effect — to place the 
 building in a bad air only that it may present a more com- 
 manding front to a great public place — to make the wards 
 hotter or cooler than they ought to be, in order that the 
 columns and windows of the exterior may please the 
 passers-by, would be monstrous. But if, without any 
 sacrifice of the chief object, the hospital can be made an 
 ornament to the metropolis, it would be absurd not ta 
 make it so. 
 
 " In the same manner, if a government can, without any 
 sacrifice of its main end, promote any other good end, it 
 ought to do so. The encouragement of the fine arts, foi 
 example, is by no means the main end of government; 
 and it would be absurd, in constituting a government, to 
 bestow a thought on the question, whether it would be a 
 government likely to train Raphaels and Domenichinos. 
 But it by no means follow that it is improper for a govern- 
 ment to form a national gallery of pictures. The same 
 may be said of patronage bestowed on learned men — of 
 the publication of archives — of the collecting of libraries, 
 menageries, plants, fossils, antiques — of journies and voya- 
 ges for purposes of geographical discovery or astronomical 
 observation. It is not for these ends that government is 
 constituted. But it may well happen that a government 
 may have at its command resources which will enable it, 
 without any injury to its main end, to serve these collate 
 ral ends far more effectually than any individual or an> 
 voluntary association could do. If so, government ought 
 to serve these collateral ends. 
 
 " It is still more evidently the duty of government to pro« 
 mote — always in subordination to its main end — every 
 thing which is useful as a means for the attaining of that 
 main end. The improvement of steam navigation, fo( 
 example, is by no means a primary object of government. 
 But as steam vessels arc useful for the purpose of national 
 defence, and for the purpose of facilitating intercourse be- 
 tween distant provinces, and thereby consolidating the 
 force of the empire, it may be the bounden duty of govern* 
 
APPENDIX. 325 
 
 merit to encourage ingenious men to perfect an invention 
 which so directly tends to make the state more efficient 
 for 'ts great primary end. 
 
 " Now, on both these grounds, the instruction of the 
 people may with propriety engage the care of the govern- 
 ment."— Pp. 273—27,^. 
 
 " We may illustrate our view of the policy which gov- 
 ernments ought to pursue with respect to religious instruc- 
 tion, by recurring to the analogy of a hospital. Religious 
 instruction is not the main end for which a hospital is built: 
 and to introduce into a hospital any regulations prejudicial 
 to the health of the patients, on the plea of promoting their 
 spiritual improvement — to send a ranting preacher to a man 
 who has just been ordered by the physician to lie quiet and 
 try to get a little sleep — to impose a strict observance of 
 Lent on, a convalescent who has been advised to eat hear- 
 tily of nourishing food — to direct as the bigoted Pius the 
 Fifth actually did, that no medical assistance should be 
 given to any person who declined spiritual attendance — 
 would be the most extravagant folly. Yet it by no means 
 follows that it would not be right to have a chaplain to 
 attend the sick, and to pay such a chaplain out of the hos- 
 pital funds. Whether it will be proper to have such a 
 chaplain at all, and of what religious persuasion such a 
 chaplain ought to be, must depend on circumstances. 
 There may be a town in which it would be impossible to 
 set up a good hospital without the help of people of diffe- 
 rent opinions And religious parties may run so high that, 
 though people of different opinions are willing to contri- 
 bute for the relief of the sick, they will not concur in the 
 choice of any one chaplain. The high churchmen insist 
 that, if there is a paid chaplain, he shall be a high church- 
 man. The evangelicals stickle for an evangelical. Here 
 it would evidently be absurd and cruel to let a useful and 
 humane design, about which all are agreed, fall to the 
 ground, because all cannot agree about something else. 
 The governors must either appoint two chaplains, and pay 
 them both, or they must appoint none : and every one oi 
 them must, in his individual capacity, do what he can for 
 ihe purpose of providing the sick with such religious in- 
 struction and consolation as will, in his opinion, be most 
 useful to them. 
 
326 APPENDIX. 
 
 *' We should say the same of government. Governmenl 
 is not an institution for the propagation of religion, any 
 more than St. Geoge's hospital is an institution for the 
 propagation of religion. And the most absurd and perni- 
 cious consequences would follow, if government should 
 pursue, as its primary end, that which can never be more 
 than its secondary end ; though intrinsically more impor- 
 tant than its primary end. But a government which con- 
 siders the religious instruction of the people as a secon- 
 dary end, and follows out that principle faithfully, will, we 
 think, be likely to do much good, and little harm " — 
 Pp. 275, 276. 
 
 Page 103, [G.] 
 
 " Theirs" (the New-Testament- writers) " is a history of 
 miracles ; the historical picture of the scene in which the 
 Spirit of God was poured on all flesh, and signs and won 
 ders, visions and dreams, were part of the essentials of 
 their narratives. How is all this related 1 With the same 
 absence of high colouring and extravagant description with 
 which other writers notice the ordinary occurrences of the 
 world : partly, no doubt, for the like reason, that they were 
 really familiar with miracles ; partly, too, because to them 
 these miracles had long been contemplated only as sub- 
 servient measures to the great object and business of their 
 ministry — the salvation of men's souls. On the subject ot 
 miracles, the means to this great end, they speak in calm 
 unimpassioned language ; on man's sins, change of heart 
 on hope, faith, and charity ; on the objects in short to b# 
 effected, they exhaust all their feelings and eloquence 
 Their history, from the narrative of our Lord's persecu 
 tions to those of Paul, the abomination of the Jews, era 
 braces scenes and personages which claim from the ordi 
 nary reader a continual effusion of sorrow or wonder, c 
 indignation. In writers who were friends of the parties 
 and adherents of the cause for which they did and suffer 
 ed so great things, the absence of it is, on ordinary grounds 
 inconceivable. Look at the acount even of the crucifixion 
 Not one burst of indignation or sympathy mixes with th« 
 details of the narrative. Stephen the first martyr is stoned 
 fend the account comprised in these few words, ' the} 
 
APPENDIX. 327 
 
 Btoned Stephen calling upon God, and saying, Lord Jesus, 
 receive my spirit.' The varied and immense labours and 
 sufferings of the apostles are slightly hinted at, or else re- 
 lated in this dry and frigid way. ' And when they had 
 called the apostles, and beaten them, they commanded 
 that they should not speak in the name of Jesus, and let 
 them go.'* ' And there came thither certain Jews from 
 Antioch and Iconium who persuaded the people, and having 
 stoned Paul, drew him out of the city, supposing he had 
 been dead. Howbeit, as the disciples stood round about 
 him, he rose up, and came into the city ; and the next 
 day he departed with Barnabas to Derbe.'f Had these au- 
 thors no feeling 1 Had their mode of life bereaved them 
 of the common sympathies and sensibilities of human na 
 ture 1 Read such passages as St. Paul's parting address to 
 the elders of Miletus ; the same apostle's recommendation 
 of the offending member of the Corinthian Church to par- 
 don ; and, more than all, the occasional bursts of conflict- 
 ing feeling, in which anxious apprehension for the faith 
 and good behaviour of his converts is mixed with the 
 pleasing recollection of their conversion, and the minister 
 and the man are alike strongly displayed ; and it will be 
 plain that Christianity exercised no benumbing influence 
 on the heart No : their whole soul was occupied with 
 one object, which predominated over all the means sub- 
 servient to it, however great those means might be. In 
 the storm the pilot's eye is fixed on the headland which must 
 be weathered j in the crisis of victory or defeat, the general 
 sees only the position to be carried ; and the dead and the 
 instruments of death fall around hitn unheeded. On the 
 salvation of men, on this one point, the witnesses of Christ 
 and the ministers of his Spirit, expended all their energy 
 of feeling and expression. All that occurred — mischance, 
 persecution and miracle — were glanced at by the eye ol 
 'aith only in subserviency to this mark of the prize of their 
 high calling, as working together for good, and all exempt 
 from the associations which would attach to such events 
 and scenes, when contemplated by themselves, and with 
 the short-sightedness of uninspired men. Miracles were 
 not to them objects of wonder, nor mischances a subject 
 
 * Acts v. 40, 4t. f -Acts xiv. 19. 20. 
 
328 APPENDIX. 
 
 of sorrow and lamentation. They did all, they ? suffered 
 all, to the glory of God," London Review, No. II. p. 345. 
 
 Page 150, [H.] 
 
 " First, as to proximity of time, every one knows, that 
 any melancholy incident is the more affecting that it is 
 recent. Hence it is become common with story-tellers, 
 that they may make a deeper impressionon the hearers, to 
 introduce remarks like these : that the tale which they 
 relate is not old, that it happened but lately, or in theii 
 own time, or that they are yet living who had a part in it, 
 or were witnesses of it. Proximity of time regards not 
 only the past but the future. An event that will probably 
 soon happen, hath greater influence upon us than what 
 will probably happen a long time hence. I have hitherto 
 proceeded on the hypothesis, that the orator rouses the 
 passions of his hearers, by exhibiting some past transac 
 tion ; but we must acknowledge that passion may be as 
 strongly e N xcited by his reasonings concerning an event yet 
 to come. In the judiciary orations there is greater scope 
 for the former, in the deliberative, for the latter; though 
 in each kind there may ocsasionally be scope for both. 
 All the seven circumstances enumerated are applicable, 
 and have equal weight, whether they relate to the future 
 or to the past. The only exception that I know of is, that 
 probability and plausibility are scarcely distinguishable, 
 when used in reference to events in futurity. As in these 
 there is no access for testimony, what constitutes the prin- 
 cipal distinction is quite excluded. In comparing the in 
 fluence of the past upon our minds with that of the future, 
 it appears in general, that if the evidence, the importance, 
 and the distance of the objects, be equal, the latter will be 
 greater than the former. The reason, I imagine, is, we 
 are conscious, that as every moment, the future, which 
 seems placed before us, is approaching ; and the past, which 
 lies, as it were, behind, is retiring; our nearness or rela- 
 tion to the one constantly increaseth as the other decreas- 
 eth. There is something like attraction in the first case, 
 and repulsion in the second. This tends to interest us more 
 in the future than in the past, and consequently to the pre* 
 Bent view aggrandizes the one, and diminishes the other 
 
APPENDIX. 328 
 
 " What, nevertheless, gives the past a very considerable 
 Advantage, is its being generally susceptible of much 
 Stronger evidence than the future. The lights of the 
 mind are, if I may so express myself, in an opposite situa- 
 tion to the lights of the body These discover clearly the 
 prospect lying before us, but not the ground we have al- 
 ready passed. By the memory, on the contrary, that 
 great luminary of the mind, things past are exhibited in 
 retrospect ; we have no correspondent faculty to irradiate 
 the future ; and even in matters which fall not within the 
 reach of our memory, past events are often clearly disco- 
 verable by testimony, and by effects at present existing ; 
 whereas we have nothing equivalent to found our "argu- 
 ments upon in reasoning about things to come. It is for 
 this reason that the future is considered as the province of 
 conjecture and uncertainty. 
 
 " Local connexion, the fifth in the above enumeration, 
 hath a more powerful effect than proximity of time. Du- 
 ration and space are two things (call them entities, or at- 
 tributes, or what you please) in some respects the most 
 like, and in some respects the most unlike, to one another. 
 They resemble in continuity, divisibility, infinity, in their 
 being deemed essential to the existence of other things, 
 and in the doubts that have been raised as to their having 
 a real or independent existence of their own. They differ 
 in that the latter is permanent, whereas the very essence 
 of the former consisteth in transitoriness ; the parts of the 
 cne are all successive, of the other all co-existent. The 
 greater portions of time are all distinguished by the me- 
 morable things which have been transacted in them, the 
 smaller portions by the revolutions of the heavenly bodies : 
 the portions of place, great and small, (for we do not here 
 consider the regions of the fixed stars and planets,) are 
 distinguished by the various tracts of land and water, into 
 which the earth is divided and subdivided ; the one dis- 
 tinction intelligible, the other sensible ; the one chiefly 
 known to the inquisitive, the other in a great measure ob- 
 vious to all. 
 
 " Hence perhap3 it arises, that the latter is considered as 
 a firmer ground of relation than the former. Who is not 
 more curious to kaow the notable transactions which have 
 happened in his own country from the earliest antiquity, • 
 
330 appene:x 
 
 than to be acquainted with those which have happened ia 
 the remotest regions of the globe during the century 
 wherein he lives 1 It must be owned, however, that the 
 former circumstance is more frequently aided by that of 
 personal relation than the latter. Connexion of place not 
 only includes vicinage, but every other local relation, such 
 as being in a province under the same government with us, 
 in a state that is in alliance with us, in a country well 
 known to us, and the like. Of the influence of this con- 
 nexion in operating on our passions we have daily proofs 
 With how much indifference, at least with how slight and 
 transient emotion, do we read in newspapers the accounts 
 of the most deplorable accidents in countries distant and 
 unknown ! How much, on the contrary, are we alarmed 
 and agitated on being informed that any such accident hath 
 happened in our own neighbourhood, and that, even though 
 we be totally unacquainted with the persons concerned ! 
 
 " Still greater is the power of relation to the persons 
 concerned, which was the sixth circumstance mentioned, 
 as this tie is more direct than that which attacheth us to 
 the scene of action. It is the persons, not the place, that 
 are the immediate objects of the passions, love or hatred, 
 pity or anger, envy or contempt. Relation to the actors 
 commonly produces an effect contrary to that produced by 
 relation to the sufferers, the first in extenuation, the second 
 in aggravation, of the crime alleged. The first makes 
 for the apologist, the second for the accuser. This, I say, 
 is commonly the case, not always. A remote relation to 
 the actors, when the offence is heinous, especially if the 
 sufferers be more nearly related, will sometimes rather 
 aggravate than extenuate the guilt in our estimation. But 
 it is impossible with any precision to reduce these effects 
 to rules ; so much depending on the different tempers and 
 sentiments of different audiences. Personal relations are 
 of various kinds. Some have generally greater influence 
 than others ; some again have greater influence with one 
 person, others with another. They are consanguinity, 
 affinity, friendship, acquaintance, being fellow-citizens, 
 countrymen, of the same surname, language, religion, oc« 
 cupation, and innumerable others. 
 
 " But of all the connexive circumstances, the most pow- 
 erful is interest, which is the last Of all relations, per- 
 
APPENDIX. 33 ' 
 
 sonal relation, \y bringing the object very near, most en« 
 livens that sympathy which attaches us to the concerns of 
 others ; interest in the effects brings the object, if I may 
 say so, into contact with us, and makes the mind cling to 
 it, as a concern of its own. Sympathy is but a reflected 
 feeling, and therefore, i» ordinary cases, must be weaker 
 than the original. Though the mirror be ever so true, a 
 lover will not be obliged to it for presenting him with the 
 figure of his mistress, when he hath an opportunity of gaz- 
 ing on her person. Nor will the orator place his chief 
 confidence in the assistance of the social and sympathetic 
 affections, when he hath it in his power to arm the selfish 
 
 •* Men universally, from a just conception of the differ- 
 ence, have, when self is concerned, given a different name 
 to what seems originally the same passsion in a higher 
 degree. Injury, to whomsoever offered, is to every man 
 that observes it, and whose sense of right is not debau- 
 ched by vicious practice, the natural object of indignation. 
 Indignation always implies resentment, or a desire of re- 
 taliating on the injurious person, so far at least as to make 
 him repent the wrong he hath committed. This indigna- 
 tion in the person injured, is, from our knowledge of man- 
 kind, supposed to be, not indeed universally, but generally 
 so much stronger, that it ought to be distinguished by 
 another appellation, and is accordingly denominated re- 
 venge. In like manner, beneficence, on whomsoever ex- 
 ercised, is the natural object of our love; love always im- 
 plies benevolence, or a desire of promoting the happiness of 
 the beneficent person ; but this passion in the person bene- 
 fited is conceived to be so much greater, and to infer so 
 strong an obligation to a return of good offices to his be- 
 nefactor, that it merits to be distinguished by the title gra- 
 titude. Now by this circumstance of interest in the ef- 
 fects, the speaker, from engaging pity in his favour, can 
 proceed to operate on a more powerful principle, self-pre- 
 servation. The benevolence of his hearers he can work up 
 into gratitude, their indignation into revenge. 
 
 " The two last-mentioned circumstances, personal rela 
 tion and interest, are not without influence, as was hinted 
 in the enumeration, though they regard the speaker only, 
 and not ihe hearers. The reason is, a person present with 
 us, whom we see and hear, and who by words, and looks. 
 
532 APPENDIX 
 
 and gestures, gives the "liveliest signs of his feelings, has 
 the surest and most immediate claim upon our sympathy 
 We become infected with his passions. We are hurried 
 along by them, and not allowed leisure to distinguish be- 
 tween his relation and om relation, his interest and our 
 interest." Campbell's Rhetoric, PD . 134 — 190. (b. i. chap 
 7. §. 5. parts 4, 5, 0, 7.) 
 
 Page 151, [I.] 
 
 A good illustration of what has been said is supplied by 
 the following extract from Mr. Milman's Bampton Lec- 
 tures, (Lecture VI. p. 269.) " Conceive then the apostles 
 of Jesus Christ, the tentmaker or the fisherman, entering, 
 as strangers into one of the splendid cities of Syria, Asia 
 Minor, or Greece. Conceive them, I mean, as unendowed 
 with miraculous powers, having adopted their itinerant 
 system of teaching from human motives, and for human 
 purposes alone. As they pass along to the remote and ob- 
 scure quarter, where they expect to meet with precarious 
 hospitality among their countrymen, ihey survey the 
 strength of the esiablished religion, which it is their 
 avowed purpose to overthrow. Every where they behold 
 temples on which the utmost extravagance of expenditure 
 has been lavished by succeeding generations ; idols of the 
 most exquisite workmanship, to which, even if the religious 
 feeling of adoration is enfeebled, the people are strongly 
 attached by national or local vanity. They meet proces- 
 sions, in which the idle find perpetual occupation, the 
 young excitement, the voluptuous a continual stimulant to 
 their passions. They behold a priesthood, numerous 
 sometimes wealthy ; nor are these alone wedded by interest 
 to the established faith ; many of the trades, like those o; 
 the makers of silver shrines in Ephesus, are pledged to 
 the support of that to which they owe their maintenance 
 They pass a magnificent theatre, on the splendour and 
 success of which the popularity of the existing authorities 
 mainly depends ; and in which the serious exhibitions are 
 essentially religious, the lighter, as intimately connected 
 with the indulgence of the baser passions. They behold 
 another public building, where even worse feelings, the 
 cruel and the sanguinary, are pampered by the animating 
 
APPENDIX. 333 
 
 contests ot wild beasts and of gladiators, in which they 
 themselves may shortly play a dreadul part, 
 
 Buteher'd to make a Roman kolyday ! 
 
 Show and rpectacle are the characteristic enjoyments of 
 the whole people, and every show and spectacle is either 
 sacred to the religious feelings, or incentive to the lusts 
 of the flesh; those feelings which must be entirely eradi- 
 cated, those lusts which must be brought into total subjec- 
 tion to the law of Christ. They encounter likewise itine- 
 rant jugglers, divineis, magicians, who impose upon the 
 credulous, and excite the contempt of the enlightened ; in 
 the first case dangerous rivals to those who should attempt 
 to propagate a new faith by imposture and deception ; in 
 the latter, naturally tending to prejudice the mind against 
 all miraculous pretensions whatever: here, like Elymas, 
 endeavouring to outdo the signs and wonders of the apos- 
 tles ; there throwing suspicion on all asserted supernatural 
 agency, by the frequency and clumsiness of their delusions. 
 They meet philosophers, frequently itinerant like them- 
 selves ; or teachers of new religions, priests of Isis and Se- 
 rapis, who have brought into equal discredit what might 
 otherwise have appeared a proof of philanthropy, the per- 
 forming laborious journeys at the sacrifice of personal ease 
 and comfort, for the moral and religious improvement of 
 mankind ; or at least have so accustomed the public mind 
 to similar pretensions, as to take away every attraction from 
 their boldness or novelty. There are also the teachers of 
 the different mysteries, which would engross all the anxi- 
 ety of the inquisitive, perhaps excite, even if they did not 
 satisfy, the hopes of the more pure and lofty minded. Such 
 must have been among the obstacles which would force 
 themselves on the calmer moments of the most ardent; 
 such the overpowering difficulties, of which it would be 
 impossible to overlook the importance, or elude the force • 
 which required no sober calculation to estimate, no labo 
 rious inquiry to discover; which met and confronted then 
 wherever they went, and which, either in desperate pre 
 sumption, or deliberate reliance on their own pretcrnatu 
 ral powers, they must have contemned and defied. 
 " The commencement of their labours way usu? 1 !? dit 
 
^34 APPENDIX. 
 
 heartening, and ill calculated to keep alive the flame of 
 ungrounded enthusiasm. They begin their operations in 
 the nar r nw and secluded synagogue of their own country- 
 men. The novelty of their doctrine, and curiosity, secure 
 them at first a patient attention ; but as the more offensive 
 tenets are developed, the most fierce and violent passions 
 are awakened. Scorn and hatred are seen working in the 
 clouded brows and agitated contenances of the leaders : 
 if here and there one is pricked to the heart, it requires 
 considerable moral courage to acknowledge his conviction ; 
 and the new teachers are either cast forth from the indig- 
 nant assembly of their own people, liable to all the pun- 
 ishments which they are permitted to inflict, scourged 
 and beaten; or, if they succeed in forming a party, they 
 give rise to a furious schism ; and thus appear before the 
 heathen with the dangerous notoriety of having caused a 
 violent tumult, and broken the public peace by their^ tur- 
 bulent and contentious harangues : at all events, disclaimed 
 by that very people on whose traditions they profess to build 
 their doctines, and to whose Scriptures they appeal in jus- 
 tification of their pretensions. They endure, they persevere, 
 they continue to sustain the contest against Judaism and 
 paganism. It is still their deliberate, ostensible, and 
 avowed object to overthrow all this vast system of Idola- 
 try ; to tear up by the roots all ancient prejudices ; to si- 
 lence shrines, sanctified by the veneration of ages as ora- 
 cular ; to consign all those gorgeous temples to decay, and 
 all those images to contempt ; to wean the people from 
 every barbarous and dissolute amusement."* ******* 
 "But in one respect it is impossible now to conceive 
 the extent, to which the apostles of the crucified Jesus 
 shocked all the feelings of mankind. The public estab- 
 lishment of Christianity the adoration of ages, the reve- 
 rence of nations, has thrown around the cross of Christ an 
 indelible and inalienable sanctity. No effort of the ima- 
 gination can dissipate the illusion of dignity which has 
 gathered round it ; it has been so long dissevered from all 
 its coarse and humiliating associations, that it cannot be 
 Cast back and desecrated into its state of opprobrium and 
 contempt. To the most Oaring unbeliever among our- 
 selves, it is the symbol, the absurd, and irrational, he may 
 conceive, but still the ancient and venerable symbol of s 
 
APPENDIX. 335 
 
 powerful and influential religion : what was it to the Jew 
 and to the heathen 1 the basest, the most degrading punish- 
 ment of the lowest criminal! the proverbial terror of the 
 wretched slave ! It was to them, what the most despica- 
 ble and revolting instrument of public execution is to us. 
 y<at to the cross of Christ, men turned from deities in 
 which were embodied every attribute of strength, power, 
 and dignity ; in an incredibly short space of time, mul- 
 titudes gave up the splendour, the pride, and the power of 
 paganism, to adore a Being who was thus humiliated be- 
 neath the meanest of mankind, who had become, ac- 
 cording to the literal interpretation of the prophecy, a very 
 scorn of men, and an outcast of the people." Ibid. p. 279. 
 
 Page 155, [K.] 
 
 " Such is our yoke and our burden ! Let him, who has 
 thought it too hard and to heavy to bear, be prepared to 
 state it boldly when he shall appear side by side with the 
 poor and mistaken Indian before the throne of God at the 
 day of judgment. The poor heathen may come forward 
 with his wounded limbs and weltering body, saying, * I 
 thought thee an austere master, delighting in the miseries 
 of thy creatures, and I have accordingly brought thee the 
 torn remnants of a body which I have tortured in thy 
 service.' And the Christian will come forward, and say, 
 ' I knew that thou didst die to save me from such suffer 
 ings and torments, and that thou only commandest me to 
 keep my body in temperance, soberness and chastity, and 
 I thought it too hard for me ; and I have accordingly 
 brought thee the refuse and sweepings of a body that has 
 been corrupted and brutalized in the service of profligacy 
 and drunkenness — even the body which thou didst declare 
 should be the temple of thy Holy Spirit.' The poor In- 
 dian, will, perhaps, show his hands, reeking with the 
 blood of his children, saying, ' I thought this was the sac- 
 rifice with which God was well pleased :' and you, the 
 Christian will come forward with blood upon thy hands 
 also, 'I knew that thou gavest thy son for my sacrifice, 
 and commandest me to lead my offspring in the way of 
 everlasting life ; but the command was too hard for me, 
 to teach them thy statutes and to set them my humble ex* 
 
336 APPENDIX. 
 
 ample : I have let them go the broad way to destruction, 
 and their blood is upon my hand — and my heart — and my 
 head.' The Indian will come forward, and say, ' behold I 
 am come from the wood, the desert, and the wilderness, 
 where I fled from the cheerful society of my fellow mor- 
 tals, because I thought it was pleasing in thy sight.' And 
 the Christian will come forward, and say, ' Behold I come 
 from my comfortable home and the communion of my 
 brethren, which thou hast graciously permitted me to en- 
 joy ; but I thought it too hard to give them a share of those 
 blessings which thou hast bestowed upon me ; I thoughi 
 it too hard to give them a portion of my time, my trouble, 
 my fortune or my interest ; I thought it too hard to keep 
 my tongue from cursing and reviling, my heart from hi 
 tred, and my hand from violence and revenge.' What will 
 be the answer of the Judge to the poor Indian none can 
 presume to say. That he was sadly mistaken in the means 
 of salvation, and that what he had done could never pur- 
 chase him everlasting life, is beyond a doubt ; but yet the 
 Judge may say, 'Come unto me, thou heavy-laden, and I 
 will give thee the rest which thou couldst not purchase for 
 thyself.' But, to the Christian, ' Thou, who hadst my 
 easy yoke, and my light burden ; thou, for whom all was 
 already purchased : Thank God ! it is not yet pro- 
 nounced: — begone ! and fly for thy life !' " Wolffs Ser- 
 mons {Remains,) Sermon X. pp. 371 — 373. 
 
 " Suppose it were suddenly revealed to any one among 
 you that he, and he alone, of all that walk upon the face 
 of this earth, was destined to receive the benefit of his 
 Redeemer's atonement, and that all the rest of mankind 
 was lost — and lost to all eternity : it is hard to say wha 1 
 would be the first sensation excited in that man's mind by 
 the intelligence. It is indeed probable it would be joy — 
 to think that all his fears respecting his eternal destiny 
 were now no more ; that all the forebodings of the mind 
 and misgivings of the heart — all the solemn stir vfhich we 
 feel rising within us whenever we look forward to a dark 
 futurity — to feel that all these had now subsided for ever 
 — to know that he shall stand in the everlasting sunshine 
 of the love of God ! It is perhaps impossible that all this 
 tmould not call forth an immediate feeling of delight: but 
 if you wish the sensation to continue, you must go to thv» 
 
APPENDIX 33- 
 
 wJderness ; you must beware hew you 3ome within sight 
 of a human being - , or within sound of a human voice ; you 
 must recollect that you are now alone upon the earth ; or, 
 if you want society, you had better look for it among the 
 beasts of the field than among the ruined species to which 
 you'b&long; unless indeed the Almighty, in pity to your 
 desolation, should send his angels before the appointed 
 time, that you might learn to forget in their society the 
 outcast objects of your former sympathies. But to go. 
 abroad into human society — to walk amongst Beings who 
 are now no longer your fellow-creatures — to feel the char- 
 ity of your common nature rising in your heart, and to 
 have to crush it within you like a sin — to reach forth your 
 hand to perform one of the the common kindnesses of hu- 
 manity, and to find it withered by the recollection, that 
 however you may mitigate a present pang, the everlasting 
 pang is irreversible ; to turn away in despair from these 
 children whom you have now come to bless and to save 
 (we hope and trust both here and for ever !) — perhaps it 
 would be too much for you; at all events, it would be 
 hard to state a degree of exertion within the utmost range 
 of human energy, or a degree of pain within the farthest 
 limit of human endurance, to which you would not submit, 
 that you might have one companion on your lonely way 
 from this world to the mansions of happiness. But suppose, 
 at that moment, that the angel who brought the first intel- 
 ligence returns to tell you that there are Beings upon this 
 earth who may yet be saved — that he was before mistaken, 
 no matter how — perhaps he was your guardian angel, and 
 darted from the throne of grace with the intelligence of 
 your salvation without waiting to hear the fate of the rest 
 of mankind — no matter how — but he comes to tell you 
 that there are Beings upon the earth who are within the 
 reach of your Redeemer's love, and of your own — that 
 some of them are now before you, and their everlasting 
 destiny is placed in your hands ; then, what would first 
 occur to your mind 1 ? — privations — dangers — difficulties'? 
 No ; but you would say, Lord, what shall I do 1 shall I 
 traverse earth and sea, through misery and torment, that of 
 those whom thou hast given me I myy not lose one V 
 Ibid. Serm. XI. pp. 391—393. 
 86 
 
338 APPENDIX 
 
 Page 191, [L.] 
 
 In Dr. Campbell's ingenious dissertation {Rhetoric, book 
 li. ch. vii.) " on the causes that nonsense often escapes 
 being detected, both by the writer and the reader," he re- 
 marks, (sec. 2.) that " there are particularly three sorts oi 
 writing, wherein we are liable to be imposed upon by 
 words without meaning." 
 
 " The first is, where there is an exuberance of metaphor. 
 Nothing is more certain than that this trope, when tern 
 perately and appositely used, serves to add' light to the 
 expression, and energy to the sentiment. On the contrary, 
 when vaguely and intemperately used, nothing can serve 
 more effectually to cloud the sense, where there is sense, 
 and by consequence to conceal the defect, where there is 
 no sense to show. And this is the case, not only where 
 there is in the same sentence a mixture of discordant me- 
 taphors, but also where the metaphoric style is too long 
 continued, and too far pursued. [ Ut modicus autem atque 
 opportunus translationis usas illustrat orationem : ita fre- 
 quents, et obscurat et tcedio complet ; continuus vero in alle- 
 goriam et cenigmata exit. Quint, lib. viii. c. vi.] The 
 reason is obvious. In common speech the words are the 
 immediate signs of the thought. But it is not so here ; 
 for when a person, instead of adopting metaphors that 
 come naturally and opportunely in his way, rummages the 
 whole world in quest of them, and piles them one upon 
 another, when he cannot so properly be said to use meta- 
 phor, as to talk in metaphor, or rather, when from meta- 
 phor he runs into allegory, and thence into enigma, bis 
 words are not the immediate signs of his thought ; they 
 are at best but the signs of the signs of his thought. His 
 writing may then be called, what Spenser not unjustly 
 styled his Fairy Queen, a perpetual allegory or dark con- 
 ceit. Most readers will account it much to bestow a tran- 
 sient glance on the literal sense, which lies nearest ; but 
 will never think of that meaning more remote, which the 
 figures themselves are intended to signify. It is no wonder 
 then that this sense, for the discovery of which it is neces- 
 sary to see through a double veil, should, where it is, mora 
 
APPENDIX. 339 
 
 readily escape our observation, and that where it is wanting 
 we should not so quickly miss it." ********** 
 " There is, in respect of the two meanings, considerable 
 variety to be found in the tropical Style. In just allegory 
 and similitude there is always a propriety, or, if you choose 
 to call it, congruity, in the literal sense, as well as a dis- 
 tinct meaning or sentiment suggested, which is called the 
 figurative sense. Examples of this are unnecessary. Again, 
 whe-re the figurative sense is unexceptionable, there is 
 sometimes an incongruity in the expression of the literal 
 sense. This is always the case in mixed metaphor, a thing 
 not unfrequent even in good writers. Thus, when Addi- 
 son remarks that ' there is not a single view of human na- 
 ture, which is not sufficient to extinguish the seeds of pride,' 
 he expresses a true sentiment somewhat incongruously ; 
 for the the terms extinguish and seeds here metaphorically 
 used, do not suit each other. In like manner, there is 
 something incongruous in the mixture of tropes employed 
 in the following passage from Lord Bolingbroke : ' Nothing 
 less than the hearts of his people will content a patriot 
 Prince, nor will he think his throne established, till it is 
 established there.' Yet the thought is excellent. But in 
 neither of these examples does the incongruity of the ex- 
 pression hurt the perspicuity of the sentence. Sometimes, 
 indeed, the literal meaning involves a direct absurdity 
 When this is the case, as in the quotation from The prin- 
 ciples of Painting given in the preceding chapter, it is na- 
 tural for the reader to suppose that there must be some- 
 thing under it ; for it is not easy to say how absurdly even 
 just sentiments will sometimes be expressed. But when 
 no such hidden sense can be discovered, what, in the first 
 view conveyed to our minds a glaring absurdity, is rightly 
 on reflection denominated nonsense. We are satisfied 
 that De Piles neither thought, nor wanted his readers to 
 think, that Rubens was really the original performer, and 
 God the copier. This then was not his meaning. But 
 what he actually thought and wanted them to think, it is 
 impossible to elicit from his words. His words then may 
 justly be styled bold, in respect of their literal import, but 
 unmeaning in respect of the author's intention. 
 
 **It may be proper here to observe, that some are apt 
 
$40 APPENDIX. 
 
 to confound the terms absurdity and nonsense as synony. 
 mous; which they manifestly are not. An absurdity, in 
 the strict acceptation, is a proposition either intuitively of 
 demonstratively false. Of this kind are these: 'Three 
 and two make seven.' ' All the angles of a triangle are 
 greater than two right angles.' That the former is false 
 we know by intuition ; that the latter is so, we are able to 
 demonstrate. But the term is further extended to denote 
 a notorious falsehood. If one should affirm, that at the 
 vernal equinox the sun rises in the north and sets in the 
 south,' we should not hesitate to say, that he advances an 
 absurdity ; but still what he affirms has a meaning ; inso 
 much, that on hearing the sentence we pronounce its fal- 
 sity. Now nonsense is that whereof we cannot say either 
 that it is true, or that it is false. Thus, when the Teuto- 
 nic Theosopher enounces, that 'all the voices of the ce 
 lestial joyfulness, qualify, commix, and harmonize in the 
 fire which was from eternity in the good quality,' I should 
 think it equally impertinent to aver the falsity as the truth 
 of this enunciation. For, though the words grammatically 
 form a sentence, they exhibit to the understanding no 
 judgment, and consequently admit neither assent nor dis- 
 sent. In the former instances I say the meaning, or what 
 they affirm, is absurd ; in the last instance I say there is 
 no meaning, and therefore properly nothing is affirmed. 
 In popular language, I own, the terms absurdity and non- 
 sense are not so accurately distinguished. Absurd posi- 
 tions are sometimes called nonsensical. It is not common, 
 on the other hand, to say of downright nonsense, that it 
 comprises an absurdity. 
 
 "Further, in the literal sense there may be nothing un- 
 suitable, and yet the reader may be at a loss to find a 
 figurative meaning, to which his expressions can with 
 justice be applied. Writers immoderately attached to the 
 florid, or highly figured diction, are often misled by a de- 
 sire, of flourishing on the several attributes of a metaphor 
 which they have pompously ushered into the discourse, 
 without taking the trouble to examine whether there be 
 any qualities in the subject, to which these attributes can 
 with justice and perspicuity be applied. This immoderate 
 use of metaphor," Dr. Campbell observes, "is the princi 
 pal source of all the nonsense of Orators and Poets 
 
APPENDIX. 341 
 
 •* The second species of writing wherein we are liable 
 Lc? be imposed on by words without meaning, is that 
 wherein the terms most frequently occurring, denote 
 things which are of a complicated nature, and to which 
 the mind is not sufficiently familiarized. Many of those 
 notions which are called by Philosophers mixed modes, 
 come under this denomination. Of these, the instances 
 are numerous in every tongue : such as government, church, 
 state, constitution, polity, power, commerce, legislature, ju- 
 risdiction, proportion, symmetry, elegance. It will consi- 
 derably increase the danger of our being deceived by an 
 unmeaning use of such terms, if they are besides (as very 
 often they are) of so indeterminate, and consequently 
 equivocal, signification, that a writer, unobserved either by 
 himself or by his reader, may slide from one sense of the 
 term to another, till by degrees he fall into such applica- 
 tions of it as will make no sense at all. It deserves our 
 notice also, that we are in much greater danger of termi- 
 nating in this, if the different meanings of the same word 
 have some affinity to one another, than if they have none. 
 In the latter case, when there is no affinity, the transition 
 from one meaning to another is taking a very wide step, 
 and what few writers are in any danger of; it is, besides, 
 what will not so readily escape the observation of the 
 reader. So much for the second cause of deception, which 
 is the chief source of all the nonsense of writers on politics 
 and criticism. 
 
 " The third and last, and, I may add, the principal spe- 
 cies of composition, wherein we are exposed to this illu- 
 sion by the abuse of words, is that in which the terms em- 
 ployed are very abstract, and consequently of very exten- 
 sive signification. It is an observation that plainly ariscth 
 from the nature and structure of language, and may be de- 
 duced as a corollary from what hath been said of the use 
 of artificial signs, that the more general any name is, as it 
 comprehends the more individuals under it, and conse- 
 quently requires the more extensive knowledge in the 
 mind that would rightly apprehend it, the more it must 
 have of indistinctness and obscurity. Thus the word lion 
 is more distinctly apprehended by the mind than the word 
 beast, beast than animal, animal than being. But there is 
 
342 APPENDIX. 
 
 m what are called abstract subjects, a still greater fund 
 01 obscurity, than that arising from the frequent mention 
 of the most general terms. Names must be assigned to 
 those qualities as considered abstractedly, which never 
 subsist independently, or by themselves, but which consti- 
 tute the generic characters and the specific differences of 
 things. And this leads to a manner which is in many in- 
 stances remote from the common use of speech, and there- 
 fore must be of more difficult conception." (Book ii. sec. 2. 
 pp. 102, 103.) 
 
 It is truly to be regretted that an author who has written 
 so justly on this subject, should, within a few pages, so 
 strikingly exemplify the errors he has been treating of, by 
 indulging in a declamation against Logic, which could 
 not even to himself have conveyed any distinct meaning. 
 When he says that a man who had learned Logic was 
 " qualified, without any other kind of knowledge, to de- 
 fend any position whatever, however contradictory to com- 
 mon sense ;" and that " that art observed the most abso- 
 lute indifference to truth and error," he cannot mean that 
 a false conclusion could be logically proved from true pre- 
 mises; since ignorant as he was of the subject, he was 
 aware, and has in another place distinctly acknowledged, 
 that this is not the case ; nor could he mean merely that a 
 false conclusion could be proved from a false premiss, since 
 that would evidently be a nugatory and ridiculous objection. 
 He seems to have had, in truth, no meaning at all ; though 
 like the authors he had been so ably criticising, he was per- 
 fectly unaware of the emptiness of what he was saying. 
 
 Page 222, [M.] 
 
 ''Moses stretched forth his hand, and the waters were 
 divided, and became a wall unto the children of Israel on 
 the right hand and on the left. Moses smote the rock 
 with his rod, and the waters flowed withal, and the chil- 
 dren of Israel weie refreshed in the wilderness, and were 
 saved from death. But what was there in the arm ,of 
 Moses, that the sea should obey it and stand still 1 Or 
 what in the rod ol' Moses, that it should turn the flinty 
 rock into a living fountain 1 Let me freely, though revc- 
 
APPENDIX. 343 
 
 gently speak to you of the patriarch Moses. He was in- 
 deed great, because he was indeed 'good, in his genera- 
 tion. But except in the matter of his goodness — except 
 in his superior faith and trust in his Maker — except in his 
 more ready obedience to the holy desires which the Spirit 
 of the Lord inspired into his soul, he was no more than 
 the rest of the Israelites, and the rest of men. Like them, 
 like us, like every human being that is born of woman, he 
 was ccmpassed with infirmities, and tried with afflictions, 
 and subject to terror, and surrounded with sorrow. Of 
 himself he was able to do nothing, but all the mighty acts 
 which he did, he did because 'it was God which worked 
 in him both to will and to do of his good pleasure,' and 
 because Moses did not resist the will of God, or neglect or 
 abuse the power with which he was endued. If to the 
 Jew God was very liberal, we have*he promise of his 
 beloved Son, that to Christians, in all spiritual and neces- 
 sary things, he will be still more so. Over the world 
 without us he will perhaps give us no power — because we 
 are not called upon to save a people. But we are called 
 upon to save ourselves, and he will give us a power over 
 the rebellious world that is within us. Stretch forth but 
 your hands in faith and sincerity to God, and surely he 
 will separate between you and your lusts. He will divide 
 the tumurtuous sea of your passions, and open for you a 
 way to escape from your enemies into the land of eternity. 
 He will cause the waves thereof to stand still and harmless 
 on your right hand and on your left, and make you to walk 
 in safety and unhurt through the overflowings of ungodli- 
 ness, which, without his controlling arm, would have 
 drowned your souls in perdition and destruction. Be ye 
 never so faint and weary in the wilderness of sin, yet if 
 in humility you smite upon your breast, and say, God be 
 merciful to me a sinner ! he will melt the stony heart 
 within you, and turning it into a fountain of piety and love 
 —of love to man and love to your Maker — refresh you 
 with the living waters of the comfort of the Spirit, and 
 strengthen you by its power for your pilgrimage through 
 life." Benson's First Course of Hidsean Lectures for 
 1820. . Lect. XIV. pp. 344—346. 
 
344 APPENDIX 
 
 Page 262, [N.] 
 
 " For the benefit of those who are desirous of getting 
 over their bad habits, and discharging that important part 
 of the sacred office, the Reading the Liturgy with due de- 
 corum, I shall first enter into a minute examination of 
 some parts of the Service, and afterwards deliver the rest, 
 accompanied by such marks as will enable the reader, in a 
 short time, and with moderate pains, to make himself mas- 
 ter of the whole. 
 
 " But first, it will be necessary to explain the marks 
 which you will hereafter see throughout the rest of this 
 course. They are of two kinds ; one, to point out the em- 
 phatic words, for which I shall use the Grave accent of 
 the Greek, f]. 
 
 " The other to point out the different pauses or stops, 
 for which I shall use the following marks : 
 
 " For the shortest pause, marking an incomplete line, 
 thus'. 
 
 " For the second, double the time of the former two' 
 
 "And for the third or full stop, three'". 
 
 " "When I would mark a pause longer than any belong 
 ing to the usual stops, it shall be by two horizontal lines 
 as thus =. 
 
 " "When I would point out a syllable that is to be dwelt 
 on some time, I shall use this -, or a short horizontal ovei 
 the Syllable. 
 
 " "When a Syllable should be rapidly uttered, thus", 
 or a curve turned upwards ; the usual marks of long and 
 short in Prosody. 
 
 " The exhortation I have often heard delivered in the 
 following manner: 
 
 " ' Dearly beloved brethren, the Scripture moveth us in 
 sundry places to acknowledge and confess our manifold 
 cins and wickedness. And that we should not dissemble 
 nor cloke them before the face of Almighty God our 
 Heavenly Father, but confess them with an humble, lowly, 
 penitent and obedient heart, to the end that we may ob- 
 tain forgiveness of the same, by his infinite goodness and 
 mercy. And although we ought at all times humbly ta 
 
APPENDIX. 345 
 
 acknowledge our sins before God, yet ought we most 
 chiefly so to do, when we assemble and meet together. 
 To render thanks for the great benefits we have received 
 at his hands, to set forth his most worthy praise, to hear 
 his most holy word, and to ask those things that are 
 requisite and necessary, as well for the body as the soul. 
 Wherefore I pray and beseech you, as many as are here 
 present, to accompany me with a pure heart and humble 
 voice to the throne of the heavenly grace, saying after me.' 
 
 " In the latter part of the first period, ' but confess them 
 with an humble, lowly, penitent and obedient heart, to the 
 end that we may obtain forgiveness of the same, by his in- 
 finite goodness and mercy,' there are several faults commit' 
 ted. In the first place, the four epithets preceding the word 
 ' heart,' are huddled together, and pronounced in a mono- 
 tone, disagreeable to the ear, and enervating to the sense ; 
 whereas each word rising in force above the other, ought 
 to be marked by a proportional rising of the notes in the 
 voice ; and, in the last, there should be such a note used 
 as would declare it at the same time to be the last — ' with 
 an humble lowly' penitent and obedient heart,' &c. At 
 first view it may appear, that the words ' humble' and 
 * lowly' are synonomous ; but the word ' lowly,' certainly 
 implies a greater degree of humiliation than the word 
 ' humble.' The word ' penitent' that follows, is of strong- 
 er import than either ; and the word * obedient,' signify- 
 ing a perfect resignation to the will of God, in consequence 
 of oar humiliation and repentance, furnishes the climax. 
 But if the climax in the words be not accompanied by a 
 suitable climax in the notes of the voice, it cannot be made 
 manifest. In the following part of the sentence, ' to the 
 end that we may obtain 7 forgiveness of the same' there 
 are usually three emphases laid on the words, end, obtain^ 
 same, where there should not be any, and the only empha- 
 tic word, forgiveness, is slightly passed over ; whereas it 
 should be read — ' to the end that we may obtain forgive- 
 ness of the same,' keeping the words, obtain, and forgive- 
 ness, closely together, and not disuniting them, both to the 
 prejudice of the Sense and Cadence, &c. &c. 
 
 " I shall now read the whole, in the manner I have re- 
 commended ; and if you will give attention to the marks. 
 
J46 APPENDIX. 
 
 you will be reminded of the manner, when you come to 
 practise in your private reading. ' Dearly beloved bre- 
 thren ! =The Scripture moveth us' in sundry places' to 
 acknowledge and confess our manifold sins and wicked- 
 ness, and that we should not dissemble nor cloke them' 
 before the face of Almighty God' our Heavenly Fa- 
 ther" but confess them' with an humble lowly' penitent' 
 and obedient heart' to the end that we may obtain forgive- 
 ness of the same by his infinite goodness and mercy"'. 
 And although we ought at all times' humbly to acknow- 
 ledge our sins before God" yet ought we most chiefly so 
 to do whe~h we assemble and meet together' to render 
 thanks' for the great benefits we have received at his 
 hands'' to set forth' his most worthy praise" to hear' his 
 most holy word" and to ask those things' which are requi- 
 site and necessary' as well for the body' as the soul'". 
 Wherefore I pray and beseech you as many as are here 
 present' to acompany me with a pure heart' and humble 
 voice to the throne of the heavenly grace saying,' &c." 
 Sheridan, Art of Reading Prose. 
 
 The generality of the remarks respecting the way in 
 which each passage of the Liturgy should be read, are 
 correct ; though the mode recommended for attaining the 
 proposed end is totally different from what is suggested in 
 the present treatise. In some points, however, rhe author 
 is mistaken as to the emphatic words : e. g. in the Lord's 
 Prayer, he directs the following passage to be read thus; 
 " thy will' be done on earth' as it is' in Heaven," with the 
 emphasis on the words " be" and " is ;" these, however, 
 are not the emphatic words, and do not even exist in the 
 Original Greek, but are supplied by the translator ; the 
 latter of them might, indeed, be omitted altogether, with- 
 out any detriment to the sense ; " thy will be done, as in 
 Heaven, so also on earth," which is a more literal trans- 
 lation, is perfectly intelligible. A passage in the second 
 Commandment again, he directs to be read, according in- 
 deed to the usual mode, both of reading and pointing it, 
 — " visit the sins of the fathers' upon the children' unto 
 the third and fourth generation of them that hate me /' 
 which mode of reading destroys the sense, by making a 
 pause at " children," and none at "generation;" for this 
 
APPENDIX * 347 
 
 implies that the third and fourth generations, who suffer 
 these judgments, are themselves such as hate the Lord, in- 
 stead of being rr° rely, as is meant to be expressed, the 
 children of such; k -o/them that hate me," is a genitive 
 governed not by " generation," but by " children :" it 
 should be read (according to Sheridan's marks) " visit the 
 sins of the fathers' upon the children unto to the third and 
 fourth generation of them that hate me :" i. e. visit the 
 sins of the fathers who hate me, upon the the third and 
 fourth generations of their descendants. The same sanc- 
 tion is given to an equally common fault in reading the. 
 fifth Commandment ; " that thy days may be long in the 
 land' which the Lord thy God giveth thee :" the pause 
 should evidently be at "long," not at "land." No one 
 would say in ordinary conversation, " I hope you will find 
 enjoyment in the garden' — which you have planted." He 
 has also strait ,ly omitted an emphasis on the word 
 " covet," in the xenth Commandment. He has, however, 
 in the negative or prohibitory commands avoided the com- 
 mon fault of accenting the word '.* not." And here it may 
 be worth while to remark, that in some cases the Copula 
 ought to be made the emphatic word ; (t. e. the " is," if 
 the proposition be affirmative, the " not," if negative ;) 
 viz. where the proposition may be considered as in oppo- 
 sition to its contradictory,* If, e. g. it had been a ques- 
 tion whether we ought to steal or not, the commandment, 
 in answer to that, would have been rightly pronounced, 
 " thou shalt not steal :" but the question being, what things 
 we are forbidden to do, the answer is, that " to steal" is 
 one of them, "thou shalt not steal." In such a case as 
 this, the proposition is considered as opposed, not to its 
 contradictory, but to one with a different Predicate : the 
 question being, not, which Copula (negative or affirmative) 
 shall be employed, but ivhat shall be affirmed or denied of 
 the subject: e. g. "it is lawful to beg; but not to steal:" 
 in such a case, the Predicate, not the Copula, will be the 
 emphatic word. 
 
 ♦Nor is this properly an exception to the above rule ; for in such 
 cases, that which is expressed as the Copula, is, in sense the Predi 
 cate ; the question being in fact whether "true" or " false" shalJ 
 be predicated of a certain assertion. 
 
348 * APPENDIX 
 
 One fault worth noticing on accountof its commonness^ 
 is the placing of the emphasis on " neighbour" in the ninth 
 a/id tenth commandments ; as if there might be some per- 
 sons precluded from the benefit of the prohibitions. One 
 would think the man to whom our Lord addressed the 
 parable of the good Samaritan, had been used to this mode 
 of delivery, by his asking " and who is my ncighhourV 
 
 The usual pronunciation of one part of the "Apostles' 
 Creed" is probably founded on some misapprehension oi 
 the sense of it* : " The holy Catholic Church, the Com- 
 munion of Saints," is commonly read as if these were two 
 distinct articles ; instead of the latter clause being merely 
 an explanation of the former : " The holy Catholic Church. 
 [viz.] the Communion of Saints. 
 
 * See Sir Peter (afterwards Lord) King's History of the Apostles' 
 Creed ; a work much more valuable (in proportion to its sue) tlu»n 
 roooi that are studied by theologians 
 
INDEX 
 
 TO SOME OF THE PRINCIPAL WORDS. 
 
 Action, part iv. eh. iv. § 6. 
 
 Adversaries, (testimony of,) 
 p. i. ch. ii. § 4. 
 
 Analogy, p. i. ch. ii. § 6. 
 
 Antithesis, p. iii. ch. ii. § 14. 
 
 A priori, (argument,) p. i. 
 ch. ii. § 2. 
 
 Approach, (argument by,) p. 
 i. ch. ii. § 5. 
 
 Argument, (distinguished 
 from proposition,) p. i. ch. 
 i. §3. 
 
 satisfactory and com- 
 pulsory, p i. ch. iii. § 1. 
 
 Arrangement, (of argu- 
 ments,) p. i. ch. iii. § 4. 
 
 of words, p. iii. ch. 
 
 i. § 3 and ch. ii. § 11. 
 
 Bashfuiness, (in public 
 speaking,) p. iv. ch. iv. § 
 2. 
 
 Belief, (coincident with dis- 
 belief,) p. i. ch. ii. § 4. 
 
 Burden of proof, p. i. ch. iii. 
 §2. 
 
 Cause, (argument from,) p. 
 L ch. ii. § 2. 
 
 Chances, (calculation of,) p 
 
 i. ch ii. § 4. 
 Character, (of Speaker,) p. 
 
 ii. ch. i. § 3. and ch. iii 
 
 M- 
 
 Climax, p. ii. ch. ii. § 4. 
 Common-Sense, p. i. ch. ii 
 
 §6. 
 Comparison, (use of, in ex 
 
 citi tg any feeling,) p. ii 
 
 ch ii. § 4. 
 or Simile, p. iii. ch 
 
 ii. §3. 
 Composition, (fallacy of,) p, 
 
 i. ch. it. § 4. 
 Conciseness, p. iii. ch. ii 
 
 §7. 
 Conclusion, (when to come 
 
 first,) p. i. ch. iii. § 5. 
 Conscious (manner,) p. iv 
 
 ch iv. § 2 p. 287, note. 
 Conviction, (distinguished 
 
 from Persuasion,) p. ii 
 
 ch. i. § 1. 
 Credulity, (coincident with 
 
 Incredulity,) p. i. ch. ii 
 
 Crowded (style,) p. iii. cU 
 ii. § 9. 
 
350 
 
 INDEX 
 
 Delivery, p. iv. ch. iv, § 1. 
 Direct (Argument,) p. i. ch. 
 
 ii. § i. and ch. iii. § 6. 
 Diversion of Feelings, p. ii. 
 
 ch. ii. § 6. 
 Dividing (a question,) p. i. 
 
 ch. iii. § 4. 
 
 Effect, (Argument from,) p. 
 
 i. ch. ii. § 3. 
 Elegance (of Style,) p. iii. 
 
 ch. iii. § 1, 2. 
 Emphasis, p. iv. ch. ii. § 2. 
 Energy (of Style,) p. iii. ch. 
 
 ii. § 1, &c. 
 Epithets, p. iii. ch. ii. § 4. 
 Example, p. i. ch. ii. 6. 
 (corresponding to a 
 
 geometrical) diagram, p. 
 
 i. ch. ii. § 7. 
 Exercises, Introd. § 5. 
 Experience, (Argument 
 
 from) p. i. ch. ii. § 6. 
 Authority derived 
 
 from, p. ii. ch. iii. § 5. 
 
 Fact, (matters of.) p. i. ch. 
 
 ii. § 4. and ch. iii. § 3. 
 Feelings, (apt to fall short of 
 
 what the occasion calls 
 
 for,) p. ii. ch. i. § 2. 
 Fine delivery, p. iv. ch. iii. 
 
 §4- 
 Gender, p. iii. ch. n. § 2. __ 
 General terms, p. iii. ch. ii 
 
 §1. 
 Good-will, (essential to the 
 
 Speaker's character,) p. ii. 
 
 ch. iii. § 3. 
 Illustration, p. i. ch. ii. § 7. 
 
 and ch. iii. § 3. 
 Imagination, p. ii. ch. ii. § 2. 
 
 Imitation, p. iii. ch. ii. §5 
 Inconsistency, p. ii. ch. iii 
 §5. 
 
 Indirect (Arguments), p. i, 
 ch. ii. § 1. and ch. iii. § 7. 
 
 Induction, p. i ch. ii. ^ 6. 
 
 Instruction (distinguished 
 from Conviction strictly 
 so called), p. i. ch. i. § 1. 
 
 Integrity (of the speaker's 
 chracter), p. ii. ch. iii. § 3. 
 
 Interrogation, p. iii. ch. ii. 
 §15. 
 
 Ironical form, p. i. ch. iii 
 §7. 
 
 Loose sentences, p. iii. ch. 
 ii. § 12. 
 
 Metaphor, p. iii. ch. ii. 
 Metonomy, p. iii. ch. ii. 
 
 Natural delivery, p. iv. ch 
 
 ii. iii. &c. 
 Number of words, (energy 
 
 dependent on,) p. iii. ch. 
 
 ii. § 7. 
 
 Objections, p. i. ch. iii. § 7. 
 Opinion (see Fact.) 
 Oratory, (spurious,) p. Hi. 
 ch. i. § 4, 5, 6. 
 
 Paley, (Horae Paulinas,) p. i. 
 ch. ii. § 4. and p. i. ch. iii. 
 
 Paradox, p. i. ch. .ii. § 2. 
 Parity of reasoning, p. i. ch. 
 
 ii: § 6, 
 Party-Spirit, p. ii. ch. iii 
 
 § 3. 
 Passions, p. ii. ch. i § 3. 
 
INDEX, 
 
 Bbl 
 
 Periods, p III. ch. ii. § 12. 
 
 Personification, p. iii. ch ii. 
 
 §3. 
 Perspicuity, p. iii. ch. i. §2. 
 
 &c. 
 Persuasion, (analysis of,) p. 
 
 ii. ch. i. § 1. 
 Plain, (ambiguity of the 
 
 word,) p. iii. ch. i. § 3. 
 Plausible, p. i. ch. ii. § 2. 
 Poetry, (ehar&teristic of) p. 
 
 iii. ch. iii § 3. 
 Practice (in composition,) 
 
 Introd. § 5. 
 Presumptions, p. i. ch. iii. 
 
 §2. 
 Prolixity p. iii. ch. 1. § 2. 
 
 and ch. ii. § 7. 
 Proper terms, p. iii. ch. ii. 
 
 Propositions, (to find,) part 
 i. ch. i. § 3. 
 
 Reading, p. iv. ch. i. § 3. 
 and ch. iii. § 1. 
 
 Recapitulation, p. i. ch. iii. 
 §?. 
 
 Recitation, p. iv. ch. iv. 
 §2. 
 
 Refutation, p. i. ch. iii. § 7. 
 
 too forcible, § 8. 
 
 Repetition, (conducive to 
 perspicuity,) p. iii. ch. i. 
 §2. 
 
 Rhetoric, (why in greater 
 repute among the An- 
 cients,) Introd. § 3, 4. 
 
 Rhetorician (art of, practi- 
 
 sed by a wise man on 
 himself,) p. ii. ch. i. § 2. 
 
 Sermons, (common-place,) 
 p. iii. ch. 3. § 2. 
 
 Sequence, (physical and lo- 
 gical,) p. i. ch. ii. § 3. 
 
 Sign, p. i. ch. ii. § 3. 
 
 Simile, p. iii. ch. ii. § 3. 
 
 Sound, (imitative,) p. iii 
 ch. ii. § 5. 
 
 Speaking, (distinguished 
 from Reading,) p. iv. ch. 
 i. § 3. and ch. iii. § 1 
 
 Subjects, (for learners,) In- 
 trod. § 5. 
 
 Substantives, (excessive u§g 
 of,) p. iii. ch. ii § 9. 
 
 Suggestive (Style,) p. iii 
 ch. ii. § 8. 
 
 Sympathy, (reflex,) p. iv 
 ch. iii. § 8. 
 
 Tautology, p. iii. ch. ii. § 8 
 Technical terms, p. iii. ch 
 
 ii. § 6. 
 Testimony, p. i ch. ii. § 4. 
 Theological Style p. iii. ch. 
 
 ii. §6. 
 Tone, p. iv. ch. i. § 3, note^ 
 
 and ch. ii. § 2. 
 Tradition, p. i. ch. iii. § 2. 
 Tropes, p. iii ch. ii. § 2. 
 
 Verbosity, p. iii. ch. ii. § g 
 
 "Waiving (a question,} p. 
 ch. iii. § 4. 
 
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