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ELEMENTS "T

RHETORIC;

COMPRISING AN ANALYSIS OF THE

LAWS OF MORAL EVIDENCE
AND OF PEHSUASION,

WITH RULES FOR

ARGUMENTATIVE COMPOSITION
AND ELOCUTION.

RICHARD WHATELY, D.D.,

ARCHBISHOP OF DUBLIN.

'O y«p y vous, Koi firj aa<ptj's diSii^as, ev itr^^ el Kai fit) hveQv^i]dr].

THUCYDIDES.

SEVENTH EDITION, REVISED.

LONDON: V '

B. FELLOWES, LUDGATE STREET.

MDCCCXLVr.

PRINTED BY RICHARD AND JOHN E. TAYLOR,
RED LION COURT, FLEET STREET.

PREFACE.

A BRIEF outline of the principal part of the follow-
ing Work was sketched out several years ago for
the private use of some young friends ; and from
that MS. chiefly, the Article "Rhetoric'' in the
Encyclopaedia Metropolitana was afterwards drawn
up. I was induced to believe that it might be more
useful if published in a separate form ; and I ac-
cordingly, with the assistance of some friends, re-
vised the treatise, and made a few additions and
other alterations which suggested themselves ; be-
sides dividing it in a manner more convenient for
reference.

The title of *' Rhetoric," I thought it best on the
whole to retain, being that by which the Article in
the Encyclopaedia is designated ; as I was unwiUing
to lay myself open to the suspicion of wishing to
pass off as new, on the strength of a new name,
what had been already before the Public. But the
title is in some respects open to objection. Besides
that it is rather the more commonly employed in

IV PREFACE.

reference to public Speaking alone, it is also apt to
suggest to many minds an associated idea of empty
declamation, or of dishonest artifice ; or at best, of
a mere dissertation on Tropes and Figures of speech.

The subject indeed stands perhaps but a few de-
grees above Logic in popular estimation ; the one
being generally regarded by the vulgar as the Art
of bewildering the learned by frivolous subtleties ;
the other, that of deluding the multitude by spe-
cious falsehood. And if a treatise on composition
be itself more favourably received 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 under-
valued, through his own failures in their applica-
tion. Should this take place in the present instance,
I 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 sy-
stem of instruction will completely equalize natural
powers ; and yet it may be of service towards their
improvement. A youthful Achilles may acquire
skill in hurling the javelin under the instruction of
a Chiron, though the master may not be able to
compete with the pupil in vigour of arm.

As for any display of florid eloquence and orato-
rical ornament, my deficiency in which is likely to

PREFACE. V

be remarked, it may be sufficient to observe, that if
I had intended to practise any arts of this kind, I
should have been the less likely to treat of them.
To develop and explain the principles of any kind
of trick, would be a most unwise procedure in any
one who purposes to employ it ; though perfectly
consistent for one whose object 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 has been truly observed that '' genius begins
where rules end.'' But to infer from this, as some
seem disposed to do, that, in any department wherein
genius can be displayed, rules must be useless, or
useless to those who possess genius, is a very rash
conclusion. What I have observed elsewhere con-
cerning Logic, that *' a knowledge of it serves to
save a waste of ingenuity," holds good in many
other departments also. In travelling through a
country partially settled and explored, it is wise to
make use of Charts, and of high-roads with direc-
tion-posts, as far as these will serve our purpose ;
and to reserve the guidance of the Compass or the
Stars, for places where we have no other helps. In
like manner we should avail ourselves of rules as
far as we can receive assistance from them ; know-
ing that there will always be sufficient scope for
genius in points for which no rules can be given.

In respect however of such matters as are treated

VI PREFACE.

of here and in the *' Elements of Logic/' it has been
sometimes maintained, or tacitly assumed, that all
persons accomplish spontaneously, and all, equally
well, everything for which any rules have been, or
can be, laid down ; and that the whole difference
between better and worse success depends entirely
on things independent of instruction, and which
are altogether the gift of Nature. I can only reply
that my own experience has led me most decidedly
to an opposite conclusion : a conclusion which I
think is also established by several of the instances
given in this and in the other Treatise. Persons
not wanting in ability, or in knowledge of their
subject, are frequently found either to have fallen
into some fallacy, or to have weakened the force of
what they had to say, or laid themselves open to
misapprehension, or to have committed some other
mistake, from which an attentive study of the pre-
cepts that have been given might have saved them.
There is hardly a single precept in the ** Ele-
ments of Logic " or in the present Work, that is
NOT FREQUENTLY VIOLATED in the compositions of
men not deficient in natural poivers ; as is proved,
in several instances, by the examples adduced. And
the precepts I allude to are such, exclusively, as it
is possible to apply, practically, and — in the strict
sense — to follow. I mention this, because one may
sometimes find precepts — (so called) — laid down,
on various subjects, of so vague and general a cha-

PREFACE. Vll

racter as to be of no practical use ; — such as no one
indeed should depart from, but which no one can
be really guided by, because he can never take any
step in consequence of the enunciation of one of
these barren truisms. If e. g. we were to advise a
sick man '^ to take whatever medicines were proper
for him," and to ** use a wholesome diet," or if we
were to bid an Orator *^ use forcible arguments,
suited to the occasion," we should be in fact only
telling them to *' go the right way to work," with-
out teaching them what is the right way. But no
such empty pretence of instruction will be found, I
trust, in the present Treatise.

As for the complaint sometimes heard, of '' fet-
tering genius by systems of rules," I shall offer
some remarks on that, in the course of the Work.

It may perhaps be hardly necessary to observe,
that the following pages are designed principally
for the instruction of unpractised writers. Of such
as have long been in the habit of writing or speak-
ing, those whose procedure has been conformable to
the rules I have laid down, will of course have anti-
cipated most of my observations ; 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, partly by

Vlll PREFACE.

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 instances not unprofitable, which cannot,
from its nature, be expected to pass completely
uncensured.

Whoever indeed, in treating of any subject, re-
commends (whether on good or bad grounds) a
departure from established practice, must expect to
encounter opposition. This opposition does not
indeed imply that his precepts are right ; but neither
does it prove them wrong ; it only indicates 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 immediate, uni-
versal, and unqualified approbation, this circum-
stance, though it would not indeed prove it to be
erroneous, (since it is conceivable that the methods
commonly pursued may be altogether right,) yet
would afibrd a presumption that there was not
much to be learnt from it.

On the other hand, the more deep-rooted and
generally prevalent any error may be, the less fa-
vourably, at first, will its refutation (though pro-
portionably the more important) be for the most
part received.

PREFACE. IX

With respect to what are commonly called Rhe-
torical Artifices — contrivances for " making the
worse appear the better reason," — it would have
savoured of pedantic morality to give solemn ad-
monitions against employing them, or to enter a
formal disclaimer of dishonest intention ; since,
after all, the generality will, according to their re-
spective characters, make what use of a book they
think fit, without waiting for the Author's permis-
sion. But what I have endeavoured to do, is clearly
to set forth y as far as I could, (as Bacon does in his
Essay on Cunning,) these sophistical tricks of the
Art ; and as far as I may have succeeded in this, I
shall have been providing the only eifectual check
to the employment of them. The adulterators of
food or of drugs, 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 ** Rhe-
toric," 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 themselves possess it ; or at least that a
critical knowledge of the art of Composition forti-
fies any one, in proportion to his proficiency, against

X PREFACE.

being affected by the persuasive powers of another.
This is undoubtedly true, as far as Sophistical skill
is concerned. The better acquainted one is with
any kind of rhetorical trick, the less liable he is to
be misled by it. The Artifices j strictly so called,
of the Orator, are,

like tricks by sleight of hand.

Which, to admire, one should not understand :

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
recommendation of the study of Rhetoric, that it
furnishes the most effectual antidote against decep-
tion 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 excel-
lent 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 ques-
tion) the most powerfully affected by paintings and
by poetry, of superior excellence. And none I
believe are more open to the impression of sound,
honest, manly eloquence, than those who display it
in their own compositions, and are capable of ana-

PREFACE. XI

lysing critically the mode in which its effects are
produced,

I may add, that I 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 coinciding exactly with the prac-
tice of a wise and good man in respect of his own
mind.

Several passages will be found in the following
pages which presuppose some acquaintance with
Logic ; but the greatest part, will, I trust, be intel-
ligible to those who have not this knowledge. At
the same time, it is implied by what I have said of
that Science, and indeed by the very circumstance
of my having written on it, that I cannot but con-
sider him as undertaking a task of unnecessary
difficulty, who endeavours, without studying Logic,
to become a thoroughly good argumentative writer.

It should be observed, however, that a consider-
able 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*.

* I have recently been represented (while the sixth edition of
this very work was before the public) as having declared the
impossibility of making such an Analysis and Classification of the
different kinds of Arguments as I have here laid before the reader.
Such a misapprehension seems very unaccountable ; for if I ever

XU PREFACE.

It may be thought that some apology is neces-
sary for the frequent reference made to the treatise
just mentioned, and, occasionally, to some other
works of my own. It appeared to me, hoAvever,
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 published.

Perhaps some apology may also be thought ne-
cessary for the various illustrations, selected from
several authors, 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 all of which, it can-
not be expected that every one of my readers will
concur. And some may accordingly be disposed
to complain that they cannot put these 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
believe, has been especially felt, though not always
explicitly stated, by the most decidedly antichris-
tian writers of the present day. But it should be
remembered, that Logic and Rhetoric having no
proper subject-matter of their own, it was neces-

had made such an assertion, I should have been, I suppose, the
first person that ever proclaimed the impossibility of something
which at the same time he professed to have accomplished.

PREFACE. Xlll

sary to resort to other departments of knowledge
for exemplifications of the principles laid down ;
and it would have been impossible, without con-
fining 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 remedy is, to refute it. 1 am utterly un-
conscious of having in any instance resorted to the
employment of fallacy, 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 impossible to give young men what is called a
classical education, 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 abs-
tain from insult, libellous personality, and falsifi-

XIV PREFACE.

cation of facts, I earnestly hope no force will ever
be employed to silence them, except force of argu-
ment. I am not one of those jealous lovers of
freedom who would fain 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 I have put forth a challenge which cannot
be accepted ; 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 meaning of the above legal
maxim, I do not profess to determine ; having never
met with any one who could explain it to me : but
evidently the mere circumstance, that we have a
'' Religion by Law estabhshed," does not, of itself,
imply the illegality of arguing against that Reli-
gion. 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 discussed, 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 probabilities ; and I feel a confident trust,

* See Speech on Jews* Relief Bill, and Remarks appended to
it. Vol. of Tracts, &c. pp. 419—446.

PREFACE. XV

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 main-
tainers even of the most erroneous opinions.

To the examples introduced by way of illustra-
tion, and to the incidental remarks on several
points, I have now made (1846) some additions,
the chief part of which have been also printed se-
parately, for the use of those who possess earlier
editions. To some readers the work may appear
to be, even yet, too scanty in this respect ; while
others again may have thought even the former
editions too full, and too digressive. Rhetoric
having, as I have elsewhere observed, (like Logic,)
no proper subject-matter of its own,, it is manifestly
impossible to draw the line precisely between what
does, and what does not, strictly appertain to it.
I have endeavoured to introduce whatever may
appear, to the majority of students, relevant, in-
teresting, and instructive.

I have only to add my acknowledgments to many
kind friends, to whose judicious suggestions and
careful corrections I am indebted, both in the
original composition of the Work, and in the sub-
sequent revisions and enlargements of it.

^Jjdi^

CONTENTS.

INTRODUCTION.

PAGB

Definitions of Rhetoric 1

History of Rhetoric 7

Assiduous cultivation of Rhetoric by the ancients ... 9

Utility of rules for Composition 12

Exercises in Composition 21

Debating Societies 26

PART I.

or THE ADDRESS TO THE UNDERSTANDING, WITH A VIEW TO
PRODUCE CONVICTION (INCLUDING INSTRUCTION).

Chap. I. Of Propositions to be maintained 35

II. Of Arguments 39

III. Of the various use and order of the several kinds
of Propositions and of Arguments in different

cases 108

IV= Of Introductions 168

XVlll CONTENTS.

PART II.
OF THE ADDRESS TO THE WILL, OR PERSUASION.

FAGI

Chap. I. Introductory considerations 175

II. Of the conduct of any address to the feelings

generally 189

III. Of the favourable or unfavourable disposition of
the Hearers or Readers towards the Speaker or
Writer, and his opponent 203

PART III.

OF STYLE.

Chap. I. Of Perspicuity of Style 257

II. Of Energy, or Vivacity of Style 275

III. Of Elegance, or Beauty of Style 328

PART IV.

OF ELOCUTION, OR DELIVERY.

Chap. I. General considerations relative to Elocution . . 339
II. The Artificial and Natural modes of Elocution

compared 347

III. Considerations arising from the differences be-

tween Reading and Speaking 360

IV. Practical Deductions from the foregoing views . 376

CONTENTS. XIX

APPENDIX,

CONTAINING EXTRACTS FROM AUTHORS, WITH REMARKS.

PACK

A. Extracts from Bacon's Rhetoric, of some of his An-

titheta ... 393

A A. Extract from the Edinb. Review, respecting '* Art "

in composition 404

B. Extract from the Quarterly Review, respecting the

" Natural " in Works of Fiction 409

C. Extract from Lecture V. on Political Economy, con-

cerning the currently-received descriptions of the
origin of civilised Society 411

D. Grounds of men's belief in the genuineness of the

sacred Scriptures; from Dr. Hinds's Treatise on

Inspiration 413

DD. Reasons for believing that Savages have never civi-
lized themselves ; from Political Economy, Lect. V. 417
DDD. Extract from the Edinburgh Review, on German

Criminal Jurisprudence 426

E. On Analogies ; from Bishop Copleston's Discourses 434

F. Instances of good Illustrations ; from the Edinburgh

Review 440

G. Extract from the London Review, of a comparison

which is both argumentative and also beautiful . 444
H. Extract from Dr, Campbell's Rhetoric, respecting cir-
cumstances that tend to heighten any impression 446
I. Extract from Milman's Bampton Lectures . . .451

K. Extract from Wolfe's Sermons 454

L. On unmeaning expressions escaping detection ; from

Dr. Campbell's Rhetoric 457

M. Extract from Benson's Hulsean Lectures .... 462
N. Extract from Sheridan's Art of Reading . . . .464
O. On learning by rote ; from London Review, 1829 . 469
GG. Extract from Charge, on mistakes relative to expe-
diency 471

ELEMENTS OF RHETORIC.

INTRODUCTION.

§1-

Of Rhetoric various definitions have been
given by different writers ; who^ however. Various
seem not so much to have disagreed in their jJ^^.^ [^^^ ^
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 itself,
but also those used in defining it, have been taken in va-
rious senses ; as may be observed with respect to the
word "Art" in Cic. de Orat.^ where a discussion is intro-
duced as to the applicability of that term to Rhetoric ;
manifestly turning 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 error of sup-
posing that a general term has some real object, properly
corresponding to it, independent of our conceptions; —
that, consequently, some one definition in every case is to
be found which will comprehend everything that is rightly
designated by that term ; — and that all others must be
erroneous : whereas, in fact, it will often happen, as in the

2 INTRODUCTION. [§ 1.

present instance, that both the wider, and the more re-
stricted sense of a term, will be alike sanctioned by use
(the only competent authority), and that the consequence
will be a corresponding variation in the definitions em-
ployed ; none of which perhaps may be fairly chargeable
with error, though none can be framed that will apply to
every acceptation 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 the
term naturally took place ; and we find even Aristotle, the
earliest systematic writer on the subject whose works have
come down to us, including in his Treatise rules for such
compositions as 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 topics 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 f, by extending the sphere of
operation of the Writer, has of course contributed to the
extension of those terms which, in their primary significa-
tion, 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 ;

* Aristot. Rhet. book iii.

t Or rather of Paper ; for the invention of printing is too obvious not to
have speedily followed, in a literary nation, the introduction of a paper suffi-
ciently cheap to make the art available. Indeed the seals of the ancients seem
to have been a kind of stamps, with which they in fact printed their names.
But the high price of books, caused by the dearness of paper, precluded the
sale of copies except in so small a number that the printing of them would
have been more costly than transcribing.

§ 1.] INTRODUCTION. 3

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, etymolo-
gically considered, it could only belong to the latter.
Indeed " Eloquence '' is often attributed even to such
compositions, — e, g. Historical works, — as have in view an
object entirely different from any that could be proposed
by an Orator ; because some part of the rules to be ob-
served in Oratory, or rules analogous to these, are appli-
cable to such compositions. Conformably to this view,
therefore, some writers have spoken of Rhetoric as the Art
of Composition, universally ; or, with the exclusion of
Poetry alone, as embracing all Prose-composition.

A still wider extension of the province of Rhetoric has
been contended for by some of the ancient writers ; who,
thinking it necessary to include, as belonging to the Art,
everything that could conduce to the attainment of the
object proposed, introduced into their systems. Treatises
on Law, Morals, Politics, &c., on the ground that a know-
ledge of these subjects was requisite to enable a man to
speak well on them : and even insisted on Virtue* as an
essential qualification of a perfect 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 ;

who attributes them either to the ill-cultivated Aristotle's

understandino* iairaihevaia) of those who main- ^^/**^^^ y

lUS j)r€cle~
tained them, or to their arrogant and pretend- cessors.

ing disposition {aka^oveLo) ; ^. 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 nowj

often taken of Logic f ; which has been considered by some

* See Quinctilian. f Elements of Logic, Introd.

B 2

4 INTRODUCTION. [§ 1.

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 un-
derstand ; 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.

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 in-
ordinate veneration for his own Art, that as the possession
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 employment ; 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.

In the present day, however, the province
in the limita- ^^ Rhetoric, in the widest acceptation that
Hon and ex- would be reckoned admissible, comprehends
tension of the all " Composition in Prose f in the narrowest
Rhetoric/^ sense/ it would be limited to " Persuasive
Speaking.'^

I propose in the present work to adopt a

Object of middle course between these two extreme
Treatise^ points ; and to treat of " Argumentative Com-
position,''^ewer«%, and exclusively; consider-
ing Rhetoric (in conformity with the very just and philo-
sophical view of Aristotle) as an off-shoot from Logic.

§ l.J INTRODUCTION. 5

I 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 ^* Infer-
ring/^ and ^^ Proving ;'^ L e. the ascertainment of the truth
by investigation, and the establishment of it to the satisfac-
tion of another : and I there remarked, that Bacon, in his
Organon^ has laid down rules for the conduct of the former
of these processes, and that the latter belongs to the pro-
vince of Rhetoric : and it was added, that to
infer is to be regarded as the proper office of Philosophy
the Philosopher, or the Judge ;— to prove, of Zlfa/eT^^
the Advocate. It is not however to be un-
derstood 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 investigation must be supposed completed,
and certain conclusions arrived at by that process, be/ore
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 after-
wards, 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 employed
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 inquiries, 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 argu-

6 INTRODUCTION. [§ 1.

ments, the conclusions at which they have arrived by
candid investigation. But if this candid investigation do
not take place in the first instance, no pains that they may
bestow in searching for arguments, will have any tendency
to ensure their attainment of truth. If a man begins (as
is too plainly a frequent mode of proceeding) by hastily
adopting, or strongly leaning to, some opinion which suits
his inclination, or which is sanctioned by some authority
that 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 enlightening
his own judgment, and securing him from error*.

Composition, however, of the Argumentative kind, may
be considered (as has been above stated) as coming under
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 superfluous, even
by those who may chuse to consider Rhetoric in the most
restricted sense, as relating only to ^^ Persuasive Speaking *''
since it is evident that Argument must be, in most cases at
least, the basis of Persuasion.

I propose then to treat, first and princi-
Plan of the pally^ of the Discovery of Arguments, and
Treatise ^^ their Arrangement ; secondly, to lay down
some Rules respecting the excitement and
management of what are commonly called the Passions ,
(including every kind of Feeling, Sentiment, or Emotion,)
with a view to the attainment of any object proposed, —
principally. Persuasion, in the strict sense, L e, the influen-
cing of the Will; thirdly, to offer some remarks on Style;
and, fourthly, to treat of Elocution.

* See Essay on the Love of Truth, 2nd Series.

§ 2.] INTRODUCTION. 7

§2.

It may be expected that, before I proceed
to treat of the Art in question, I should pre- nheto
sent 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 w ith 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, in the earliest
days of Science and Literature, than at any subsequent
period. Among the ancients, Aristotle, the
earliest whose works are extant, may safely be
pronounced to be also the best of the systematic writers on
Rhetoric. Cicero is hardly to be reckoned
among the number ; for he delighted so much
more in the practice, than in the theory, of his art, that he
is perpetually drawn off from the rigid philosophical ana-
lysis of its principles, into discursive 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 excellent practical remarks ; though the best
of them are scattered 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 this latter defect a remark-
able instance will be hereafter cited *.

Quinctilian is indeed a systematic writer; .
1 , ,1 -111.- 1 Quinctilian.

but cannot be considered as having much ex-
tended the philosophical views of his predecessors in this
department. He possessed much good sense, but this was

* See Part I. ch. 3. § v.

8 INTRODUCTION. [§ 2.

tinctured with pedantry ; — with that pretension (aXafoveta,
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 attaining, through the means of
this qualification, the highest political importance, that he
who was nominally a Professor of Rhetoric, had in fact the
mostimportant branches of instruction entrusted to his care.

Many valuable maxims however are to be found in this
author ; but he wanted the profundity of thought and power
of analysis which Aristotle possessed.

The writers on Rhetoric among the ancients 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 petty artifices of the
Pleader, instead of giving a masterly and comprehensive
sketch of the essentials.

Among the moderns, few wTiters of ability have turned
their thoughts to the subject ; and but little has been added,
either in respect of matter, or of system, to what the an-
cients have left us. Bacon's "Antitheta''
however, — the Rhetorical common-places, —
are a wonderful specimen of acuteness of thought and point-
ed conciseness of expression. I have accordingly placed a
selection of them in the Appendix*.

„ It were most unjust in this place to leave

amp e . ^^^jj^Q^j^g^j jy^ Campbell's " Philosophy of Rhe-
toric : " a work which has not obtained indeed so high a
. degree of popular favour as Dr. Blair's once

enjoyed, but is mcomparably superior to it, not

* See Appendix, [A.]

§ 3.] INTRODUCTION. 9

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 it to be more abstruse and less popu-
lar in its character than it really is. Amidst much how-
ever that is readily understood by any moderately intelli-
gent 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 in-
stances perplexes his readers by being perplexed himself,
and bewildered 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 leaves many
of his best ideas but imperfectly developed, is his ignorance
and utter misconception of the nature and object of Logic ;
on which some remarks are made in my 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 deficiency.

§3.

From a general view of the history of Rhetoric, two
questions naturally suggest themselves, which, on examina-
tion, will be found very closely connected together : first,
what is the cause of the careful and extensive cultivation,
among the ancients, of an Art which the moderns have
comparatively neglected ; and secondly, whether the former
or the latter are to be regarded as the wiser in this re-
spect;— in other words, whether Rhetoric be worth any
diligent cultivation.

With regard to the first of these ques- Assiduous

tions, the answer generally given is, that the cultivation of
nature of the Government in the ancient Rhetoric by
democratical States caused a demand for

10 INTRODUCTION. [§ 3.

public speakers, and for such speakers as should be able
to gain influence not only with educated persons in dis-
passionate deliberation, but with a promiscuous multitude ;
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 Oratory, which
passes under the name of Tacitus : " What need is there
of long discourses in the Senate, when the best of its
members speedily come to an agreement ? or of numerous
harangues to the people, when deliberations on public
affairs are conducted, not by a multitude of unskilled per-
sons, but by a single individual, and that, the wisest*?"

This account of the matter is undoubtedly correct as far
as it goes ; but the importance of pubhc speaking is 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 ex-
planation. Part of this explanation may be supplied by
the consideration that the difference in this respect be-
tween the ancients and ourselves is not so great in reality
The ancients ^^ ^^ appearance. When the only way of ad-
hearers ra- dressing the Public was by orations, and when
ther than all political measures were debated in popular
assemblies, the characters of Orator, Author,
and Politician, almost entirely coincided ; he who would
communicate his ideas to the world, or would gain political
powder, and carry his legislative schemes into effect, was
necessarily a Speaker ; since, as Pericles is made to remark
by Thucydides, " 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 f.^^ The

* " Quid enim opus est longis in Senatu sententiis, cum optimi cito con-
sontiant ? quid, multis apud populum concionibus, cum de Republica non im-
periti et multi deliberent, sed sapientissimus, et unus ?"

t Thucydides, book ii. See the Motto.

§ 3.] INTRODUCTION. 11

consequence was, that almost all who sought, and all who
professed to give, instruction, in the principles of Govern-
ment, 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 complaint) came to consider the Sci-
ence 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. Much of what we now
call Literature or ^^ Belles Lettres,'^ was formerly included
in what the ancients called Rhetorical studies.

It cannot be denied however that a great difference,
though less, as I have said, than might at first sight ap-
pear, does exist between the ancients and the moderns in
this point ; — that what is strictly and properly called Rhe-
toric, is much less studied, at least less systematically
studied, now, than formerly. Perhaps this also may be in
some measure accounted for from the circumstances which
have been just noticed. Such is the distrust Disavowal of
excited by any suspicion of Rhetorical artifice, rhetorical
that every speaker or writer who is anxious to studies among
carry his point, endeavours to disown or to
keep out of sight any superiority of skill ; and wishes to
be considered as relying rather on the strength of his
cause, and the soundness of his views, than on his inge-
nuity and expertness as an advocate. Hence it is, that
even those who have paid the greatest and the most suc-
cessful attention to the study of Composition and of Elo-
cution, are so far from encouraging others by example or
recommendation to engage in the same pursuit, that they
labour rather to conceal and disavow their own proficiency ;
and thus theoretical rules are decried, even by those who
owe the most to them. Whereas among the ancients, the

12 INTRODUCTION. [§ 4.

same cause did not, for the reasons lately mentioned, ope-
rate 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 include the elements of Political wisdom.

§4.

With regard to the other question proposed.

Utility of ^'2^ concerning the utiUty of 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 tliese 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 gene-
rally admitted that skill in Composition and in speaking,
liable as it evidently is to abuse, is to be considered, on
the whole, as advantageous to the Public; because that
liability to abuse is, neither in this, nor in 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*.

* Arist. Rhet. cli. 1. — He might have gone further; for it will very often
happen that, before a popular audience, a greater degree of skill is requisite
for maintaining the cause of truth than of falsehood. 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

§ 4.] INTRODUCTION. 13

But many, perhaps most persons, are in- ^,
T 1 . .1 • • XT- .. T^i -^u Eloquence

clmed to the opmion that Eloquence, either g^pp^g}^ f^

in w riting or speaking, is either a natural gift, be something
or, at least, is to be acquired by mere practice, '^^^ cannot
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 cer-
tainly 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 col-
lege-exercises afford, without much care being taken to
initiate them systematically into the principles of the Art 5
and that, frequently, not so much from negligence in the
conductors of education, as from their doubts of the utility
of any such regular system.

It certainly must be admitted, that rules
not constructed on broad philosophical prin- stems of
ciples, are more likely to cramp than to assist rules.
the operations of our faculties; — that a pe-
dantic display of technical skill is more detrimental in this
than in any other pursuit, since by exciting distrust, it
counteracts the very purpose of it :— that a system of rules
imperfectly comprehended, or not familiarized by practice,
will (while that continues to be the case) prove rather an
impediment than a help; as indeed will be found in all
other arts likewise ; — and that no system can be expected
to equalize men whose natural powers are different. But
none of these concessions at all invalidate the positions of
Aristotle; that some succeed better than others in ex-
plaining their opinions, and bringing over others to them ;
and that, not merely by superiority of natural gifts, but

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 which truth some-
times depends.

14 INTRODUCTION. [§ 4.

by acquired habit ; and that consequently if we can disco-
ver the causes of this superior success, — the means by
which the desired end is attained by all who do attain it, —
we shall be in possession of rules capable of general appli-
cation; which is, says he, the proper office of an Art*.
Experience so plainly evinces, what indeed we might natu-
rally be led antecedently to conjecture, that a right judg-
ment on any subject is not necessarily accompanied by
skill in effecting conviction, — nor the ability to discover
truth, by a facility in explaining it,— that it might be
matter of wonder how any doubt should ever have existed
as to the possibility of devising, and the utility of employ-
ing, a System of Rules for " Argumentative Composition^^
generally ; distinct from any system conversant about the
subject-matter of each composition.

„ , , I have remarked in the Lectures on Political

Knowledge s ^ r,

of facts no Ji-conomy (Lect. 9.), that " some persons com-

remedy for plain, not altogether without reason, of the
logical inac- prevailing ignorance of facts, relative to this
^* and to many other subjects ; and yet it will

often be found that the parties censured, though possessed
of less knowledge than they ought to have, yet possess
more than they know what to do with. Their deficiency
in arranging and applying their knowledge, — in combining
facts, — and correctly deducing and employing general
principles, shall be greater than their ignorance of facts.
Now to attempt remedying this fault by imparting to
them additional knowledge, — to confer the advantage of
wider experience on those who have not the power of pro-
fiting by experience, — is to attempt enlarging the prospect
of a short-sighted man by bringing him to the top of a
hill.

" In the tale of Sandford and Merton, where the two boys
are described as amusing themselves with building a hovel
with their own hands, they lay poles horizontally on the

* "OTrep eoTt rexv^s epyov, — RJiet. book i. cli. 1,

§ 4.] INTRODUCTION. 15

top, and cover them with straw, so as to make a flat roof:
of course the rain comes through ; and Master Merton
then advises to lay on more straw : but Sandford, the more
intelligent boy, remarks that as long as the roof is flat,
the rain must, sooner or later, soak through ; and that the
remedy is to make a new arrangement, and form the roof
sloping. Now the idea of enlightening incorrect reasoners
by additional knowledge, is an error similar to that of the
flat roof ; it is merely laying on more straw, they ought
first to be taught the right \Vay of raising the roof. Of
course knowledge is necessary ; so is straw to thatch the
roof: but no quantity of materials will supply the want of
knowing how to build.

" I believe it to be a prevailing fault of the present day,
not indeed to seek too much for knowledge, but to trust to
accumulation of facts as a substitute for accuracy in the
logical processes. Had Bacon lived in the present day, I
am inclined to think he would have made his chief com-
plaint against unmethodized inquiry and illogical reasoning.
Certainly he would not have complained of Dialectics as
corrupting Philosophy. To guard now against the evils
prevalent in his time, would be to fortify a town against
battering-rams, instead of against cannon. But it is re-
markable that even that abuse of Dialectics which he com-
plains of, was rather an error connected with the reasoning-
process than one arising from a want of knowledge. Men
were led to false conclusions, not through mere ignorance^
but from hastily assuming the correctness of the data they
reasoned from, without sufficient grounds. And it is re-
markable that the revolution brought about in philosophy
by Bacon, was not the effect, but the cause, of increased
knowledge of physical facts : it was not that men were
taught to think correctly by having new phaenomena
brought to light; but on the contrary, they discovered
new phaenomena in consequence of a new system of phi-
losophizing."

16 INTRODUCTION. [§ 4.

It is probable that the existing prejudices on the present
subject may be traced in great measure to the imperfect or
incorrect notions of some writers, who have either confined
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 carefully borne in mind by
those who w^ould form a correct idea of those principles ;
viz. the distinction already noticed in the '^Elements of
Logic/^ between an Art, and {he Art. '^ An Art of Reason-
ing " would imply, " a 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.

^ ... In like manner ^' an hxt of Composition'^

formed sy- would imply ^^ a System of Rules by which
stem does not a good Composition may be produced ;" " the
cramp the na- ^j.^ of Composition,^' — ^^such rules as every
' good Composition must conform to," whether
the author of it had them in his mind or not. Of the for-
mer character appear to have been (among others) many
of the Logical and Rhetorical Systems of Aristotle's prede-
cessors in those departments. He himself evidently 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 suc-
cess of all who do succeed in effecting conviction, and from
several passages occurring in various parts of his treatise ;
which indicate how sedulously he was on his guard to con-
form to that plan. Those who have not attended to the
important distinction 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

§ 4.] INTRODUCTION. 17

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 instruct
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 fettered by the
formalities of a System ; since no such complaint can lie
against a System whose rules are drawn from the invariable
practice of all who succeed in attaining their proposed
object.

No one would expect that the study of Sir Joshua Rey-
nolds's lectures would cramp the genius of the painter.
No one complains of the rules of Grammar as fettering
Language ; because it is understood that correct use is not
founded on Grammar, but Grammar on correct use. A
just system of Logic or of Rhetoric is analogous, in this
respect, to Grammar.

One may still however sometimes hear — Popular
though less, now, than a few years back — the objections.
hackneyed objections against Logic and Rhe-
toric, and even Grammar also. Cicero has been gravely
cited (as Aristotle might have been also, in the passage just
above alluded to, in his very treatise on Rhetoric) to testify
that rhetorical rules are derived from the practice of Ora-
tory, and not vice versd ; and that consequently there must
have been — as there still is — such a thing as a speaker
ignorant of those rules. A drayman, we are told, w ill taunt
a comrade by saying, '^ you 're a pretty fellow," without
having learnt that he is employing the figure called Irony ;
and may employ "will" and "shall" correctly, without
being able to explain the principle that guides him. And
it might have been added, that perhaps he will go home
whistling a tune, though he does not know the name of a

* See Appendix, note (AA.).

18 INTRODUCTION. [§ 4.

Note ; that he will stir his fire, without knowing that he
is employing the first kind of Lever* ; and that he will
set his kettle on it to boil, though ignorant of the theory
of Caloric, and of all the technical vocabulary of Chemistry.
In short, of the two premises requisite for the conclusion
contended for, the one about which there can be no possi-
ble doubt, is dwelt on, and elaborately proved ; and the
other, which is very disputable, is tacitly assumed. That
the systems of Logic, Rhetoric, Grammar, Music, Mecha-
nics, &c. must have been preceded by the practice of
speaking, singing, &c., which no one ever did or can doubt,
is earnestly insisted on ; but that every system of which
this can be said must consequently be mere useless trifling,
which is at least a paradox, is quietly taken for granted ;
or, at least, is supposed to be sufficiently established, by
repeating, in substance, the poet's remark, that

" all a Rhetorician's rules

But teach him how to name his tools :"

and by observing that, for the most difficult points of all,

* It is a curious circumstance, that no longer ago than the early part of
the last century, Mathematical Studies were a common topic of contemptuous
ridicule among those ignorant of the subject ; just as is the case, to a certain
extent, even now, with Logic (including great part of the matter treated of
in this volume), with Political Economy, and some others. Pope speaks of
what he calls " mad Mathesis," as " running round the circle " and " find-
ing it square ! " One may find also among the fugitive poetry of his times,
descriptions of a Mathematician as something between fool and madman.
And Swift's Voyage to Laputa evinces his utter contempt for such studies,
and likewise his utter ignorance of them. He ridicules the Laputans for
having their bread cut into " Cycloids ;" which he conceived to be the name
of a solid figure : and he (Newton's contemporary) indicates his conviction
that the Aristotelian System of Astronomy was on a level with all others, and
that various systems would always be successively coming into fashion and
going out again, like modes of dress.

Now, the case is altered, as far as regards mathematical pursuits ; which are
respected even by those not versed in them : but those other sciences above
referred to, though studied by a very considerable and daily increasing num-
ber, are still sneered at, — as was formerly the case with Mathematics, — by
many of those who have not studied them (including some mathematicians),
and who know no more of the subject than Swift did of Cycloids.

§ 4.] INTRODUCTION. 19

natural genius and experience must do everything, and
Systems of Art nothing.

To this latter remark it might have been added, that in
no department can Systems of Art equalize men of different
degrees of original ability and of experience ; or teach us
to accomplish all that is aimed at. No system of Agricul-
ture can create Land ; nor can the Art Military teach us
to produce, like Cadmus, armed soldiers out of the Earth ;
though Land, and Soldiers, are as essential to the practice
of these Arts, as the well-known preliminary admonition
in the Cookery-book, *^ first take your carp,^^ is to the
culinary art. Nor can all the books that ever were written
bring to a level with a man of military genius and experi-
ence, a person of ordinary ability who has never seen
service.

As for the remark about " naming one's tools,'' which —
with fair allowance for poetical exaggeration — may be ad-
mitted to be near the truth, it should be remembered, that
if an inference be thence drawn of the uselessness of being
thus provided with names, we must admit, by parity of
reasoning, that it would be no inconvenience to a carpen-
ter, or any other mechanic, to have no names for the seve-
ral operations of sawing, 'planing, boring, &c. in which he
is habitually engaged, or for the tools with which he per-
forms them ; and in Uke manner, that it would also be no
loss to be without names — or without precise, appropriate,
and brief names — for the various articles of dress and furni-
ture that we use, — for the limbs and other bodily organs,
and the plants, animals, and other objects around us ; —
in short, that it would be little or no evil to have a Lan-
guage as imperfect as Chinese, or no Language at all.

The simple truth is, technical terms are
a PART OF Language. Now any portion of ^J^^^^^
one's Language that relates to employments
and situations foreign from our own, there is little need to
be acquainted with. Nautical terms, e,g. it is little loss to

C 2

20 INTRODUCTION. [§ 4.

a land-man to be ignorant of; though, to a sailor, they are
as needful as any part of Language is to any one. And
again, a deficiency in the proper Language of some one
department, even though one we are not wholly uncon-
cerned in, is not felt as a very heavy inconvenience. But
if it were absolutely no disadvantage at all, then, it is plain
the same might be said of a still farther deficiency of a
like character; and ultimately we should arrive at the
absurdity above noticed, — the uselessness of Language
altogether.

But though this is an absurdity which all
Lanamae would perceive, — though none would deny the
importance of Language, — the full extent and
real character of that importance is far from being univer-
sally understood. There are still (as is remarked in the
Logic, Introd. § 5.) many, — though I believe not near
so many as a few years back, — who, if questioned on the
subject, would answer that the use of Language is to com-
municate our thoughts to each other ; and that it is pecu-
liar to Man : the truth being that that use of Language is
not peculiar to Man, though enjoyed by him in a much
higher degree than by the Brutes ; while that which does
distinguish Man from Brute, is another, and quite distinct,
use of Language, viz. as an instrument of thought, — a sy-
stem of General-Signs, without which the Reasoning- pro-
cess could not be conducted. The full importance, conse-
quently, of Language, and of precise technical Language,
— of having accurate and well-defined " names for one's
tools,'' — can never be duly appreciated by those who still
cling to the theory of " Ideas ;" those imaginary objects
of thought in the mind, of which " Common-terms " are
merely the names, and by means of which we are supposed
to be able to do what I am convinced is impossible ; to
carry on a train of Reasoning without the use of Language,
or of any General-Signs whatever.

But each, in proportion as he the more fully embraces

§ 5.] INTRODUCTION. 21

the doctrine of Nominalism , and consequently understands
the real character of Language, will become the better
qualified to estimate the importance of an accurate system
of nomenclature.

§5.

The chief reason probably for the existing

prejudice ao;amst technical systems of compo- r>
, . . ^ . *' ^ Composition.

sition, 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 sy-
stem. It should be remembered, however, in the first
place, that these are almost invariably the productions of
learners ; it being usual for those who have attained pro-
ficiency, 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 stu-
dents in Composition) on narrow, unphilosophical, and
erroneous principles.

But the circumstance which has mainly ^, .
tended to produce the complaint alluded to, subjects for
is, that in this case, the reverse takes place of the composi-
the plan pursued in the learning of other arts ; ^{^^ ^f ^^^^'
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,

22 INTRODUCTION. [§ 5.

what to say, or how to say it — on any subject on which
one has hardly any information, and no interest; about
which he knows httle, and cares still less.

Now the subjects usually proposed for School or College-
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 subjects that interest
him, will be very greatly inferior to it. On the real occa-
sions 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 pre-
pare him, he will find that he writes both better, and
with more facility, than on the artificial occasion, as it
may be called, of composing a Declamation ; — that he
has been attempting to learn the easier, by practising the
harder.

/// effects ^^^ what is worse, it will often happen
often result- that such exercises will have formed a habit
ing from ex- of stringing together empty common-places,
erases. ^^^ 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 I 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 con-
vinced, that practice in Composition, both for boys and

§ 5.] INTRODUCTION. 23

young men, may be so conducted as to be productive of
many and most essential advantages.

The obvious and the only preventive of ^^ .
the evils which I have been speaking of is, subjects.
a most scrupulous care in the selection of
such subjects for exercises as are likely to be interesting to
the student, 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 string 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 collect dried specimens. He
must also be encouraged to express himself (in correct lan-
guage 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, would
be open to severe criticism, and certainly very unfit to
appear in a book.

Compositions on such subjects, and in such a style, would
probably be regarded with a disdainful eye, as puerile, by
those accustomed to the opposite mode of teaching. But
it should be remembered that the compositions 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 be found in the other kind of ex-
ercises. Look at the letter of an intelligent youth to one
of his companions, communicating intelligence of such
petty matters as are interesting 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

24 INTRODUCTION. [§ 5.

and in demeanour ; but lively, unfettered, natural, giving a
fair promise for manhood, and, in short, what a boy should
be. Look at a theme composed by the same youth, on
" Virtus est medium vitiorura," 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 demeanour,
of an elderly man. Our ancestors (and still more recently,
I believe, the continental nations) ^vere guilty of the ab-
surdity 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*. It is surely rea-
sonable 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.

The subjects for Composition to be se-
Classes of jgcted on the principle I am recommending,
exercises ^^'^^^ generally fall under one of three classes :

first, subjects drawn from the studies the
learner is engaged in ; relating, for instance, to the cha-
racters or incidents of any history he may be reading ; and
sometimes, perhaps, leading him to forestall by conjecture,
something which he will hereafter come to, in the book
itself: secondly, subjects drawn from any conversation he
may have listened to [with interest) from his seniors, whe-
ther addressed to himself, or between each other : or,
thirdly, relating to the amusements, familiar occurrences,
and every-day-transactions, which are likely to have formed
the topics of easy conversation among his familiar friends.
The student should not be confined exclusively to any
one of these three classes of subjects. They should be in-
termingled in as much variety as possible. And the teacher
should frequently recall to his own mind these two consi-
derations ; first, that since the benefit proposed does not
* See " Sandford and Mexton" passim.

§ 5.] INTRODUCTION. 25

consist in the intrinsic value of the composition, but in the
exercise to the pupil's mind, it matters not how insignifi-
cant the subject may be, if it will but interest him, and
thereby afford him such exercise ; secondly, that the
younger and backwarder each student is, the more unfit
he will be for abstract speculations ; and the less remote
must be the subjects proposed from those individual ob-
jects and occurrences which always form the first begin-
nings of the furniture of the youthful mind *.
It should be added, as a practical rule for

all cases, whether it be an exercise that is Drawing

.,, n -• * t . . up of outlines

written for practice' sake, or a composition ^^ skeletons.

on some real occasion, that an outline should
be first drawn out, — a skeleton as it is sometimes called, —
of the substance of what is to be said. The more briefly
this is done, so that it does but exhibit clearly the several
heads of the composition, the better : because it is import-
ant that the whole of it be placed before the eye and the
mind in a small compass, and be taken in as it were at a
glance : and it should be written therefore not in sentences,
but like a table of contents. Such an outline should not
be allowed to fetter the writer, if, in the course of the
actual composition, he find any reason for deviating from
his original plan. It should serve merely as a track to
mark out a path for him, not as a groove to confine him.
But the practice of drawing out such a skeleton will give a
coherence to the Composition, a due proportion of its seve-
ral parts, and a clear and easy arrangement of them ; such
as can rarely be attained if one begins by completing one

■* For some observations relative to the learning of Elocution, see Part IV.
chap. ii. § 5, and iv. § 2. See also some valuable remarks on the subject of exer-
cises in composition in Mr. Hill's ingenious work on Public Education. It may
be added, that if the teacher will, after pointing out any faults in the learner's
exercise, and making him alter or re-write it, if necessary, then put before him
a composition on the same subject written by himself, or by some approved
writer, — such a practice, if both learner and teacher have patience and in-
dustry enough to follow it up, will be likely to produce great improvement.

36 INTRODUCTION. [§ 6.

portion before thinking of the rest. And it will also be
found a most useful exercise for a beginner, to practise —
if possible under the eye of a judicious lecturer — the draw-
ing out of a great number of such skeletons, more than he
subsequently fills up ; and likewise to practise the ana-
lysing in the same way, the Compositions of another, whe-
ther read or heard.

If the system which I have been recommending be pur-
sued, with the addition of sedulous care in correction —
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 producing clear-
ness 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 less adapted to the use of
those who are writing for practice' sake, than of those en-
gaged in meeting the occasions of real life,

§6.

One kind of exercise there is, — that of De-
e a mg- bating-Societies, — which ought not to be
passed unnoticed, as different opinions prevail
respecting its utility. It is certainly free from the objec-
tions which lie against the ordinary mode of theme-writing ;
since the subjects discussed are usually such as the speak-
ers do feel a real interest in. On the other hand, it differs
from the exercise afforded by the practice of public-speak-
ing on the real occasions of life, inasmuch as that which is
the proper object of true eloquence, — to carry one's point,
— to convince or persuade, rather than to display ability, —
is more likely to be lost sight of, when the main object
avowedly is, to learn to speak well, and to show how well

§ 6.] INTRODUCTION. 27

one can speak; not, to establish a certain conclusion, or
effect the adoption of a certain measure.

It is urged in favour of this kind of exercise, „ -

JxGttSOTlS tot*

that since in every art a beginner must expect ^^^ against
his first essays to be comparatively unsuccess- Debating-
ful, a man who has not had this kind of pri- Societies.
vate practice beforehand must learn speaking in the course
of actual business, and consequently at the expense of
sundry failures in matters of real importance. Compared
with those who have learnt in Debating-Societies, he will
be like a soldier entering the field of battle without previous
drills and reviews, and beginning to use his weapons and to
practise his evolutions for the first time in actual combat.

And there is undoubtedly much weight in this reason.
But on the other hand, it is urged that there are dangers
to be apprehended from the very early practice of extem-
porary speaking, even on occasions of real business ; dan-
gers which are of course enhanced, where it is not real
business that the speaker is occupied with.

When young men^s faculties are in an immature state,
and their knowledge scanty, crude, and imperfectly ar-
ranged, 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- digested thoughts in well-turned
phrases, and an aversion to cautious reflection. For when
a man has acquired that habit of ready extemporaneous
speaking which 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 ener-
getic style ; and he will have been qualifying himself only
for the "Lion's part*'' in the interlude of Py ramus and

* " Snug. — Have you the Lion's part written ? Pray you, if it be, give it
me ; for I am slow of study.

" Quince. — You may do it extempore ; for it is nothing but roaring^ —
Midsummer Night's Dream.

28 INTRODUCTION. [§ 6.

Thisbe. On the other hand, a want of readiness of ex-
pression^ in a man of well-disciplined mind, who has atten-
tively studied his subject, is a fault much more curable by
practice, even late in life, than the opposite.

In reference to this subject, I cannot refrain from citing
some valuable remarks from an article in the " Edinburgh
Review^'," —

"... A politician must often talk and act before he has
thought and read. He may be very ill-informed respecting
a question ; all his notions about it may be vague and in-
accurate ; but speak he must ; and if he is a man of talents,
of tact, and of intrepidity, he soon finds that, even under
such circumstances, it is possible to speak successfully.
He finds that there is a great difference between the effect
of written words, which are perused and reperused in the
stillness of the closet, and the effect of spoken words which,
set off by the graces of utterance and gesture, vibrate for a
single moment on the ear. He finds that he may blunder
without much chance of being detected, that he may reason
sophistically, and escape unrefuted. He finds that, even
on knotty questions of trade and legislation, he can, with-
out reading ten pages, or thinking ten minutes, draw forth
loud plaudits, and sit down with the credit of having made
an excellent speech. Lysias, says Plutarch, wrote a defence
for a man who was to be tried before one of the Athenian
tribunals. Long before the defendant had learned the
speech by heart, he became so much dissatisfied with it
that he went in great distress to the author. ' I was de-
lighted with your speech the first time I read it ; but I
liked it less the second time, and still less the third time ;
and now it seems to me to be no defence at all.^ ' My
good friend,^ said Lysias, ^you quite forget that the judges
are to hear it only once.^ The case is the same in the
English parliament. It would be as idle in an orator to

* April, 1839.

§ 6.] INTRODUCTION. 29

waste deep meditation and long research on his speeches,
as it would be in the manager of a theatre to adorn all the
crowd of courtiers and ladies who cross over the stage in a
procession with real pearls and diamonds. It is not by
accuracy or profundity that men become the masters of
great assemblies. And w^hy be at the charge of providing
logic of the best quality, when a very inferior article will
be equally acceptable ? Why go as deep into a question
as Burke, only in order to be, like Burke, coughed down,
or left speaking to green benches and red boxes ? This
has long appeared to us to be the most serious of the evils
which are to be set off against the many blessings of popu-
lar government. It is a fine and true saying of Bacon, that
reading makes a full man, talking a ready man, and writing
an exact man. The tendency of institutions like those of
England is to encourage readiness in public men, at the
expense both of fulness and of exactness. The keenest
and most vigorous minds of every generation, minds often
admirably fitted for the investigation of truth, are habitually
employed in producing arguments such as no man of sense
would ever put into a treatise intended for publication,
arguments which are just good enough to be used once,
when aided by fluent delivery and pointed language. The
habit of discussing questions in this way necessarily reacts
on the intellects of our ablest men ; particularly of those
who are introduced into parliament at a very early age,
before their minds have expanded to full maturity. The
talent for debate is developed in such men to a degree
which, to the multitude, seems as marvellous as the per-
formances of an Italian improvisatore. But they are for-
tunate indeed if they retain unimpaired the faculties which
are required for close reasoning or for enlarged speculation.
Indeed we should sooner expect a great original work on
political science, such a work, for example, as the ^ Wealth
of Nations/ from an apothecary in a country town, or from
a minister in the Hebrides, than from a statesman who.

30 INTRODUCTION. [§ 6.

ever since he was one-and-twenty, had been a distinguished
debater in the House of Commons/^

It may be said, however, in reference to the

Oratorical above remarks, that they do not prove any-
excellence thing against the beneficial effects, with a view
exvense of *^ oratorical excellence (which is the point
other quali- now in question), of early practice in extempo-
ties. rary speaking, and accordingly, of that af-

forded by Debating-Societies. This excell-
ence may indeed, we will suppose, be purchased at the
expense of impairing the philosophical powers, and, on the
whole, deteriorating the mind ; but the present question
is as to the mere improvement of Oratory. I will not
indeed undertake to say that a man may not obtain an
earlier — perhaps even a greater — proficiency in public-
speaking (especially with a view to immediate effect)
by sacrificing to that object every other. But I doubt
whether the advantage to be gained, even at such a cost,
is not sometimes itself over-rated. One speaker may have
over another, who is a sounder reasoner and a man of more
generally well- cultivated mind, an advantage more apparent
than real ; he may excite more admiration and be received
with greater present applause, and yet may produce less
conviction and less of permanent influence : the words of
the other may sink deeper. And again, a showy and fluent,
but superficial orator, who may seem at the moment to be
carrying everything before him triumphantly, may be an-
swered by those capable of discerning and exposing any
weakness in his arguments. Moreover, that which will
" only bear to be heard once,^^ may subsequently be read
over calmly, and its emptiness detected. There are, in
short, but few cases in which accurate and well-digested
knowledge, sound judgment, and clear and well-arranged
arguments, will not have great weight, even when opposed
by more showy but unsubstantial qualifications.

Although however I am convinced that an early-acquired

§ 6.] INTRODUCTION. 31

habit of empty fluency is adverse to a man's success as an
Orator, I will not undertake to say, that, as an Orator, his
attaining the very highest degree of success vrill be the
more likely, from his possessing the most philosophical
mind, trained to the most scrupulous accuracy of investi-
gation. Inestimable in other respects as such an endow-
ment is, and certainly compatible with very great eloquence,
I doubt whether the highest degree of it is compatible with
the highest degree of general oratorical power. If at least
that man is to be accounted the most perfect orator who
(as Cicero lays down) can speak the best and most per-
suasively on any question whatever that may arise, it may
fairly be doubted whether a first-rate man can be a first-
rate 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 cleverness would, — to perceive
how impossible it must be to do full justice to a subject
demanding more reflection and inquiry ; nor can he there-
fore place himself fully on a level, in such a case, with one
of shallower mind, who being in all cases less able to look
beneath the surface of things, obtains at the first glance
the best view he can take of any subject, and therefore can
display, 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.

Moreover, a person who is a little, and not very much,
beyond the generality, will often be able to devise new and
striking arguments in defence of popular errors, though
not to perceive that they are errors ; and w^ill have just suf-

32 INTRODUCTION. [§ 6.

ficient ingenuity to frame plausible sophisms, and to express
them forcibly, though not to detect them. And this, —
which will often conduce to his present success at least, — he
will be likely to do with an air of natural earnestness which
it would have been hardly possible to put on, supposing
him aware of the unsoundness of what he is saying. When
Hervey, the discoverer of the Circulation (by which he lost
much of his practice), was decried by the Medical World,
those doubtless argued best against him, who really disbe-
lieved his discovery. And when Dean Tucker first pointed
out that the separation of our American Colonies would
be no loss to the empire, — for which he was universally
derided, though now and for the last half century, the cor-
rectness of his view is universally admitted, — the great
orators of his day doubtless argued against him all the
better from being themselves partakers of the general de-
lusion.

To return to the practical question respecting Debating-
Societies, it would appear, on balancing together what can
be said for and against them, that the advantages they hold
out, though neither unreal nor inconsiderable, are not un-
attended by considerable dangers, which should be very
carefully guarded against, lest more evil than good should
be the result.

-p J An early introduction to this kind of prac-

tice in De- tice is especially to be deprecated, for the rea-
bating-Soci- sons above stated ; and it should be preceded
eties an evil. ^^^ ^^^^ ^^ general cultivation of the mind,
but also by much practice in writing', if possible, under
the guidance of a competent instructor : an exercise which
it is also most desirable not to discontinue, when the prac-
tice of speaking extempore is commenced. And the sub-
stance of what is to be spoken on each occasion should be,
after reflection, written down ; not in the words designed
to be uttered (for that would, instead of a help towards the
habit of framing expressions extempore, prove an embar-

§ 6.] INTRODUCTION. 33

rassment), but in brief heads^ forming such an outline as
in the preceding section has been recommended ; that as
httle as possible be left for the speaker to frame at the mo-
ment except the mere expressions. By degrees^ when
practice shall have produced greater self-possession and
readiness, a less and less full outline previously written
down will suffice ; and in time the habit will be generated
of occasionally even forming correct judgments, and sound
and well-expressed arguments, on the spur of the moment.

But a premature readiness is more likely than the op-
posite extreme to lead to incurable faults. And all the
dangers that attend this kind of exercise, the learner who
is engaged in it should frequently recall to his mind and
reflect on, that he may the better guard against them;
never allowing himself, in one of these mock-debates, to
maintain anything that he himself believes to be untrue,
or to use an argument which he perceives to be fallacious.

The temptation to transgress this rule will often be very
strong ; because, to such persons as usually form the ma-
jority in one of those societies, — youths of immature judg-
ment, superficial, and half-educated, — specious falsehood
and sophistry will often appear superior to truth and sound
reasoning, and will call forth louder plaudits ; 'and the wrong
side of a question will often afford room for such a capti-
vating show of ingenuity, as to be, to them, more easily
maintained than the right. And scruples of conscience,
relative to veracity and fairness, are not unlikely to be si-
lenced by the consideration that after all it is no real battle,
but a tournament ; there being no real and important mea-
sure to be actually decided on, but only a debate carried
on for practice-sake.

But unreal as is the occasion, and insignificant as may
be the particular point, a habit may be formed which will
not easily be unlearnt afterwards, of disregarding right
reason, and truth, and fair argument. And such a habit
is not merely debasing to the moral character, but also, in

34 INTRODUCTION. [| 6»

a rhetorical point of view, if I may so speak, often proves
hurtful. It has often weakened the effect, to a far greater
degree than most persons suppose, of what has been written
and said by men of great abihty ; by depriving it of that
air of simple truthfulness which has so winning a force,
and which it is so impossible completely to feign.

PART I.

OF THE INVENTION, ARRANGEMENT, AND INTRODUC
TION OF PROPOSITIONS AND ARGUMENTS.

Chap. I. — Of Propositions,

§1-

It was remarked in the Treatise on Logic, , . -,

. ^ Inquiry after

that in the process of Investigation properly jYuth and

so called^ viz. that by which we endeavour to after Argu-
discover Truth, it must of course be uncer- '^^'^^^ distin-
tain to him who is entering on that process,
what the conclusion will be to which his researches will
lead ; but that in the process of conveying truth to others
by reasoning, (i.e. in what may be termed, according to
the view I have at present taken, the Rhetorical 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 pro-
position or propositions to be proved. It might indeed at
first sight appear superfluous even to mention so obvious a
rule ; but experience shows that it is by no means uncom-
mon for a young or ill -instructed writer to content himself
with such a vague and indistinct view of the point he is to
aim at, that the whole train of his reasoning is in conse-
quence affected with a corresponding perplexity, obscurity,

36 CONVICTION. [Part I.

and looseness. It may be worth while therefore to give
some hints for the conduct of this preliminary process, —
the choice of propositions. Not, of course, that I am sup-
posing the author to be in doubt what opinion he shall
adopt : the process of Investigation * (which does not fall
within the province of Rhetoric) being supposed to be
concluded ; but still there will often be room for delibera-
tion 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.

On this head therefore I shall proceed to pro-
Conviction -^q^q some rules ; after having premised (in
^^•^^ order to anticipate some objections or doubts

which might arise) one remark relative to the
object to be effected. This is, of course, what may be
called, in the widest sense of the word. Conviction j but
under that term are comprehended, first, what is strictly
called Instruction ; and, secondly. Conviction in the nar-
rower sense ; L 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 instruction, on
the other hand, is commonly meant the conviction of those
who have neither formed an opinion on the subject, nor
are deliberating whether to adopt or reject the proposition
in question, but are merely desirous 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 maintained, and are called upon to con-
sider whether that particular proposition be true or false j
the latter are not supposed to know the terms of the con-
clusion, but to be inquiring what proposition is to be re-
ceived 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

* Logic, book iv. chap. 3. § 2.

Chap. I. § 2.] PROPOSITIONS TO BE MAINTAINED. 37

or writer is, relatively to these last, (though not to himself,)
conducting a process of Investigation ; as is plain from
what has been said of that subject, in 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 differ-
ences however are not sufficient to require that Rhetoric
should on that account be divided into two distinct branches;
since, generally speaking, though not universally, the same
rules will be serviceable for attaining each of these objects.

§2.

The first step is, as I have observed, to lay down (in the
author's mind) the proposition or propositions to be main-
tained, 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 discus-
sion, and introducing many propositions not sufficiently
connected ; an error which destroys the unity of the com-
position. This last error those are apt to fall

into, who place before themselves a Term in- , ^^ subject

docs not 2W2"
stead of a Proposition; and imagine that be- Wy unity of

cause they are treating of one thing, they are composition,
discussing one question. In an ethical work,
for instance, one maybe treating of virtue, while discussing
all or any of these questions ; " Wherein virtue consists ?"
" Whence our notions of it arise ?'^ " Whence it derives
its obligations?^' &c. ; but if these questions were con-
fusedly blended together, or if all of them were treated of,
within a short compass, the most just remarks and forcible
arguments would lose their interest and their utility, in so
perplexed a composition.

38 CONVICTION. [Part I.

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 exhortations
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 practice of it. Un-
Copiousness pi'actised composers are apt to fancy that they
ofmatterfur- shall have the greater abundance of matter,
nished hy a the wider extent of subject they comprehend ;
but experience shows that the reverse is the
fact : the more general and extensive view will
often suggest nothing to the mind but vague and trite re-
marks; when, upon narrowing the field of discussion,
many interesting questions of detail present themselves.
Now a writer who is accustomed to state to himself pre-
cisely, in the first instance, 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
distribute 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 microscope
to a small space, will present to the view much that a
wider survey would not have exhibited.

r • r. It na^y be useful for one who is about thus

Inquiry after '' . . , , •

propositions. ^^ ^^1 down his propositions, to ask himself
these three questions : first. What is the fact?
secondly. Why* (i. e, from what Cause) is it so ? or, in

* See Logic. Appendix. Article " Why."

Chap. II. § 1.] ARGUMENTS. 39

other words, how is it accounted for ? and 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 called
the Cause and the Consequence of the principal truth to
be maintained, may, at least, often furnish such propo-
sitions as bear a somewhat similar relation to it.

It is to be observed, that in recommending the writer to
begin by laying down in his own mind the propositions 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 " Proposi-
tion" or "Assertion," throughout this Treatise, is to be
understood some conclusion to be established /or itself; 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
l^eing customary to argue in the enthymematic form, and
to call, for brevity's sake, the expressed premiss of an en-
thymeme, the argument by which the conclusion of it is
proved*.

Chap. II. — Of Arguments.

§1-

TuE finding of suitable arguments to prove
a given point, and the skilful arrangement of "^operpro-
them, may be considered as the immediate and. fijietoric,
proper province of Rhetoric, and of that alone f.

* Logic, book i. § 2.

t Aristotle's division of Persuasives into "artificial" and "inartificial,"
{evrexvoi and arexvoi) including under the latter head, " "Witnesses, Laws,

40 CONVICTION. [Part I.

The business of Logic is, as Cicero complains, to judge
of arguments, not to invent them : (" in inveniendis argu-
mentis muta nimium est ; in judicandis, nimium loquax) */'
The knowledge, again, in each case, of the subject in hand,
is essential -, but it is evidently borrowed from the science
or system conversant about that subject-matter, whether
Politics, Theology, Law, Ethics, or any other. The art
of addressing the feehngs, again, does not belong exclu-
sively 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 arranging
Arguments is, as has been said, the only province that
Rhetoric can claim entirely and exclusively.

Arguments are divided according to several
Various different principles; i. e. logically speaking,

Arauments ^^^^^ ^^^ several 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 perhaps 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, [contradistinguished,] but are in fact members of
different divisions, crossing each other, it is manifestly im-
possible to obtain any clear notion of the Species treated
of; nor will any labour or ingenuity bestowed on the subject
be of the least avail, till the original source of perplexity is

Contracts," &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/rom 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. AVhether these data are general maxims or particu-
lar testimony — Laws of Nature, or Laws of the Land — makes, in this respect,
no difference.
*• Cic. de Orat.

Chap. II. § 1.] ARGUMENTS. 41

removed; — till, in short, the cross-division 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 " Probable,"
[or"MoraV] and "Demonstrative," [or " Necessary."]

Thirdly, into the " Direct," and the " Indirect ;" [or re-
ductio ad absurdum,'] — the Deictic, and the Elenctic, of
Aristotle.

Fourthly, into Arguments from " Example," from " Tes-
timony," from " Cause to Effect," from " Analogy," &c. &c.

It will be perceived, on attentive examination, that several
of the different species just mentioned will occasionally
contain each other ; e. g. a Probable Argument may be at
the same time a Categorical Argument, a Direct Argument,
and an Argument from Testimony, &c. ; this being the
consequence of Arguments having been divided on several
different principles ; a circumstance so obvious the moment
it is distinctly stated, that I apprehend such of my readers
as have not been conversant in these studies will hardly be
disposed to believe that it could have been (as is the fact)
generally overlooked, and that eminent writers should in
consequence have been involved in inextricable confusion.
I need only remind them however of the anecdote of Colum-
bus breaking the egg. That which is perfectly obvious to
any man of common sense, as soon as it is mentioned, may
nevertheless fail to occur, even to men of considerable in-
genuity.

It will also be readily perceived, on exami-
ning the principles of these several divisions. Division of
that the last of them alone is properly and J^^guments,
strictly a division of Arguments as such. The
First is evidently a division of the Forms of stating them ;

42 CONVICTION. [Part I.

for every one would allow that the same Argument may be
either stated as an enthj^meme, or brought into the strict
syllogistic form ; and that, either categorically or hypothe-
tically, &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 begin-
ning," &c. every' one would call the same Argument, differ-
ently stated. This, therefore, evidently is not a division of
Arguments as such.

The Second is plainly a division of Argu-
Subject- ments according to their subject-mattery whe-

Arauments ^^^^ Necessary or Probable, [certain or uncer-
tain,] In Mathematics, e, g, every proposi-
tion that can be stated is either an immutable truth, or an
absurdity and self-contradiction ; while in human affairs
the propositions which we assume are only true for the
most part, and as general rules ; and in Physics, though
they must be true as long as the laws of nature remain un-
disturbed, the contradiction of them does not imply an ab-
surdity ; and the conclusions, of course, in each case, have
the same degree and kind of certainty with the premises.
This therefore is properly a division, not of Arguments as
such, but of the Propositions of which they consist.

The Third is a division of Arguments ac-

urposes 0/ cording to the purpose for which they are
Arguments. ^ ^ * n -,

employed; according to the intention of the

reasoner ; whether that be to establish '^ directly '' [or " os-
tensively^j the conclusion drawn, or ["indirectly"] by
means of an absurd conclusion to disprove one of the pre-
mises ; {i. e. to prove its contradictory :) since the alterna-
tive proposed in every valid Argument is, either to admit
the Conclusion, or to deny one of the Premises. Now it
may so happen that in some cases, one person will chuse
the former, and another the latter, of these alternatives. It
is probable, e. g. that many have been induced to admit
the doctrine of Transubstantiation, from its clear connexion

Chap. II. § 1.] ARGUMENTS. 43

with the infallibility of the Romish Church; and many-
others, by the very same Argument, have surrendered their
belief in that infallibility. Again, Berkeley and Reid seem
to have alike admitted that the non-existence of matter was
a necessary consequence of Locke's Theory of Ideas : but
the former was hence led, bond fide, to admit and advocate
that non-existence ; while the latter was led by the very
same Argument to reject the Ideal Theory. Thus, we see
it is possible for the very same Argument to be Direct to
one person, and Indirect to another; leading them to
different results, according as they judge the original con-
clusion, or the contradictory of a premiss, to be the more
probable. This, therefore, is not properly a division of
Arguments as such, but a division oi the purposes for which
they are on each occasion employed.

The Fourth, which alone is properly a divi- Division of
sion of Arguments as such, and accordingly Arguments
will be principally treated of, is a division ac- ^^ *"^^*-
cording to the ^^ relation of the subject-matter of the pre-
mises to that of the conclusion.'' I say, ^^ of the subject-
matter," because the logical connexion between the pre-
mises and conclusion is independent of the meaning of the
terms employed, and may be exhibited with letters of the
alphabet substituted for the terms ; but the relation I am
now speaking of between the premises and conclusion, (and
the varieties of which form the several species of Argu-
ments,) is in respect of their subject-matter : as e, g. an
" Argument from Cause to Effect " is so called and consi-
dered, in reference to the relation existing between the
premiss, which is the Cause, and the conclusion, which is
the Effect ; and an '^ Argument from Example," in like
manner, from the relation between a known and an un-
known instance, both belonging to the same class. And
it is plain that the present division, though it has a refer-
ence to the subject-matter of the premises, is yet not a
division oi propositions considered by themselves, (as in

44 CONVICTION. [Part I.

the case with the division into " probable '' and " demon-
strative/^) but of Arguments considered as such ; for when
we say, e. g. that the premiss is a Cause, and the conclu-
sion the Eifect, these expressions are evidently relative,
and have no meaning, except in reference to each other ;
and so also when we say that the premiss and the conclu-
sion are two parallel cases, that very expression denotes
their relation to each other.

In the annexed Table I have sketched an outline of the
several divisions of arguments here treated of.

^-4

^ "^ c

1^8

0 <»

S a

<u §^

^^^

o2_

^-i •■-<

(4-1
0

rguments
could not
to accoui
elusion

-i^

•5

r£3

■4-*

-•J 1 OJ

- be

&■§

C U Vi

n argui
would
lusion
inted.

•5 «

--^ S

.s ^

:.!§-

— O 3 -

S3 'O •

0 c u c
=3 S „ 0

o -^

•43 ca

; VIZ. s

the pr<

for the

sonclusi

•<» *j w

:S .

prior

that
coun
that

-•»

<i^ r3

'«

.4IJ

^ c5 0

PhO

•S

'53

■5

•

-s

1 1^

-i>_

- c

^ 1 ^

46 CONVICTION. [Part I.

§2.

Two classes ^^ distributing, then, the several kinds of
of Argu- Arguments, according to this division, it will
merits. bg found convenient to lay down first two

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 Argument from
Cause to Efi^ect ; since to account for any thing, signifies,
to assign the Cause of it. The other class, of course, com-
prehends all other Arguments ; of which there are several
kinds, which will be mentioned hereafter.

The tw^o sorts of proof which have been just spoken of,
Aristotle seems to have intended to designate by the titles
of oTi for the latter, and ^lotl for the former ; but he has
not been so clear as could be wished in observing the di-
stinction between them. The only decisive test by which
to distinguish the Arguments which belong to the one, and
to the other, of these classes, is, to ask the question,
"Supposing the proposition in question to be admitted,
would this statement here used as an Argument, serve to
account for and explain the truth, or not?" It w411 then
be readily referred to the former or to the latter class, ac-
cording as the answer is in the affirmative or the negative ;
as, e. g. if a murder w-ere 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 niade how he can commit the murder,
the circumstances just mentioned would serve to account
for it ; but not so, with respect to such an Argument as

Chap. II. § 2.] OF DIFFERENT KINDS OF ARGUMENTS. 47

his '^having blood on his clothes ;^^ which would there-
fore be referred to the other class.

And here let it be observed^ once for all, that when I
speak of arguing from Cause to Effect, it is not intended
to 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 controversies 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 '' accounting for '' any fact.

As far, then, as any Cause, popularly speak- Argument
ing, has a tendency to produce a certain from cause to
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 cer-
tainly ; 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

which is usually called the " P/flW526/e." On ^, .,.,.^

*^ r laustoility .

this subject Dr. Campbell has some valuable

remarks in his '^Philosophy of Rhetoric,'^ (book i. § 5.

ch. vii.) though he has been led into a good deal of

perplexity, 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

Probability*.

* I do not mean, however, that every thing to which the term " plausible "
would apply would be in strict propriety called " probable ;" as e. g. if we had
fully ascertained some story that had been told us to be an imposition, we
might still say, it was a " plausible " tale ; though, subsequent to the detec-
tion, the word " probable " would not be so properly applied. But certainly
common usage warrants the use of " probable " in many cases, on the gi'ound

48 CONVICTION. [Part I.

This is the chief kind of Probability which poets, or
other writers of fiction, aim at ; and in such works it is
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 hy-
pothesis 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 as-
sumed 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 pre-
ferred to possibilities 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. Verisimi-
litude) required, if those mortals are represented as acting
in the manner men naturally would have done under those
circumstances.

The Probability, then, which the writer of fiction aims
at, has, for the reason just mentioned, no tendency to pro-
duce SL particular, but only a general, belief; i, e, not that

of this plausibility alone ; viz. the adequacy of some cause, known, or likely
to exist, to produce the effect in question. I could have wished that there
had been some other word to designate what I have called, after Dr. Camp-
bell's example, the *' plausible," because it sometimes suggests the idea of
" untrue." But " likehj," which, according to etymology, ought to be the
suitable term, is often used to denote the " probable," generally.

When however we have clearly defined the technical sense in which we pro-
pose to employ a certain term, it may fairly be so taken, even though not in-
variably bearing that sense in common usage.

* 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 greai 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 Appendix, [B.]

t For some remarks on this point, see the preface to a late (purified) edition
of the ' ' Tales of the GeniV

Chap. II. § 2.] OF DIFFERENT KINDS OF ARGUxMENTS. 49

these particular events actually took place, but that such
are likely, generally, to take place under such circum-
stances* : this kind of belief (unconsciously entertained)
being necessary, and all that is necessary, to produce that
sympathetic feeling which is the writer's object. In Argu-
mentative Compositions, however, as the object of course
is to produce conviction as to the particular point in
question, the Causes from which our Arguments are
drawn must be such as are either admitted, or may be
proved, to be actually existing, or likely to exist.

It is worthy of remark, in reference to this
kind of Probability — the " Plausible'' or " Na- The unna-

tural"— that men are apt to judge amiss of ^"^'^ ^ ""*'
/ . »' " taken for na-

situations, persons, and circumstances, con- tural.

cerning which they have no exact knowledge,
by applying to these the measure of their own feelings
and experience f: the result of which i^ that a correct
account of these will often appear to them unnatural, and
an erroneous one, natural. E, G, A person born with the
usual endowments of the senses, is apt to attribute to the
blind-born, and the deaf-mutes, such habits of thought,
and such a state of mind, as his own would be, if he were
to become deaf or blind, or to be left in the dark : which
would be very wide of the truth. That a man born blind
would not, on obtaining sight, know apart, on seeing them,
a ball, and a cube, which he had been accustomed to
handle, nor distinguish the dog from the cat, would ap-
pear to most persons unacquainted with the result of ex-
periments, much less " natural" than the reverse J. So it
is also with those brought up free, in reference to the feel-

* On which ground Aristotle contends that the end of Fiction is more
Philosophical than that of History, since it aims at general, instead of parti-
cular, Truth.

t See Part II. ch. ii. § 2.

X See an account, in a Note to the First Series of Essays, of a Wind youth
couched by Mr. Cheselden.

50 CONVICTION. [Part I.

ings and habits of thought of born-slaves * ; with civiHzed
men, in reference to Savages t; and of men hving in So-
ciety, in reference to one who passes whole years in total
solitude. I have no doubt that the admirable fiction of
Robinson Crusoe would have been not only much less
amusing, but, to most readers less apparently natural^ if
Friday and the other Savages had been represented with
the indocility and other qualities which really belong to
such Beings as the Brazilian Cannibals ; and if the hero
himself had been represented with that half-brutish apa-
thetic despondency, and carelessness about all comforts
demanding steady exertion, which are the really natural
results of a life of utter solitude : and if he had been de-
scribed as almost losing the use of his own language,
instead of remembering the Spanish.

Again, I remember mentioning to a very intelligent man
the description given by the earliest Missionaries to New
Zealand, of their introduction of the culture of wheat;
which he derided as an absurd fabrication, but which ap-
peared to me what might have been reasonably conjectured.
The Savages were familiar with bread, in the form of ship-
biscuit; and accordingly, roots being alone cultivated by
them, and furnishing their chief food, they expected to
find at the roots of the wheat, tubers which could be made
into biscuits. They accordingly dug up the wheat; and were
mortified at the failure of their hopes. The idea of col-

* This has, in various ways, proved an obstacle to the abolition of Slavery.
It has also caused great difficulty to some readers of the Book of Exodus.

t In the fifth Lecture on Political Economy (an extract from which is sub-
joined in the Appendix, Note C.) I have noticed the descriptions usually given
of the origin of Civilization, -which are generally received as perfectly natural,
though they are, as I have shown, such as never were, or can be realized. I
mean, in the English, not in the American sense of the word ** realize." To
realize a scheme, &c. means, with us, to make it " real," — to " carry it into
effect ; " with the Americans it means to " form a strong and vivid conception
o f it." I acknowledge the want, in our language, of a single word adequately
expressing this : but circumlocution is better than ambiguity.

Chap. II. § 2.] OF DIFFERENT KINDS OF ARGUMENTS. 51

lecting small seeds, pulverizing these, and making the
powder into a paste which was to be hardened by fire, was
quite foreign from all their experience. Yet here, an un-
natural representation would, to many, have, appeared the
more natural.

Much pains therefore must in many cases be taken in
giving such explanations as may put men on their guard
against this kind of mistake, and enable them to see the
improbability, and sometimes utter impossibility, of what
at the first glance they will be apt to regard as perfectly
natural ; and to satisfy them that something which they
were disposed to regard as extravagantly unnatural, is just
what might have been reasonably anticipated.

One way in which the unnatural is often made to appear,
for a time, natural, is, by giving a lively and striking de-
scription which is correct in its several parts, and unna-
tural only when these are combined into a whole ; like a
painter who should give an exact picture of an English
country-house, of a grove of Palm-trees, an Elephant and
an Iceberg, all in the same Landscape. Thus, a vivid re-
presentation of a den of infamy and degradation, and of an
ingenuous and well-disposed youth, may each be, in itself,
so natural, as to draw off, for a time, the attention from
the absurdity of making the one arise out of the other.

On the appropriate use of the kind of Argument now
before us, (which is probably the et/co? of Aristotle, though
unfortunately he has not furnished any example of it,)
some Rules will be laid down hereafter; my Emvlov-

object at present having been merely to as- ment of the
certain tl\e nature of it. And here it may phrase A
be worth while to remark, that though I have P""^^*
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,

* Some students, accordingly, partly with a view to keep clear of any am-

E 2

52 CONVICTION. [Part I.

*^ a priori'' Argument, is not indeed employed by all in
the same sense; it would, however, generally be under-
stood 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 antecedent,
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 phenomenon by the
falling of the mercury ; which they would call a Sign of
rain ; and yet most, perhaps, would class this among " a
priori " Arguments. In like manner the expression, "a
posteriori'' Arguments, would not in its ordinary use coin-
cide 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 pre-
cise, 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.

biguity 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 priorij* 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 with the Argument bearing the symbol " A," though
employed for a diflferent 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 convenience in the use of these
symbols as Logicians have found in the employment of A, E, I, 0, to represent
the four kinds of Propositions according to quantity and quality.

Chap. II. § 3.] SIGNS, 53

§3.

The second^ then, of these classes, (viz. " Arguments
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 Itij/juelov of
Aristotle,) is meant, what may be described as '^"'
an " argument from an Effect to a Condition :" — a species
of Argument of which the analysis is as follows : As far as
any circumstance is, what may be called a Condition of the
existence of a certain effect or phenomenon, so far it may
be inferred from the existence of that Effect : if it be a
Condition absolutely essential, the Argument is, of course,
demonstrative ; and the probability is the stronger in pro-
portion as we approach to that case*.

Of this kind is the Argument in the instance lately given :
a man is suspected as the perpetrator of the supposed mur-
der, from the circumstance of his clothes being 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 Condition of the crystallization of water.

Among the circumstances which are condi-
tional to any Effect, must evidently come the ^cause "
Cause or Causes ; and if there be only one
possible Cause, this being absolutely essential, may be de-
monstratively proved from the Effect : if the same Effect
might result from other Causes, then the Argument is, at

* To this head we may refer all mathematical reasoning. Every property,
e. g. of a Triangle, may be regarded as a " condition" of the supposition that
a " Triangle" is what it is defined. A Figure would not be a Triangle unless
its angles were equal to two right angles, &c.

54 CONVICTION. [Part I.

best, but probable. But it is to be observed, that there are
also many circumstances which have no tendency to pro-
duce a certain Effect, though it cannot exist without them,
and from which Effect, consequently, they may be inferred,
as Conditions, though not Causes ; e. g. o. man's " being
alive one day,'' is a circumstance 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 versd^*

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 \rf\ it is a Cause, but so
far forth as it is a condition, or necessary circumstance.

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 versd.

Lastly, when a Cause is also a necessary or probable con-
dition, i. e, when it is the only possible or only likely Cause,
then we may argue both ways : e, g, we may infer a Gene-
ral's success from his known skill, or, his skill, from his

* 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.

How common it is to confound a Sign with a Cause is apparent in the re-
sentment men are prone to feel against the prophets of evil ; as Ahab " hated"
the Prophet Micaiah, and gave as a reason " he doth not prophesy good con-
cerning me, but evil."

Chap. II. § 3.] SIGNS. 55

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 Arguments belonging, respectively,
to the two classes originally laid down.

And it is to be observed, that, in such Argu-
ments from Sign as this last, the conclusion Logical and
which follows, logically, from the premiss, ^g^^H^^ce.
being the Cause from which the premiss fol-
lows, physically, [i, e. as a natural Effect,) there are in this
case two different kinds of Sequence opposed to each other ;
e. ff. ^^ With many of them God was not well pleased ; for
they were overthrown in the wilderness.^^ In Arguments
of the first class, on the contrary, these two kinds of Se-
quence are combined; i. e. the Conclusion which follows
logically from the premiss, is also the Effect following
physically from it as a Cause ; a GeneraPs 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 ^
..... ^ , , • 1 n fN Importance

distmction between these two kmds of Se- of distin-

quence, which are, in Argument, sometimes guishing the
combined, and sometimes opposed. There is ^^^ kmds of
no more fruitful source of confusion of thought ^
than that ambiguity of the language employed on these
subjects, which tends to confound together these two
things, so entirely distinct in their nature. There is hardly
any argumentative writer on subjects involving a discus-
sion of the Causes or Effects of anything, who has clearly
perceived and steadily kept in view the distinction I have
been speaking of, or who has escaped the errors and per-
plexities thence resulting. The wide extent accordingly,
and the importance, of the mistakes and difficulties arising
out of the ambiguity complained 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

* Bacon.

56 CONVICTION. [Part L

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.

The Premiss by which anything is proved.
Logical j^ ^^^ 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 Pre-
miss 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 collo-
quial 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 wetness. 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 in-
differently, both to a Cause, properly so called, and to the
Premiss of an Argument ; though " Reason," in strictness

. ,. .^ of speakinff, should be confined to the latter.
Ambiguity ^ °

of ^^ because,'' "Therefore," " hence," " consequently," &c.,

'* therefore,'* and also, ^^ since," "because," and "why,"
^^' have likewise a con'esponding ambiguity.

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
infected with the very same ambiguity ; e. g. if we inquire
what is meant by a " Cause," we shall be told that it is
that from which something " follows ;" or, which is indi-
cated by the words " therefore," " consequently," &c., all
which expressions are as equivocal and uncertain in their
signification as the original one. It is in vain to attempt

Chap. II. § 3.] SIGNS. 57

ascertaining by the balance the true amount of any com-
modity, 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 attri-
buted, have assigned that which is not a Cause, but only a
Proof that the fact is so ; and have thus been led into an
endless train of errors and perplexities.

Several, however, of the words in question, though em-
ployed indiscriminately in both significations, seem (as
was observed in the case of the word '^ Reason'^) in their
primary and strict sense to be confined to one. ^' Arj,'^ in
Greek, and ^^ ergoV^ or " itaque," in Latin, seem originally
and properly to denote the Sequence of Effect from Cause ;
^^ dpaf/' and " igitur," that of conclusion from premises.
The English word " accordingly/' will generally be found
to correspond with the Latin ^^ itaque.'^

The interrogative "why,^' is employed to
inquire, either, first, the "Reasons," (or ^^%j^%,o/
" Proof;") secondly, the " Cause ;" or thirdly,
the " object proposed," or Final-Cause : e. g, first, Why
are the angles of a triangle equal to two right angles?
secondly. Why are the days shorter in winter than in
summer ? thirdly. Why are the works of a watch construct-
ed as they are ? J

It is to be observed that the discovery of Causes belongs
properly to the province of the Philosopher ; that of " Rea-
sons," strictly so called, (i. e. Arguments,) to that of the
Rhetorician ; and that, though each will have frequent oc-
casion to assume the character of the other, it is most im-
portant that these two objects should not be confounded
together.

* Most Logical writers seem not to be aware of this, as they generally, in
Latin Treatises, employ " ergo" in the other sense. It is from the Greek epyy,
t. e. "infact."

t " hpa having a signification oi fitness or coincidence \ whence apio.

X See the article Why, in the Appendix to the Treatise on Logic.

58 CONVICTION. [Part I.

§4.

Of Signs then there are some which from a certain Effect
or phenomenon, infer the " Cause '^ of it ; and others which,
in like manner, infer some " Condition" which is not the
Cause.

Of these last, one species is the Argument
Testimony a ^^^^ Testimony : the premiss being the exist-
ence of the Testimony; the Conclusion, the
truth of what is attested ; which is considered as a " Con-
dition" of the Testimony having been given : since it is
evident that so far only as this is allowed, {L e. so far only
as it is allowed, that the Testimony would not have been
given, had it not been true,) can this Argument 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 con-
clusion that it is brought to support.

In respect of this latter point, the first and

Matters of great distinction is, between Testimony to
ovinion matters of Fact, and, to matters of Opinion, or

Doctrines.

The expressions " Matter [or Question] of Fact," and
'^Matter of Opinion," are not employed by all persons
with precision and uniformity. But the notion most nearly
conformable to ordinary usage seems to be this: by a
" Matter of Fact" is meant, something which might, con^
ceivably, be submitted to the senses ; and about which it is
supposed there could be no disagreement among persons
who should be present, and to whose senses it should be
submitted : and by a " Matter [or Question] of Opinion"

* Locke has touched on this subject, though slightly and scantily. He says,
" In the testimony of others, is to be considered, — 1. The number. 2. The in-
tegrity. 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 cir-
cumstances of the relation. 6. Contrary testimonies."

Chap. II. § 4.] TESTIMONY. 69

is understood, anything respecting which an exercise of
judgment would be called for on the part of those who should
have certain objects before them, and who might concei-
vably disagree in their judgment thereupon.

This, I think, is the description of what people in general
intend to denote (though often without having themselves

any very clear notion of it) by these phrases.

T^ • 1 1 1 . . 11 1 No greater

JJecidedly it is not meant, by those at least certainty

who use language with any precision, that about facts »

there is greater certainty, or more general ^^^^ ^P^'

and ready agreement, in the one case than in

the other. E, G, That one of Alexander's friends did, or

did not, administer poison to him, every one would allow

to be a question o^ fact; though it may be involved in

inextricable doubt : while the question, what sort of an

act that was, supposing it to have taken place, all would

allow to be a question of opinion; though probably all

would agree in their opinion thereupon.

Again, it is not, apparently, necessary that

a « Matter of Fact,'' in order to constitute it A ?f ^^^^'^^

of fact, one
such, should have ever been actually submit- which might

ted — or likely to be so — to the senses of any conceivably

human Being; only, that it should be one ^/ ^f^^i*^^

to the senses
which, conceivably might he 80 suhmitted, E,G,

Whether there is a lake in the centre of New Holland, —

whether there is land at the South Pole — whether the

Moon is inhabited, — would generally be admitted to be

questions of fact ; although no one has been able to bear

testimony concerning them ; and, in the last case, we are

morally certain that no one ever will.

The circumstance that chiefly tends to pro- r\

duce indistinctness and occasional inconsis- of opinion

tency in the use of these phrases, is, that there may relate

is often much room for the exercise of judg- ^^f^^i^-

merit, and for difference of opinion, in reference to things

which are, themselves, matters of fact, E, G, The degree

GO CONVICTION. [Part I.

of credibility of the witnesses who attest any fact, is, itself,
a matter of Opinion ; and so, in respect of the degree of
weight due to any other kind of probabiKties. That there
is, or is not, land at the South Pole, is a matter of Fact ;
that the existence of land there is likely, or unlikely, is
matter of Opinion.

And in this, and many other cases, different questions
very closely connected, are very apt to be confounded to-
gether*, and the proofs belonging to one of them brought
forward as pertaining to the other. E. G. A case of alleged
prophecy shall be in question : the event, said to have been
foretold, shall be established as a fact ; and also, the utter-
ance of the supposed prediction before the event ; and this
will perhaps be assumed as proof of that which is in reality
another question, and a " question of opinion ;^' whether
the supposed prophecy related to the event in question ;
and again, whether it were merely a conjecture of human
sagacity, or such as to imply superhuman prescience.

Again, whether a certain passage occurs in certain MSS.
of the Greek Testament, is evidently a question of Fact ;
but whether the words imply such and such a doctrine, —
however indubitable it may justly appear to us, — is evidently
a " matter of opinion '\"

It is to be observed also, that, as there may

Facts may \^q (^s I have just said) questions of Opinion
nions ' ^^^^^^^^ ^^ Facts, so, there may also be ques-

tions of Fact, relative to Opinions : i, e, that
such and such Opinions were, or were not, maintained at
such a time and place, by such and such persons, is a
question of Fact.

When the question is as to a Fact, it is plain we have
to look chiefly to the honesty of a witness, his accuracy,
and his means of gaining information. When the question
is about a matter of Opinion, it is equally plain that his

* See Treatise on Fallacies, " Irrelevant Conclusion."
t See Preface to vol. ii. of Translation of Neander.

Chap. II. § 4.] TESTIMONY. 61

ability to form a judgment is no less to be taken into ac-
count*. But though this is admitted by all, it is very-
common with inconsiderate persons to overlook, in prac-
tice, 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 in-
stance, 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 question were so affected in consequence
of the moon's rays, — that such is the general effect of them
in that climate f, 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 the

question relates to what is strictly a matter of x^rv^^ ^^
^ . *^ . Witnesses.

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

* Testiraofty to matters of opinion usually receives the name of Authority ;
which term however is also often applied when facts are in question ; as when
we say, indifferently, " the account of this transaction rests on the Authority "
—or " on the Testimony — of such and such an historian." See Logic, Ap-
pendix, Art. * Authority.'

t Such is the prevailing, if not universal, belief of those who have resided
in the East Indies.

63 CONVICTION. [Part I.

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 may even be the stronger. E, G,
The early disciples of Jesus were, mostly, ignorant, credu-
lous, and prejudiced men ; but all their expectations, — all
their early prejudices, — ran counter to almost every thing
that they attested. They were, in that particular case,
harder to be convinced than more intelligent and enlight-
ened men would have been. It is most important, there-
fore, to remember — what is often forgotten — that Credulity
and 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 preconceived no-
tions, the harder of belief he will be of anything that op-
poses these*.

Again, in respect of the number of witnesses,
urn er oj j^ -^ 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 are attesting different things.
One or two men may be bearing original testimony to some
fact or transaction ; and one or two hundred, who are re-
peating 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
the rest have assented to it in impUcit 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 con-
ceives, a conclusion fairly established by reasons pertaining
to the subject-matter ; the rest, that so and so is the esta-
* See Logic, b. ii. c. 2. § .

Chap. II. § 4.] TESTIMONY. 68

blished belief; or is held by persons 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 ; or that the many millions of persons who
have never seen the sea, are credulous in believing, on testi-
mony, its existence : but still it is to be remembered that
they are not, in reality, bearing witness to the same thing
as the others.

Undesigned testimony is manifestly, so far,
the stronger ; the suspicion of fabrication be- J^ ^signe
ing 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 Thucydides in an incidental
mention of a place " near which some remains of the canal
might be seen,^^ than if he had distinctly recorded his con-
viction 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, narra-
tives, or assertions, would have been.

Paley, in that most admirable specimen of
the investigation of this kind of evidence, the Small cir-
" Horcs Paulince^^ puts in a most needful cau- ^ ^^^^
tion against supposing that because it is on great weight*
very minute points this kind of argument turns,
therefore the importance of these points in establishing

* " Velificatus Athos, et quicquid Graecia mendax
Audet in historia."

64 CONVICTION. [Part I.

the conclusion^ is small"^. The reverse, as he justly ob-
serves, is the truth ; for the more minute, and intrinsically
trifling, and likely to escape notice, any point is, the more
does it preclude the idea of design and fabrication. Imi-
tations of natural objects, — flowers, for instance, — when
so skilfully made as to deceive the naked eye, are de-
tected by submitting the natural and the artificial to a
microscope.

The same remarks will apply to other kinds of Sign also.
The number and position of the nails in a man^s shoe, cor-
responding with a foot-mark, or a notch in the blade of a
knife, have led to the detection of a murderer.

The Testimony of Adversaries f, — including

es imony oj ^j^ jgj. |.]^jg tej-m all who would be unwillinsr to
Adversaries. , , ...

admit the conclusion to which their testimony

tends, — has, of course, great weight derived from that

circumstance. And 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.

In oral examination of witnesses, a skilful

. " . " cross-examiner will often elicit from a reluc-
minatton.

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, mis-

* Thus Swift endeavoured (in Gulliver's Voyage to Laputa, and in some of
his poems,) to cast ridicule on some of the evidence on which Bishop Atter-
bury'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 ; as if
the importance of the evidence were to be measured by the intrinsic import-
ance 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.

•\ E.G.I have seen in a professedly argumentative Work, a warning inserted
against the alleged unsound doctrine contained in the Article 'Person' in Ap-
pendix to the Logic ; which being unaccompanied by any proofs of unsound-
ness, may be regarded as a strong testimony to the unanswerable character of
the reasons I have there adduced.

Chap. II. § 4.] TESTIMONY. 65

leading, or bewildering an honest witness as to throw dis-
credit 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 em-
ployments of intellectual power, I shall only make one
further observation. I am convinced that the most effec-
tual 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 subjecting 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 wit-
ness; without any effect in shaking the testimony: and
afterwards, by a totally opposite mode of examination, such
as would not have at all perplexed one who was 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 careful examination, will
be the most adapted to elicit truth; and that the man-
oeuvres, and the brow-beating, which are the most adapted
to confuse an honest witness, are just what the dishonest
one is the best prepared for. The more the storm blusters,
the more carefully he wraps round him the cloak, which a
warm sunshine will often induce him to throw off.

In any testimony (whether oral or written)
that is unwillingly borne, it will more fre- Testimony
quently consist in something incidentally im- ^^^ usually
plied, than in a distinct statement. For in- incidental.
stance, the generality of men, who are accus-
tomed to cry up Common-sense as preferable to Systems
of Art, have been brought to bear witness, collectively, (see
Preface to "Elements of Logic,^^) on the opposite side;

* See an extract from a Valuable pamphlet on the " License of Counsel,"
cited in the Lecture appended to Part II.

m CONVICTION. [Part I.

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 testimony of
the Evangelists, that the miracles of Jesus were acknow-
ledged by the unbelievers, and attributed to magic, is con-
firmed by the Jews, in a Work called " Toldoth Jeschu ;"
(the " Generation of Jesus ;") which must have been com-
piled (at w^hatever period) from traditions existing from the
very first ; since it is incredible that if those contempora-
ries of Jesus who opposed Him, had denied i\iQ fact of the
miracles having been wrought, their descendants should
have admitted the facts, and resorted to the hypothesis of
magic.

The negative testimony, either of adversa-
ega ive ^.^^^ ^^ ^^ indifferent persons, is oflen of great

weight. When statements or arguments, pub-
licly put forth, and generally known, remain uncontradicted,
an appeal may fairly be made to this circumstance, as a con-
firmatory 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 *.

It is manifest that the concurrent testimony,
Testimony Positive or negative, of several witnesses, w^hen

there can have been no concert, and especially
when there is any rivalry or hostility between them, car-
ries with it a weight independent of that which may be-
long to each of them considered separately* For though,
in such a case, each of the witnesses should be even con-
sidered as wholly undeserving of creditj still the chances
might be incalculable against their all agreeing in the same
falsehood. It is in this kind of testimony that the gene-

* See Hinds on the " Inspiration of Scripture."

Chap. II. § 4.] TESTIMONY. 67

rality 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 astronomers ; but it rests on the agree-
ment of many independent 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 impli-
citly on the good faith of those who profess to have done
so; but they rely on the concurrent and uncontradicted
testimony 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 seize any
opportunity to expose the forgeries or errors of his oppo-
nents.

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 believing some-
thing— as they are led to suppose — on very insufficient
reasons ; when the truth is perhaps that they have been
mis-stating their reasons f.

A remarkable instance of the testimony of adversaries,
— both positive and negative, — has been afforded in the
questions respecting penal-colonies. The pernicious cha-
racter of the system was proved in various publications,
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 re-

* Hinds on Inspiration. f See Appendix, [D.].

p 2

68 CONVICTION. [Part I.

mained uncontradicted for years; till, on motions being
made for the abolition of the system *, persons had the
effrontery to come forward at the eleventh hour and deny
the truth of the representations given : thus pronouncing
on themselves a heavy condemnation, for having 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.

As for the character of the particular things

Character ^.j^^^. • j^ ^j^y ^^^^ ^^^ |^g attested, it is plain
of things at' , , , *; , , , .,/

tested. ^"^^ ^^ n?cvQ to look to the probability or

improbability, on the one hand, of their being
real, and, on the other hand, of their having been either
imagined or invented by the persons attesting them.

Anything unlikely to occur, is, so far, the

Things in- less likely to have been feigned or fancied : so

trmsically ^hoi its antecedent improbability may some-

^thelesslikelv ^^"^^^ ^^^ *^ ^^ credibility of those who bear

to he feigned, witness to it f . And again, anything which,

however likely to take place, would not have
been likely, otherwise, to enter the mind of those j^articular
persons who attest to it, or w^ould be at variance with their
interest or prejudices, is thereby rendered the more cre-
dible. Thus, as has been above remarked, when the dis-
ciples of Jesus record occurrences and discourses, such
as were both foreign to all the notions, and at variance

* See " Substance of a Speech on Transportation, delivered in the House
of Lords, on the 19th of May, 1840," &c.
t See Sermon IV. on " A Christian Place of Worship."

Chap. II. § 4.] TESTIMONY. 69

with all the prejudices, of any man living in those days,
and of Jews more especially, this is a strong confirmation
of their testimony.

It is also, in some cases, a strongly confir-
matory circumstance that the witness should Things not
appear not to believe, himself, or not to under- understood,
stand, the thing he is reporting, when it is such //^^^ Q
as is, to iLS, not unintelligible nor incredible, those who at*
E. G, When an ancient historian records a re- ^^^t them.
port of certain voyagers having sailed to a di-
stant country in which they found the shadows falling on the
opposite side to that which they had been accustomed to,
and regards the account as incredible, from not being able
to understand how such a phenomenon could occur, we —
recognising at once what we know takes place in the
Southern Hemisphere, and perceiving that he could not
have invented the account — have the more reason for be-
lieving it. The report thus becomes analogous to the
copy of an inscription in a language unknown to him who
copied it.

The negative circumstance also, of a witness's omitting
to mention such things as it is morally certain he would
have mentioned had he been inventing, adds great weight
to what he does say.

And it is to be observed* that, in many

cases, silence, omission, absence of certain . Superior

o -11 1 • 1 force of re-

statements, &c. will have even greater weight gative pro-

than much that we do find stated. E. G, Sup- babilities.
pose we meet with something in a passage of one
of Paul's Epistles, which indicates with a certain degree of
probability the existence of such and such a custom, institu-
tion, &c., and suppose there is just the same degree of
probability that such and such another custom, institution,
or event, which he does not mention anywhere, would have
been mentioned by him in the same place, supposing it to
* See Essay on the " Omission of Creeds," &c.

rO CONVICTION. [Pakt I.

have really existed, or occurred; this omission, and the nega-
tive argument resulting, has incomparably the more weight
than the other, if we also find that same omission in all the
other epistles, and in every one of the Books of the New
Testament.

E, G. The universal omission of all notice of the office
of Hiereus (a sacerdotal priest) among the Christian mini-
sters*— of all reference to one supreme Church bearing
rule over all the rest t — of all mention of any transfer of
the Sabbath from the seventh day to the first J — are in-
stances of decisive negative arguments of this kind.

So also, the omission of all allusion to a Future State, in
those parts of the writings of Moses in which he is urging
the Israelites to obedience by appeals to their hopes and
fears ; and again, in the whole of the early part of the Book
of Job, in which that topic could not have failed to occur
to persons believing in the doctrine, — this is a plain indi-
cation that no revelation of the doctrine was intended to be
given in those Books ; and that the passage, often cited,
from the Book of Job, as having reference to the resurrec-
tion, must be understood as relating to that temporal deli-
verance which is- narrated immediately after : since else it
would (as Bishop Warburton has justly remarked) make
all the rest of the Book unintelligible and absurd §.

Again, ^^ although we do not admit the positive author-
ity of antiquity in favour of any doctrine or practice which
we do not find sanctioned by Scripture, we may yet, with-
out inconsistency, appeal to it negatively, in refutation of
many errors. * * * * It is no argument in favour of the
Millennium, that it was a notion entertained by Justin
Martyr, since we do not believe him to have been inspired,

* See Discourse on the Christian Priesthood appended to the Bampton
Lectures. Also, Bernard's translation of Vitringa on the " Synagogue and
the Church."

t See Essay II. on the " Kingdom of Christ."

% See " Thoughts on the Sahbath."

§ See " Essay on a Future State " (First Series).

Chap. H. § 4.] TESTIMONY. 71

and ha may therefore have drawn erroneous inferences
from certain texts of Scripture: but it is an argument
against the doctrine of Transubstantiation, that we find no
traces of it for above six centuries ; and against the adora»
tion of the Virgin Mary, that in hke manner it does not
appear to have been inculcated till the sixth century. It
is very credible that the first Christian writers_, who were
but men, should have made mistakes to which all men
are liable, in their interpretation of Scripture : but it is
not credible that such important doctrines as Transub-
stantiation and the adoration of the Virgin Mary should
have been transmitted from the Apostles^ if we find no
trace of them for five or six centuries after the birth of
our Saviour *.^^

To take another instance : I have remarked
in the Lectures on Political Economy (Lect. 5), Absence of
that the descriptions some writers arive of the ^J^^^^^rdsof
i-»- M- ^- /^Tiyr 1 • 1 1 1 lavages ha-

Livihzation ot Mankmd, by the spontaneous ^^-^^ civilized

origin, among tribes of Savages, of the various themselves.
arts of life, one by one, are to be regarded as
wholly imaginary, and not agreeing with anything that ever
did, or can, actually take place j inasmuch as there is no
record or tradition of any race of savages having ever civi-
lized themselves without external aid. Numerous as are
the accounts we have, of Savages who have not received
such aid, we do not hear, in any one instance, of their ha-
ving ceased to be Savages. And again, abundant as are
the traditions (though mostly mixed up with much that is
fabulous) of the origin of civilization in various nations,
all concur in tracing it up to some foreign, or some super-
human, instructor. If ever a nation did emerge, unas-
sisted, from the savage state, all memory of such an event
is totally lost.

I^ow the absence of all such records or traditions, in a
* Bishop Pepys's Charge, 1 845.

72 CONVICTION. [Part I.

case where there is every reason to expect that an instance
could be produced if any had ever occurred, — this negative
circumstance (in conjunction with the other indications
there adduced) led me, many years ago, to the conclusion,
that it is impossible for mere Savages to civilize themselves
— that consequently Man must at some period have re-
ceived the rudiments of civilization from a superhuman in-
structor,— and that Savages are probably the descendants of
civilized men, whom wars and other afflictive visitations
have degraded*.

It might seem superfluous to remark that none but very
general rules, such as the above, can be profitably laid
down ; and that to attempt to supersede the discretion to
be exercised on each individual case, by fixing precisely
what degree of weight is to be allowed to the testimony of
such and such persons, would be, at least, useless trifling,
and, if introduced in practice, a most mischievous hindrance
of a right decision. But attempts of this kind have ac-
tually been made, in the systems of Jurisprudence of some
countries ; and with such results as might have been an-
ticipated. The reader will find an instructive account of
some of this unwise legislation in an article on " German
Jurisprudence^^ in the Edinburgh Review; from which an
extract is subjoined in the Appendix f.

Testimony on Oath is commonly regarded as far more
to be relied on — other points being equal — than any that
is not sworn to. This however holds good, not uni-
versally, but only in respect of certain intermediate cha-
racters between the truly respectable and the worthless.
For, these latter will either not scruple to take a false Oath^
or, if they do, will satisfy their conscience by various eva-

* See an extract in the Appendix DD from the Lecture above alluded to.
t Appendix DDD.

Chap. II. § 4.] TESTIMONY. 73

sions and equivocations, such as are vulgarly called " cheat-
ing the Devil"; so as to give, substantially, false testi-
mony, while they cheat (in reality) themselves, by avoiding
literal perjury. An upright man, again, considers himself
as, virtually, on his Oath, whenever he makes a deliberate
solemn assertion ; and feels bound to guard against con-
veying any false impression.

But, even in respect of those intermediate characters,
the influence of an Oath in securing veracity, is, I con-
ceive, far less than some suppose. Let any one compare
the evidence given on Oath, with that of those religionists
who are allowed by law to substitute a " solemn Affirma-
tion," and he will find no signs of the advantage of Sworn-
testimony. Or, if he consider these religionists as, gene-
rally, more conscientious than the average, let him com-
pare the evidence (of which we have such voluminous
records) given before Committees of the House of LordSj,
which is on Oath, with that before Committees of the Com-
mons, w hich is not ; and he w ill find about the same pro-
portion of honest and of dishonest testimony in each.

Still, there doubtless are persons who would scruple to
swear to a falsehood which they would not scruple delibe-
rately to affirm. But I doubt whether this proves much,
in favour of the practice of requiring Oaths ; — w^hether its
chief effect is not to lower men's sense of the obligations
to veracity on occasions when they are not on Oath. The
expressions which the practice causes to be so much in
use, of '^ calling God to witness," and of '' invoking the
Divine judgment," tend to induce men to act as if they
imagined that God does not wdtness their conduct unless
specially "called on"; and that He will not judge false
testimony unless with our permission: and thus an ha-
bitual disregard for veracity is fostered. If Oaths were
abolished — leaving the penalties for false-witness (no un-
important part of our security) unaltered — I am convinced

74 CONVICTION. [Part I.

that, on the whole. Testimony would be more trust-worthy
than it is.

Still, since there are, as I have said, persons whose Oath
—as matters now stand — is more worthy of credit than
their Word, this circumstance must be duly considered in
weighing the value of Testimony*.

The remark above made, as to the force of

Concurrent concurrent testimonies, even though each, se-
other kinds, parately, might have little or none f, but
whose accidental agreement in a falsehood
would be extremely improbable, is not solely applicable to
the Argument from Testimony, but may be extended to
many arguments of other kinds also ; in which a similar
calculation of chances will enable us to draw a conclusion,
sometimes even amounting to moral certainty, from a com-
bination 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 J, 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 combination of argument that we infer
the existence of an intelligent Creator, from the marks of
contrivance visible in the Universe, though many of these

* See Appendix, Note DDD.

t It is observed by Dr. Campbell that " It deserves likev^ise to be attended
to on this subject, that in a number of concurrent testimonies, (in cases wherein
there could have been no previous concert,) there is a probability distinct from
that which may be termed the sum of the probabilities resulting from the testi-
monies of the witnesses, a probability which would remain even though the
witnesses were of such a character as to merit no faith at all. This proba-
bility arises purely from the concurrence itself. That such a concurrence
should spring from chance, is as one to infinite ; that is, in other words,
morally impossible. If therefore concert be excluded, there remains no other
cause but the reality of the fact." — CampbeWs Philosophy of Rhetoric ^ c. v.
b. i. part 3. p. 125.

$ If I recollect rightly, these are the words of Mr. Dugald Stewart.

Chap. II. § 4.] TESTIMONY. 75

are such as, taken singly, might well be conceived unde^
signed and accidental ; but that they should all be such,
is morally impossible.

And here it may be observed that there
may be such a concurrence of Testimonies or Testimonies

THUtUClllv C07l~

other Signs as shall have very considerable ^irmaiorii.
weight, even though they do not relate di-
rectly to one individual conclusion, but to similar ones.
E, G. Before the reality of aerolites [meteoric stones] was
established as it now is, we should have been justified in
not giving at once full credit to some report, resting on or-
dinary evidence, of an occurrence so antecedently improba-
ble as that of a stone's falling from the sky. But if twenty
distinct accounts had reached us, from various parts of the
globe, of a like phenomenon, though no two of the accounts
related to the same individual stone, still, we should have
judged this a decisive concurrence ; (and this is in fact the
way in which the reality of the phenomenon was actually
established ;) because each testimony, though given to an
individual case, has a tendency towards the general con-
clusion in which all concur; viz. the possibility of such an
event; and this being once admitted, the antecedent ob-
jection against each individual case is removed. The
same reasoning applies to several of the New Testament
Parables, as that of the Prodigal Son, the Labourers in the
Vineyard, the Rich Man and Lazarus, &c., each of which
contains an allusion to the future Call of the Gentiles, so
little obvious however that it would have been hardly war-
rantable so to interpret any one of them, if it had stood
alone.

Great care is requisite in setting forth clearly, espe-
cially in any popular discourse, arguments of 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

76 CONVICTION. [Part I.

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 M-as remarked in the Trea-
Composition. *^^^ ^^ Fallacies, that the sophism of '^ Com-
position," as it is called, so frequently misleads
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 concluded
of all, considered in conjunction. Not that in such an in-
stance as this, any one would reason so weakly ; but that
a still greater absurdity of the very 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 variety of those evidences*.

§5.

. And here it may be observed, that though

meant by the ^^^ easiest popular way of practically refuting
chances the Fallacy just mentioned (or indeed any

against any Fallacy) is, by bringing forward a parallel
'^ ' case, where it leads to a manifest absurdity, a

metaphysical 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 ex-
hibits so many marks of design, might be the work of non-

* Mr. Davison, in the introduction to his work on Prophecy, states strongly
the cumulative force of a multitude of small particulars. See ch. iii. § 4. of
this Treatise.

Chap. II. § 5.] CALCULATION OF CHANCES. 77

intelligent causes, that no one would believe it possible for
such a work as e. g. the Iliad, to be produced by a for-
tuitous shaking together 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 Ihad is composed, if
shaken 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 pre-
cisely as many chances against one as against another,
whether more or less regular. And in like manner, asto-
nished as we should be, and convinced of the intervention
of artifice, if we saw any one draw out all the cards 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 chuse to fix upon ; against
that one, for instance, in which the cards are at this mo-
ment actually lying in any individual pack. The multi-
tude of the chances, therefore, he 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
anything improbable had occurred to him ; yet it would
almost 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,
and an effect may sometimes thus be produced analogous
to that of what is sometimes, in war, called a "barren
victory ^^; i. e, one which has no direct immediate re-
sult, but which yet will often produce a most important
moral result, by creating an impression of military supe-
riority.

78 CONVICTION. [Pakt I.

The truth is, that any supposition is justly

ea t h ** called improbable, not from the number of

improhahility ('hances against it, considered independently,

in the sense but from the number of chances against it

of Its having ^^mwarec? with those which lie against some

THdnv ctittnces

against it. other supposition. We call the drawing of a

prize in the lottery improbable ; though there
be but five to one against it; because there are more
chances of a blank : on the other hand, if any one were
cast on a desert island under circumstances which war-
ranted 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 pebbles so arranged as to form di-
stinctly 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 chances against those forms having been pro-
duced by the fortuitous action of the waves. Yet if, in-
stead of this, I should find some tree on the island such
that the chances appeared to me five to one against its
having grown there spontaneously, still, if, as before, I
conceive the chances a hundred to one against any man's
having planted it there, I should at once reckon this last
as the more unlikely supposition.

So also, in the instance above given, any unmeaning form
into which a number of letters might fall, would not be
called improbable, countless as the chances are against
that particular order, because there are just as many against
each one of all other unmeaning forms ; so that no one
would be comparatively improbable; but if the letters
formed a coherent poem, it would then be called incalcu-
lably improbable that this form should have been fortui-
tous, though the chances against it remain the very same ;
because there must be much fewer chances against the
supposition of its having been the work of design. The
probability in short, of any supposition, is estimated from

Chap. II. § 5.] CALCULATION OF CHANCES. 7»

a comparison with each of its alternatives. The incHnation
of the balance cannot be ascertained from knowing the
weights in one scale, unless we know what is in the oppo-
site scale. So also the pressure of the atmosphere (equi-
valent to about 30,000 pounds on the body of an ordinary
man) is unfelt, while it is equable on all parts, and balanced
by the air within the body ; but is at once perceived, when
the pressure is removed from any part, by the air-pump
or cupping-glass.

The foregoing observations however, as was above re-
marked, are not confined to Arguments from Testimony,
but apply to all cases in which the degree of probability is
estimated from a calculation of chances.

For some further remarks on this subject the reader is
referred to § 17 of the Treatise on Fallacies*, where the
" Fallacy of Objections '^ is discussed.

It is most important to keep in mind the j^- i i- .
self-evident, but often-forgotten maxim that is Believing.
Disbelief is Belief; only, they have reference
to opposite conclusions, E. G. To disbelieve the real ex-
istence of the city of Troy, is to believe that it was
feigned : and which conclusion implies the greater cre-
dulity, is the question to be decided. To some it 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 ima-
ginary.

So also, though the terms " infidel " and " unheliever '^
are commonly applied to one who rejects Christianity, it is
plain that to disheliewe its divine origin, is to believe its
human origin : and which belief requires the more credu-
lous mind, is the very question at issue.
* Logic, B. iii.

80 CONVICTION. [Part I.

The proper opposite to Belief is either con-
Ignorance qq[q^^ Ignorance, or Doubt. And even Doubt
posed to ^^^y sometimes amount to a kind of Behef ;

Belief. since dehberate and- confirmed Doubt, on a

question that one has attended to, impUes a
"verdict of noi proven ;'' — a belief that there is not sufficient
evidence to determine either one way or the other. And,
in some cases this conclusion would be accounted a mark
of excessive credulity. A man who should doubt whether
there is such a city as Rome, would imply his belief in
(what most would account a moral impossibility) the pos-
sibility of such multitudes of independent witnesses having
concurred in a fabrication.

It is worth remarking, that many persons

A state of ^^.^ ^^ g^^^^ ^ disposition as to be nearly inca-

doubt, diffi- 11^ ' • • A ^^^r • ^

cult to some P^ble ot remaining m doubt on any pomt

persons, that is not wholly uninteresting to them.

They speedily make up their minds on each
question, and come to some conclusion, whether there are
any good grounds for it or not. And judging — as men are
apt to do in all matters — of others, from themselves, they
usually discredit the most solemn assurances of any one
who professes to be in a state of doubt on some question ;
taking for granted that if you do not adopt their opinion,
you must be of the opposite.

Others again there are, who are capable of remaining in
doubt as long as the reasons on each side seem exactly
balanced; but not otherwise. Such a person, as soon as
he perceives any — the smallest — preponderance of proba-
bility on one side of a question, can no more refrain from
deciding immediately, and with full conviction, on that
side, than he could continue to stand, after having lost his
equilibrium, in a slanting position, like the famous tower
at Pisa. And he will accordingly be disposed to con-
sider an acknowledgment that there are somew^hat the

Chap. II. § 6.] CALCULATION OF CHANCES. 81

stronger reasons on one side, as equivalent to a confident
decision.

The tendency to such an error is the greater, from the
circumstance that there are so many cases, in practice,
wherein it is essentially necessary to come to a practical
decision, even where there are no sufficient grounds for
feeling yw% convinced that it is the right one. A traveller
may be in doubt, and may have no means of deciding with
just confidence, which of two roads he ought to take ;
while yet he must, at a venture, take one of them. And
the like happens in numberless transactions of ordinary
life, in which we are obliged practically to make up our
minds at once to take one course or another, even where
there are no sufficient grounds for a full conviction of the
understanding.

The infirmities above-mentioned are those

of ordinary minds. A smaller number of J^^^^l^^on dif-
, , 1^1 ficult to some

persons, among whom however are to be found ^linds.

a larger proportion of the intelligent, are prone
to the opposite extreme ; that of not deciding, as long as
there are reasons to be found on both sides, even though
there may be a clear and strong preponderance on the one,
and even though the case may be such as to call for a prac-
tical decision. As the one description of men rush hastily
to a conclusion, and trouble themselves little about pre-
mises, so, the other carefully examine premises, and care
too little for conclusions. The one decide without inqui-
ring, the other inquire without deciding.

§6.

Before I dismiss the consideration of Signs, _,

- - ., . 1 Progressive

it may be worth while to notice another case approach.

of combined Argument different from the one

lately mentioned, yet in some degree resembling it. The

combination just spoken of is where several Testimonies or

82 CONVICTION. [Part I.

other Signs, singly perhaps of Uttle weight, produce jointly,
and by their coincidence, a degree of probabihty far ex-
ceeding the sum of their several forces, taken separately :
in the case I 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 conclusion. E. G. one part of the law
of nature called the " vis inertiae,^' is established by the
Argument alluded to ; viz. that a body set in motion will
eternally continue in motion with uniform velocity in a
right line, so far as it is not acted upon by any causes
which retard or stop, accelerate or divert, its course. Now,
as in every case which can come under our observation,
some such causes do intervene, the assumed supposition is
practically impossible ; and we have no opportunity of
verifying the law by direct experiment : but we may gra-
dually 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 re-
gard to wheels, &c. in proportion as we gradually lessen
the friction of the machinery : and if we remove the resist-
ance of the air, by setting a wheel or pendulum in motion
under an exhausted receiver, the motion is still longer con-
tinued. Finding then that the effect of the original im-
pulse is more and more protracted, in proportion as we
more and more remove the impediments to motion 'from
friction and resistance 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*.

* See the argument in Butler's Analogy to prove the advantage which
Virtue, if perfect, might be expected to obtain.

Chap. II. § 6.] ARGUMENT FROM PROGRESSIVE APPROACH. 83

Affain, in arffuinsr for the existence and „
& ? ft » Progressiva

moral attributes of the Deity from the author- argument for
ity of men's opinions, great use may be made the being and
of a Hke progressive course of Argument, oMributes of
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 Arguments ; but it may be answered,
that it is conceivable, an opinion common to almost all the
species, may possibly be an error resulting from a consti-
tutional infirmity of the human intellect*; — that if we are
to acquiesce 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 attached
to the opinions of the wisest and best-instructed, still, as
we know that 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 consequence 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-mentioned progressive
Argument. Nations of Atheists, if there are any such, are
confessedly among the rudest and most ignorant savages :
those who represent their God or Gods as malevolent, ca-
pricious, or subject to human passions and vices, are inva-
riably to be found (in the present day at least) among
those who are brutal and uncivilized ; and among the most
civilized nations 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

* One of Bacon's *« Idola Tribus."

G 2

84 CONVICTION. [Part I.

present da}^, who are certainly more advanced in civiliza-
tion than their Pagan neighbours, maintain the unity and
the moral excellence of the Deity ; but the nations of Chris-
tendom, 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 cultivated, but towards which
also a progressive tendency is found in men in proportion
to their degrees of rationality and cultivation. It would
be most extravagant to suppose that man's advance to-
w^ards a more improved and exalted state of existence
should tend to obliterate true and instil false notions. On
the contrar}'^, we are authorized to conclude, that those
notions would be the most correct, which men would en-
tertain, whose knowledge, intelligence, and intellectual cul-
tivation should have reached comparatively the highest
pitch of perfection ; and that those consequently will ap-
proach the nearest to the truth, which are entertained,
more or less, by various nations, in proportion as they have
advanced towards this civilized state.

Again, " if we inquire what is the lesson

Progressive ^y^^^ Scripture is calculated to convey to man-
orouTneitt for
tolerance. kind, we should look not to the conclusions

adopted by the majority of mankind, but, to
the conclusions tow^ards which there has been more or
less tendency, in proportion as men have been more or
less attentive, inteUigent, and candid searchers into Scrip-
ture.

^' Before the Gospel appeared, w^e find all Legislators and
Philosophers agreed in regarding ^ human good universally,'
as coming under the cognizance of the Civil Magistrate ;
who accordingly was to have a complete control over the
moral and religious conduct of the citizens.

Chap. II. § 7.] EXAMPLE. 85

" We find again that, when the Scriptures were wholly
unread by all but one in ten thousand of professed Chris-
tians, the duty of Rulers to wage war against Infidels and
to extirpate Heretics was undisputed.

" When the Scriptures began to be a popular study, but
were studied crudely and rashly, and when men were daz-
zled by being brought suddenly from darkness into light,
intolerant principles did indeed still prevail, but some no-
tions of religious liberty began to appear. As, towards
the close of a rigorous winter, the earliest trees begin to
open their buds, so, a few distinguished characters begun
to break the icy fetters of bigotry ; and principles of tole-
rance were gradually developed.

" As the study, — and the intelligent study — of Scripture,
extended, in the same degree, the opening buds, as it were,
made continually further advances. In every Age and
Country, as a general rule, tolerant principles have (how-
ever imperfectly) gained ground wherever scriptural know-
ledge has gained ground. And a presumption is thus
afforded that a still further advance of the one would lead
to a corresponding advance in the other *.^^

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 consi- _,

hxample.
dered (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 Argu-

* See Essays on the Kingdom of Christ, Note A. Appendix.

86 CONVICTION. [Part I.

ments designated by the various names of Induction, Ex-
perience, 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 con-
sider 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 of 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 intermediate
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 es-
sential difference in the mode of Reasoning ; the reference
to a common Class being always, in such a case, under-
stood, 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 f ; e, g.

* See Logic, B. iv. ch. i. § 1. In the 8th edition, some additional explana-
tions have been given of the principles there laid down, together with answers
to some objections that have been recently started against them.

t This view having recently been controverted, I have introduced some
additional confirmations of it into the last edition of the ''Logic" pp. 15 and
234.

Chap. II. § 7.] EXAMPLE. 87

^' Astronomy was decried
at its first introduction, as
adverse to religion :"

" Geology is likely to be
decried/^ &c.

%, ^"^

"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 un-
known Effect, we then unite in this Example, the argu-
ment from Effect to Cause, and that from Cause to Effect.
E, G. we may, from the marks of Divine benevolence
in this world, argue, that " the like will be shown in the
next;'^ through the intermediate conclusion, that " God is
benevolent.'^ This is not indeed always the case; but
there seems to be in every Example, a reference to some
Cause, though that Cause may frequently be unknown;
e, g, we suppose, in the instance above given, that there is
some Cause, though we may be at a loss to assign it, which
leads men generally to decry a new Science.

The term "Induction'' is commonly ap- ^ , .
plied to such Arguments as stop short at the
general conclusion; and is thus contradistinguished, in
common use, from Example. There is also this additional
difference, that when we draw a general conclusion from
several individual cases, we use the word Induction in the
singular number ; while each one of these cases, if the ap-
plication were made to another individual, would be called a
distinct Example. This difference, however, is not essen-
tial ; since whether the inference be made from one in-
stance or from several, it is equally called an Induction, if
a general conclusion be legitimately drawn.

And this is to be determined by the nature of the sub-

88 CONVICTION. [Part I.

ject-matter. In the investigation of the laws of Matter, a
single experiment, fairly and carefully made, is usually al-
lowed to be conclusive ; because we can, then, pretty nearly
ascertain all the circumstances 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 w^ould draw the conclusion concerning those metals,
universally, and with certainty. In human affairs on the
contrary 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 assassination of an Usurper,
it would not be allowable to infer the certainty, or even the
probability, of a like fate attending all Usurpers*.

^ . Experience, in its original and proper sense.

Experience. . ,. , , , . ^ i- i

IS applicable to the premises from which 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, w^e 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 /row*
this Experience, we conclude, by Induction, that the same
Phenomenon will continue f.

" 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 phe-
nomena, so as in fact to theorize (however scantily and
crudely) without knowing it. If you will be at the pains
carefully to analyse 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 cer-
tain major-premises or principles, relative to the subject in

* See Logic, " On the Province of Reasoning."

t See the article " Experience " in the Appendix to the Treatise on Logic.

Chap. II. § 7.] EXAMPLE. 89

question ; that observation of what actually presents itself
to the senses supplies minor-premises ; and that the state-
ment given (and which is reported as a thing experienced)
consists in fact of the conclusions drawn from the combina-
tions of those premises*/^ E. G. "A Farmer or a Gardener
will tell you that he ^ knows by experience' that such
and such a crop succeeds best if sown in Autumn, and such
a crop again, if sown in Spring. And in most instances
they will be right ; that is, their Experience will have led
them to right conclusions. But what they have actually
known by experience, is, the success or the failure of cer-
tain individual crops.

" And it is remarkable that for many Ages all Farmers
and Gardeners without exception were no less firmly con-
vinced— and convinced of their knowing it by experience
— that the crops would never turn out good unless the seed
were sown during the increase of the Moon : a belief which
is now completely exploded, except in some remote and
unenlightened districts f.^^

" 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 ; an-
other can read, 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 fami-
liar with the language, but is a stranger to the subject of the
book, and wants 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 produced
on the mind of each is referable to the differences in their
minds.

* Political Economy, L. iii. f Lessons on Reasoning.

90 CONVICTION. [Part I.

" And this explains the fact, that we find so much dis-
crepancy in the results of what are called Experience and
Common-sense, as contradistinguished from Theory. In
former times, men knew by Experience, that the earth
stands still, and the sun rises and sets. Common-sense
taught them that there bould be no Antipodes, since men
could not stand with their heads downwards, like flies on
the ceiling. Experience taught the King of Bantam that
water could not become solid. And (to come to the con-
sideration of human affairs) the experience and common-
sense of one of the most observant and intelligent of histo-
rians, Tacitus, convinced him, that for a mixed government
to be so framed as to combine the elements of Royalty,
Aristocracy, and Democracy, must be next to impossible,
and that if such a one could be framed, it must inevitably
be very speedily dissolved*."

. , The word Analogy again is generally em-

ployed in the case of Arguments in which the
instance adduced is somewhat more remote from that to
which it is applied ; e, g, 2i physician would be said to
know by Experience the noxious effects of a certain drug
on the human constitution, if he had frequently seen men
poisoned by it ; but if he thence conjectured that it would
be noxious to some other species of animal, he would be
said 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.

But more strictly speaking. Analogy ought to be di-
stinguished from direct resemblance, with which it is often
confounded, in the language, even of eminent writers
(especially on Chemistry and Natural History) in the pre-
sent day. Analogy being a " resemblance of ratios f," that
should strictly be called an Argument from Analogy, in

* Political Economy, Lect. iii. pp. 69-71.
"f Aoyuiv ofioioTijs. Aristotle.

Chap. II. § 7.] ANALOGIES. 91

which the two things {viz. the one from which, and the one
to which, we argue) are not, necessarily, themselves alike,
but stand in similar relations to some other things ; or, in
other words, that the common genus which they both fall
under, consists in a relation. Thus an egg and a seed are
not in themselves alike, but bear a Hke 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 Arguments might be drawn from this Analogy.
Again, the fact that from birth different persons have dif-
ferent bodily constitutions, in respect of complexion, sta-
ture, 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 presumption, that
the like takes place in respect of mental qualities also;
though it is plain that there can be no direct resem-
blance 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 -Errors re-
avoided, is that of concludijig the things in ^^L ^
question to be alike, because they are Analo-
gous ; — to resemble each other in themselves, because there
is a resemblance in the relation they bear to certain other
things ; which is manifestly a groundless inference.

Sometimes the mistake is made of supposing this direct
resemblance to exist, when it does not ; sometimes, of sup-
posing, or sophistically representing, that such resemblance
is asserted, when no such thing was intended. One may
often hear a person reproached with having compared such
and such a person or thing to this or that, and with having
in so doing introduced a most unjust, absurd, and inde-
corous comparison ; when, in truth, the object in question
had not been, properly speaking, compared to any of these
things ; an Analogy only having been asserted. And it is

92 CONVICTION. [Part I.

curious that many persons are guilty of this mistake or
misrepresentation, who are, or ought to be, familiar with
the Scripture-Parables ; in which the words " compare "
and " liken " are often introduced, where it is evident that
there could have been no thought of any direct resem-
blance. A child of ten years old would hardly be guilty of
such a blunder as to suppose that members of the church
are literally "like'^ plants of corn, — sheep, — fish caught
in a net — and fruit-trees.

Another caution is applicable to the whole class of Ar-
guments from Example ; viz. not to consider the Resem-
blance or Analogy to extend further {i. e, to more parti-
culars) than it does. The 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 Pa-
rable of the unjust Steward, an Argument is drawn from
Analogy, to recommend prudence and foresight to Chris-
tians in spiritual concerns ; but it would be absurd to con-
clude that fraud was recommended to our imitation ; and
yet mistakes very similar to such a perversion of that Ar-
gument are by no means rare.

"Thus, because a just Analogy has been discerned be-
tween the metropolis of a country, and the heart of the ani-
mal body, it has been sometimes contended that its increased
size is a disease, — that it may impede some of its most im-
portant functions, or even be the cause of its dissolution*.'^
Against both these mistakes our Lord's

Precau- Parables are guarded in two ways. 1st. He

tions against i ^ • i r 1.1. ' ^.-u a.

. , ^7 selects, m several 01 them, images the most

mistakes. remote possible from the thing to be illustra-
ted, in almost every point except the one that

* See Copleston's Inquiry into the 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
Appendix [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, subjoined to the Elements of Logic. Cb. v. § 1.

Chap. II. § 7.] ANALOGIES. 93

is essential; as in the Parable referred to just above, —in
that of the unjust judge and importunate widow, &c.
2ndly. He employs a great variety of images in illustrating
each single point ; e.g.o. field of corn, — a net cast into the
sea, — a grain of mustard-seed, — a lump of leaven, — a feast,
— a treasure hidden in a field, &c. For as the thing to be
illustrated cannot have a direct resemblance, or a complete
analogy, to all these different things, we are thus guarded
against taking for granted that this is the case with any one
of them.

It may be added, that the variety, and also the extreme
commonness of the images introduced, serve as a help to
the memory, by creating a multitude of associations. Our
Lord has inscribed, as it were, his lessons on almost every
object around us.

And moreover, men are thus guarded against the mis-
take they are so prone to, and which, even as it is, they
are continually falling into, of laying aside their common-
sense altogether in judging of any matter connected with
religion ; as if the rules of reasoning which they employ
in temporal matters, were quite unfit to be applied in spi-
ritual.

It may be added, that illustrations drawn from things
considerably remote from what is to be illustrated wdll
often have the effect of an '^ a fortiori^' argument: as in
some of the Parables just alluded to, and in that where
Jesus says, " If ye then, being evil, know how to give good
gifts to your children, how much more,'' &c.

So also in the Apostle Paul's illustration from the Isth-
mian and other Games : ^' Now they do it to obtain a cor-
ruptible crown ; but we, an incorruptible.''

Sound judgment and vigilant caution are
, n 1 /• ii • V • Important

nowhere more called for than m observmg andunimpor-

what differences (perhaps seemingly small) tant Resem-

do, and what do not, nullify the analogy be- blances and

tween two cases. And the same may be said w^^^^^^^

n I of cases,

in regard to the apphcability of Precedents,

94 CONVICTION. [Part I.

or acknowledged 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 Declaration,
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 de-
stroy the analogy, so as to make a precedent — precept, &c.
— inapplicable : and often, on the other hand, some differ-
ence, in itself important, 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 appeals to
authority, &c. as are perfectly valid. Hence Aristotle ob-
serves, that an opponent, if he cannot show that the ma-
jority of instances is on his side, or that those adduced by
his adversary are inapplicable, contends that they, at any
rate, differ in something from the case in question *.

Many are misled, in each way, by not esti-
Analogy Elating aright the degree, and the kind, of dif-
cious metals ference between two cases. E. G. it would be
to other com- admitted that a great and permanent diminu-
modities, how ^[^^ [^ ^y^q quantity of some useful commodity,
^ . ^ " such as corn, or coal, or iron, throughout the
world, would be a serious and lasting loss ; and
again, that if the fields and coal-mines yielded regularly
double quantities, with the same labour, we should be so
much the richer ; hence it might be inferred, 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 purposes of coin, being

* ^la^opdv ye riva exet.— Rhet. b. ii. ch. 27.

Chap. II. § 7.]

ANALOGIES.

very great. Now there are many points of resemblance,
and many of difference, between the precious 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 procure 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-sovereign : and this (besides the trifling circum-
stance of the cheapness or dearness of gold-ornaments)
would be all the difference. The analogy, therefore, fails
in the point essential to the argument.

Again, Mandeville's celebrated argument
against educating the labouring classes, " if a
horse knew as much as a man, I would not be
his rider,^^ holds good in reference to Slaves, or subjects of
a tyranny ; governed, as brutes, /or the benefit of a Master,
not, for their own ; but it wholly fails in reference to men
possessing civil rights. If a horse knew as much as a man,
— i. e. were a rational Being^ — it would be not only un-
safe, but unjust, to treat him as a brute. But a govern-
ment that is for the benefit of the Subject, will be the bet-
ter obeyed, the better informed the people are as to their
real interests.

Again, the Apostle Paul recommends to the „ „
^ . , . ,^ ,^11 . Pauls pre-

Cormthians celibacy as preferable to marriage: ferenceofce-

hence some Religionists have inferred that this libacy, how
holds good in respect of all Christians. Now f^^ appli-
in many most important points. Christians of
the present day are in the same condition as the Corinth-
ians ; but they were liable to plunder, exile, and many
kinds of bitter persecutions from their fellow-citizens ', and

Mandeville'i
argument.

96 CONVICTION. [Part I.

it appears that this was the very ground on which celibacy-
was recommended to them, as exempting them from many
afflictions and temptations 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

of the French ^^® opening of the French Revolution, or at
Revolution to any similar conjuncture, expressed apprehen-
those of an- gions, 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 Thucydides as re-
sulting 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 dif-
ference 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 print-
ing ; their arts of war and of navigation, and their litera-
ture, were materially influenced by these differences : they
had domestic 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 in-
struction 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, be dis-

* KTTJua es dei.

Chap. II. § 7.] ANALOGIES. 97

played*; but he contends, that "as long as human nature
remains the 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 spolia-
tion ; — and of the removal of legal restraints from ^^ the
natural character of man," (77 avOpwirela <j)vcrL<i) which, in
consequence, ^^ eagerly displayed itself as too weak for
passion, too strong for justice, and hostile to every supe-
rior f.^^ Now the question important to the argument, is,
are the differences between the ancient Greeks, and mo-
dern nations, of such a character as to make the remarks
of Thucydides, and the examples he sets before us, in-
applicable ? or are they (as he seems to have expected)
merely such as to alter the external shape (etSo?) of the
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;

* Tiyvofieva fievt Kai ael eco'/ieva, eois dv 'H AYTH $YSI2 dvQpuiTnav
y, [laXXov de, Kul riavxa'^Tepa, Kai rots ei^effi SirjWayfiivaf ws av, &c.
B. iii. § 82.

f 'El/ 5' ovv Ty Kepjcyp^ rd TToXXd avrojv 7rpo€To\ixrj9r], Kai biroaa v/3pee
/tev apxonevoi to TrXeov r) <Tu)<l>po<rvvy, vtto tiov Trjv TifiMpiav Trapaffxov-
riov, 01 dvTanvvofievoi dpdfreiav' irevias Se rijs eiatOvias diraWa^eiovTes
Tives, fidXiara d' dv did TrdOovs eiriOvfiovvTes rd twv TreXas e\eiVj Tcapd.
5iKt}v yiyvdjffKoiev * * * * ^^vvrapaxOevros re tov (3iov, es top Kaipov
TOVTOV, Ty TToXeij Kai rwv voficjv Kparrjcraffa r) dvOpcjTreia ^wtrts, eitjQvTa
Kai vrapd tovs vSfiovs dSiKelv, afffxivrj eSifXaxrev dKparrjs fiev opyrjs ovaa,
KpeicTCTbJP Se rod diKaiov, TroXefiia dk tov Trpouxovros.— Thucyd. book iii.
sec. 84.

98 CONVICTION. [Part I.

— something capable of over-ruling {<f)V(TL<; avOpwircov)
man's natural character. "As long as this remains the
same/' (eo)? ^ avrr] fj, as the historian himself remarks,)
substantially the same results may be looked for.

Again, when the French Revolution did
Alleged ana- jjj-eak out, in all its horrors, many apprehend-
France and ^^ *^^* ^^^ infection would spread to England.
England. And there are not a few who are convinced
at this day, that but for the interruption of intercourse
between the two Countries by the war, and the adoption
of certain other measures, we should have had a revolu-
tion, and one accompanied by nearly equal extravagances
and atrocities. Now the justness of this inference must
of course depend on the correctness of the " Analogy"
in respect of the points most important to the question.
All History teaches that the probability of a revolution,
and also the violence with which it is conducted, depend,
chiefly, on the degree in which a People has been not
only exasperated, but also degraded and brutalized by a
long course of oppressive misgovernment, and partly on
the character of the people themselves (whether arising
from those or from any other causes) in respect of blind
and precipitate rashness, gross ignorance, and ferocity of
disposition. In proportion as these causes exist, a natiop
is more or less a heap of combustibles ready to catch fire
from a spark, and to blaze into a fierce conflagration. A
small number of persons endeavoured, with very little suc-
cess, to persuade the English that they were nearly as
much oppressed as the French had been : and the French
were partly so far persuaded of this, that they laboured to
kindle among us a conflagration, from their own. And on
the other hand, there were (and still are) a much greater
number who conceived the former condition of the French
People to be much nearer our own than in fact it was ; —
who were to a great degree unaware of the full extent of
misgovernment under which that Country had long suf-

Chap. II. § 7.] ANALOGIES. 99

fered, and of the ignorant and degraded, as well as irritated
state of the great mass of its population ; and who conse-
quently saw no reason to feel confidence that an outbreak
nearly resembling that in France might not be appre-
hended here*.

Again, "the argument drawn from the Ba- Analogy
bylonian and other ancient States having em- "^^^^^^ ^"^
ployed Jews in civil capacities, without find- ^^^ at pre-
ing them disloyal, or experiencing any disad- sent.

* The following is an extract from a very able Article in the Edinburgh
Review (October 1842) on Alison's Europe : —

" We do not comprehend the argument which attributes the crimes and
impieties of that unhappy time to the demoraUzing effects of the Revolution
itsebf. Sudden anarchy may bring evil passions and infidel opinions to Hght;
but we do not understand how it can bring them into existence. Men do not
insult their religion and massacre their fellow-creatures, simply because it is
in their power. The desire to do so must previously exist, and in France we
have every proof that it did exist. We might give innumerable instances of
the cruel and vindictive temper displayed from the most ancient times by the
lower classes in France. In the Jacquerie, in the civil wars of the Bourguig-
nons and Armagnacs, and in the seditions of the League and the Fronde, they
constantly displayed the ferocity naturally excited by slavery and oppression.
Their scorn for Christianity, though more recently acquired, had become, long
before the Revolution of 1789, as inveterate as their desire for revenge. We
shall give, in Mr. Alison's own words, one very singular proof of the extent to
which it prevailed. In speaking of the Egyptian expedition, he says — 'They'
(the French soldiers) * not only considered the Christian faith as an entire
fabrication, but were for the most part ignorant of its very elements. Lava-
lette has recorded that hardly one of them had ever been in a church, and
that in Palestine they were ignorant even of the names of the holiest places
in sacred history.' (iii. 419.) This was in 1799, only ten years after the
first symptoms of popular innovation. Here, then, were 30,000 full-grown
men, collected promiscuously from all parts of France — many of them well-
educated, and all of sound mind and body — who appear to have felt about as
much interest in the religion of their ancestors as in that of Brahma or Con-
fucius. And yet the great majority of this army must have been born fifteen
or twenty years before the first outbreak of the Revolution ; and the very
youngest of them must have past their childhood entirely under the ancient
regime. There cannot, surely, be a stronger proof that, long before the royal
authority was shaken, the great mass of the French nation had become such
thorough infidels, as to be almost ignorant of the very existence of Christia-
nity."

100 CONVICTION. [Part I.

vantage from their national attachment, or their peculiar
opinions and customs, was met by the reply, that the case
of those ancient Jews is not parallel to that of Jews in the
present day ; the former having not been guilty of the sin
of rejecting the Messiah, but being professors of the only
true religion then revealed.

^' My reason for saying that the above objection is irre-
levant, is that the whole question turns on the discrepancy
likely to exist between the Jews and those of another re-
ligion; and that, modern Judaism is not more hostile to
Christianity, than ancient Judaism was to heathen idola-
try. The religious opinions and observances of the Jew^s, in
the days of Daniel for instance, do not appear (it has been
urged) to have unfitted them for the civil service of Baby-
lonian or Median princes. And as no one will contend that
Daniel, and the rest, were less at variance, in point of reli-
gion, with the idolatry of Babylon, than the modern Jews
are with Christianity, it is inferred (and surely with great
fairness), that these last are as fit for civil employments
under Christian princes, as their ancestors, imder Pagan.

"If the question were, what judgment ought to be
formed in a religious point of view, of the ancient and of
the modern Jews, respectively, we should of course take
into account the important distinction which the advent of
Christ places between the two. But in a question respect-
ing civil rights and disabilities, this distinction is nothing
to the purpose. To allege that the ancient Jews at Baby-
Ion professed a true religion in the midst of falsehood, and
that their descendants adhere to an erroneous religion in
the midst of truth, does not impair the parallel between
the two cases, in respect of the present argument, so long
as it is but admitted (which no one denies) that the Jews
are not now led, by their religion, to entertain a greater
repugnance for Christianity, than their ancestors did, for
Paganism *.^^

* Remarks on the Jews' Relief Bill, volume of Charges, &c. pp. 454-457.

Chap. II. § 7.] ANALOGIES. 101

Again, to take an instance from another

class of political affairs; the manufacture of ^««^W 0/

^ : 1 /, . . States to In'

beet-sugar m France, mstead of importmg dividmls, in

West Indian sugar at a fourth of the price, respect of
(and to the English corn -laws nearly similar ^^^p^ons of
reasons will apply,) and the prohibition, by the Economy.
Americans, of British manufactures, in order
to encourage home production, [i. e, the manufacture of in-
ferior articles at a much higher cost,) &c. are reprobated
as unwise by some politicians, from the analogy of what
takes place in private life ; in which every man of common
prudence prefers buying, wherever he can get them cheap-
est and best, many commodities which he could make at
home, but of inferior quality, and at a greater expense ;
and confines his own labour to that department in which
he finds he can labour to the best advantage. To this it is
replied, that there is a great difference between a Nation
and an Individual. And so there is, in many circum-
stances : a little parcel of sugar or cloth from a shop, is
considerably different from a ship-load of either; and
again, a Nation is an object more important, and which
fills the mind with a grander idea, than a private indi-
vidual ; 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 regu-
lated by the very person who is to be a gainer or loser by
each, — the individual himself; 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 con-
fined 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

It is remarkable that the very persons who spoke against me on that occasion
(1833), have, since, brought forward and carried the very measure I then ad-
vocated.

102 CONVICTION. [Part I.

extensive reading and speculative minds. Many other
striking differences might be enumerated : but the ques-
tion important to the argument, is, does the expediency, in
private hfe, of obtaining each commodity at the least cost,
and of the best quality we can, depend on any of the cir-
cumstances in which an Individual differs from a Commu-
nity?

These instances may suffice to illustrate the importance
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 employed, 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 perception of
Analogies.^' Without the former quality, knowledge of
the past is nearly uninstructive : without the latter, it is
deceptive.

Argu' ^^^ argument from Contraries, (ef ivav-

ments from rtwv,) noticed by Aristotle, falls under the class
Contraries. \ ^m now treating of; as it is plain that Contra-
ries must have something in common ; and it is so far forth
only as they agree, that they are thus employed in Argu-
ment. Two things are called " Contrary,^^ 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 Con-
trariety : for no one would say that " Virtue ^^ is contrary to
a "Mathematical 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 have
a similar relation to the same third, or, respectively, to two
corresponding {i, e, in this case. Contrary) terms ; we may

Chap. II. § 8.] REAL AND INVENTED EXAMPLES.

103

conjecture, e. g. that since virtue may be acquired by edu-
cation, so may vice ; or again, that since virtue leads to
happiness, so does vice to misery.

The phrase ^^ Parity of Reasoning,^^ is commonly em-
ployed 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.
eh. 1 & 5 ; and Appendix, article ^^ Experience.^'

§8.

Aristotle, in his Rhetoric, has divided Ex- Real and
amples into Real and Invented : the one being invented Ex-
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 probabi-
lity, 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 excep-
tions 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 the other
side. Whereas in the supposed case, (instanced by Ari-
stotle, as employed by Socrates,) of mariners chusing their
steersman by lot, though we have no reason to suppose
such a case ever occurred, we see so plainly the probability
that if it did occur, the lot might fall on an unskilful per-
son, to the loss of the ship, that the argument has consi-
derable weight against the practice, so common in the
ancient republics, of appointing magistrates by lot.

104 CONVICTION. [Part I.

Fictitious There is, however, this important difference ;
cases must be that a fictitious case which has not this intrin-
probahle. gj^^ probabiUty, has absolutely no weight what-
ever ; so that of course such arguments might be multiplied
to any amount, without the smallest effect : whereas any
matter of fact which is well established, however unac-
countable it may seem, has some degree of weight in refer-
ence 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 instances. 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 rumi-
nation ; 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 rumi-
nant. Whereas, on the other hand, the fable of the coun-
tryman who obtained from Jupiter the regulation of the
weather, and in consequence found his crops fail, does not
go one step towards proving the intended conclusion ; be-
cause that consequence is a mere gratuitous assumption
without any probability to support it. In fact the assump-
tion there, is not only gratuitous, but is in direct contra-
diction to experience ; for a gardener has, to a certain de-
gree, the command of rain and sunshine, 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 Cumber-
land'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 such instances would
have had weight as an Argument; but as it is a fiction,
and no reason is shown why the result should be such as

Chap. II. § 8.] REAL AND INVENTED EXAMPLES. 105

represented, except the supposed superiority of a public
education, the Argument involves a manifest petitio prin-
cipii ; and resembles the appeal made, in the vrell-known
fable, to the picture of a man conquering a lion; a re-
sult 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 certain hypothesis, it would be likely to take
place.

On the other hand it is important to observe. Supposed
with respect to any imaginary case, whether ^^'^^* assert
introduced as an argument, or merely for the ^*

sake of explanation, that, as it is (according to what I have
just said) requisite that the hypothesis should be concei-
vable, 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 representing the whole controversy as
turning on the literal truth of something that had never
been affirmed. [See treatise on Fallacies, ch. iii. § " Irre-
levant conclusion : " of which this is a case.] To obviate
this mistake more care must be taken than would at first
sight seem necessary, to remind the hearers that you are
merely sujjposing 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 philoso-
phers who found fault with Plato for having, in a case he
proposes, alluded to the fabulous ring of Gyges, which
had the virtue of making the wearer invisible. They

106 CONVICTION. [Part I.

had found out, it seems, that there never was any such

ring*.

It is worth observing, that Arguments from Example,

whether real or invented, are the most easily comprehended

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, employed, as he soon comes to perceive,

as a sign, — though not an arbitrary signf^ — 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

a ce an distinction is drawn by Aristotle, between
illustration. -r, , ,v , t

Parabole and Logos. From the instances he

gives, it is plain that the former corresponds (not to Para-
ble, 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 ficti -
tious story is narrated. Thus, in his instance above cited,
of Illustration, if any one, instead of a mere allusion, should

* Atque hoc loco, philosophi quidam, minime mali illi quidem, sed non satis
acuti, fictam et commenticiam fabulam prolatam dicunt a Platone : quasi vero
ille, aut factum id esse, aut fieri potuisse defendat. Haec est vis hujus annuli
et hujus exemph, si nemo sciturus, nemo ne suspicaturus quidem sit, cum ali-
quid, divitiarum, potentise, dominationis, libidinis, caussa feceris, — si id diis
hominibusque futurum sit semper ignotum, sisne facturus. Negant id fieri
posse. Quanquam potest id quidem ; sed quaero, quod negant posse, id si
posset, quidnam facerent ? Urgent rustice sane : negant enim posse, et in eo
perstant. Hoc verbum quid valeat, non vident. Cum enim quaerimus, si pos-
sint celare, quid facturi sint, non quaerimus, 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.

Chap. II. § 8.] REAL AND INVENTED EXAMPLES. 107

relate a tale, of mariners chusing 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 preferable, from its brevity, whenever
the allusion can be readily understood : and accordingly it
is common, in the case of well-known fables, to allude to,
instead of narrating, them. That, e, g. of the Horse and
the Stag, which he gives, would, in the present day, be
rather alluded to than told, if we wished to dissuade a
people from calling in a too powerful auxiliary. It is
evident that a like distinction might have been made in
respect of historical examples ; those cases which are
well known, being often merely alluded to, and not re-
cited.

The word " Fable" is at present generally
limited to those fictions in which the resem- ^ f^^^^ ^^^
blance to the matter in question is not direct,
but analogical ; the other class being called Novels, Tales,
&c.* Those resemblances are (as Dr. A. Smith has ob-
served) 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 preferred
for argumentative purposes, both from that circumstance
itself, and also on account of the greater brevity vrhich is,
for that reason, not only allowed but required in them.
For a Fable spun out to a great length becomes an Alle-
gory, which generally satiates and disgusts ; on the other
hand, a fictitious Tale, having a more direct, and therefore
less striking resemblance to reality, requires that an inter-
est in the events and persons should be created by a longer
detail, without which it would be insipid. The Fable of 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 union, and the weakness resulting from division ; the

* A Novel or Tale may be compared to a Picture ; a Fable, to a Device.

108 CONVICTION. [Part I.

latter fiction would be perfectly insipid if conveyed in a
few lines; the former, in twenty-four books, insupport-
able.

Of the various uses, and of the real or apparent refuta-
tion, of Examples (as 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 Argu-
ment, and with a view therefore to that purpose alone;
though it often happens, that a resemblance, either direct
or analogical, is introduced for other purposes ; viz. not to
prove anything, 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 lan-
guage : in which case it is usually called a Simile : 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
fragrance on being bruised. It is of course most important
to distinguish, both in our own compositions and those of
others, between these different purposes. I shall accord-
ingly 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.

§!■

Arguments The first rule to be observed is, that it
of Confuta- should be considered, whether the princioal

ttOTl ClTlUi of IT r^

Satisfaction, object of the discourse be, to give satisfaction

to a candid mind, and convey instruction to

those who are ready to receive it, or to compel the assent,

or silence the objections, of an opponent. For, cases may

Chap.III. §1.] ARGUMENTS SUITABLE TO DIFFERENT CASES. 109

occur, in which the arguments to be employed with most
effect will be different, according as it is the one or the
other of these objects that 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 refute the Opponent. And to whatever class the
Arguments 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 never-
theless in general little attended to. It is usual to call an
Argument, simply, strong or weak, without reference to
the purpose for which it is designed ; whereas the Argu-
ments 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 unbelievers : the Arguments
from Analogy, on the other hand, which are (in refuting
objections) the most unanswerable, are not so pleasing and
consolatory.

My meaning cannot be better illustrated than by an in-
stance referred to in that incomparable specimen of rea-
soning. Dr. Paley^s Horce PauUnce. " 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 attention is the air of
reality and business, as well as of seriousness and convic-
tion, 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 ac-
tuated by real occasions, and operating upon real circum-

no CONVICTION. [Part I.

stances ; I would wish it to be observed, that the proof
which arises from this perception is not to be deemed oc-
cult or imaginary, because it is incapable of being drawn
out 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 Mo-
ral Sentiments, which illustrates very happily one of the
applications of the principle in question. " Sometimes we
have occasion to defend the propriety of observing the
general rules of justice, by the consideration of their ne-
cessity to the support of society. We frequently hear the
young and the licentious ridiculing the most sacred rules
of morality, and professing, sometimes 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 detest-
able principles. But though it is their intrinsic hateful-
ness and detestableness 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 na-
tural and proper objects of hatred and detestation ? 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 con-
sideration which first occurs to us, is the disorder and
confusion of society which would result from the universal

* P. 403.

Chap.III.§1.] arguments SUITABLE TO DIFFERENT CASES. Ill

prevalence of such 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 cha- ofourjudq-
racter of any individual is often not originally ments of in-
derived from such circumstances as we should ^^'^^duals.
assign, or could adequately set forth in language, in justi-
fication of our 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
sentiments ; and if these furnish sufficient proof of our as-
sertions, 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 ex-
amine our own mind, we shall generally find that our judg-
ment was, originally (if not absolutely decided), at least'
strongly influenced, by the person^s looks — tones of voice
— gestures — choice of expressions, and the hke ; 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 neces-
sarily insufficient grounds for beginning at least to form an
opinion; since it is 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 expe-
rience in particular departments, have been observed to
be generally unable to give a satisfactory reason for their
judgments, even on points on which they are actually

* Part II. sec. ii. pp. 151, 152, vol. i. ed. 1812.

112 CONVICTION. [Part I.

very good judges*. This is a defect which it is the busi-
ness of education (especially the present branch of it) to
surmount or diminish. After all, however, in some sub-
jects, no language can adequately convey (to the inex-
perienced 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 indifferent physician, who never takes any step for
which he cannot assign a satisfactory reason.'^

§2-

It is a point of great importance to decide
Presump' [^ g^^jj^ case, at the outset, in your own mind,
tton and Bur- i i i , • . i. . . v v

den of proof ^^^ clearly to point out to the hearer, as

occasion may serve, on which side the Pre-
sumption 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 this 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 " Pre-
sumption " in favour of any supposition, means, not (as
has been sometimes erroneously imagined) a preponderance
of probability in its favour, but, such a pre-occupation 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 dis-
pute it.

Thus, 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

* See Aristotle's Ethics, B. vi.

Chap. III. § 2.] PRESUMPTIONS AND BURDEN OF PROOF, 113

innocent ; for if that were the case, he would be entitled
to immediate liberation : nor does it mean that it is ante-
cedently 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 ac-
cusers ; — that he is not to be called on to prove his inno-
cence, 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 pro-
perty of which they are in actual possession. This does
not mean that they are, or are not, likely to be the rightful
owners : but merely, that no man is to be disturbed in his
possessions till some claim against him shall be esta-
blished. He is not to be called on to prove his right ; but
the claimant, to disprove it ; on whom consequently the
*' burden of prooP^ lies.

A moderate portion of common-sense will Importance

enable any one to perceive, and to show, on of deciding

which side the Presumption lies, when once ^J} ^^j^^ *^^^

lies the onus
his attention is called to this question ; though, pj^obandi.

for want of attention, it is often overlooked :
and on the determination of this question the whole cha-
racter 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 they 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 offensive, 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

114 CONVICTION. [Part I.

one of, perhaps, your strongest arguments, you may appear
to be making a feeble attack, instead of a triumphant
defense.

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 sim-
ple denial, and a defiance of his accuser to prove the charge,
— setting himself to establish a negative, — taking on him-
self 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 establishing a certainty, and might
even have the effect of raising a suspicion against him* ;
he having in fact kept out of sight the important circum-
stance, that these probabilities in one scale, though of no
great weight perhaps in themselves, are to be weighed
against absolutely nothing in the other scale.

The following are a few of the cases in which it is im-
portant, though very easy, to point out where the Pre-
sumption lies.

There is a Presumption in favour of every

Presump' existing institution. Many of these (we will

tlOTl ITl TCLVOUY %> \

of existing suppose, the majority) may be susceptible of
institutions, alteration for the better ; but still the " Bur-
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 advisable) to defend an existing institution, till some
argument 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.

* Hence the French proverb, " Qui s'excuse, s'accuse."

Chap. III. §2.] PRESUMPTIONS AND BURDEN OF PROOF. 115

Every book again^ as well as person, ought
to be presumed harmless (and consequently o/Trmocence.
the copy-right protected by our courts) till
something is proved against it. It is a hardship to re-
quire a man to prove, either of his book, or of his private
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. I cannot but
consider therefore as utterly unreasonable the decisions
(which some years ago excited so much attention) to re-
fuse the interference of the Court of Chancery in cases of
piracy, whenever there was even any doubt whether the
book pirated might not contain something of an immoral
tendency.

There is a ^* Presumption" against any Presump-
thing paradoxical, i. e. contrary to the pre- tion against
vailing opinion : it may be true ; but the ^ Po^radox.
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 unsupported,
it can claim no attention ; but if false, it should be cen-
sured on that ground ; but not for being new. If true, it
is the more important, for being a truth not generally ad-
mitted. " Interdum vulgus rectum videt ; est ubi peccat."
Yet one often hears a charge of " paradox 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 {irapa ho^av), that may appear nonsense,
which to others is sound sense. Thus " Christ crucified"
was " to the Jews, a stumbUng-block," (paradox,) " and

I 2

116 CONVICTION. [Part I.

to the Greeks, foolishness;" because the one " reqmred a
sign" of a different kind from any that appeared; and the
others " sought after wisdom " in their schools of philo-
sophy.

Accordingly there was a Presumption against
Christianity, ^^^ Gospel in its first announcement. A
aaainstand J^^'^^h peasant claimed to be the promised
for. 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 showed cause for believing in
Him. If He " had not done among them the works which.
none other man did, they had 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 out some
conceivable way in which it might have so arisen.

It is indeed highly expedient to bring forward evidences
to establish the divine origin of Christianity : but 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 framed, 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 established by miracles, demands an
explanation of the greater miracle, — its having been esta-
blished, in defiance of all opposition, by human contri-
vance.

The Burden of proof, again, lay on the
formation authors of the Reformation: they were bound
to show cause for every change they advocated;
and they admitted the fairness of this requisition, and ac-
cepted the challenge. But they were not bound to show

Chap. III. §2.] PRESUMPTIONS AND BURDEN OF PROOF. 117

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 distinction is
often lost sight of, by those who look at the " doctrines,
&c. of the Church of England as constituted at the Re-
formation,^^ in the mass, without distinguishing the altered
from the unaltered parts. The framers of the Articles kept
this in mind in their expression 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 ex-
istence 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 institution, 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 Presumption be kept in view,
that the institution had notoriously existed many ages, and
that consequently, even if there had been no direct evi-
dence 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 in-
novation.

In the case of any doctrines again, profess- .

ing to be essential parts of the Gospel-revela-
tion, the fair presumption is, that we shall find all such di-
stinctly declared in Scripture. And again, in respect of
commands or prohibitions as to any point, which our Lord
or his Apostles did deliver, there is a presumption that
Christians are bound to comply. If any one maintains, on
the ground of Tradition, the nectessity of some additional
article of faith (as for instance that of Purgatory) or the

* On the ambiguous employment of the phrase " divine origin" — a great
source of confused reasoning among theologians — I have offered some remarks
in Essay II. " On the Kingdom of Christ," § 17. 4th edit.

118 CONVICTION. [Part I.

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 en-
titled to respect, but that there is a tradition relative to each
of the points which he thus maintains ; and that such tra-
dition is, in each point, sufficient to establish that point.
For want of observing this rule, the' most vague and inter-
minable 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 lie
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 ? Evidently, to each,
in favour of the religious community to which he at present
belongs. He is not to separate from the Church of which
he is a member, without having some sufficient reason to
allege.

A Presumption evidently admits of various degrees of
strength, from the very faintest, up to a complete and con-
fident acquiescence.

The person. Body, or book, in favour of whose
decisions there is a certain Presumption, is v^^^^^^'
said to have, so far, " Authority ^^ ; in the strict sense of the
word*. And a recognition of this kind of Authority,— an
habitual Presumption in favour of such a one^s decisions or
opinions^ — is usually called " Deference.^^

It will often happen that this deference is not recognized
by either party. A man will perhaps disavow with scorn
* See article * Authority,' in Appendix to " Elements of Logic."

Chap. III. §2.] PRESUMPTIONS AND BURDEN OF PROOF. 119

all deference for some person, — a son or daughter perhaps,
or an humble companion, — whom he treats, in manner,
with familiar superiority ; and the other party will as readily
and sincerely renounce all pretension to Authority ; and yet
there may be that "habitual Presumption" in the mind of
the one, in favour of the opinions, suggestions, &c. of the
other, which we have called Deference. These parties
however are not using the words in a different sense, but
are unaware of the state of the fact. There is a Deference ;
but unconscious.

Those who are habitually wanting in Defer-
ence towards such as we think entitled to it, ^

are usually called " arrogant " ; the word being used as di-
stinguished from self-conceited, proud, vain, and other kin-
dred words. Such persons may be described as having an
habitual and exclusive " self-deference.'^

Of course the persons and works which are looked up to
as high authorities, or the contrary, will differ in each Age,
Country, and Class of men. But most people are disposed,
— measuring another by their own judgment, — to reckon
him arrogant who disregards what they deem the best au-
thorities. That man however may most fairly and strictly
be so called who has no deference for those whom he him-
self thinks most highly of. And instances may be found
of this character ; i. e. of a man who shall hold in high
estimation the ability and knowledge of certain persons —
rating them perhaps above himself — whose most deliberate
judgments, even on matters they are most conversant with,
he will nevertheless utterly set at nought, in each particular
case that arises, if they happen not to coincide with the
idea that first strikes his mind.

For it is to be observed that admiration,
esteem, and concurrence in opinion, are quite Admiration
.. . n ^ r- ,,1 ^^" defer-

distinct from '^ Deference, and not necessa- ^^^^ distinct,

rily accompanied by it. If any one makes what

appears to us to be a very just remark, or if we acquiesce

120 CONVICTION. [Part I.

in what he proposes on account of the reasons he alleges, —
this is not Deference. And if this has happened many times,
and we thence form a high opinion of his abiUty, this again
neither impUes, nor even necessarily produces Deference ;
though in reason, such ought to be the result. But one may
often find a person conversant with two others. A, and B,
and estimating A without hesitation as the superior man
of the two ; and yet, in any case whatever that may arise,
w^here A and B differ in their judgment, taking for granted
at once that B is in the right.

Admiration, esteem, &c. are more the result
Grounds of ^f ^ judgment of the understanding ; (though
^ ' often of an erroneous one;) "Deference" is
apt to depend on feelings', — often, on whimsical and unac-
countable feelings. It is often yielded to a vigorous claim,
— to an authoritative and overbearing demeanour. With
others, of an opposite character, a soothing, insinuating,
flattering, and seemingly submissive demeanour will often
gain great influence. They will yield to those who seem
to yield to them ; the others, to those who seem resolved to
yield to no one. Those who seek to gain adherents to their
School or Party by putting forth the claim of antiquity in
favour of their tenets, are likely to be peculiarly successful
among those of an arrogant disposition. A book or a Tra-
dition of a thousand years old, appears to be rather a thing
than a person ; and will thence often be regarded with blind
deference by those who are prone to treat their contempo-
raries with insolent contempt, but who " will not go to
compare with an old man*. They will submit readily to
the authority of men who flourished fifteen or sixteen cen-
turies ago, and whom, if now living, they would not treat
with decent respect.

With some persons, again, Authority seems to act ac-
cording to the law of Gravitation ; inversely as the squares
of the distances. They are inclined to be of the opinion of
* Shakspeare, Twelfth Night.

Chap. III. § 2.] PRESUMPTIONS AND BURDEN OF PROOF. 121

the person who is nearest. Personal Affection, again, in
many minds, generates Deference. They form a habit of
first, ivishing, secondly, hoping, and thirdly, believing a
person to be in the right, whom they would be sorry to
think mistaken. In a state of morbid depression of spirits,
the same cause leads to the opposite effect. To a person
in that state, whatever he would be ^^ sorry to think ^^ ap-
pears probable ; and consequently there is a Presumption
in his mind against the opinions, measures, &c. of those
he is most attached to. That the degree of Deference felt
for any one's Authority ought to depend not on our feel-
ings, but on our judgment, it is almost superfluous to re-
mark; but it is important to remember that there is a
danger on both sides; — of an unreasonable Presumption
either on the side of our wishes, or against them.
It is obvious that Deference ought to be,

and usually is, felt in reference to particular Deference

as to 'Dttrttctc~
points. One has a deference for his physician, f^j, points.

in questions of medicine ; and for his bailiff,
in questions of farming ; but not vice versa. And accord-
ingly. Deference may be misplaced in respect of the subject,
as well as of the person. It is conceivable that one may
have a due degree of Deference, and an excess of it, and a
deficiency of it, all towards the same person, but in respect
of different points.

It is worth remarking, as a curious fact, that , , -.
men are liable to deceive themselves as to the self-deceived
degree of Deference they feel towards various as to their

persons. But the case is the same (as I shall f^^l^^9^ ^f

deference
have occasion hereafter to point out*) with

many other feelings also, such as pity, contempt, love, joy,
&c. ; in respect of which we are apt to mistake the con-
viction that such and such an object deserves pity, con-
tempt, &c. for \hQ feeling itself; which often does not ac-
company that conviction. And so also, a person will
* Part II. ch. 1. § 2.

122 CONVICTION. [Part I.

perhaps describe himself (with sincere good faith) as feeling
great Deference towards some one, on the ground of his
believing him to be entitled to it ; and perhaps being really
indignant against any one else who does not manifest it«
Sometimes again, one will mistake for a feeling of Deference
his concurrence with another^s views, and admiration of
what is said or done by him. But this, as has been ob-
served above, does not imply Deference, if the same appro-
bation w ould have been bestowed on the same views, sup-
posing them stated and maintained in an anonymous paper.
The converse mistake is equally natural. A man may
fancy that, in each case, he acquiesces in such a one's
views or suggestions from the dictates of judgment, and
for the reasons given ; (" What she does seems wisest, vir-
tuousest, discreetest, best*'';) when yet perhaps the very
same reasons, coming from another, would have been re-
jected.

It is worth observing also, that, though, as

Statements ^^s been above remarked, (ch. ii. § 4) ques-
offactsliable ,. c jy ± jr-- l^xi^i

to he disre- ^^^^^ ^^ fO'di ai^d of opinion, ought to be de-

garded, when cided on very different grounds, yet, with many

coming from persons, a statement of facts is very little at-

ose w ose ^gn^jg^j ^q when cominsr from one for whose
judgment is , °

undervalued, judgment (though they do not deliberately

doubt his veracity) they have little or no De-
ference. For, by common minds, the above distinction,
between matters of fact and of opinion, is but imperfectly
apprehended f. It is not therefore always superfluous to
endeavour to raise a Presumption in favour of the judgment
of one whom you wish to obtain credit, even in respect of
matters in which judgment has, properly, little or no con-
cern.

* Milton.

t It is a curious characteristic of some of our older writers, that they are
accustomed to cite authorities, — and that most profusely, — for matters of
opinion, while for facts they often omit to cite any.

Chap. III. § 2.] PRESUMPTIONS AND BURDEN OF PROOF. 123

It is usual, and not unreasonable, to pay more Deference
— other points being equal — to the decisions of a Council,
or Assembly of any kind, (embodied in a Manifesto, Act of
Parliament, Speech from the Throne, Report, Set of Arti-
cles, &c.,) than to those of an individual, equal, or even
superior to any member of such Assembly. But in one
point, — and it is a very important one, though usually
overlooked, — this rule is subject to something' of an ex-
ception ; which may be thus stated : in any composition of
an individual who is deemed worthy of respect, we pre-
sume that whatever he says must have some meaning, —
must tend towards some object which could not be equally
accomplished by erasing the whole passage. He is expected
never to lay down a rule, and then add exceptions, nearly,
or altogether coextensive with it ; nor in any way to have
so modified and explained away some assertion, that each
portion of a passage shall be virtually neutralized by the
other. Now if we interpret in this way any joint-iprodiiC'-
tion of several persons, we shall often be led into mistakes.
For, those who have had experience as members of any
deliberative Assembly, know by that experience (what
indeed any one might conjecture) how much compromise
will usually take place between conflicting opinions, and
what will naturally thence result. One person, e.c/, will
urge the insertion of something, which another disap-
proves ; and the result will usually be, after much debate,
something of what is popularly called ^^ splitting the dif-
ference :'' the insertion will be made, but accompanied
with such limitations and modifications as nearly to nullify
it. A fence will be erected in compliance with one party,
and a gap will be left in it, to gratify another. And again,
there will often be, in some document of this class, a total
silence on some point whereon, perhaps, most of the As-
sembly would have preferred giving a decision, but could
not agree what decision it should be.

A like character will often be found also in the compo-

124 CONVICTION. [Part I.

sition of a single individual, when his object is to conciliate
several parties whose views are conflicting. He then re-
presentSj as it were, in his own mind, an Assembly com-
posed of those parties.

Any one therefore who should think himself bound in
due deference for the collective wisdom of some august
Assembly, to interpret any joint-composition of it, exactly
as he would that of a respectable individual, and never to
attribute to it anything of that partially-inconsistent and
almost nugatory character which the writings of a sensible
and upright man would be exempt from, — any one, I say,
who should proceed (as many do) on such a principle,
would be often greatly misled*.

It may be added, that the Deference due to the deci-
sions of an Assembly, is sometimes, erroneously, transferred
to those of some individtial member of it ; that is, it is
sometimes taken for granted, that what they have, jointly,
put forth, is to be interpreted by what he, in his own
writings, may have said on the same points. And yet it
may sometimes be the fact, that the strong expressions of
his sentiments in his own writings, may have been omitted
in theyom^-production of the Assembly, precisely because
not approved by the majority in that Assembly.

It is to be observed, that a Presumption may
Transferring jjg rebutted by an opposite Presumption, so
ofvroof ^^ ^^ ^^^^^ *^^ Burden of proof to the other

side. E, G. Suppose you had advised the re-
moval of some existing restriction : you might be, in the
first instance, called on to take the Burden of proof, and
allege your reasons for the change, on the ground that
there is a Presumption against every Change. But you
might fairly reply, " True, but there is another Presumption
which rebuts the former ; every Restriction is in itself an

* In studying the Scriptures we must be on our guard against the converse-
mistake, of interpreting the Bible as if it were one Book, the joint-work of
the Sacred Writers, instead of, what it is, several distinct books, written by
individuals independently of each other.

Chap. III. § 2.] PRESUMPTIONS AND BURDEN OF PROOF. 125

evil*; and therefore there is a Presumption in favour
of its removal, unless it can be shown necessary for pre-
vention of some greater evil: I am not bound to allege
any specific inconvenience ; if the restriction is unne-
cessary, that is reason enough for its abolition : its de-
fenders therefore are fairly called on to prove its neces-
sity f/'

Again, in reference to the prevailing opinion, that the
^^ Nathanael " of John's Gospel was the same person as the
Apostle " Bartholomew^' mentioned in the others, an intel-
ligent friend once remarked to me that two names afford a
'' prima facie'' Presumption of two persons. But the name
of 5fl!rtholomew, being a ^' Patronymic,'' (like Simon Peter's
designation Bar-Jona, and Joseph's Sirname of Barsahas,
mentioned in Acts ; — he being probably the same with the
Apostle " Joseph Barnabas," &c.,) affords a Counter-pre-
sumption that he must have had another name, to distin-
guish him from his own kindred. And thus we are left
open to the arguments drawn from the omission, by the
other Evangelists, of the name of Nathanael, — evidently a
very eminent disciple, — the omission by John of the name
of the Apostle Bartholomew, — and the recorded intimacy
with the Apostle Philip.

In one of Lord Dudley's (lately published)

letters to Bishop Copleston, of the date of . Presump^
-.^,.1 11 ,• -,,1 ^^ow against

1814, he adduces a presumption agamst the Loqic.

Science of Logic, that it was sedulously culti-
vated during 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

* See " Charges and other Tracts," p. 447.

t See Essay II. " On th^ Kingdom of Christ," § 33.

126 CONVICTION. [Part I.

author himself was too acute to see more in it than — what
it certainly is — a fair Presumption. And he would pro-
bably have owned that it might be met by a counter-pre-
sumption.

When any science or pursuit has been un-

Counter- ^j^jy. ^^^ 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, or dread, or ab-
horrence, to succeed*. And the same kind of re-action
occurs in every department of life. It is thus that the
thraldom of gross superstition, and tyrannical priestcraft,
have so often led to irreligion. It is thus that " several
valuable medicines, which when first introduced, were pro-
claimed, 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 their just estimation, and employed conformably to their
real properties f."

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 igno-
rance, prejudice, and adherence to error ; so that the legi-
timate uses and just value of Logic, supposing it to have
any, would be likely to be scornfully 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 together.

* I dwelt on this subject in a Charge to the Diocese of Dublin, 1843.
t Elements of Logic, Pref. p. x.

Chap. III. § 2.] PRESUMPTIONS AND BURDEN OF PROOF. 127

Such might have been, at that time, a statement of the
counter-presumptions on this point.

Subsequently, the presumption in question
has been completely done away. And it is a ^^^^j^^^^^
curious circumstance that the very person to
whom that letter was addressed should have witnessed so
great a change in public opinion, brought about (in great
measure through his own instrumentality) within a small
portion of the short interval between the writing of that
letter and its publication, that the whole ground of Lord
Dudley's argument is cut away. During that interval the
Article on Logic in the "Encyclopaedia Metropolitana "
(great part of the matter of it having been furnished by
Bishop Copleston) was drawn up ; and attracted so much
attention as to occasion its publication in a separate volume :
and this has been repeatedly reprinted both at home and in
the United States of America, (where it is used as a text-
book in, I believe, every College throughout the Union,)
with a continually increasing circulation, which all the va-
rious attempts made to decry the study, seem only to aug-
ment: while sundry abridgements, and other elementary
treatises on the subject, have been appearing with con-
nually-increased frequency.

Certainly, Lord Dudley, were he now living, would not
speak of the " general neglect and contempf of Logic at
present : though so many branches of Science, Philosophy,
and Literature, have greatly flourished during the interval.

The popularity indeed, or unpopularity, of any study,
does not furnish, alone, a decisive proof as to its value :
but it is plain that a presumption — whether strong or
weak — which is based on the fact of general neglect and
contempt, is destroyed, when these have ceased.

It has been alleged, however, that " the Science of
Mind " has not flourished during the last twenty years ;
and that consequently the present is to be accounted such
a dark period as Lord Dudley alludes to.

Supposing the statement to be well-founded, it is nothing

128 CONVICTION. [Part 1.

to the purpose ; since Lord Dudley was speaking, not, of
any one science in particular, but of the absence or presence
of intellectual cultivation, and of knowledge, generally ; —
the depressed or flourishing condition of Science, Arts, and
Philosophy on the whole.

But as for the state of the " science of mind '^ at any
given period, that is altogether a matter of opinion. It
was probably considered by the Schoolmen to be most
flourishing in the ages which we call " dark.^^ And it is
not unlikely that the increased attention bestowed, of late
years, on Logic, and the diminished popularity of those
Metaphysicians who have written against it, may appear
to the disciples of these last a proof of the low state (as it
is, to Logical students, a sign of the improving state) of
*^the Science of Mind.'^ That is, regarding the preva-
lence at present of logical studies as a sign that ours is " a
dark age,^^ this supposed darkness, again, furnishes in turn
a sign that these studies flourish only in a dark age !

Again, there is (according to the old maxim

Presump- ^f « peritis credendum est in arte sua^^) a pre-

ttOTlS foV

and against sumption, (and a fair one,) m respect of each
the learned, question, in favour of the judgment of the
most eminent men in the department it per-
tains to ; — of eminent physicians, e, g. in respect of medi-
cal questions, — of theologians, in theological, &c. And
by this presumption many of the Jews in our Lord's time
seem to have been influenced, when they said, '' have any
of the Rulers, or of the Pharisees believed on Him?''

But there is a counter-presumption, arising from the
circumstance that men eminent in any department are
likely to regard with jealousy any one who professes to
bring to light something unknown to themselves; espe-
cially if it promise to supersede, if established, much of
what they have been accustomed to learn, and teach, and
practise. And moreover, in respect of the medical pro-
fession, there is an obvious danger of a man's being re-
garded as a dangerous experimentalist who adopts any

Chap. III. §2.] PRESUMPTIONS AND BURDEN OF PROOF. 129

novelty, and of his thus losing practice even among such
as may regard him with admiration as a philosopher. In
confirmation of this, it may be sufficient to advert to the
cases of Harvey and Jenner. Harvey^s discovery of the
circulation of the blood is said to have lost him most of his
practice, and to have been rejected by every phj^sician in
Europe above the age of forty. And Jenner's discovery
of vaccination had, in a minor degree, similar results.

There is also this additional counter-presumption against
the judgment of the proficients in any department; that
they are prone to a bias in favour of everything that gives
the most palpable superiority to themselves over the un-
initiated, [the Idiotae,] and affords the greatest scope for
the employment and display of their own peculiar acquire-
ments. Thus, e. g, if there be two possible interpreta-
tions of some Clause in an Act of Parliament, one of which
appears obvious to every reader of plain good sense, and
the other can be supported only by some ingenious and
far-fetched legal subtlety, a practised lawyer will be liable
to a bias in favour of the latter, as setting forth the more
prominently his own peculiar qualifications. And on this
principle in great measure seems founded Bacon's valuable
remark ; " harum artium saepe pravus fit usus, ne sit nul-
lus^ Rather than let their knowledge and skill lie idle,
they will be tempted to misapply them ; like a schoolboy,
who, when possessed of a knife, is for trying its edge on
everything that comes in his way. On the whole, accord-
ingly, I think that of these two opposite presumptions, the
counter-presumption has often as much weight as the
other, and sometimes more.

It might be hastily imagined that there is

•1 J \ ' \, ' ^x, ^0 neces-

necessarily an advantage m havmg the pre- ^^^^ advan-

sumption on one's side, and the burden of tage to the

proof on the adversary's. But it is often side on which

much the reverse. E. G. "In no other in- [^e presump^

tion lies.
stance perhaps" (says Dr. Hawkins, in his

130 CONVICTION. [Part I.

valuable ^' Essay on Tradition/^) "besides that ofReligion^
do men commit the very illogical mistake, of first canvas-
sing all the objections against any particular system whose
pretensions to truth they would examine, before they con-
sider 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 per-
haps among such as have been accustomed from their in-
fancy to take for granted the truth of their religion, and
even to regard an uninquiring assent as a mark of com-
mendable faith ; and hence he has probably never even
thought of proposing to himself the question, — Why
should I receive Christianity as a divine revelation ?
Christianity being nothing new to him, and the presump-
tion 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 generally received.
He is thus excited to inquiry ; which he sets about, —
naturally enough, but very unwisely, — by seeking for an-
swers to all these objections : and fancies that unless 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 obnoxious to objec-
tions, numerous, plausible, and by no means easy of solu-
tion.^^ "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
* See the Lessons on Objections, in the " Easy Lessons on Christian Evi-
dences " (published by Pai-ker, West Strand, and also by the Christian Know-
ledge Society).

Chap. III. § 2.] PRESUMPTIONS AND BURDEN OF PROOF. 131

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 fa-
vour of that religious creed already adopted by the coun-
try. . . , Their very earhest inquiry therefore must be into
the direct arguments, for the authority of that book on
which their country rests its religion."

But reasonable as such a procedure is, there is, as I
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. Accordingly, I have not
found that this "very illogical mistake" is by any means
peculiar to the case of religion.

When Christianity was first preached, the state of
things was reversed. The Presumption was against it,
as being a novelty. " Seeing that these things cannot he
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 at 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 Missionaries are labouring : they begin by in-
quiring— "Why should we receive this religion?" And
those of them accordingly who have embraced it, .appear
to be Christians 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
considerably beyond those Islanders.

I am not depreciating the inestimable advantages of a

132 CONVICTION. [Part 1.

religious education ; but, pointing out the peculiar tempta-
tions 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 question
to be discussed.

§3.

Matters of opinion, (as they are called ; i. e.
Matters of ^y}^gj.g ^^g jjj,g jjq^. g^jj properly to know, but to
Fact and of , , .. x ,,.,,,. n

Opinion. judge, see ch. n. § 4,) are established chiefly

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 di-
rected, by the highest authority, to guide our judgment in
those questions in which we are most liable to deceive
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 imagining ourselves
to change places with our neighbour, and then consider-
ing how, in that case, we should in fairness expect to be
treated.

This however, which is the true use of the celebrated
precept " to do as we would be done by,^' is often over-
looked ; and it is spoken of as if it were a rule designed to
supersede all other moral maxims, and to teach us the in-
trinsic character of Right and Wrong. This absurd mis-
* Logic, Appendix.

Chap. III. §3.] MATTERS OF FACT AND OF OPINION. 133

take 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 pre-supposes that
you have a knowledge of what is fair and reasonable : and
the precept then furnishes a formula for the application 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 1 7th century,
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 speedily
professed by him on his arrival among those who sought in
America a refuge from persecution ; and strange as it may
seem, it was probably the first thing that excited the pre-
judices of the Massachusetts and Plymouth rulers against
him. He was accused of carrying this favourite doctrine
so far, as to exempt from punishment any criminal who
pleaded conscience. But let 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 ab-

134 CONVICTION. [Part I.

horred. To prevent such mistakes, I at present shall only
propose this case. There goes many a ship to sea with
many hundred 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, some-
times, that both Papists and Protestants, Jews and Turks,
may be embarked into one ship. Upon which supposal, I
affirm, that all the liberty of conscience, that ever I 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 com-
mander of this ship ought to command 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. If any of the seamen refuse to perform their
service, or passengers to pay their freight ; if any refuse to
help in person or purse, toward the common charges or
defense ; if any refuse to obey the common laws and orders
of the ship concerning their common peace or preserva-
tion ; if any shall mutiny and rise up against their com-
manders 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 pretended, the
commander or commanders may judge, resist, compel, and
punish such transgressors, according to their deserts and
merits.' "

It happens more frequently than not, how-
Ex I ^ ever, that when in the discussion of matters
of Opinion, an Example is introduced, it is
designed, not for Argument, but, strictly speaking, for Illus-
tration ; — not to prove the proposition in question, but to
make it more clearly understood ; e. g. the Proposition

Chap. III. § 3.] ILLUSTRATION. 136

maintained by Cicero [de Off. book iii.) is what may be
accounted a matter of Opinion ; viz. that " nothing is ex-
pedient which is dishonourable;^^ when then he adduces
the Example of the supposed design of Themistocles to
burn the aUied fleet, which he maintains, in contradiction
to Aristides, would have been inexpedient, 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 as-
sented 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 foregoing ; 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 argumenta-
tive. "He taught as one having authority;'' stating and
explaining his doctrines, and referring for proof to his
actions. " The Works that I do in my Father's name, they
bear witness of me."

It is also of the greatest consequence to
distinguish between Examples (of the invented Hl^^stration
kind) properly so called,— i e. which have the distinguished.
force of Arguments, — and Comparisons intro-
duced for the ornament of Style, in the form, either of
Simile, 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, affords no proof at all*; but also, on

* The pleasure derived from taking in the author's meaning, when an inge-
genious Comparison is employed, (referred by Aristotle to the pleasure of the
act of learning,) is so great, that the reader or hearer is apt to mistake his

136 CONVICTION. [Part I.

the other hand, a real and valid argument is not unfre-
qnently 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 Analo-
gical Reasoning, in which the new idea introduced by the
Analogy chances to be a sublime or a pleasing one. E. G,
" The efficacy of penitence, and piety, and prayer, in ren-
dering the Deity propitious, is not irreconcileable with the
immutability of his nature, and the steadiness of his pur-
poses. 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 effected 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 Argument is not the less perfect ; since the case ad-
duced fairly establishes the general principle required, that
" a change effected in one of two objects having a certain
relation to each other, may have the same practical result 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 em-
ployed metaphorically ; as is generally the case where the
allusion is common and obvious ; e, g, " We do not receive

apprehension of this for a perception of a just and convincing analogy. See
Part III. cli. 2. § 3. See Appendix [F.] for two instances of" explanatory illus-
tration," both of them highly ornamental also.

* For an instance of a highly beautiful, and at the same time argumentative
comparison, see Appendix, [G.] It appears to me that the passage printed in
italics aflfords a reason for thinking it probable that the causes of the Apostles'
conduct are rightly assigned.

Chap. III. § 4.] ILLUSTRATION. 1ST

as the genuine doctrines of the primitive Church what have
passed down the polluted stream of Tradition/^ The Ar-
gument 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
alread}^ said concerning the connexion between them ; some
Cause, whether known or not, being always supposed, when-
ever an Example is adduced.

§4.

When Arguments of each of the two for- Arauments

merly-mentioned classes are employed, those from Cause

from Cause to Effect (Antecedent-probability) to Effect

have usually the precedence. -^^f ^^' P''"

cedetice
Men are apt to listen with prejudice to the

Arguments adduced to prove anything which appears abs-
tractedly improbable ; ^. e. according to what has been
above laid down, unnatural, or (if such an expression
might be allowed) unplausible ; 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 evidence 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 order prescribed. A sufficient Cause being established,
leaves us still at liberty to suppose that there may be cir-
cumstances which will prevent the effect from taking place;
but Examples subjoined show that these circumstances do
* See Part III. ch. 2. § 4.

138 CONVICTION. [Paet I.

not^ at least always, prevent that effect. On the other
hand. Examples introduced at the first, may be suspected
(unless they are very numerous) of being exceptions to
the general rule, instead of being instances of it ; which an
adequate Cause previously assigned will show them to be.
E. G. If any one had argued, from the temptations and
opportunities occurring to a military commander, that Buo-
naparte 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 arguments ;
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 Testimony and every
other kind of Sign, to which it is no less applicable.

Another reason for adhering to the order here prescribed
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 (assu-
ming 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 confusion or indistinctness as to the ob-
ject in each case proposed ; whether that be, when a pro-
position 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
tvere granted.

Chap. III. § 4.] ARRANGEMENT. 139

With a view to the Arrangement of arguments, no rule
is of more importance than the one now under considera-
tion ; and Arrangement is a more important point than is
generally supposed ; indeed it is not perhaps of less conse-
quence in Composition than in the Military Art ; in which
it is well known, that with an equality of forces, in num-
bers, 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-proba-
bihty that a Revelation should be given to M^an, and that it
should be established by miracles, all would allow to be,
considered by itself, in the absence of strong direct testi-
mony, utterly insufficient to establish the Conclusion. On
the other hand, miracles considered abstractedly, as repre-
sented to have occurred without any occasion or reason for
them being assigned, carry with them such a strong in-
trinsic improbability 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 sup-
ported, will then be allowed their just weight* The writers
in defence of Christianity have not always attended to this
principle; and their opponents have often availed them-

* A great advantage in this point is possessed by the Speaker 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 con-
trary 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 the order designed,
they may at once close the book in disgust.

140 CONVICTION. [Part I,

selves of the knowledge of it, by combating in detail, argu-
ments, the combined force of which would have been irre-
sistible*. 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 be-
lief that a dead man was restored to life ? " and then they
proceed to show that the probability of a Revelation, abs-
tractedly 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 Revelation as to exclude the
evidence in favour of it, and that if one were given, it must
be expected to be supported by miraculous evidence, then,
just enough reason would be assigned for the occurrence
of miracles, not indeed to establish them, but to allow a
fair hearing for the arguments by which they are sup-
ported f.

The importance attached to the Arrange-
of Arrange- ^^^^ ^^ arguments by the two great rival
ment. orators of Athens, may serve to illustrate and

enforce what has been said, ^schines strongly
urged the judges (in the celebrated contest concerning the
Crown) to confine his adversary to the same order, in his
reply to the charges brought, which he himself had ob-
served in bringing them forward. Demosthenes, however,
was far too skilful to be thus entrapped ; and so much im-
portance does he attach to this point, that he opens his
speech with a most solemn appeal to the Judges for an im-
partial hearing ; which implies, he says, not only a rejection
of prejudice, but no less also, a permission for each speaker
to adopt whatever Arrangement he should think fit. And
accordingly he proceeds to adopt one very different from
that which his antagonist had laid down ; for he was no

* See § 4. ch. 2.

t See Foley's Evidences, lutrod.

Chap. III. § 5.] ARRANGEMENT. 141

less sensible than his rival, that the same Arrangement
which is the 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 Propo-
sition ; since of course the refutation of an opposed asser-
tion, effected (suppose) by means of " Signs,^^ may be fol-
lowed by an ^^ a priori '^ argument in favour of our own
Conclusion ; and the like, in many other such cases.

§5.

A Proposition that is well-known, (whether
easy to be established or not,) and which con- p^emiTesand
tains nothing particularly offensive, should in when the
general be stated at once, and the Proofs sub- Conclusion
joined ; but one not familiar to the hearers, ^^^^^^ ^^"^^
especially if it be likely to be unacceptable,
should not be stated at the outset. It is usually better in
that case to state the arguments 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 im-
portant than the present ; and it is therefore the more un-
fortunate that Cicero, who possessed so much practical
skill, should have laid down no rule on this point, (though
it is one which evidently had engaged his attention), 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 decision. Aristotle also, when he
lays down the two great heads into which a speech is divi-

* Dc Orat.

142 ^ CONVICTION. [Part I.

sible, the Proposition and the Proof*, is equally silent as to
the order in which they should be placed ; though he leaves
it to be understood, 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 natural way of speaking or writing ; viz. to begin by
declaring 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 compo-
sition, to begin by advancing some new and unexpected
assertion ; though sometimes again this may be advisable
w^hen the arguments are such as can be well relied on, and
the principal object is to excite attention, and awaken
curiosity. And accordingly, with this view, it is not un-
usual to present some doctrine, by no means really novel,
in a new and paradoxical shape. But when the Conclu-
sion 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 de-
duced shall have been clearly established; because men
listen with prejudice, if at all, to arguments that are
avowedly leading to a conclusion which they are indis-
posed to admit ; whereas if we thus, as it were, mask the
battery, they will not be able to shelter themselves from
the discharge. The observance accordingly, or neglect
of this rule, wall often make the difference of success or
failure f.

It may be observed, that if the Proposition to be main-
tained be such as the hearers are likely to regard as insig-
nificant, the question should be at first suppressed ; but if

* Rhet. book iii.

t See note in § 4. It may be added, that it is not only nothing dishonest,
but is a point of pacific charitableness as well as of discretion, in any dis-
cussion with any one, to begin with points of agreement rather than of
disagreement.

Chap. HI. § 5.] ARRANGEMENT. 148

there be anything 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 gradually to the full statement of the Gradual
Proposition required, and to prove it, if one ^^^^^^^^j ^f
may so speak, by instalments; establishing ^/^^^^
separately, and in order, each part of the 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 i 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 Resolutions

c 1 i.- T- r T-- r- at public

series of resolutions; each of which succes- ^^^^^^^^

sively 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 feel-
ing objections to one portion, and others to another.

It will often happen again that some general
principle of no very paradoxical character may . Advance
1, 1 • ^1 4. ^ r 4- K • f^^^ general

be proposed in the outset ; (just as besiegers to particular.

break ground at a safe distance, and advance
gradually till near enough to batter;) and when that is
established, an unexpected and unwelcome application of it
may be proved irresistibly.

And it may be worth observing, that we shall thus have
to reverse, in many cases, the order in which, during the
act of composition, the thoughts will have occurred to our
minds. For in reflecting on any subject, we are usually

144 CONVICTION. [Part I.

disposed to generalize; — to proceed from the particular
point immediately before us, successively, to more and more
comprehensive views ; the opposite order to which will
usually be the better adapted to engage and keep up at-
tention, and to effect conviction. E, G. Suppose I am
thinking of engaging the co-operation of the laity in some
measure designed for the diffusion of the Gospel ; which
they are perhaps disposed to regard too much as the busi-
ness of the Clergy exclusively : this may lead me to reflect,
generally, how prone laymen are in many points to con-
found christian duties with clerical duties, and to speak
and act as if they thought that a less amount of christian
virtue w^ere amply sufficient for those who have not taken
Holy Orders : and this again might carry me on to reflect
yet more generally, on the prevalent error of imagining
two kinds of Christianity, one, for a certain select and pre-
eminent few, and the other, for the generality ; and of sup-
posing that those whom in later ages it has been customary
to denominate "Saints*," namely the Apostles, Evange-
lists, and others, who possessed inspiration, and other mi-
raculous gifts, (such as Judas, among others, exercised,)
had a degree of personal holiness, and a kind of christian
character, beyond what is at all expected of Christians
generally, and which it would be even presumptuous for
us to emulate.

Now to bring forward these topics in this order would
not produce so good an effect as to reverse it ; beginning
with the more general remarks, and gradually narrowing,
as it were, the circle, till the particular point in question
was reached. The interest is the better kept up by ad-
vancing successively from the more to the less general :
and moreover, as has been just remarked, the establishment
of some general principle will in many cases be less unwel-
come, and more fairly listened to, than the particular ap-
plication of it.

* The term by which all Christians are denoted in Scripture.

Chap. III. § 5.] ARRANGEMENT. 145

It is often expedient, sometimes unavoid-
able, to waive for the present, some question J^ ^
or portion of a question, while our attention
is occupied with another point. Now it cannot be too
carefully kept in mind, that it is a common mistake with
inaccurate 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 tri-
umphantly employed, on no better grounds. And yet it
is very common in Mathematics for a question to be waived
in this manner. Euclid, e, g, first asserts and proves, that
the exterior angle of a triangle 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 all the three angles of a triangle are equal to two right
angles.

The only remedy is^ to state distinctly and repeatedly

* A instance of this procedure is noticed in the Essay on Persecution (3rd
Series), Note A. The writer I am there speaking of " proceeds to censure,
not merely the enemies of a rehgious estabUshment, but also some of * those
who admit the lawfulness and necessity of an establishment ;' including, par-
ticularly, Warburton ; whom he describes as * feeling no concern for the truth
of the religion which he calls to his aid,' and as representing that there is ' no
difference between false and true religion in their influence on Society ! ' This
is the inference drawn from Warburton's just and undeniable remark, that,
in discussing questions respecting the establishment of a religion by the civil
magistrate, we must waive the question as to the truth of each, because each
man will of course regard his own as the true one, and there is no appeal to
any authority on earth to decide between the different Sovereigns. Whether
Warburton's views are correct or not, (which it is not my present object to
inquire,) so gross a misrepresentation of him is neither fair nor wise."

146 CONVICTION. [Part I.

that you do not abandon, as untenable, such and such a
position, which you are not at present occupied in main-
taining; — 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.

§6.

ffr^en ^^ ^^^ Argument a priori has been intro-

needful to duced in the proof of the main Proposition in
account for question, there will generally be no need of

^•^ ■ afterwards adducing Causes to account 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 employed.

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 itself
already admitted to exist. But it must be remembered
that it is of great importance to make it clearly appear
ivhich object is, in each case, proposed ; whether to esta-
blish the fact, or to account for it ; since otherwise we may
often be supposed to be employing a feeble argument. 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 Refutation of Objections should generally
be placed in the midst of the Argument ; but
nearer the beginning than the end.

If indeed very strong objections have obtained 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;

Chap. III. § 7.] REFUTATION. 147

but when this is not the case, the mention of Objec-
tions 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
Objections 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

rule, when the Objections are such as cannot T ^^
. '' . . evasion.

really be satisfactorily answered. The skilful

sophist will often, by the promise of a triumphant Refuta-
tion hereafter, gain attention to his own statement ; which,
if it be made plausible, will so draw off the hearer's atten-
tion from the Objections, that a very inadequate fulfilment
of that promise will pass unnoticed, 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 incom-
patible 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 '' — in " per-
fection," &c. ; and Dr. A. Smith, in his " Theory of Moral
Sentiments," combats the opinion of those who make " ex-
pediency the test of virtue " — of the advocates of a " Moral
sense/' &c., which doctrines respectively are at variance

L 2

148 CONVICTION. [Part I.

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 pro-
per collocation of Refutation, some remarks on the conduct
of it will not be unsuitable in this place. In the first place,
it is to be observed that there is* no distinct class of refu-
tatory Argument ; since they become such merely by the

circumstances under which they are employed.
wo mo es rpj^^^.^ ^^^ ^^^ ways in which any Proposition
of refuting. "^ .

may be refuted f; first, by provmg the con-
tradictory of it ; secondly, by overthrowing the Arguments
by which it has been supported. The former of these is
less strictly and properly called Refutation; 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 main-
tained by one author, may be in this way refuted by an-
other, who had never heard of his Arguments. Thus
Pericles is represented by Thucydides as proving, in a
speech to the Athenians, the probability of their success
against the Peloponnesians ; and thus, virtually, refuting
the speech of the Corinthian ambassador at Sparta, who
had laboured to show the probability of their speedy
downfalj. In fact, every one who argues in favour of any
Conclusion is virtually refuting, in this way, the opposite
Conclusion.

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

* As Aristotle remarks, Rhet. Book ii. apparently in opposition to some
former writers.

i* ' AvTiav\\oyi(X}xbs and evaraai^ of Aristotle, book ii.

t The speeches indeed appear to be in great part the composition of the
historian ; but he professes to give the substance of what was either actually
said, or likely to be said, on each occasion : and the arguments urged in the
speeches now in question are undoubtedly such as the respective speakers
would be likely to employ.

Chap. III. § 7.] REFUTATION. 149

favour of the opposite Conclusion. This Refutation may
consist either in the denial of one of the Premises "^^ or an
objection against the conclusiveness 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
consequence ; " " 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 found 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 Pre-
miss, which is understood f. 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 dispro-
ving, 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 Pre-
miss, 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 ob-
jection is then only properly said to lie against the Rea-
soning itself, when it is shown that, granting all that is
assumed on the other side, whether expressed or under-
stood, still the Conclusion contended for would not follow

* If the Premiss to be refuted be a " Universal," (See Logic, b. ii. eh. ii. § 3)
it will be sufficient to establish its Contradictory, which will be a Particular ;
which will often be done by an argument that will naturally be exhibited in
the third figure, whose conclusions are always Particulars. Hence, this may
be called the erstatic, or refutatory Figure. (See Logic, b. ii. ch. iii. § 4.)

t It has been remarked to me by an intelligent friend, that in common dis-
course the word " Principle " is usually employed to designate the major pre-
miss of an Argument, and " Reason," the minor.

150 CONVICTION. [Pakt I.

from the Premises ; either on account of some ambiguity
in the Middle Term, or some other fault of that class.

Fallacies. 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 ^.j^^^ « Indirect Reasoning " is sometimes con-
iTidiTect ve-
futation. founded with " Refutation," or supposed to be

pecuUarly connected with it ; which is not the
case ; either Direct or Indirect Reasoning being employed
indifferently for Refutation, as well as for any other pur-
pose. The application of the term " elenctic," (from
iXeyx^ELv to refute or disprove,) to Indirect Arguments,
has probably contributed to this confusion ; which, how-
ever, principally arises from the very circumstance that oc-
casioned 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 Re-
futation of that adversary being necessarily accomplished in
this way. But it should be remembered, that Euclid and
other mathematicians, though they can have no opponent
to refute, often employ the Indirect Demonstration ; and
that, on the other hand, if the Contradictory of an oppo-
nent's Premiss can be satisfactorily proved in the Direct
method, the Refutation is sufficient.

It is true, however, that while, in Science,
The IndU {h^ Direct method is considered preferable, in
7omeHmes ^ Controversy, the Indirect is often adopted by
preferred. choice, as it affords an opportunity for hold-
ing up an opponent to scorn and ridicule, by
deducing some very absurd conclusion from the principles
he maintains, or according to the mode of arguing he em-

Chap. III. § 7.] REFUTATION. 151

ploys. Nor indeed can a fallacy be so clearly exposed to
the unlearned reader in any other way. For it is no easy
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 an-
other, brought forward to illustrate it, in which an absurd
conclusion may be introduced, as drawn from true pre-
mises.

It is evident that either the Premiss of an
opponent, or his Conclusion, may be dis- "roving
proved, either in the Direct, or in the Indi-
rect method ; i. e. either by proving the truth of the Con-
tradictory, or by showing that an absurd conclusion may
fairly be deduced from the proposition you are combating.
When this latter mode of refutation is adopted with re-
spect 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 ap-
plicable 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 reasoning
in which we assume as true the Proposition whose Contra-
dictory it is our object to prove; and deducing regularly
from it an absurd Conclusion, infer thence that the Pre-
miss 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 dir^ectly. E, G. We may say,
* See Logic, b. ii. c. iv. § 6.

152 CONVICTION. [Part I.

^' let it be admitted, that no testimony can satisfactorily
establish such a fact as is not agreeable to our experience ;
thence it will follow that the Eastern Prince judged wisely
and rightly, in at once rejecting, as a manifest falsehood,
the account given him of the phaenomenon of ice ; but he
was evidently mistaken in so doing ; therefore the Princi-
ple 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 a direct one ; viz. " if
it be 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- vaUdity of a certain Argument ; the Antece-

tionalpropo- •' ?■!-»•

sitions. 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
as a conclusion, 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 cor-
responds 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

Ironical stating such an Argument is considerable,

direct arqu- "^^'^^^ there is a long chain of reasoning. For

merits. when we employ the Categorical form, and

assume as true the Premises we design to dis-
prove, 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

Chap. III. § 7.] REFUTATION. 153

equally to the constitution and course of Nature. Had he,
on the other hand, assumed, for the argument's sake, that
such objections against Rehgion are valid, and had thence
proved the condition of the natural vi-orld to be totally dif-
ferent from what we see it to be, his arguments, which
would have been the same in substance,w^ould 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 re-
lating to the same point ; Butler's being a defence of the
Doctrines of Religion ; Burke's, of its Institutions and prac-
tical effects. 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, 1 attempted
some years ago, in a pamphlet, (published anonymously,
merely for the preservation 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
accounts of Napoleon Buonaparte *.

It is in some respects a recommendation of this latter
method, and in others an objection to it, that the sophistry
of an adversary will often be exposed by it in a ludicrous
point of view ; and this even where no such effect is de-
signed ; the very essence of jest being its mimic sophistry^,

* To these examples may be added the " Pastoral Epistle to some Members
of the University of Oxford," (Fellowes,) first published in 1835, and now re-
printed in the ** Remains of Bishop Dickinson." It is the more valuable,
now, from the verification of the predictions it contains, which, when it first
appeared, many were disposed to regard as extravagant.

t See Logic, Chapter on Fallacies, at the conclusion.

154 CONVICTION. [Part I.

This will often give additional force to the Argument, by
the vivid impression which ludicrous images produce*;
but again it will not unfrequently have this disadvantage,
that weak men, perceiving the wit, are apt to conclude
that nothing but wit is designed ; and lose sight perhaps
of a solid and convincing Argument, which they regard
as no more than a good joke. Having been warned that
"ridicule 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 con-
ceals from their view the point of the Thyrsus.

And moreover if such a mode of Argument
aw^re? i^g employed on serious subjects, the " weak
brethren " are sometimes scandalized by what
appears to them a profanation ; not having discernment to
perceive 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, and Isaiah's against those who " bow down
to the stock of a tree,'' 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 ordi-
nary man^ And moreover the resentment and mortifica-
tion felt by those whose unsound doctrines, or sophistry,
are fully exposed and held up to contempt or ridicule, —
this, they will often disguise from others, and sometimes
from themselves, by representing the contempt or ridicule

* Discit enim citius, meminitque libentius illud
Quod quia deridet, quam quod probat et veneratur.

Hor. Ep. i. b. 2.

Chap. III. § 7.] REFUTATION. 155

as directed against serious or sacred subjects, and not,
against their own absurdities : just as if those idolators
above alluded to had represented the Prophets as ridi-
culing devotional feelings, and not, merely the absurd mis-
direction of them to a log of wood. And such persons
will often in this way exercise a powerful influence on
those whose understanding is so cloudy that they do not
clearly perceive against what the ridicule is directed, or
who are too dull to understand it at all. For there are
some persons so constituted as to be altogether incapable
of even comprehending the plainest irony; though they
have not in other points any corresponding weakness of
intellect. The humorous satirical pamphlet, (attributed
to an eminent literary character,) entitled "Advice to a
Review^er,'' I have known persons read without per-
ceiving that it was ironical. And the same, with the
" Historic Doubts " lately referred to. Such persons,
when assured that such and such a Work contains ridi-
cule, and that it has some reference to matters of grave
importance, take for granted that it must be a work of
profane levity.

There is also this danger in the use of irony ; that some-
times when titles, in themselves favourable, are 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 eva-
porating. I mean, such titles as " Orthodox,^' " Evange-
lical," "Saints," "Reformers," "Liberals," "Political-
Economists," " Rational," &c. The advantage thus given
may be illustrated by the story of the cocoa-nuts in Sin-
bad the Sailor's fifth voyage.

It may be observed generally, that too much stress is
often laid, especially by unpractised reasoners, on Refuta-
tion ; (in the strictest and narrowest sense, L e. of Objec-
tions to the Premises, or to the Reasoning ;) I mean, that
they are apt both to expect a Refutation where none can

156 CONVICTION. [Part I.

fairly be expected, and to attribute to it, when satisfac-
torily made out, more than it really accomplishes.

^r For first, not only specious, but real and

Unanswer- ^ > 1 1 i i-nr-

able argu- solid arguments, such as it would be difficult,

ments may or impossible to refute, may be urged against

exist on both ^ Proposition which is nevertheless true, and
sides

may be satisfactorily established by a prepon-
derance of probability*. It is in strictly scientific Reason-
ing alone that all the arguments which lead to a false Con-
clusion 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) contradictory 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 de-
fence, while victory was in his hands. The objection per-
haps may be unanswerable, and yet may safely be allowed,
if it can be shown that more and weightier objections lie
against every other supposition. This is a most important
caution for those who are studying the Evidences of Re-
ligion. Let the opposer of them be called on, instead of
confining himself to detached cavils, and saying, " how do

* See above, eh. ii. § 4, and also Logic, Part iii. § 17.

+ Bacon, in his rhetorical common-places — ^heads of arguments pro and
contra, on several questions— has some admirable illustrations of what has
been here remarked. I have accordingly (in Appendix A.) inserted some se-
lections from them.

Chap. III. § 7.] REFUTATION. 157

you answer this?^^ and "how do you explain that?" to
frame some consistent hypothesis to account for the intro-
duction of Christianity by human means; and then to
consider whether there are more or fewer difficulties in his
hypothesis than in the other.

On the other hand, one may often meet
with a sophistical refutation of objections, Xiefutation^
consisting in counter-objections urged against
something 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 description
of the horrors of the mob-government of the Athenian and
Roman Republics. If an exclusive attention to mathema-
tical pursuits be objected to, it may be answered by depre-
cating 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 ; e.g,
if he is blamed for being a sot, he dilates 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 Transportation have usually defended it : de-
scribing 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 fal-
lacy may be stated logically, as a Disjunctive Hypothe-
tical, with the Major, false.

Secondly, the force of a Refutation is often
over-rated : an argument which is satisfacto- Over-esti-
rily answered ought merely to go for nothing: y^^^^ ^ ^^_
it is possible that the conclusion drawn may futation.
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 perhaps there is no

* See Letters to Earl Grey on the subject, — Report of Committee, and
" Substance of a Speech," &c.

158 CONVICTION. [Part I.

ground for the assumption, that these are all the argu-
ments that could be urged *. This may be 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 admitted, the Asser-
tion in question is true ; but that Argument is inadmis-
sible; therefore the Assertion is not true.^' Hence the
injury done to any cause by a weak advocate ; the cause
itself appearing to the vulgar to be overthrown, 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

* " Another form of ignoratio elenchi, (irrelevant conclusion,) which is
rather the more serviceable on the side of the respondent, is, to prove or dis-
prove some pari of that which is required, and dwell on that, suppressing all
the rest.

" Thus, if a University is charged with cultivating on/y the mere elements
of Mathematics, and in reply a list of the books studied there is produced,
should even anj/ one of those books be not elementary, the charge is in fair-
ness 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 ad-
mit of a plausible objection ; the opponent then joins issue on one of these
incidental questions, and comes forward with ' a Reply ' to such and such a
work." — Logic, b. iii. § 18. Another expedient which answerers sometimes
resort to, and which is less likely to remain permanently undetected, is to
garble a book ; exhibiting statements without their explanations, — conclu-
sions without their proofs, — and passages brought together out of their ori-
ginal order; — so as to produce an appearance of falsehood, confusion, or in-
conclusiveness. The last and boldest step is for the " answerer " to make
some false statement or absurd remark, and then father it upon the author.
And even this artifice will sometimes succeed for a time, because many per-
sons 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 seem-
ing cordiality, but with some exception, addition, or qualification, (as e. g. an
additional clause in an Act,) which though seemingly unimportant, shall en-
tirely 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

Chap. III. §7.] REFUTATION. 159

quash the whole. A guilty person may often escape 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 prisoner may some-
times obtain acquittal by showing that one of the wit-
nesses 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 convic-
tion *."

The maxim here laid down, however, applies only to
those causes in which, (waiving the consideration of ho-
nesty,) first, it is wished to produce not merely a tempo-
rary, but a lasting impression, and that, on readers or
hearers of some judgment ; and secondly, where there
really are some v)eighty 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 unthink-
ing, 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, some-
thing must be true ; and many are fond of that lazy con-
trivance for saving the trouble of thinking, — "splitting the
difference ; '' imagining that they show a laudable caution
in believing only a part of what is said. And thus a ma-
lignant Sophist may gain such a temporary advantage by
the multiplicity of his attacks, as the rabble of combat-
ants described by Homer sometimes did by their show-
ers of javelins, which encumbered and weighed down the
shield of one of his heroes, though they could not pene-
trate it.

On the above principle, — that a weak argu- „, .
ment is positively hurtful, is founded a most should he
important maxim, that it is not only the fair- stated in
est, but also the wisest plan, to state Objec- ^'^^^^ /"^^
tions in their full force ; at least, wherever
* See Logic, b. iiu § 18,

160 CONVICTION. [Part I.

there does exist 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 unanswerable. 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 unanswer-
able, 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 un-
tenable position, so as to display their reluctance to make
any concession ; as if their credit was staked on pre-
serving unbroken the talisman of professed infallibility.
But there 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 I 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 approbation. Un-
candid 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 confidence. Indeed this in-
creased confidence is often rashly bestowed, by a kind of
over-generosity in the Public ; which is apt too hastily to
consider the confession of 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

Chap. III. § 8.] EXCESS OF PROOF. 161

one mistake ; which, like a tub thrown to the whale, they
sacrifice for the sake of persuading us that they have com-
mitted only one error. I fear it can hardly be affirmed as
yet, that " this trick has been so long used in controversy,
as to be almost worn out*.^^

§8.
It is important to observe, that too earnest

Too earnest

and elaborate a refutation of arguments which r f t t'
are really insignificant, or which their oppo-
nent 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 vehe-
mently assailed must possess great strength. One of his
refutations might perhaps have left them perfectly con-
vinced : all of them together, leave them in doubt.

But it is not to Refutation alone that this
principle will apply. In other cases also it Danger of
may happen (paradoxical as it is at first sight) forcibly,
that it shall be possible, and dangerous, to
write too forcibly . Such a caution may remind some read-
ers of the personage in the fairy-tale, whose swiftness was
so prodigious, that he was obliged to tie his legs, lest he
should 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 lose sight of, or to underrate in
* See Defence of Oxford, Second Reply, p. 95.

162 CONVICTION. [Part I.

respect of its importance, or not to dwell on with an atten-
tion 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
Christian Scriptures, that these are books whose authenti-
city is harder to he established than that of other supposed-
ancient works * ; whereas the fact is very much the re-
verse. 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 nnvL^xajWy 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 hum-
blest 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 clearest point of view, (though in
language perfectly decent and temperate,) and to demon-
strate the conclusion, over and over, so fully 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 lan-
guage, but simply by being placed in a very clear light,)
and of having overlooked truths which, when thus clearly
explained and proved, appear perfectly evident even to a

* See Taylor's " History of the Transmission of Ancient Books ;" a very in-
teresting and valuable work ; and also the Review of it, — which is still more
BO,— in the *' London Review," No. 2, 1829. (Saunders and Otley.)

Chap. III. §8.] EXCESS OF PROOF. 163

child^ will consequently be stung by a feeling of shame
passing 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 per-
suade them to think so, that these feelings determine them
not to think it. They try (and it is an attempt 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 con-
ceive 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 supported
by sufficient arguments, will sometimes, if your arguments
are very much beyond what is sufficient, have their suspi-
cions roused by this very circumstance. ^' Can it be pos-
sible,^^ 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 phi-
losophers, 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 opi-
nions 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 of the

* " The more simple, clear, and obvious any principle is rendered, the more
likely is its exposition to elicit those common remarks, ' Of course ! of course !

M 2

164 CONVICTION. [Part I.

Orator is concerned^ he may be satisfied Avith 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 can-
not 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 who for Ages had 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 I have said, to point out
any fallacy, will by no means remove his conviction or sus-
picion that there must he some, if the conclusion be one,
which, for the reason just mentioned, seems to him incon-
ceivable. 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 ever
appear (when that can be avoided) insufficient-, — that a

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 par-
tially obscure way of writing on such a subject, is the most likely to catch the
attention of the multitude. The generality verify the observation of Tacitus,
* omne ignotum pro magnifico ; ' and when anything is made very plain to
them, are apt to fancy that they knew it already." — Preface to Elements of
Logic.

Chap. III. § 8.] EXCESS OF PROOF. 165

conclusion should be left doubtful which we are able to
establish fully. But in combating deep-rooted prejudices,
and maintaining unpopular and paradoxical truths, the
point to be aimed at should be, to adduce what is suffi-
cient, 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 multi-
tude of the most forcible arguments, the extreme absur-
dity 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
to be apprehended from the employment of usmg7o^icf
a great number and variety of arguments ; not directly
(whether for refutation, or otherwise ;) namely, accessible to

that some of them, though really unanswer- J P^^^o^^
' ^ J addressed.

able, may be drawn from topics of which the

unlearned reader or hearer is not, by his own knowledge,
a competent judge ; and these a crafty opponent will imme-
diately assail, keeping all the rest out of sight ; knowing
that he is thus transferring the contest to another field, 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, it might
be well to employ all these : but in a popular work, de-

* A French writer, M. Say, relates a story of some one who, for a wager,
stood a whole day on one of the hridges in Paris, offering to sell a five-franc-
piece for one franc, and (naturally) not finding a purchaser.

166 CONVICTION. [Part I.

signed 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 established in the eyes of com-
petent judges, you might expect to be met by an artful
opponent who would join issue on that portion of the ar-
guments (keeping the rest out of sight) which turned most
on matters of multifarious and deep research : boldly de-
nying 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 opposite
side, &c. Who, of the unlearned, could tell which was in
the right ? You might reply, and might fully disprove all
that had been urged ; but you might be met by fresh and
fresh assertions, — fresh denials, — fresh appeals to author-
ities, real or feigned ; and so the contest might be kept
up for ever. The mass of the readers, meantime, would
be in the condition of a blind man who should be a by-
stander 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 oneself to these, lest the
attention should be drawn off from them.

On the whole, the arguments which it re-

Difficulty quires the greatest nicety of art to refute
what is ex- effectually, (I mean, for one who has truth on
cessively his side,) are those which are so very weak and

weak. silly that it is difficult to make their absurdity

more palpable than it is already; at least
without a risk of committing the error formerly noticed.
The task reminds one of the well-known difficult feat of
cutting through a cushion with a sword. And what aug-
* See Essay II. " On the Kingdom of Christ," § 21.

Chap. III. § 8.] EXCESS OF PROOF. 167

ments the perplexity, is, that such arguments are usually-
brought forward by those who, we feel sure, are not them-
selves 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 towards
convincing those who urge them ; any more than the jus-
tifications of the lamb in the fable against the wolPs
charges.

The last remark to be made under this head, is, as to
the difference between simply disprowing an error, and
showing whence it arose. Merely to prove that a certain
position is untenable, if this be done quite decisively, ought
indeed to be sufficient to induce every one to abandon it:
but if we can also succeed (which is usually a more difficult
task) in tracing the erroneous opinion up to its origin, —
in destroying not only the branches but the root of the
error, — this will afford much more complete satisfaction,
and will be likely to produce a more lasting effect. E, G,
It has been repeatedly proved that the distinction, made
by A. Smith and some other writers, between ^' produc-
tive '' and " unproductive labourers," leads to absurd
conclusions : but in the article on Political Economy in
the " Encyclopaedia Metropolitana^^ there is, in addition to
this disproof, a clear and useful explanation given of the
way in which this fanciful distinction arose; viz. from
the different modes of paying different classes of la-
bourers.

For another instance, see the Article ' Tendency ^ in
the Appendix to " Elements of Logic,^^ and the passage in
the " Lectures on Political Economy ^^ there referred to ;
which contains an explanation of the origin (from the
ambiguity of a word) of a prevailing and most dangerous
mistake.

168 CONVICTION. [Part I.

§9.

The most '^^^ Arguments which should be placed first
obvious argu- in order are, cceteris paribus, the most Ob-
merits have vious, and such as naturally first occur.
l^rece nee. fY^i^ is evidently the natural order ; and

the adherence to it gives an easy, natural air to the Com-
position. It is seldom therefore worth while to depart
from it for the sake of beginning with the most powerful
arguments, (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 however (and by this
means you may secure this last advantage) when the
strongest arguments naturally occupy the foremost place,
to recapitulate in a reverse order ; which will destroy the
appearance of anti-climax, and is also in itself the most

easy and natural mode of recapitulation. Let,
'^apuZZ'n. ^•^- ^^^ arguments be A, B, C, D, E, &c.

each less weighty than the preceding; then,
in recapitulating, proceed from E to D, C, B, concluding
wdth A.

Chap. IV. — Of Introductions and Conclusions,

§1.

An Introduction, Exordium, or Proeme, is, as Aristotle
has justly remarked, not to be accounted one of the essen-
tial parts of a Composition, since it is not in every case
necessary. In most, however, except such as are ex-
tremely short, it is found advisable to premise something
before we enter on the main argument, to avoid an ap-
pearance of abruptness, and to facilitate, in some way or

Chap. IV. § 1.] OF INTRODUCTIONS AND CONCLUSIONS. 169

other, the object proposed. In larger works this assumes
the appellation of Preface or Advertisement ; and not un-
frequently two are employed, one under the name of Pre-
face, and another, more closely connected 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 for in-
accuracy, 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' attention ; which,
as he observes, is an improper arrangement ; since, though
such an Introduction may sometimes be required, it is,
generally speaking, anywhere else rather than in the he-
ginning^ that the attention is likely to flag.

It is to be observed, however, that there is ^^ ^

. . Danger of

one kind of fault sometimes committed in In- announcing

troductions, which does lead to this result, too much.
If a Speaker alarms his audience in the out-
set, by announcing a great number of topics to be handled,
and perhaps also several preliminary considerations, pre-
paratory explanations, &c., they will be likely (especially
after a protracted Debate) to listen with impatience to what
they expect will prove tedious, and to feel an anticipated
weariness even from the very commencement.

The rule laid down by Cicero, {Be Orat.) not Introduc-
to compose the Introduction fii^st, but to con- tions not to
sider first the main argument, and let that ^^ ^^^"
suggest the Exordium, is just and valuable ; ^^^^ ^
for otherwise, as he observes, seldom anything will sug-
gest itself but vague generalities ; " common" topics, as he
calls them, L e. what would equally well suit several dif-
ferent compositions ; whereas an Introduction that is com-
posed last, will naturally spring out of the main subject,
and appear appropriate to it.

170 CONVICTION. [Part I.

§2.

Introduction
inquisitive.

1st. One of the objects most frequently pro-
posed in an Introduction, is, to show that the
subject in question is important, curious, or
otherwise interesting, and worthy of attention. This may
be called an " Introduction inquisitive *.^^

Introdu. 2ndly, It will frequently happen also, when

tionpara- the point to be proved or explained is one
doxical. which may be very fully established, or on

which there is little or no doubt, that it may nevertheless
be strange, and different from what might have been ex-
pected ; 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 im-
probability of that which must, afler all, be admitted. This
may be called an " Introduction paradoxical." For in-
stance : — " 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 chaff and
the refuse ; keeping this heap for one, and that the weakest^
perhaps worst, of the flock ; sitting round, and looking on,
all the Minter, 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 them-

* See Tacitus in the opening of his " History ;" and the beginning of Foley's
Natural Theology.

Chap. IV. § 2.] OF INTRODUCTIONS AND CONCLUSIONS. 171

selves all the while, but a little of the coarsest of the pro-
vision, 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 for 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.

" The principal of these advantages are the following :^^

&c.*

3rdly, What may be called an " Introduc- ^ , .
.,,.,. ^ . Introduction

tion corrective, is also in frequent use ; viz. corrective.

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 prejudices as might

be adverse to the favourable reception of our Arguments.

4thly, It will often happen also, that there j. , .
may be need to explain some peculiarity in preparatory,
the mode of reasoning to be adopted; to
guard against some possible mistake as to the object pro-
posed ; or to apologize for some deficiency : this may be
called the " Introduction preparatory."

5thly, and lastly, in many cases there will Introduction
be occasion for what may be called a " Narra- ^«^^«^^^^-
tive Introduction,'' to put the reader or hearer in possession
of the outline of some transaction, 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

* Paley's Moral Philosophy, book iii. part i. c. 1 and 2.

172 CONVICTION. [Part I.

a parable, when either of these is made the subject of a
Sermon.

Two or more of the Introductions that have been men-
tioned are often combined ; especially in the Preface to a
work of any length.

And very often the Introduction 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, not confined to Introductions.

^. , ^ The Title of a book is evidently of the cha-

Tttles of ^ -r 1 . • 1 • • 1 1

hooks. racter of an Introduction ; bemg mdeed some-

times the only one : so that what has been just
said respecting Introductions, will, for the most part, be
applicable to Titles.

It is a matter of considerable nicety to make choice of a
good Title ; neither unattractive, nor yet so full of preten-
sion as either to excite disgust, or lead to disappointment.
It is also, in one respect, more important than the exor-
dium of a Speech', because the Orator who has opened
injudiciously will yet usually obtain a hearing, in the
course of which he may recover the lost ground ; while an
ill-chosen Title may prevent a Book from being read at all.

The fault committed in respect of the Title of the present
Work is alluded to in the beginning of the Preface.

§3.
Conclusions. Concerning the « Conclusion '' [Peroration
of the Latins, and Epilogus of the Greeks] it
is not necessary to say much ; since the general rules, that
it should be neither so sudden and abrupt as to induce
the hearer to say, " I did not know he was going to leave
off,'' nor again so long as to excite impatience, are so ob-
vious as not to need being dwelt on at large.

Both faults however are common ; and the latter, both
the more common, and the worse. It is rather more com-

Chap. IV. §3.] OF INTRODUCTIONS AND CONCLUSIONS. 173

mon^ because the writer or speaker is liable to find fresh
and fresh thoughts occur to him as he proceeds, which he
is loth to omit ; especially if he have not, in the outset,
drawn out, on paper, or mentally, (according to the recom-
mendation formerly given,) a skeleton outline of his dis-
course. And it is also a worse fault than the other — the
abrupt Conclusion, — because the disappointment caused is
not — as in that case — single, but repeated and prolonged.
And moreover, it not only excites immediate disapproba-
tion, but weakens in the hearers' minds the force of all
that had gone before.

The caution against these faults is evidently far the more
important in reference to a discourse orally delivered, be-
cause, to a reader, the eye sufficiently shows the approach
to the end. It should therefore be carefully recollected by
one who is delivering orally a written discourse, that though
to Mm it is written, it is not so to his hearers ; and he is
consequently in danger of overlooking a fault in the Con-
clusion, such as I have been speaking of, while they will be
struck by it.

In all Compositions however it is an advantage —
though far the more important in those addressed to the
ear — that notice should be given, a little, and but a little,
beforehand, of the approach to a close ; by saying ^^ I will
conclude by remarking," &c. or the like ; and the closing
remark should be not a long one, and should be not the
least important and striking of the whole discourse : and if
it contain a compressed repetition of something that had
been before dwelt on, this is all the better.

Indeed, in any Composition that is not very short, the
most frequent, and the most appropriate kind of Conclu-
sion is a Recapitulation, either of the whole, or of part of
the arguments that have been adduced : respecting which
a remark has been made at the end of Ch. III. § 7.

It may be worth while here to remark that it is a com-
mon fault of an extemporary spealier, to be tempted, by find-

174 CONVICTION. [Part I.

ing himself listened to with attention and approbation, to
go on adding another and another sentence (what is called,
in the homely language of the jest, " more last words ^')
after he had intended, and announced his intention, to bring
his discourse to a close; till at length the audience be-
coming manifestly weary and impatient, he is forced to
conclude in a feeble and spiritless manner, like a half-
extinguished candle going out in smoke. Let the Speaker
decide beforehand what shall be his concluding topic ; and
let him premeditate thoroughly, not only the substance of
it, but the mode of treating it, and all but the very words:
and let him resolve that whatever liberty he may reserve to
himself of expanding or contracting other parts of his
speech, according as he finds the hearers more or less inter-
ested, (which is, for an extemporary speaker, natural and
proper,) he will strictly adhere to his original design in
respect of what he has fixed on for his Conclusion ; and
that whenever he shall see fit to arrive at that, nothing
shall tempt him either to expand it beyond what he had
determined on, or to add anything else beyond it.

Anything relative to the Feelings and the Will, that may
be especially appropriate to the Conclusion, will be men-
tioned in its proper place in the ensuing Part.

PART II.

OF PERSUASION.

Chap. I. — Introductory,

§1.

Persuasion, properly so called, L e, the a i - f
art of influencing the Will^ is the next point Persuasion,
to be considered. And Rhetoric is often re-
garded (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 understanding
(of which I have hitherto been treating) is an essential
part of Persuasion ; and will generally need to be effected
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 render their resistance effec-
tual, 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 how-
ever ardent their love of liberty, they would make no ex-

176 PERSUASION. [Paut II.

ertions 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 Per-
sian yoke, or valued their independence less than their
present ease, the fullest conviction that the Means recom-
mended would secure their independence, would have had
no practical effect.

Exhortation. Persuasion, therefore, depends on, first, Ar-
gument, (to prove the expediency of the Means
proposed,) and secondly, what is usually called Exhorta-
tion, i, e. the excitement of men to adopt those Means, by
representing the End as sufficiently desirable. It will hap-
pen, 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 pro-
posed End, and will need to be stimulated by Exhortations.
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, prac-
tically at least, not reckon it, or not feel it, to be worth
the requisite pains. No one is absolutely indifferent 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.

„ . Aristotle, and many other writers, have

Passions. ^ , -r» • /. •

spoken of appeals to the Passions as an unfair

mode of influencing the hearers ; in answer to which Dr.

Campbell has remarked, that there can be no Persuasion

Chap. 1. § 1.] ANALYSIS OF PERSUASION. 177

without an address to the Passions* : and it is evident,

from what has been just said, that he is right, if under the

term Passion be included every active Principle of our

nature. This however is a greater latitude of meaning

than belongs even to the Greek word IId6r] ; though the

signification of that is wider than, according to ordinary

use, that of our term " Passions."

But Aristotle by no means overlooked the ^ ^

. inftucncG of

necessity with a view to Persuasion, properly ^^^ jj^m^

so termed, of calling into action some motive

that may influence the Will ; it is plain that whenever he

speaks with reprobation of an appeal to the Passions, his

meaning is, the excitement of such feelings as ouffht not to

influence the decision of the question in hand. A desire to

do justice, may be called, in Dr. Campbells wide accepta-

* ** 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, addresseth 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 reUeve the miserable.' Now you touch my pity. So far therefore is
it from being an unfair 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 argument .'
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 is a connexion between the action to which he would per-
suade them, and the gratification of the desire or passion which he excites.
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 doubt-
less to be ascribed." — Campbell's Philosophy of Rhetoric, booki. chap. vii. §4

178 PERSUASION. [Part II.

tion 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 heighten this
desire ; but if the decision be influenced by an appeal to
Anger, Pity, &c.j the feelings thus excited 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 introduc-
tion of such topics, as " foreign to the matter in hand*.'^
It is evident, also, that as the motives which ought to ope-
rate will be different in different cases, the same may be
objectionable and not fairly admissible, in one case, which
in another would be perfectly allowable f.

* "E^it) Tov TrpdyfiaTOs.

t See the Treatise on Fallacies, § 14. The following very sensible remarks
on this subject are extracted from an article in the Edinburgh Review. " As
to all truths capable of being established by evidence either on certain or pro-
bable grounds, God has given us the faculty of judging of that evidence, as
the instrument of obtaining a belief in them. Any belief acquired not through
the use of this instrument, but by pressing into the service faculties intended
for other purposes, be the subject of beUef never so true, rests on defective
grounds as regards the party believing. If truth have really any objective
existence at all — if it be any thing more than that which every man troweth
— it is the merest truism to say, that to believe as truth that which is esta-
blished on slight evidence or no evidence, or arguments addressed to the con-
science and not to the reason, may be an act piously done, but must proceed
from a neglect of that portion of the faculties which are specially assigned to
us by our Creator for that special purpose. This is an error which may often
lead to good results in particular cases, as it has led, and still leads, to fearful
evils in many others ; but all the sophistry in the world cannot make it other
than an error. ****** He [Loyola] fixes on a particular defect in human
nature as a means of government, and consequently as something to be en-
couraged and cultivated. He would have obedience, as far as possible, com-
prehend the acts of the judgment, as well as the acts of the will. He would
have men strive to give a false bias to their minds ; to stifle the light within
them. He is not content with knowing that they will do so, and availing him-
self of the weakness ; he would implant it in them as a principle.

*' It would take but a short process to show that it is this fatal notion of
governing men by their failings which has led, in the main, to all the perverse
and irreligious portions of the developments of Jesuitism ; to condescensions
to every weakness, apologies for every crime, and serious defences of every
unnatural absurdity." — Edinburgh Review, April, 1845.

Chap. I. §1.] ANALYSIS OF PERSUASION. 179

An instance occurs in Thucydides, in which this is very
judiciously and neatly pointed out : in the debate respect-
ing the Mityleneans, who had been subdued after a revolt,
Cleon is introduced contending for i\\c justice of inflicting
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 per-
sonal interests of the Judge, or even to public expediency,
would be irrelevant. In framing laws indeed, and (which
comes to the same thing) giving those decisions which are
to operate as Precedents, the public good is the object to
be pursued ; but in the mere administering of the esta-
blished laws, it is inadmissible.

There are many feelings, again, which it ^

11 • 1^ 11 1 . Improper

IS evident should m no case be allowed to motives.

operate ; as Envy, thirst for Revenge, &c.,
the excitement of which by the orator is to be reprobated
as an unfair artifice ; but it is not the less necessary to
be well acquainted 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 di-
recting them. It is evident, indeed, that all the weak-
nesses, as well as the powers, of the human mind, and all
the arts by which the Sophist takes advantage of these

* Much declamation may be heard in the present day against " expediency,"
as if it were not the proper object of a Deliberative Assembly, and as if it were
only pursued by the unprincipled. And this kind of declamation is represented
as a sign of superior moral rectitude ; though in truth it implies very unsound
morality, in any one who is not led into it through mere confusion of thought
and inaccuracy of language.

I have accordingly thought it advisable to insert in the Appendix [GG] a
passage relating to the subject, extracted from a Speech delivered in the House
of Lords, and afterwards introduced into a Charge.

180 PERSUASION. [Part II.

weaknesses, must be familiarly known by a perfect Orator ;
who, though he may be of such a character as to disdain
employing such arts, must not want the ability to do so, or
he would not be prepared to counteract them. An ac-
quaintance with the nature of poisons is necessary to him
who would administer antidotes.

§2.

_ . ,. There is, I conceive, no point in which the

Prejudice . . ...

existing ^^^^ ^^ dishonest artifice is in most people's

against ex- minds so intimately associated with that of
citement of Rhetoric, as the address to the Feelings or
^ ' Active Principles of our nature. This is
usually stigmatized as " an appeal to the Passions instead
of the Reason ;'' as if Reason alone could ever influence
the Will, and operate as a motive ; which it no mor^ 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 in-
deed, with truth, that an orator does often influence the
Will by improper appeals to the Passions; but it is no
less true that he often imposes 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 commonly 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 gene-
rally, in danger of being misled in conduct by an excess
of feeling, that the reverse is at least as often the case.
The more generous feelings, such as Compassion, Grati-
tude, Devotion, nay, even rational and rightly-directed
Self- Love, Hope, and Fear, are oftener defective than ex-
cessive: and that, even in the estimation of the parties
themselves, if they are well-principled, judicious, reflect-

Chap. I. §2.] APPEAL TO THE FEELINGS. 131

ive, and candid men. Do the feelings of such a man, when
contemplating, for instance, the doctrines and the pro-
mises of the Christian religion, usually come up to the
standard which he himself thinks reasonable ? And not
only in the case of Religion, but in many others also, a
man will often wonder 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 rea-
son would approve.

In making such an effort, a curious and im-
portant fact is forced on the attention of every /,Vp„*e a'c
one who reflects on the operations of his own not under
mind ; viz. that the Feelings, Propensities, ihe direct
and Sentiments of our nature, are not, like ^l^^^-n
the Intellectual Faculties, under the direct
control of Volition. The distinction is much the same as
between the voluntary and the involuntary actions of dif-
ferent parts of the body. One may, by a deliberate act of
the Will, set himself to calculate, — to reason, — to recall
historical 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 hver, should be altered. Many in-
deed are, I believe, (strange as it would seem,) not aware
of the total inefiicacy of their own efforts of volition in
such cases : that is, they mistake for a feeling of gratitude,
compassion, &c. their voluntary reflections on the subject,
and their conviction that the case is one which calls for
gratitude or compassion. A very moderate degree of atten-
tion, however, to what is passing in the mind, will enable
any one to perceive the difference. A blind man may be
fully convinced that a soldier's coat is of a different colour
from a coal : and this his conviction is not more distinct
from a perception of the colours, than a belief that some

182 PERSUASION. [Part II.

one is very much to be pitied, from ?i feeling of pity for
him.

It is a very strange thing, certainly, that men should be
so often greatly self- deceived in respect of their own feel-
ings ; and still more strange perhaps that this self-deceit,
considering how very common it is, should have been sel-
dom if ever noticed. Many a man would be most indig-
nant at having it suggested, w^hen he professes himself
(( very glad ^' of this, and " very sorry " for that, (speaking
with perfect sincerity as far as his ow'n belief goes,) that
his feelings are in truth the reverse ; that the event which
he professes to rejoice at, and which perhaps he would
really, from conscientious motives, have exerted himself to
bring about, does in reality mortify and annoy him ; and
that he feels an inward relief and satisfaction at that which
he professes, and believes himself, to lament. But let any
one carefully and candidly look around him, and look
within himself, and he will see reason for assenting to what
has been here said. Of course this kind of self-deceit is
the more likely to occur and the less likely to be detected,
when it happens, as it often will, that there is a mixture of
truth with error. We are often really under the influence
of different, and even opposite emotions at once : e. g, we
are in some respects gratified, and in others, pained, by
the same occuri'ence : and it is in such cases most natural
to imagine ourselves wholly under the influence of the feel-
ing which our reason approves.

How the How then is the difficulty to be surmounted

feelings are which arises from the feelings not being (any
^^ ^^ more than certain muscles) under the direct

control of the Will ? Good sense suggests,
in each case, an analogous remedy. It is in vain to form
a Will to quicken or lower the circulation ; but we may,
by a voluntary act, swallow a medicine which will have
that effect: and so also, though we cannot, by a direct
effort of volition, excite or allay any Sentiment or Emo-

Chap. I. § 2.] APPEAL TO THE FEELINGS. 183

tion, we may, by a voluntary act^ fill the Understanding
with such thoughts as shall operate on the Feelings.
Thus, by attentively studying and meditating on the
history of some extraordinary Personage, — by contem-
plating and dwelling on his actions and sufferings, — his
virtues and his wisdom, — and by calling on the Imagina-
tion to present a vivid picture of all that is related and re-
ferred to, — in this manner, we may at length succeed in
kindling such feelings, suppose, of reverence, admiration,
gratitude, love, hope, emulation, &c., as we were already
prepared to acknowledge are suitable to the case. So
again, if a man of sense wishes to allay in himself any
emotion, that of resentment for instance, though it is not
under the direct control of the Will, he deliberately sets
himself to reflect on the softening circumstances ; such as
the provocations the other party may suppose himself to
have received ; perhaps, his ignorance, or weakness, or
disordered state of health : — he endeavours to imagine
himself in the place of the offending party; — and above
all, if he is a sincere Christian, he meditates on the parable
of the debtor who, after having been himself forgiven,
claimed payment with rigid severity from his fellow-ser-
vant ; and on other similar lessons of Scripture.

Now in any such process as this, (which is
exactly analogous to that oi takmg a medi- ^^^^^ „^^^^
cine that is to operate on the involuntary bo- Uses Rhe-
dily organs.) a process to which a man of toric on him-
well-regulated mind continually finds occa- •^'
sion to resort, he is precisely 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 may be
said, can it be accounted for, that the idea of unfair arti-
fice should be so commonly associated not only with Rhe-
toric in general, but most especially with that particular

184 PERSUASION. [Part II.

part of it now under consideration ? though no other arti-
fice is necessarily employed by the orator than a man of
sense makes use of towards himself.

Many different circumstances combine to
Address to 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 en-
treat 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 men-
tioned, is widely different from the process by which we
operate on the Feelings. No passion, sentiment, or emo-
tion, 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 to-
wards himself.

^ , . In the next place, thoueh men are often de-

JJelusiOTis
of the Un- luded by sophistical arguments addressed to

derstanding the Understanding, they do not, in this case,
harder to de- g^ readily detect the deceit that has been prac-
tised on them, as they do in the case of their
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 reasoning by which they had been

Chap. I. §2.] APPEAL TO THE FEELINGS. 185

misled, they are perhaps as unable to detect as ever. The
state of th^ 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,
that men have in general more confidence in ^^^^^ ^^^^
the soundness of their Understanding, than their feelings
in their self-command and due regulation of ^^^^ ^^^^^
Feelings: they are more unwilling, conse- *'^^^^^^«^^-
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 disho-
nestly, 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 inade-
quate 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 apt to over- . ^/^^ "

Z71QS as dJjZ

look) that their feelings fall far short of what, to fall short
even in their own judgment, the occasion of, as to ear-
would call for : and in this case an excitement ^^^^' ^^^i^^«-

/> ir-T 1 1 nn IT 1 per point.

of such feelings, though not efiected directly

by a process of reasoning, is very far from being any thing
opposed to reason, or tending to mislead the judgment.
Stimulants are not to be condemned as necessarily bring-
ing the body into an unnatural state, because they raise

186 PERSUASION. [Part II.

the circulation : in a fever this would be hurtful ; but
there may be a torpid, lethargic disease, in which an ex-
citement of the circulation is precisely what is wanted to
bring it into a healthy condition.

j^ r When however it is said that a good and

he'mg misled wise man often has to act the part of an ora-
by one's own tor towards himself, in respect of that very
ingenuity. point— the excitement of the Feelings— which
in many minds is the most associated with the idea of dis-
honest artifice, it must not be forgotten that a man is in
danger — the more, in proportion to his abilities — of exer-
cising on himself, when under the influence of some pas^
sion, a most pernicious oratorical power, by pleading the
cause as it were, before himself, of that passion. Suppose
it anger, e. g, that he is feeling : he is naturally disposed to
dwell on and amplify the aggravating circumstances of the
supposed provocation, so as to make out a good case for
himself; a representation such as may -^ or might, if
needed — serve to vindicate him in the eyes of a bystander,
and to give him the advantage in a controversy. This of
course tends to heighten his resentment, and to satisfy him
that he "doth well to be angry;" or perhaps to persuade
him that he is 7iot angry, but is a model of patience under
intolerable wrongs. And the man of superior ingenuity
and eloquence will do this more skilfully than an ordinary
man, and will thence be likely to be the more effectually
self-deceived : for though he may be superior to the other
in judgment, as well as in ingenuity, it is to be remem-
bered that while his judgment is likely to be, in his own
cause, biassed, and partially blinded, his ingenuity is called
forth to the utmost.

And the like takes place, if it be selfish cupidity, unjust
partiality in favour of a relative or friend, party-spirit, or
any other passion, that may be operating. For, univer-
sally, men are but too apt to take more pains in justifying
their propensities, than it would cost, to control them*

Chap.I. §3.] FEELINGS ENTERTAINED TOWARDS THE SPEAKER. 187

And a man of superior powers will often be in this way
entrapped by his own ingenuity, like a spider entangled
in the web she has herself spun. Most persons are fear-
ful, even to excess, of being misled by the eloquence of an-
other * : but an ingenious reasoner ought to be especially
fearful of his own. There is no one whom he is likely so
much, and so hurtfully, to mislead as himself, if he be not
sedulously on his guard against this self-deceit.

§3.

The Active Principles of our nature may Division
be classed in various ways. The arrangement o/ active

TOVltlCtDiCS .

adopted by Mr. Dugald Stewart t is^ perhaps,
the most correct and convenient : the heads he enumerates
are Appetites^ (which have their origin in the body,) De-
sires, 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 Con-
science, 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 sen-
timents 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
f H^o9 rod XiyovTo^) from that of the disposition of the
hearers ; under which, however, it might, according to his
own views, have been included; it being plain from his

* I have known a man accordingly shun the acquaintance of another of
whom he knew no harm, solely from his dread of him as a man who, he
imagined, " could prove anything." Men of a low tone of morality, judging
from themselves, take for granted that whoever " has a giant's strength " will
not scruple to " use it like a giant."

t Outlines of Moral Philosophy.

188 PERSUASION. [Part II.

manner of treating of the Speaker's Character, that he
means, not his real character, (according to the fanciful
notion of Quinctihan,) but the impression produced on
the minds of the hearers, by the Speaker, respecting him-
self.

^, He remarks, justly, that the Character to

to he esta- be estabHshed is that of, first. Good Principle,
blished by the secondly. Good Sense, and thirdly. Goodwill
speaker. ^^^ friendly disposition towards the audience

addressed * ; and that if the Orator can completely suc-
ceed in this, he will persuade more powerfully than by the
strongest Arguments. He might have added, (as indeed
he does slightly hint at the conclusion of his Treatise,)
that, where there is an Opponent, a like result is pro-
duced by exciting the contrary feelings respecting him;
viz. holding him up to contempt, 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 ine/* de-
finition of each passion, &c. and a few general remarks on
it, could hardly fail to be trite and uninteresting. 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.

* 'Apertj, ^povrjffis, Euvota, book ii. c. 1.

Chap. II. § 1.] EXHORTATION. 189

Chap. IL — Of the conduct of any address to the Feelings ,
generally,

§1.

The first and most important point to be j^f^^ impa-
observed in every address to any Passion, Sen- tient of die-
timent, Feeling, &c. is, (as has been already ^^^^on in re-
hinted,) that it should not be introduced as fQQUnns
such, and plainly avowed ; otherwise 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 pur-
pose not only need not be concealed, but may, (as I have
said,) without prejudice to the effect, be distinctly de-
clared: on the other hand, even when the Feelings we
wish to excite are such as ought to operate, so that there
is no reason to be ashamed of the endeavours thus to in-
fluence the hearer, still our purpose and drifl 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 unsuit-
able 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
that 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 ope-
rate,— men are not likely to be pleased with the idea that
they 7ieed to have these motives urged upon them, and
that they are not already sufficiently under the influence

190 PERSUASION. [Part IL

of such sentiments as the occasion calls for. A man may
indeed be convinced that he is in such a predicament ; 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 as-
sumption of superiority, in a speaker, who seems to say,
^^ Now I will exhort you to feel as you ought on this occa-
sion i'' "I will endeavour to inspire you with such noble,
and generous, and amiable sentiments as you ought to
entertain ;'^ which is, in effect, the tone of him who avows
the purpose of Exhortation. The mind is sure to revolt
from the humiliation 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 disci-
pline.

On the other hand, 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 Explanations which
have not occurred to themselves. And even if the argu-
ments adduced, and the conclusions drawn, should be
opposite to those with which they had formerly been satis^
fied, still there is nothing in this so humiliating, as in that
w^hich seems to amount to the imputation of a moral defi-
ciency.

It is true that Sermons not unfrequently

Caution prove popular, which consist avowedly and

avowed ex- almost exclusively of Exhortation, strictly so

hortation. 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

Chap. II. § I.] EXHORTATION. 191

those who are the most pleased with such discourses, are
more apt to apply these Exhortations to their neighbours
than to themselves ; and that each bestows his commen-
dation 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 or ad-
visable to tell them (as some do) that you are going to eos-
hart them.

It will, indeed, sometimes happen that the excitement
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,
is 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 of 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, tf t t
if, instead of being, as they frequently are, Sermons.
directly hortatory, they were more in 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

192 PERSUASION. [Part II.

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 ex-
pected that any thing else would. To use a homely illus-
tration, a moderate charge of powder will have more effect
in splitting a rock, if we begin by deep boring, and intro-
ducing the charge into the very heart of it, than ten times
the quantity, exploded on the surface.

J 2.

. , ^ Hence arises another Rule closely connected

Advantage . . .

of copious ^'i^ the foregomg, though it also so far relates

detail. to style that it might with sufficient propriety

have been placed under that head ; viz. that
in order effectually to excite feelings of any kind, it is ne-
cessary to employ some copiousness of detail, and to dwell
somewhat at large on the several circumstances of the case
in hand ; in which respect there is a wide distinction be-
tween 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 indeed, different occasions will
call for different degrees of copiousness, repetition, and
expansion; — the chain of reasoning employed, may in

* " Non enim, sicut argumentum, simulatque positum est, arripitur, alte-
rumque et tertium poscitur ; ita misericordiam aut invidiam aut iracundiam,
simulatque intuleris, possis commovere : argumentum enim ratio ipsa confir-
mat, quaj, simulatque emissa est, adhaerescit ; illud autem genus orationis non
cognitionem judicis, sed magis perturbationem requirit, quam consequi, nisi
multa et varia et copiosa oratione, et simili contentione actionis, nemo potest.
Quare qui aut breviter aut summisse dicunt, docere judicem possunt, commo-
vere non possunt ; in quo sunt omnia." — Cic. de Orat. lib. ii. c. 53.

Chap. II. § 2.] DESCRIPTION. 193

itself^ consist of more or fewer links ; — abstruse and com-
plex 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 illus-
tration, and the more frequent the repetition, of the argu-
ments presented to them ; but still the same general prin-
ciple prevails 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, accord-
ing to the nature of the case and the character of the
hearers ; but all expansion and repetition beyond what is
necessary to accomplish Conviction, is in every instance
tedious and disgusting. In a Description, on the other
hand, 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 indispensable,
in order that the mind may have leisure and opportu-
nity to form vivid and distinct ideas. For as Quinctilian
well observes, he who tells us that a city was sacked,
although that one word implies all that occurred, will
produce little, if any, impression on the feelings*, in
comparison of one who sets before us a lively descrip-
tion of the various lamentable circumstances. 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 w^hat 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

* Dr. Campbell has treated very ably of some circumstances which tend to
heighten any impression. The reader is referred to the Appendix [H] for
some extracts.

194 PERSUASION. [Part II.

feelings would be sufficiently excited by the bare fact, it is
told in two words : /ceirat IIdrpoKXo<}.

There is an instance related in a Number of the Ad-
venturer, of a whole audience being moved to tears by
a 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.

It has seldom if ever been noticed, how im-

Imagtna- portant among the intellectual qualifications
tion needed /-.i . i r i.' a. • ••it

in the study ^^^ *^^ ^^^^^^ ^^ history, is a vivid Imagina-
of History, tion: a faculty which consequently a skilful
narrator must himself possess, and to which
he must be able to furnish excitement in others. Some
may perhaps be startled at this remark, who have been
accustomed to consider Imagination as having no other
office than to /ei(/n 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 Judg-
ment. On the contrary, our view of any transaction,
especially one that is remote in time or place, will neces-
sarily 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 con-
nected with the transaction ; — unless in short we can in
a considerable degree transport ourselves out of our own
age, and country, and persons, and imagine ourselves the

Chap. II. § 3.] INDIRECT DESCRIPTION. 195

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 in-
deed be merely imaginary, i. e. unreal ; but it may, again,
be what actually does or did exist. To say that Imagina-
tion, 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 one whose Imagination is feeble or un-
cultivated. He will be apt to imagine the things, persons,
times, countries, &c. which he reads of, as much less dif-
ferent from what he sees around him, than is really the
case. And hence he will be the most liable to the mistake
noticed above, [Part I. Chap. II. § 2,] of viewing an un-
natural representation as natural, and vice versa,

§3.

It is not always advisable to enter into a ^ ,.

1 -1 /. • 1-1 Indirect

direct detail of circumstances; which would description,

often have the effect of wearying the hearer
beforehand, with the expectation of a long description of
something in which he probably does not, as yet, feel much
interest; and would also be likely to prepare him too
much, and forewarn him, as it were, of the object proposed,
— the design laid against his feelings. It is observed by
Opticians and Astronomers that a side-\iew of a faint star,
or, especially, of a comet, presents it in much greater bril-
liancy than a direct-view. To see a comet in its full splen-
dour, you should look not straight at it, but at some star a
little beside it. Something analogous to this often takes
place in mental perceptions. It will often, therefore, have
a better effect to describe obliquely, (if I may so speak,)

* See Appendix [I] .

o 2

196 PERSUASION. [Pabt II.

by introducing circumstances connected with the main
object or event, and affected by it, but not absolutely form-
ing a part of it. And circumstances of this kind may not
unfrequently be so selected as to produce a more striking
impression of any thing that is in itself great and remark-
able, than could be produced by a minute and direct de-
scription ; 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 contemplation 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 impression of the horrors of the famine than
any more direct description could have done ; since it pre-
sents 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 shalt 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 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 maids shall long look pale,

"When Risingham inspires the tale ;

Chili's (lark matrons long shall tame

Thefroward child with Bertram's name.

The first of Dramatists, who might have been perhaps

Chap. II. § 4.] COMPARISON. 197

the first of Orators, has offered some excellent exempHfica-
tions of this rule ; especially in the speech of Antony over
Caesar's body.

§4.

Comparison is one powerful means of ex- ^
..,.,. . . , tompartson.

citmg or heightennig any emotion : viz. 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 to
the highest pitch, (which is the principal employment of
what Rhetoricians call the Climax*,) a far stronger effect
is produced than by the mere presentation 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 Ro-
mans were likely to be at the bare mention of the cruci-
fixion 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 feelings to a much higher
pitch : " It is an outrage to bind a Roman citizen ; to

* An analogous Arrangement of ArgumentSy in order to set forth the full
force of the one we mean to dwell upon, would also receive the same appella-
tion ; and in fact is very often combined and blended with that which is here
spoken of.

198 PERSUASION. [Part II.

scourge him is an atrocious crime ; to put him to death is
almost parricide ; but to crucify him — what shall I call
it?^^

It is observed, accordingly, by Aristotle, in speaking of
Panegyric, that the person whom we would hold up to ad-
miration, should always be compared, and advantageously
compared, if possible, with those that are already illus-
trious, 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 Admiration : 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 before us, are not so strong ; and so with
respect to the rest.

When it is said, however, that the object which we com-
pare 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 actu-
ally be, already, the impression of the hearers : the reverse
will more commonly be the case ; that the instances ad-
duced 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 in-
dignant at a slight affront offered to themselves, or those
closely connected with them, than at the most grievous
wrong done to a stranger : if therefore you would excite
their utmost indignation in such a case, it must be by com-
paring it with a parallel case that concerns themselves ;
i. e, by leading them to consider how they would feel were
such and such an injury done to themselves. And, on
the other hand, if you would lead them to a just sense of
their own faults, it must be by leading them to contem-
plate like faults in others ; of which the celebrated parable

Chap. II. § 5.] MODES OF HEIGHTENING IMPRESSIONS. 199

of Nathan, addressed to David, affords an admirable in-
stance.

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 inserted
in the Appendix some exiamples of this kind*.

§5.

Another Rule, (which also is connected in
some degree with Style,) relates to the tone Exaggera-
of feeling to be manifested by the writer or ^l^lnuating
speaker himself, in order to excite the most methods.
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, — the most direct as
well as impassioned kind of description is employed, — 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 himself 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 ex-
pression than the case might fairly warrant, — to deliver
" an unvarnished 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 ;
* See Appendix [K].

200 PERSUASION. [Part II.

and being struck with the inadequacy of the expressions,
and the studied calmness of the speaker's manner of 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 exaggera-
tion being likely to defeat its own object. Aristotle men-
tions, (Rhet. book ix.) though very briefly, these two modes
of rousing the feelings, the latter under the name of Eiro-
neia, 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
K^omoma- ^^ ^j^^ same occasion, beorinninsr with the calm,
tion of the , _. i • • i /. ,

two methods. ^^^ proceedmg 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 avoided, 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

* "Orav exg vSt} tovs aKpoards, Kal Tro'iTjcry evOovcridaai. — Aristotle, ^Ae^
book iii. cU. 7.

Chap. II. § 5.] MODES OF HEIGHTENING IMPRESSIONS. 201

time for the fire to kindle. The blast which would heighten
a strong flame, would, if applied too soon, extinguish the
first faint spark. The speech of Antony over Caesar^s
corpse, which has been already mentioned, affords an ad-
mirable example of that combination of the two methods
which has just been spoken of.

Generally, however, it will be found that the same ora-
tors 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 may be called,)
could not, perhaps, have been rendered more affecting, if
equally so, by the most impassioned vehemence and rheto-
rical heightening.

In no point, perhaps, more than in that now
T -J i.- • ^r • X r Importance

under consideration, is the importance oi a of arranae-

judicious arrangement to be perceived. The ment.
natural and suitable order of the parts of a
discourse (natural it may be 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 impassioned ap-
peal (supposing the circumstances such as admit of or
demand this) should be made, to hearers well-prepared by
their previous deliberate conviction, for resigning them-
selves 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 metal ; his strokes make but a superficial
impression, or the weapon is shivered to fragments in his

202 PERSUASION. [Part II.

hand. He again, whose Logic is convincing, but whose
deficiency is in the keenness of his appHcation to the heart
and to the will of the hearer, seems to be wielding a blunt
though ponderous weapon ; we wonder to find that such
weighty blows have not cut deeper. And he who reverses
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 wield-
ing an excellent sword, but striking with the back of it :
if he did but turn it round, its blows would take effect.

§6.

When the occasion or object in question is
/. ^ T. not such as calls for, or as is likely to excite

in those particular readers or hearers, the
emotions required, it is a common Rhetorical artifice to
turn their attention to some object which will call forth
these feehngs : and when they are too much excited to be
capable 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 indignation against
some crime may be directed against a person who has not
been proved guilty of it ; and vague declamations against
corruption, oppression, &c., or against the mischiefs of
anarchy ; with high-flown panegyrics on liberty, rights
of man, &c., or on social order, justice, the constitu-
tion, law, religion, &c., will gradually lead the hearers 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. For the very utterance of such w^ords as
have a multitude of what may be called stimulating ideas
associated with them, will operate hke a charm on the

Chap. III. § 1.] DISPOSITION TOWARDS THE SPEAKER. 203

minds, especially of the ignorant and unthinking, and raise
such a tumult of feeling, as will effectually blind their judg-
ment ; so that a string of vague abuse or panegyric will
often have the effect of a train of sound Argument. This
artifice falls under the head of " Irrelevant Conclusion," or
ignoratio elenchi, mentioned in the Treatise on Fallacies.

Chap. III. — Of the favourable or unfavourable disposition
of the hearers towards the Speaker or his opponent.

Indirect

§1-

In raising a favourable impression of the
speaker, or an unfavourable one of his oppo-
nent, a pecuhar tact will of course be neces- mendation.
sary; especially in the former, since direct
self-commendation will usually be disgusting to a greater
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 may safely ap-
peal 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 histo-
rian represents him as accustomed to address the People
with more authority than others for the most part ven-
tured 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

* When (as of course will often happen) the hearers are thus induced, on

204 PERSUASION. [Part II.

must generally be done in an oblique^ and seemingly inci-
dental manner, lest the hearers be disgusted with a 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 to 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 ap-
pearing to underrate it.

Universally indeedj in the Arguments used,
relative ^^ ^^^ ^^ ^^ ^^^ appeals made to the Feelings,

a consideration must be had of the hearers,
whether they are learned or ignorant, — of this or that pro-
fession,— 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 f. The less enlightened the hear-

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," &c. " You
cannot be ignorant," &c. &c. " I am not advancing any high pretensions in ex-
pressing the sentiments which such an occasion must call forth in every honest
heart," &c.

t Aristotle has given, in his Rhetoric, — ^besides a very curious and valuable
analysis of the Passions, — a description of the prevailing Characters of men
of different ages and situations in life ; in reference to the different modes in
which they are to be addressed. With a similar view, I have appended to the
present Part a Lecture dehvered a few years ago, on the moral and intellec-
tual influences of the several Professions.

It was composed without any reference to the present subject ; and it omits

Chap. III. § 1.] CHARACTER OF THE PERSONS ADDRESSED. 205

ers, 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 ex-
pansion and copious illustration which would be needless,
and therefore tiresome, (as has been above remarked,) be-
fore a different kind of audience. On the other hand, their
feelings may be excited by much bolder and coarser expe-
dients, such as those are the most ready to employ, and
the most likely to succeed in, who are themselves only a
little removed above the vulgar 5 as may be seen in the
effects produced by fanatical preachers.

But there are none whose feelings do not ^^ 7

.zVo clctss
occasionally need and admit of excitement by incapable of

the powers of eloquence ; only there is a more being in-
exquisite skill required in thus affecting the fi^^^^^^
educated classes than the populace. "The less feelings.
improved in 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
Congregation 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 Judicature.
It is certain, that the more gross the hearers are, the 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 attentive 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 multi-
several points which might, not unsuitahly, have been introduced. But it will
be easy for the reader to make the requisite application of the remarks it con-
tains, and to fill up for himself the outhne sketched out in it.

306 PERSUASION. [Part II.

tude ; that in gaining over to your purpose men of know-
ledge and breeding, the exertion of Oratorical talents hath
no influence. This is precisely as if one should argue, be-
cause 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
arguing would be, but that the very reverse ought to be
the conclusion. The reason why people glo 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 pas -
sions. 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. Campbell has here re-
marked, that the title of eloquent may have come to be
often 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 cultiva-
tion, but also, in many instances, from their ignorance 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-suppose a degree of re-
ligious knowledge in the hearers greater than many of
* Campbell's " Rhetoric," b. i. ch. x. sec. 2, pp. 224, 225.

Chap. III. § L] CHARACTER OF THE PERSONS ADDRESSED. 207

them would be found on examination to possess. When
this is the case, the most angelic eloquence must be un-
availing to any practical purpose.

In no point more than in that now under
consideration, viz. the Conciliation (to adopt A favour -
the term of the Latm writers) of the hearers, ^^-^^ of the
is it requisite to consider who and what the speaker or
hearers are ; for when it is said that good ^^^^^^> to
Sense, good Principle, and Good-will, consti- i^ deferent
tute the character which the speaker ought to ways accord-
establish of himself, it is to be remembered ^^^9 to the

that every one of these is to be considered in ^/r?^ ^^ j
^ . . , . -i of those ad-

reference to the opmions and habits of the dressed.

audience. To think very differently from his
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 acting on this maxim,
it is quite necessary to remember, that in proportion as the
speaker manifests his dissent from the opinions and prin-
ciples of his audience, so far, he runs the risk at least of
impairing their estimation of his judgment. But this it
is often necessary to do when any serious object is pro-
posed ; 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, foolishness." The
total change required in all the notions, habits, and sy-
stems of conduct in the first converts, constituted an ob-

* Swift.

208 PERSUASION. [Part II.

stacle to the reception of the new rehgion, which no other
that has prevailed ever had to contend with. The stri-
king contrast which Mohammedanism presents, in this
respect, to Christianity, constitutes the rapid 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 Eloquence, 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 de-
clivity ; 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 frequently 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 distinctness in his ideas. Popularity alone,
therefore, is no test 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
consider the tendency of the teaching, whether it favours
or opposes the vices of the hearers. To head a sect, to in-
fuse party spirit, to make men arrogant, uncharitable, and
malevolent, is the easiest task imaginable, and to which
almost any blockhead is fully equal. But to produce the
contrary effect, to subdue the spirit of faction, (in religious
matters,) and that monster, spiritual pride, with which it
is invariably accompanied, to inspire equity, moderation,
and charity into men's sentiments and conduct with re-
gard to others, is the genuine test of eloquence *.'' There
is but little Eloquence in convincing men that they are in
* Campbell's " Rhetoric," b. i. ch. x. sec. 5, p. 239.

Chap. III. § 1.] CIIAHACTEH OF THE PERSONS ADDHESSED. 203

the right, or inducing them to approve a character which
coincides with their own.

The Christian preacher therefore is in this Difficulties
respect placed in a difficult dilemma: since ^^ ,
he may be sure that the less he 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 Orator,
(to omit all nobler considerations,) must be the one who is
the most successful, not in gaining popular applause, but
in carrying his point, whatever it be ; especially if there
are strong prejudices, interests, and feelings opposed to
him. The preacher, however, who is intent on this ob-
ject, should use all such precautions as are not inconsist-
ent with it, to avoid raising unfavourable impressions in
his 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 congregation, 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 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 detection of
faults ; " in meekness, instructing them that oppose them-
selves.'^

* Aei(Ti^at/xove<Tr6pous, not "too superstitious," but (as almost all commen-
tators are now agreed) "very much disposed to the worship of Divine Beings.

210 PERSUASION. [Part II.

Of all hostile feelings, Envy is perhaps the hardest to
be subdued ; because hardly any one owns it, even to him-
self; but looks out for one pretext after another to justify
the hostility which in reality springs from envy.

One considerable difficulty there is, which
deference for ^^ peculiar to him who has been accustomed
the audience, to an audience of which he is the recognized
when diffi- instructor, when he comes to address those

^" ^ f who are, or who account themselves, his equals
assumed. ' . o. i • i • i V»

or superiors. Such is the case with a Pro-
fessor, College-tutor, or Clergyman, when he has to speak
in Parliament, or before a Judge. He will have been
accustomed, without any offensive arrogance or conceit, to
speak in a tone of superiority, which, though perfectly
suitable in the one case, would in the other be intolerable.
And he will find himself called on to assume, with much
difficulty, a tone of such deference and respect for his
audience as perhaps he does not feel, but which they will
have been accustomed to, and prepared to expect ; though
they may be not at all intrinsically superior to the pupils
or the congregation he has been in the habit of instruct-
ing.

§2.

Banger of Of intellectual qualifications, there is one
reputation which, it is evident, should not only not be

jor eio- blazoned forth, but should in a erreat measure

guence. , .

be concealed, or kept out of sight ; viz. Rhe-
torical 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*. And accordingly a skilful
orator seldom fails to notice and extol the eloquence of his

* See the Motto, which is from his speech.

Chap. III. § 2.] DISADVANTAGE OF BEING THOUGHT ELOQUENT. 211

opponent, and to warn the hearers against being misled
by it.

There is indeed a class of persons, and no inconsiderable
one, who have a suspicion and dread of all intellectual su-
periority. Such, especially, are men who possess, and are
proud of, the advantages of birth, rank, high connexions,
and wealth, while they are deficient in others, and have a
half-consciousness of that deficiency ; — who, being partly
conscious of their own ignorance, dislike, dread, and en-
deavour to despise, extensive knowledge ; — who being half
aware of their own dulness, (which they call '^ common-
sense,^^ and " sound discretion,^^) eagerly advocate that
maxim which, it has been well remarked, has been always
a favourite with dunces, that a man of genius is unfit for
business ; — and who accordingly regard with a curious
mixture of disdain, jealousy, and alarm, any of those su-
perior intellectual qualifications which seem to threaten
rivalry to the kind of advantages possessed by them-
selves.

But it is only a particular class of men that are subject
to this kind of dread. Eloquence, on the other hand, is, in
some degree, dreaded by all ; and the reputation for it, con-
sequently, will always be, in some degree, a disadvantage.

It is a peculiarity therefore in the Rhetorical art, that
in it, more than in any other, vanity has a direct and im-
mediate tendency to interfere with the proposed object.
Excessive vanity may indeed, in various ways, prove an
impediment to success in other pursuits ; but in the en-
deavour 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 respective
Ends, certainly not the less for being admired as excel-
lent, in Poetry, Politics, or War : but the Otrator attains
his End the better the less he is regarded as an Orator.
If he can make the hearers believe that Jie is not only a

212 PERSUASION. [Part II.

stranger to all unfair artifice, but even destitute of all per-
suasive skill whatever, he will persuade them the more
efFectually*, and if there ever could be an absolutely per-
fect Orator, no one would (at the time at least) discover
that he was sof.

It is true, a general reputation for eloquence will often
gain a man great influence ; especially in a free Country,
governed in great measure by means of Party, having open
Debates, and appeals made to public opinion through the
I Press. In such a Country, — next to the reputation of great
I political wisdom, spotless integrity, and zealous public-
] spirit, — there is nothing more influential than the repu-
' tation of being a powerful speaker. He who is sure to
; detect and skilfully expose any error of his opponents,
and who may be relied on, if not to propose always good
measures, at least never to propose any of which he can-
not give a plausible vindication, and always to furnish, for
those already prepared to side with him, some specious
reasons to justify their vote, — such a man will be regarded
as a powerful supporter, and a formidable adversary. But

* " I am no orator, as Brutus is," &c. — Shaksp. Julius Caesar.

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 celebrated scene, Jeannie's interview
with Queen Caroline. Jeannie's pleading appears to us much too rhetorical
for the person and for the occasion : and the queen's answer, supposing her
to have been overpowered by Jeannie's entreaties, ' This is eloquence,' is still
worse. Had it been eloquence, it must necessarily have been unperceived 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 admiration of his ingenuity. A man who, in answer to an ear-
nest address to the feelings of his hearer, is told, ' you have spoken elo-
quently,' feels that he has failed. Effie, when she entreats Sharpitlaw to allow
her to see her sister, is eloquent ; and his answer accordingly betrays 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 burned
tone, ' no, you shall see your sister, whether you tell me or no.' ^*— Quarterly
Review, No.li. p. 118.

Chap. III. § 2.] DISADVANTAGE OF BEING THOUGHT ELOQUENT. 213

this is not at variance with what has been above said.
For though a reputation for eloquence, generally ^ is thus
influential, still in each individual case that arises, the
more is thought of the eloquence of the speaker, the less,
of the strength of his cause; and consequently the less
will he be, really, persuasive. And it may be added, that,
in proportion as he has the skill to transfer the admira-
tion from his eloquence to his supposed political wisdom,
the more will his influence be increased. And it is nearly
the same with a Pleader. A reputation, generally, for
eloquence will gain him clients; but, in each particular
pleading, will tend to produce distrust, in proportion as
the force of what he urges is attributed rather to his in-
genuity than to the justice of the cause. And again, as
far as he can succeed in transferring the admiration from
his eloquence, to his supposed soundness in Law, his in-
fluence will in the same degree be increased. And uni-
versally, if, along with a character for eloquence, a man
acquires (as he often will) the character of being fond of
displaying \i, by ^speaking on all occasions, and on all sub-
jects, well or ill understood, and of sometimes chusing the
wrong side as affording more scope for his ingenuity, this
will greatly lessen his influence.

The above considerations may serve to account for the
fact which Cicero remarks 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 eminence in other
pursuits. Few men are destitute of the desire of admira-
tion ; and most are especially ambitious of it in the pur-
suit to which they have chiefly devoted themselves; the
Orator therefore is continually tempted to sacrifice the
substance 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 otherwise be

214 PERSUASION. [Part 11.

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 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
Prudent subject, and to say what I should recommend
tious course. ^^ point of morality and of prudence, to the
Speaker or Writer, and to those whom he ad-
dresses, with respect to the precept just given, I should in
reply, counsel him who wishes to produce a permanent
effect, (for I am not now adverting to the case of a bar-
rister,) 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, (combating, of course,
any unjust personal prejudice against himself,) without any
endeavour to gain applause for his own abilities. If he is
himself thoroughly convinced, 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 opi-
nion that others may form of him. And as I should of
course advise the reader or hearer to endeavour, in each
case, to form hX^ judgment according to the real and valid
arguments urged, and to regulate his feelings and senti-
ments 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 neces-

Chap. III. § 3.] CHARACTER TO BE ESTABLISHED. 215

sarily over-exdted : 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*.

§3.

Of the three points which Aristotle directs ^ character
the orator to claim credit for, it might seem at for good-will
first sight that one, viz. « Good-will/' is un- as well as in^
necessary to be mentioned ; since Ability and ^^^^ ^ ^
Integrity would appear to comprehend, in most
cases at least, all that is needed. A virtuous man, it may
be said, must wish well to his countrymen, or to any per-
sons 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 be-
longed, 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 hearing among the Democratical
party at Athens, (who knew him to be no friend to Demo-
cracy,) 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.

One of the most powerful 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 ; L e, when the conduct the writer
or speaker is recommending appears likely to gratify party-

* See Part II. chap. i. § 2.

216 PERSUASION. fPARX II.

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
party 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 terms, " I
am a wise and worthy man, and my adversary the reverse:"
but he is allowed to say, " I adhere to the principles of
Mr. Pitt, or of Mr. Fox;" — " I am a friend to Presbyterian-
ism, 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 imj)ly, 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 itf. His only re-

* One of the strangest phsenomena of the present day is the kind of de-
ference shown by men of each party for the authority of the Newspapers of
thoir respective parties ; both in respect of facts and of opinions.

A stranger from a distant country would probably suppose that the writer
to whom he saw thousands habitually surrendering their judgment, must be a
person well-known to them, and highly respected by them. He would be
much surprised to find that most of them did not even know who he was. But
great indeed would be his astonishment at finding that many of these very
persons, if they chanced to meet the Editor in society, and were inclined from
what they saw of him to estimate him highly, would, as soon as they learnt
his occupation, deem him, however respectable in character, hardly fit com-
pany for themselves. He would be, as a man, lowered in their estimation, by
the very circumstance which gives him, as a writer, a complete control over their
judgment.

t 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 pre-
vail, is the most pernicious ; being at once the most inflexible, and the most

Chap. III. § 3.] CHARACTER TO BE ESTABLISHED. 217

source must be to take care that he give no ground for
being supposed imbued with the violent and unjust preju-
dices of the opposite party, — that he gives 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 gradually and
cautiously in removing the errors with which they are in-
fected,— and above all, that he studiously disclaim and
avoid the appearance of any thing like a feeling oi personal
hostility, or personal contempt.

If the orator's character can be sufficiently

estabhshed in respect of Ability, and also of / cMracter
^ 1 .,, 1,1 . .1 y^'' integrity

(jrood-wiU towards the hearers, it might at requisite,

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 " Poli-
tics ") justly remarks that this last is also requisite to be in-
sisted on, in order to produce entire confidence ; for, says
he, though a man cannot be suspected of wanting Good-
will towards himself, yet many very able men act most
absurdly, even in their own affairs, for want of Moral vir-^
tue ; being either blinded or overcome by their Passions,
so as to sacrifice their own most important interests to
their present gratification; and much more, therefore,
may they be expected to be thus seduced by personal
temptations, in the advice they give to others. Pericles,
accordingly, in the speech which has been already referred
to, is represented by Thucydides as insisting not only on
his political ability and his patriotism, but also on his un-
impeached integrity, as a qualification absolutely necessary
to entitle him to their confidence ; ^^ for the man,'' says

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 oc-
casions, even the divinest eloquence will not surmount. — Campbell's RJietoric,

816 PERSUASION. [Part II.

he, " who possesses every other requisite, but is overcome
by the temptation of interest, will be ready to sell every
thing for the gratification of his avarice/^

It may be added, that a Pleader often

Reed belief ^^^^ jt advisable to aim at establishing — in
as to his own J'eference to the feelings entertained towards
cause. himself — what may be regarded as a distinct

point from any of the above ; namely, the sin-
cerity of his own conviction. In any description of com-
position, except the Speech of an Advocate, a man's main-
taining a certain conclusion, is a presumption that he is
convinced of it himself. Unless there be some special
reason for doubting his integrity and good-faith, he is sup-
posed to mean what he says, and to use arguments that
are at least satisfactory to himself. But it is not so with
a Pleader ; who is understood to be advocating the cause
of the client who happens to have engaged him, and to
have been equally ready to take the opposite side. The
fullest belief in his uprightness, goes no further, at the ut-
most, than to satisfy us that he would not plead a cause
which he was conscious was grossly unjust, and that he
would not resort to any unfair artifices*. But to allege
all that can fairly be urged on behalf of his client, even
though, as a judge, he might be inclined to decide the
other way, is regarded as his professional duty.

If however he can induce a Jury to believe not only in
his own general integrity of character, but also in his sin-
cere conviction of the justice of his client's cause, this will
give great additional weight to his pleading, since he will
thus be regarded as a sort of witness in the cause. And
this accordingly is aimed at, and often with success, by
practised Advocates. They employ the language, and
assume the manner, of full belief, and strong feeling.

* See the Discourse appended to this Part.

Chap. III. §4.] PERSONALITY. 2I»

§4.

From what has been said of the Speaker's ^,

1 • n ^ • ^t- T Character

recommendation of himself to the audience, of opponent.

and establishment of his authority with them,
sufficient rules may readily be deduced for the analogous
process, — the depreciation of an opponent. Both of these,
and especially the latter, under the offensive title of per-
sonality, are by many indiscriminately decried as unfair
rhetorical tricks : and doubtless they are, in the majority
of cases, sophistically employed : and by none more effec-
tually than by those who are perpetually declaiming against
such Fallacies ; the unthinking hearers not being prepared
to expect any, from one who represents himself as holding
them in such abhorrence. But surely it is not in itself an
unfair topic of argument, in cases not admitting of decisive
and unquestionable proof, to urge that the one party de-
serves the hearers^ confidence, or that the other is justly
an object of their distrust. " If the measure is a good
one,'^ it has been said, " will it become bad because it is
supported by a bad man ? if it is bad, will it become good,
because supported by a good man? If the measure be
really inexpedient, why not at once show that it is so?
Your producing these irrelevant and inconclusive argu-
ments, in lieu of direct ones, though not sufficient to prove
that the measure you thus oppose is a good one, contri-
butes to prove that you yourself regard it as a good one."
Now to take thus for granted, that, in every case, decisive
arguments to prove a measure bad or good, independent of
all consideration of the character of its advocates, could be
found, and also could be made clear to the persons ad-
dressed, is a manifest begging of the question. There is
no doubt that the generality of men are too much disposed
to consider more, who proposes a measure, than what it is
that is proposed : and a warning against an excessive ten-
dency to this way of judging, is reasonable, and may be

220 PERSUASION. [Part II.

useful ; nor should any one escape censure who confines
himself to these^ topics, or dwells principally on them, in
cases where ^^ direct " arguments are to be expected ; but
they are not to be condemned in toto as " irrelevant and
inconclusive/^ on the ground that they are only probable,
and not in themselves decisive. It is only in matters of
strict science, and that too, in arguing to scientific men,
that the character of the advocates (as well as all other
2)robable Arguments) should be wholly put out of the
question. Is every one chargeable with weakness or ab-
surdity who believes that the earth moves round the Sun,
on the authority of Astronomers, without having himself
scientifically demonstrated it ?

And it is remarkable that the necessity of

Lharacter allowing some weiffht to this consideration, in
of those who ,. . f 7 . .

support any political matters, increases m proportion as

measure, any country enjoys 2ifree government. If all

most import- ^^e power be in the hands of a few of the
Tovment. ^^g^^^ orders, who have the opportunity 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 intrinsic 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 candour,) as to be able and wil-
ling to judge, and to judge correctly, of every proposed
political measure, in the abstract, without any regard to
their opinion of the persons 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 consideration the characters of those who pro-
pose, support, or dissuade any measure ; — the persons they
arc connected with, — the designs they may be supposed to
entertain, &c. 5 though, undoubtedly, an excessive and ex-

Chap. III. § 5.]

PERSONALITY.

221

elusive regard to Persons rather than Arguments, is one of
the chief Fallacies against which men ought to be cau-
tioned.

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 reasonableness of his
commands and dispensations, as a dutiful 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 belief, not of his consequent con-
duct, that he is so regarded. Even Atheists would in
general admit that he is acting reasonably, on the suppo-
sition that there is a God, who has revealed Himself to
Man.

§5.

In no way, perhaps, are men, not bigoted
to party, more likely to be misled by their Authority^
favourable or unfavourable judgment of their g^ipposed ex-
advisers, than in what relates to the authority perience.
derived fromEa^perience, Not that Experience
ought not to be allowed to have great weight : but that
men are apt not to consider with sufficient attention, what
it is that constitutes Experience in each point ; so that fre-
quently one man shall have credit for much Experience, in
what relates to the matter in hand, and another, who, per-
haps, 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 oyer a man's head, without

222 PERSUASION. [Part II.

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 Mi-
nister 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 dif-
ferent. 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 ac-
quired, by Experience, an accurate judgment of the qualities
of each description 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 a loss in its culti-
vation; though he had been, in a certain way, long con-
versant about corn. Nearly similar is the Experience of a
practised Lawyer, (supposing him to be nothing more,) in
a case oi Legislation, Because he has been long conversant
about Law, the unreflecting attribute great weight to his
legislative judgment ; whereas his constant habits of fixing
his thoughts on what the law is, and withdrawing it from
the irrelevant question of what the law ought to be ; — his
careful observance of a multitude of rules, (which afford
the more scope for the display of his skill, in proportion as
they are arbitrary and unaccountable,) with a studied in-
difference as to that which is foreign from his business, the
convenience or inconvenience of those Rules — may be ex-
pected to operate unfavourably on his judgment in ques-
tions of Legislation : and are likely to counterbalance the
advantages of his superior knowledge, even in such points
as do bear on the question.

Chap. III. § 5.] AUTHORITY DERIVED FROM EXPERIENCE. 223

Again, a person who is more properly to be
regarded as an Antiquarian than any thing ^utnority
else, will sometimes be regarded as high ^^ Antigua-
authority in some subject respecting which rians.
he has perhaps little or no real knowledge or
capacity, if he have collected a multitude of facts relative
to it. Suppose for instance a man of much reading, and
of retentive memory, but of unphilosophical mind, to have
amassed a great collection of particulars respecting the
writers on some science, the times when they flourished,
the numbers of their followers, the editions of their works,
&c. it is not unlikely he may lead both others and himself
into the belief that he is a great authority in that Science ;
when perhaps he may in reality know — though a great deal
about it — nothing of it (see Logic, Introd. § 1. p. 3). Such
a man^s mind, compared with that of one really versed in
the subject, is like an antiquarian armoury, full of curious
old weapons, — many of them the more precious from having
been long since superseded, — as compared with a well-
stocked arsenal, containing all the most approved warlike
implements fit for actual service.

In matters connected with Political-eco- ,,. , ,

. Mistake as

nomy, the experience oi practical men is often f^ j^^^^ ^ow-

appealed to in opposition to those who are stitutes expe-

called Theorists : even though the latter per- ^^^^^^ ^^

Tnattefs or
haps are deducing conclusions from a wide PoUfjcat

induction of facts, while the experience of the Economy,

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 prac-

tical 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 perhaps of

224 PERSUASION. [Part II.

Theorists, i. e, persons of extensive geological observa-
tion.

"It may be added, that there is a proverbial maxim
which bears witness to the advantage sometimes possessed
by an observant bystander over those actually engaged in
any transaction : — ^ The looker-on often sees more of the
game than the players.' Now the looker-on is precisely
[in Greek ©ewpo?] the Theorist,

" When then you find any one contrasting, in this and
in other subjects, what he calls ^experience/ with ^the-
ory/ you will usually perceive on attentive examination,
that he is in reality comparing the results of a confined,
with that o^2i wider, experience; — a more imperfect and
crude theory, with one more cautiously framed, and based
on a more copious induction *."

The consideration then of the character of the speaker,
and of his opponent, being of so much importance, both
as a legitimate source of Persuasion, in many instances,
and also as a topic of Fallacies, it is evidently incumbent
on the orator to be well-versed in this branch of the art,
with a view both to the justifiable advancement of his own
cause, and to the detection and exposure of unfair artifice
in an opponent. It is neither possible, nor can it in jus-
tice be expected, that this mode of persuasion should be
totally renounced and exploded, 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 sions favourable and unfavourable, that hear-

of ZTlCOTlStSt "•

encv. c^s ^^ readers may entertain concerning 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 insufficient
* See Political-Economy, Lect. iii. p. 68.

Chap. III. § 5.] AUTHORITY DERlVllD FROM EXPERIENCE. 225

grounds. Strictly speakings inconsistency (such at least as
a wise and good man is exempt from) is the maintaining at
the same time of two contradictory propositions ; whether
expressed in language, or implied in sentiments or con-
duct. As e. g. if an author *, in an argumentative work,
while he represents every syllogism as futile and fallacious
reasoning, admits that all reasoning may be exhibited in
the form of syllogisms ; or, if the same person who cen-
sures and abhors oppression, yet practises it towards
others ; or if a man prescribes two medicines which neu-
tralize each other's effects, &c.

But a man is often censured as inconsistent,
if he changes his plans or his opinions on any Different
point. And certainly if he does this often, and consistency.
lightly, that is good ground for withholding
confidence from him. But it would be more precise to
characterize him as fickle and unsteady, than as incon-
sistent; because this use of the term tends to confound
one fault with another ; viz. with the holding of two in-
compatible opinions at once.

But moreover a man is often charged with inconsist-
ency for approving some parts of a book, — system, — cha-
racter, &c., and disapproving others ; — for being now an
advocate for peace, and now, for war ; — in short, for accom-
modating his judgment or his conduct to the circumstances
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 infalHble.

He therefore who prides himself on his consistency, on the

* D. Stewart.

226 PERSUASION. [Part II.

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 re-
cognition, and consequently without contest, but as soon
as daylight comes, the weaker give place to the stronger ; so,
in a misty and darkened mind, the most incompatible
opinions may exist together, without any perception of
their discrepancy ; till the understanding becomes suffi-
ciently enlightened to enable the man to reject the less
reasonable opinions, and retain the opposites.

It may be added, that it is a very fair ground for dispa-
raging any one's judgment, if he maintains any doctrine
or system, avowedly for the sake of consistency. That
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 persist-
ing in it. He therefore who makes such an avowal may
fairly be considered as thenceforward entitled to no voice
in the question. His decision having been already given,
once for all, with a resolution not to reconsider it, or to be
open to conviction from any fresh arguments, his re-decla-
rations of it are no more to be reckoned repeated acts of
judgment, than new impressions from a stereotype plate
are to be regarded as new Editions. In short, according
to the proverbial phrase, " His bolt is shot.''

It only remains to observe, on this head, that (as Ari-
stotle teaches) the place for the disparagement of an oppo-

Chap. III. § 6.] ALLAYING OF UNFAVOURABLE IMPRESSIONS. 227

nent 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 lessen the influence of
what has been already said.

§6.

Either a personal preiudice, such as has ,, .

^ . . ^ '' - . Unfavour-

been just mentioned, or some other passion ^^/^ passions

unfavourable to the speaker^s object, may to be allayed
already exist in the minds of the hearers, ^^ diverted.
which it must be his business to allay.

It is obvious that this will the most efFectuallv 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 passions may be, rheto-
rically speaking, opposite to each other, though in strict-
ness they are not so ; viz. whenever 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 ex-
citement of this, alone, that Anger may be allayed ; for
Fear is, practically, contrary to it also ; as is remarked by
Aristotle, who philosophically accounts for this, on the
principle that Anger, implying a desire to inflict punish-
ment, must imply also a supposition that it is possible to
do so ; and accordingly 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 prevails, in like manner subduing Fear. Savage na-
tions, 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 themselves
to courage*. Compassion, likewise, may be counteracted

♦ See Arist. " Rhet." b. ii. in his Treatises on 'Opyrj and <I>o'/3os ; and
" Ethics," b. iii. on Qvfios.

228 PERSUASION. [Part II.

either by Disapprobation, by Jealousy, by Fear, by Ridi-
cule, or by Disgust and Horror ; and Envy, either by
Good- will, or by Contempt.

This is the more necessary to be attended to, in order
that the Orator may be on his guard against inadvertently
defeating his own object, by exciting feelings at variance
with those he is endeavouring to produce, though not
strictly contrary to them. Aristotle accordingly notices,
with this view, the difference between the " Pitiable,'^
(eXeetvov,) and the ^' Horrible or Shocking," {Selvov,) which,
as he observes, excite different feelings, 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,

„.,. , The remark, cited by Aristotle, of the Rhe-

torician Gorgias, that the serious arguments
of an opponent are to be met by ridicule, and his ridicule,
by serious argument, (which is evidently one that might
be extended, in principle, to other feelings besides the
sense of the ludicrous,) is, of course, only occasionally
applicable in practice ; and considerable tact is requisite
for perceiving suitable occasions, and employing them ju-
diciously. For, a failure does great injury to him who
makes the attempt. If you very gravely deprecate some
ridicule that has been thrown out, without succeeding in
destroying its force, you increase its force; because a
contrast between the solemn and the ludicrous heightens
the effect of the latter. And if, again, you attempt un-
successfully to make a jest of what the persons ad-
dressed regard as strong arguments, and serious subjects,
you raise indignation or contempt; and are also consi-
dered as having, confessedly, no serious and vahd objec-
tions to offer.

Of course, regard must be had to the character of those
you are addressing. If these are ignorant of the subject,
superficial, and unthinking, they will readily join in ridi-

Chap. III. § 6.] ALLAYING OF UNFAVOURABLE IMPRESSIONS. 229

cule of such reasoning as the better-informed and more
judicious would despise them for not appreciating. And
again, they may easily be brought (as has been remarked
above. Part I. Chap. III. § 7.) to regard a valid argument
which exposes to ridicule some sophistry, as nothing more
than a joke *.

But when you wish to expose to ridicule something
really deserving of it which has been advanced seriously,
or to rescue from ridicule what has been unfairly made a
jest of, it will usually be advisable to keep a little aloof,
for a time, from the very point in question, till you have
brought men's minds, by the introduction of suitable
topics, into the mood required, — the derisive, or the se-
rious, as the case may be, — and then to bring them up to
that point, prepared to view it quite differently from what
they had done. And if this be skilfully managed, the effect
will sometimes be very striking.

Such a procedure, it should be added, is sometimes (as
I have above remarked. Part I. Chap. III. § 7«) adopted
unfairly; that is, men who are mortified at finding the
absurdity of their conduct, their tenets, or their argu-
ments exposed to contemptuous ridicule, will often per-
suade others, and even themselves, that this mortification
is a feeling of pious indignation in behalf of a serious or

* It is almost superfluous to remark, that there is a dignified and an un-
dignified way of employing either irony or any kind of ridicule. The sort of
character which Aristotle calls '^ Bomolochus," — answering apparently to what
we call in colloquial language a *' wag," or a "jack-pudding," — one who lays
himself out to divert the hearers or readers at any cost ; — or any one, again,
who displays a flippant and trifling levity of character that seems incapable of
viewing anything seriously, or such a tone of heartless and unfeeling mockery
as denotes an incapacity for any tender or kindly sentiment, — any such per-
son, though he may manifest such ability as to make one dread him for an
opponent, is likely to be still more dangerous to the cause he espouses.

And it is a common practice of skilful sophists to confound with such a
character as one of these last, any one, however opposite to it, who may have
successfully derided some absurdity they may have been maintaining; and
thus to hold him up to detestation and scorn.

230 INTELLECTUAL AND MORAL

sacred subject, against which they falsely represent the
ridicule as having been directed. Great caution therefore
is requisite — as was formerly remarked, — in employing
such a weapon as Ridicule.

It will often happen that it will be easier to give a new
direction to the unfavourable passion, than to subdue it ;
e, g. to turn the indignation, or the laughter, of the hear-
ers against a different object. Indeed, whenever the case
will admit of this, it will generally prove the more success-
ful expedient ; because it does not imply the accomplish-
ment of so great a change in the minds of the hearers.
See above, Chap. II. § 6.

Lecture on the Intellectual and Moral Influences of the Pro-
fessions, delivered before the Society of the Dublin Law
Institute, on the ^\st of January, 1842. \_See Note tj
page 204.]

Some ancient writer relates of the celebrated Hannibal,
that during his stay at some regal court, the evening-
entertainment on one occasion consisted of a discourse,
(what we in these days should call a " lecture,^^) which an
aged Greek philosopher, named Phormio, if I remember
rightly, had the honour of being permitted to deliver be-
fore the king and courtiers. It was on the qualifications
and duties of a General. The various high endowments
— the several branches of knowledge, and the multifarious
cares and labours appertaining to an accomplished mili-
tary leader, were set forth, as most of the hearers thought,
with so much ability and elegance, that the discourse was
received with general applause. But, as was natural, eager
inquiries were made what was thought of it by so eminent
a master in the art mihtary, as Hannibal. On his opinion
being asked, he replied with soldierlike bluntness, that he

INFLUENCES OF THE PROFESSIONS. 231

had often heard old men talk dotage, but that a greater
dotard than Phormio he had never met with.

He would not however have been reckoned a dotard, —
at least he would not have deserved it, (as he did,) — if he
had had the sense, instead of giving instructions in the
military art to one who knew so much more of it than
himself, to have addressed an audience of military men,
not as soldiers, but as human beings ; and had set before
them correctly and clearly, the effects, intellectual and
moral, likely to be produced on them, as men, by the study
and the exercise of their profession. For that is a point
on which men of each profession respectively are so far
from being necessarily the best judges, that, other things
being equal, they are likely to be rather less competent
judges than those in a different walk of life.

That each branch of study, and each kind of business,
has a tendency to influence the character, and that any
such tendency, if operating in excess, exclusively, and un-
modified by other causes, is likely to produce a corre-
sponding mental disease or defect, is what no one I sup-
pose would deny. It would be reasonable as an antecedent
conjecture ; and the confirmation of it by experience is a
matter of common remark. I have heard of a celebrated
surgeon, whose attention had been chiefly directed to cases
of deformity, who remarked that be scarcely ever met an
artisan in the street but he was able to assure himself at
the first glance what his trade was. He could perceive in
persons not actually deformed, that particular gait or atti-
tude— that particular kind of departure from exact sym-
metry of form — that disproportionate development and
deficiency in certain muscles, which distinguished, to his
anatomical eye, the porter, the smith, the horse-breaker,
the stone-cutter, and other kinds of labourers, from each
other. And he could see all this, through, and notwith-
standing, all the individual differences of original struc-
ture, and of various accidental circumstances.

232 INTELLECTUAL AND MORAL

Bodily peculiarities of this class may be, according to
the degree to which they exist, either mere inelegancies
hardly worth noticing, or slight inconveniencies, or serious
deformities, or grievous diseases. The same may be said
of those mental peculiarities, which the several professional
studies and habits tend, respectively, to produce. They
may be, according to the degree of them, so trifling as not
to amount even to a blemish ; or slight, or more serious
defects ; or cases of complete mental distortion.

You will observe that I shall throughout confine myself
to the consideration of the disadvantages and dangers per-
taining to each profession, without touching on the intel-
lectual and moral benefits that may result from it. You
may often hear, from persons gifted with what the An-
cients called epideictic eloquence, very admirable and gra-
tifying panegyrics on each profession. But with a view to
practical utility, the consideration of dangers to be guarded
against is incomparably the most important ; because to
men in each respective profession, the beneficial results
will usually take place even without their thinking* about
them ; whereas the dangers require to be carefully noted,
and habitually contemplated, in order that they may be
effectually guarded against. A physician who had a friend
about to settle in a hot climate, would be not so likely to
dwell on the benefits he would derive spontaneously from
breathing a warmer air, as to warn him of the dangers of
sun-strokes and of marsh exhalations.

And it may be added that a description of the faulty
habits which the members of each profession are in espe-
cial danger of acquiring, amounts to a high eulogium on
each individual, in proportion as he is exempt from those
faults.

To treat fully of such a subject would of course require
volumes ; but it may be not unsuitable to the present occa-
sion to throw out a few slight hints, such as may be suffi-
cient to turn your attention to a subject, which appears to

INFLUENCES OF THE PROFESSIONS. 233

me not only curious and interesting, but of great practical
importance.

There is one class of dangers pertaining alike to every
profession, every branch of study — every kind of distinct
pursuit. I mean the danger in each, to him who is de-
voted to it, of over-rating its importance as compared with
others ; and again, of unduly extending its province. To
a man who has no enlarged views, no general cultivation
of mind, and no familiar intercourse with the enlightened
and the worthy of other classes besides his own, the result
must be more or less of the several forms of narrow-mind-
edness. To apply to all questions, on all subjects, the same
principles and rules of judging that are suitable to the par-
ticular questions and subjects about which he is especially
conversant; — to bring in those subjects and questions on
all occasions, suitable or unsuitable ; like the painter PIo-
race alludes to, who introduced a cypress tree into the pic-
ture of a shipwreck ; — to regard his own particular pur-
suit as the one important and absorbing interest ; — to look
on all other events, transactions, and occupations, chiefly
as they minister more or less to that ; — to view the present
state and past history of the world chiefly in reference to
that ; — and to feel a clanish attachment to the members
of the particular profession or class he belongs to, as a body
or class ; (an attachment, by the by, which is often limited
to the collective class, and not accompanied with kindly
feelings towards the individual members of it,) and to have
more or less an alienation of feeling from those of other
classes; — all these, and many other such, are symptoms
of that narrow-mindedness which is to be found, alike, mu-
tatis mutandis, in all who do not carefully guard them-
selves against it, whatever may be the profession or depart-
ment of study of each *.

Against this kind of danger the best preservative, next

* See above, Part I. Chap. III. § 2, on the Presumptions for and against
the judgment of professional men.

234 INTELLECTUAL AND MORAL

to that of being thoroughly aware of it, will be found in
varied reading and varied society ; in habitual intercourse
with men, whether living or dead, — whether personally or
in their works, — of different professions and walks of life,
and, I may add, of different Countries and different Ages
from our own.

It is remarked, in a work by Bishop Copleston, " that
Locke, like most other writers on education, occasionally
confounds two things, which ought to be kept perfectly
distinct, viz. that mode of education, which would be
most beneficial, as a system, to society at large, with that
which would contribute most to the advantage and pros-
perity of an individual. These things are often at variance
with each other. The former is that alone which deserves
the attention of a philosopher ; the latter is narrow, selfish,
and mercenary. It is the last indeed on which the world
are most eager to inform themselves ; but the persons who
instruct them, however they may deserve the thanks and
esteem of those whom they benefit, do no service to man-
kind. There are but so many good places in the theatre
of life ; and he who puts us in the way of procuring one of
them, does to us indeed a great favour, but none to the
whole assembly.^' And in the same work it is further ob-
served, that, " In the cultivation of literature is found that
common link, which among the higher and middling de-
partments of life unites the jarring sects and subdivi-
sions in one interest ; which supplies common topics, and
kindles common feelings, unmixed with those narrow pre-
judices, with which all professions are more or less in-
fected. The knowledge too, which is thus acquired, ex-
pands and enlarges the mind, excites its faculties, and calls
those limbs and muscles into freer exercise, which, by too
constant use in one direction, not only acquire an illiberal
air, but are apt also to lose somewhat of their native play
and energy. And thus, without directly qualifying a man
for any of the employments of life, it enriches and en-

INFLUENCES OF THE PROFESSIONS. 235

nobles all : without teaching him the peculiar benefits of
any one office or calling, it enables him to act his part in
each of them with better grace and more elevated carriage ;
and, if happily planned and conducted, is a main ingre-
dient in that complete and generous education, which fits
a man * ^ to perform justly, skilfully, and magnanimously,
all the offices, both private and public, of peace and
war/ "

But to pass from the consideration of the dangers com-
mon to all, and to proceed to what is peculiar to each ; I
will begin by pointing out one or two of those which espe-
cially pertain to the clerical profession.

The first that I shall notice is one to which I have fre-
quently called attention, as being likely to beset all persons
in proportion as they are occupied about things sacred;
in discussing, and especially in giving instruction on, moral
and religious subjects : and the clergy accordingly must be
the most especially exposed to this danger : to the danger,
I mean, of that callous indifference, which is proverbially
apt to be the result of familiarity. On this point there are
some most valuable remarks by Bishop Butler, which I
have adverted to on various occasions, and among others,
in a portion (which I will here take the liberty of citing) of
the last unpublished Charge 1 had occasion to deliver.

^' 'Going over,^ says Bishop Butler, ' the theory of virtue
in one^s thoughts, talking well, and drawing fine pictures
of it ; — this is so far from necessarily or certainly con-
ducing to form a habit of it in him who thus employs him-
self, that it may harden the mind in a contrary course, and
render it gradually more insensible, i. e, form an habit of
insensibility to all moral considerations. For, from our
very faculty of habits, passive impressions, by being re-
peated, grow weaker ; thoughts, by often passing through
the mind, are felt less sensibly. Being accustomed to
danger begets intrepidity, L e, lessens fear ; to distress,

* Milton.

236 INTELLECTUAL AND MORAL

lessens the passion of pity ; to instances of others' mor-
tality, the sensible apprehension of our own. And from
these two observations together ; — that practical habits are
formed and strengthened by repeated acts, and that passive
impressions grow weaker by being repeated upon us ; — it
must follow that active habits may be gradually forming
and strengthening, by a course of acting upon such mo-
tives and excitements, while these motives and excitements
themselves are by proportionable degrees growing less sen-
sible, i,e, are continually less and less sensibly /<?//, even
as the active habits strengthen. And experience confirms
this ; for active principles, at the very same time that they
are less lively in perception than they were, are found to be
somehow wrought more thoroughly into the temper and
character, and become more effectual in influencing our
practice. The three things just mentioned may afford in-
stances of it : perception of danger is a natural excitement
of passive fear, and active caution ; and by being inured to
danger, habits of the latter are gradually wrought, at the
same time that the former gradually lessens. Perception
of distress in others, is a natural excitement, passively to
pity, and actively to relieve it : but let a man set himself
to attend to, inquire out, and relieve distressed persons,
and he cannot but grow less and less sensibly affected with
the various miseries of life with which he must become
acquainted ; when yet at the same time, benevolence, con-
sidered, not as a passion, but as a practical principle of
action, will strengthen ; and whilst he passively compas-
sionates the distressed less, he will acquire a greater apti-
tude actively to assist and befriend them. So also at the
same time that the daily instances of men's dying around
us, gives us daily a less sensible passive feeling, or appre-
hension of our own mortality, such instances greatly con-
tribute to the strengthening a practical regard to it in
serious men ; i, e, to forming a habit of acting with a con-
stant view to it. And this seems again further to show.

INFLUENCES OF THE PROFESSIONS. 237

that^ passive impressions made upon our minds by admo-
nition, experience, example, though they may have a remote
efficacy, and a very great one, towards forming active habits,
yet can have this efficacy no otherwise than by inducing us
to such a course of action ; and that it is not being affected
so and so, but acting^ which forms those habits. Only it
must always be remembered, that real endeavours to en-
force good impressions upon ourselves are a species of vir-
tuous action/ Thus far Bishop Butler. " That moral
habits,^^ I proceeded to say, " can only be acquired by
practical effijrts, was long since remarked by Aristotle;
who ridicules those that attended philosophical discourses
with an expectation of improvement, while they contented
themselves with listening, understanding, and approving;
comparing them to a patient who should hope to regain
health by listening to his physician's directions, without
following them. But he omitted to add, as Bishop Butler
has done, that such a procedure is much worse than use-
less ; being positively dangerous.

" I need hardly remark, that what the author says of
virtue, is at least equally applicable to religion ; and that
consequently, no one is so incurably and hopelessly hard-
ened in practical irreligion as one who has the most per-
fect familiarity with religious subjects and religious feelings,
without having cultivated corresponding active principles.
It is he that is, emphatically, ^ the barren fig-tree,' which
has ^ no fruit on it, but leaves only ! ' not, a tree standing
torpid and destitute of all vegetation, during the winter's
frost or summer's drought, and capable of being called into
life and productiveness, by rain and sunshine ; but, a tree
in full vigour of life and growth, whose sap is all diverted
from the formation of fruit, and is expended in flourishing
boughs that bear only barren leaves."

I need hardly say that the danger I have been now al-
luding to, as it is one which besets each person the more
in proportion as he is conversant about religious and moral

238 INTELLECTUAL AND MORAL

discussions, studies and reflections, is accordingly one
which the Clergy most especially should be vigilantly on
their guard against^ as being professionally occupied
with this class of subjects.

They are professionally exposed again to another danger,
chiefly intellectual, from the circumstance of their having
usually to hold so much intercourse, in their private mi-
nistrations, with persons whose reasoning powers are either
naturally weak, or very little cultivated, or not called forth
on those subjects, and on those occasions, on which they
are conversing professionally with a clergyman. How large
a proportion of mankind taken indiscriminately, must be
expected to fall under one or other of these descriptions,
we must be well aware : and it is w^ith mankind thus taken
indiscriminately s that the Clergy in the domestic portion of
their ministrations, are to hold intercourse. Even a dis-
proportionate share of their attention is usually claimed by
the poorer, the younger, and in short generally, the less
educated among their people. Among these there must of
course always be a large proportion who will be often more
readily influenced by a fallacious, than by a sound reason ;
— who will often receive readily an insuflicient explanation,
and will often be prevented by ignorance, or dullness, or
prejudice, from admitting a correct one. And moreover,
of those whose qualifications are higher, as respects other
subjects, there are not a few who, on moral and religious
subjects, (from various causes,) fall far short of themselves.
There are not a few, e. g. who, while in the full vigour of
body and mind, pay little or no attention to any such sub-
jects ; and when enfeebled in their mental powers by sick-
ness or sudden terror, or decrepil age, will resign them-
selves to indiscriminate credulity — who at one time will
listen to nothing, and at another, will listen to anything.

With all these classes of persons, then, a clergyman is
led, in the course of his private duty, to have much inter-
course. And that such intercourse is likely to be anything

INFLUENCES OF THE PROFESSIONS. 239

but improving to the reasoning faculties — to their develop-
ment^ or their correction, or even to sincerity and fairness
in the exercise of them, is sufficiently evident. The danger
is one which it is important to have clearly before us.
When a man of good sense distinctly perceives it, and
carefully and habitually reflects on it, he will not be much
at a loss as to the means by which it is to be guarded
against.

You will observe that I have pointed out under this
head a moral, as well as an intellectual danger. And in
truth the temptation is by no means a weak one, even to
one who is far from an insincere character altogether, to
lead ignorant, or ill- educated, and prejudiced men into what
he is convinced is best for them, by unsound reasons, when
he finds them indisposed to listen to sound ones; thus
satisfying his conscience that he is making a kind of coin-
pensation, since there really are good grounds (though
they cannot see them) for the conclusion he advocates ; till
he acquires a habit of tampering with truth, and finally loses
all reverence and all relish for it*.

Another class of dangers, and perhaps the greatest of
all to which the Clergy are professionally exposed, and
which is the last I shall mention, is the temptation to
prefer popularity to truth, and the present comfort and
gratification of the people to their ultimate welfare. The
well-known fable of Mahomet and the mountain, which
he found it easier to go to, himself, than to make the
mountain come to him, may be regarded as a sort of alle-
gorical type of any one who seeks to give peace of con-
science and satisfaction to his hearers, and to obtain ap-
plause for himself, by bringing his doctrine and language
into a conformity with the inclinations and the conduct of
his hearers, rather than by bringing the character of the
hearers into a conformity with what is true and right.
Not that there are many, who are, in the outset at least,

* See Essay on " Pious Frauds," and Dr. West's Discourse on " Reserve,"
3rd Series.

240 INTELLECTUAL AND MORAL

SO unprincipled as deliberately to suppress essential truths,
or to inculcate known falsehood, for the sake of admini-
stering groundless comfort, or gaining applause ; but as
" a gift" is said in Scripture to " blind the eyes," so, the
bribe of popularity (especially when the alternative is
perhaps severe censure, and even persecution) is likely,
by little and little, to bias the judgment, — to blind the
eyes first to the importance, and afterwards to the truth,
of unpopular doctrines and precepts; and ultimately to
bring a man himself to believe what his hearers wish him
to teach.

Popularity has, of course, great charms for all classes of
men ; but in the case of a clergyman it offers this addi-
tional temptation ; that it is to him, in a great degree, the
favourable opinion not merely of the world in general, or
of a multitude assembled on some special occasion, but of
the very neighbours by whom he is surrounded, and with
whom he is in habits of daily intercourse.

There is another most material circumstance also which
(in respect of this point) distinguishes the case of the cle-
rical profession from that of any other. It is true that a
medical man may be under a temptation to flatter his
patients with false hopes, to indulge them in unsuitable
regimen, to substitute some cordial that gives temporary
relief, for salutary but unpleasant medicines, or painful
operations, such as are really needful for a cure. But
those (and there are such, as is well known) who pursue
such a course, can seldom obtain more than temporary
success. When it is seen that their patients do not ulti-
mately recover, and that all the fair promises given, and
sanguine hopes raised, end in aggravation of disease, or
in premature death — the bubble bursts; and men quit
these pretenders for those whose practice bears the test of
experience. These, therefore, are induced by a regard for
their own permanent success in their profession, as well
as by higher motives, to prefer the correct and safe mode
of treating their patients. But it is far otherwise with

INFLUENCES OF THE PROFESSIONS. 241

those whose concern is with the diseases of the soul, not
of the body — with the next hfe instead of this. Their
treatment cannot be brought to the same test of expe-
rience till the day of Judgment. If they shall have de-
luded both their hearers and themselves by *^ speaking
peace when there is no peace/^ the flattering cordial, how-
ever deleterious, may remain undetected, and both parties
may continue in the error all their lives, and the error
may even survive them*.

So also again in the legal profession ; — one who gives
flattering but unsound advice to his clients, or who pleads
causes with specious elegance, unsupported by accurate
legal knowledge, may gain a temporary, but seldom more
than a temporary, popularity. It is his interest, there-
fore, no less than his duty, to acquire this accurate know-
ledge : and if he is mistaken on any point, the decisions
of a Court will give him sufficient warning to be more
careful in future. But the Court which is finally to cor-
rect the other class of mistakes, is the one that will sit on
that last great Day, when the tares will be finally sepa-
rated from the wheat, and when the " wood, hay, and
stubble,^^ that may have been built up on the divine
foundation, by human folly or artifice, will be burned up.

The Clergy therefore have evidently more need than
others to be on their guard against a temptation, from
which they are not, like others, protected by considera-
tions of temporal interest, or by the lessons of daily expe-
rience.

With regard to the medical profession there used to
be (for of late I think it is otherwise) a remark almost
proverbially common, that the members of it were espe-
cially prone to infidelity, and even to Atheism. And the
same imputation was by many persons extended to those
occupied in such branches of physical science as are the
most connected with medicine ; and even to scientific men
* See " Scripture Revelations of a Future State," Lect. 12.

242 INTELLECTUAL AND MORAL

generally. Of late years, as I have said, this impression
has become much less prevalent.

In a question of fact, such as this, open to general ob-
servation, there is a strong presumption aiforded by the
prevalence of any opinion, that it has at least some kind
of foundation in truth. There is a presumption, that
either medical men were more generally unbelievers than
the average, or at least, that those of them who were so
were more ready to avow it. In like manner there is a
corresponding presumption, that in the present generation
of medical men there is a greater proportion than among
their predecessors, who are either believers in Revelation,
or at least not avowed unbelievers.

It will be more profitable, however, instead of entering
on any question as to the amount and extent, present or
past, of the danger to which I have been alluding, to offer
eome conjectures as to the causes of it.

The one which I conceive occurs the most readily to
most men's minds is, that a medical practitioner has no
Sunday. The character of his profession does not admit
of his regularly abandoning it for one day in the week,
and regularly attending public worship along with Christ-
ians of all classes. Now various as are the modes of ob-
serving the Lord's day in different Christian countries,
and diverse as are the modes of worship, there is perhaps
no point in which Christians of all ages and countries
have been more agreed, than in assembling together for
some kind of joint worship on the first day of the week.
And no one I think can doubt, that, independently of any
edification derived from the peculiar religious services
which they respectively attend, the mere circumstance of
doing something every week as a religious observance,
must have some tendency to keep up in men's minds a
degree of respect, rational or irrational, for the religion in
whose outward observances they take a part.

A physician in considerable practice must, we know,

INFLUENCES OF THE PROFESSIONS. 243

often be prevented from doing this. And the professional
calls, it may be added, which make it often impossible for
him to attend public worship, will naturally tend, by de-
stroying the habit, to keep him away, even when attend-
ance is possible. Anything that a person is prevented
from doing habitually, he is likely habitually to omit.
There is nothing peculiar in the case of attendance on
public worship. The same thing may be observed in
many others equally. A man placed in circumstances
which interfere with his forming or keeping up domestic
habits, or literary habits, or habits of bodily activity, is
likely to be less domestic, less literary, more sedentary,
than his circumstances require. .

I have no doubt that the cause I have now been advert-
ing to does operate. But there are others, less obvious
perhaps, but I think not less important. A religion which
represents Man's whole existence as divided into two por-
tions, of which his life on earth is every way incalculably
the smaller, is forcibly brought before the mind in a way
to excite serious reflections, by such an event as death,
w^hen occurring before our eyes, or within our particular
knowledge. Now a medical man is familiar with death ;
i. e. with the sight and the idea of it. And the indifference
which is likely to result from such familiarity, I need not
here dwell on, further than to refer you to the passage of
Bishop Butler already cited.

But moreover death is not only familiar to the phy-
sician, but it is also familiar to him as the final termination
of that state of existence with which alone he has profes-
sionally any concern. As a Christian he may regard it as
preparatory to a new state of existence ; but as a physi-
cian he is concerned only with life in this world, which it
is his business to invigorate and to prolong; and with
death, only as the final catastrophe which he is to keep off
as long as possible, and in reference merely to the physical
causes which have produced it,

244 INTELLECTUAL AND MORAL

Now the habit of thus contemplating death must have
a tendency to divert the mind from reflecting on it with
reference to other and dissimilar considerations. For it
may be laid down as a general maxim, that the habit of
contemplating any class of objects in such and such a par-
ticular point of view, tends, so far, to render us the less
qualified for contemplating them in any other point of
view. And this maxim, I conceive, is capable of very
extensive application in reference to all professional stu-
dies and pursuits; and goes far towards furnishing an
explanation of their effects on the mind of the individual.

But there is another cause, and the last I shall notice
under the present head, which I conceive co-operates fre-
quently with those above-mentioned : I mean the practice
common with many divines of setting forth certain phy-
siological or metaphysical theories as part and parcel of
the Christian revelation, or as essentially connected with
it. If any of these be unsound, they may, nevertheless,
pass muster with the generality of readers and hearers ;
and however unprofitable, may be, to them, at least harm-
less; but they present a stumbling-block to the medical
man, and to the physiologist, who may perceive that un-
soundness. For example, I have known divines not only
maintaining the immateriality of the soul as a necessary
preliminary to the reception of Christianity, — as the very
basis of Gospel-revelation, — but maintaining it by such
arguments as go to prove the entire independence of mind
cm matter ; urging, e. g. among others, the instances of
full manifestation of the intellectual powers in persons at
the point of death. Now this, or the opposite, the physio-
logist will usually explain from the different parts of the
bodily frame that are affected in each different disease. If
he believes the brain to be necessarily connected with the
mind, this belief will not be shaken by the manifestation
of mental powers in a person who is dying of a disease of
the lungs. He will no more infer from this that mind is

INFLUENCES OF THE PROFESSIONS. 243

wholly independent of the body, than he would, that sight
is independent of the body, because a man may retain his
powers of vision when his limbs are crippled.

The questions concerning materialism I do not mean to
enter upon : I only wish to call your attention to the mis-
take common to both parties : that of supposing that these
questions are vitally connected with Christianity ; whereas
there is not one word relating to them in the Christian
Scriptures. Indeed even at this day a large proportion of
sincere Christians among the humbler classes, are de-
cidedly materialists ; though if you inquired of them they
would deny it, because they are accustomed to confine the
word matter to things perceptible to the touch ; but their
belief in ghosts or spirits having been seen and heard,
evidently implies the possession by these of what philo-
sophers reckon attributes of matter. And the disciples of
Jesus were terrified, we are told, when they saw Him after
his resurrection, " supposing that they saw a spirit.^' He
convinced them, we read, of his being real flesh and
blood : but whatever may have been their error as to the
visible, — and consequently material — character of a Spirit,
it does not appear that He thought it essential to instruct
them on that head. He who believed that Jesus was
truly risen from the dead, and that the same power would
raise up his followers at the last day, had secured the
foundation of the Christian faith.

It is much to be wished that religious persons would be
careful to abstain — I do not say, from entering on any
physiological or metaphysical speculations (which they
have a perfect right to do) — but from mixing up these
with Christianity, and making every thing that they be-
lieve on matters at all connected with religion, a part of
their religious faith. I remember conversing with an in-
telligent man on the subject of some speculations tending
to a revival of the doctrine of equivocal generation, which
he censured, as leading to Atheism, He was somewhat

246 INTELLECTUAL AND MORAL

startled on my reminding him that two hundred years
ago many would have as readily set a man down as an
atheist who should have denied that doctrine. Both con-
clusions^ I conceive, t6 be alike rash and unwarrantable.

I cannot but advert in concluding this head, to the
danger likely to arise from the language of some divines
respecting a peaceful or troubled departure, as a sure cri-
terion of a christian or an unchristian life. " A death-
bed ^s a detector of the heart/^ is the observation of one of
them, who is well known as a poet. Now, that a man's
state of mind on his death-bed is often very much influ-
enced by his past life, there is no doubt ; but I believe
most medical men can testify that it is quite as often and
as much influenced by the disease of which he dies. The
effects of certain nervous and other disorders in producing
distressing agitation, — of the process of suppuration, in
producing depression of spirits — the calming and soothing
effects of a mortification in its last stage, and many other
such phenomena, are, I believe, familiar to practitioners.
When then they find promises and threats boldly held
out which are far from being regularly fulfilled, — when
they find various statements confidently made, some of
which appear to them improbable, and others at variance
with facts coming under their own experience, they are in
danger of drawing conclusions unfavourable to the truth
of Christianity, if they apply too hastily the maxim of
''peritis credendum est in arte sua,'," and take for granted
on the word of divines that whatever they teach as a part
of Christianity, really is so ; without making inquiry for
themselves. They are indeed no less culpably rash in
such a procedure than any one would have been who
should reason in a similar manner from the works of me-
dical men two or three hundred years ago ; who taught
the influence of the stars on the human frame — the im*
portance of the moon's phases to the efficacy of medi-
cines, and other such fancies. Should any one have thence

INFLUENCES OF THE PROFESSIONS. 247

inferred that astronomy and medicine never could have
any claims to attention, and were merely idle dreams of
empty pretenders, he would not have been more rash than
a physician or physiologist who judges of Christianity by
the hypotheses of all who profess to teach it.

The effects, moral and intellectual, of the study and
PRACTICE OF THE LAW is a subjcct to which I could not
have done justice within the limits of a single lecture,
even had I confined myself to that one department. For
the Law, — especially considered in this point of view, — is
not one profession, but many — a Judge, an Attorney, a
Solicitor, a Common-Law Barrister, a Chancery Barrister,
a Special Pleader, &c., are all occupied with Law; but
widely different are the effects, advantageous and disad-
vantageous, likely to be produced on their minds by their
respective occupations *.

* It is worth remarking tliat there is one point wherein some branches of
the Law differ from others, and agree with some Professions of a totally dif-
ferent class. Superior ability and professional skill, in a Judge, a SoUcitor, or
a Conveyancer, are, if combined with integrity, a ^awi/jc benefit. They confer
a service on certain individuals, not at the expense of any others : and the
death or retirement of a man thus qualified, is a loss to the community. And
the same may be said of a Physician, a Manufactm*er, a Navigator, &c. of
extraordinary ability. A Pleader, on the contrary, of powers far above the
average, is not, as such, serviceable to the Public. He obtains wealth and
credit for himself and his family ; but any especial advantage accruing from
his superior ability, to those who chance to be his clients, is just so much
loss to those he chances to be opposed to : and which party is, on each occa-
sion, in the right, must be regarded as an even chance. His death therefore
would be no loss to the Public ; only, to those particular persons who might
have benefited by his superior abilities, at their opponents' expense. It is
not that Advocates, generally, are not useful to the Public. They are even
necessary. But extraordinary ability in an Advocate, is an advantage only
to himself and his friends. To the Public, the most desirable thing is,
that Pleaders should be as equally matched as possible ; so that neither John
Doe nor Richard Roe should have any advantage independent of the good-
ness of his cause. Extraordinary ability in an Advocate may indeed raise
him to great wealth, or to a seat on the Bench, or in the Senate ; and he may
use these advantages — as many illustrious examples show, greatly to the
public benefit. But then, it is not as an Advocate, directly, but as a rich
man, as a Judge, or as a Senator, that he thus benefits his Country.

248 INTELLECTUAL AND MORAL

On this point I have thrown out a slight hint in a trea-
tise on LOGIC (the joint work of Bishop Copleston and
myself) from which I will take the liberty of citing a short
passage: [Book 4. ch. 3. §§ 1. 2.]

" Reasoning comprehends inferring and proving ; which
are not two different things, but the same thing regarded
in two different points of view: like the road from London
to York, and the road from York to London. He who
infers, proves ; and he who proves, infers ; but the word
^ infer ^ fixes the mind first on the premiss, and then on
the conclusion ; the word ' prove,' on the contrary, leads
the mind from the conclusion to the premiss. Hence,
the substantives derived from these words respectively,
are often used to express that which, on each occasion, is
last in the mind; inference being often used to signify
the conclusion (i. e. proposition inferred) and joroq/*— the
premiss. We say, also, '^How do you prove that?' and
^ What do you infer from that?' which sentences would
not be so properly expressed if we were to transpose those
verbs. One might, therefore, define proving, ' the assign-
ing of a reason or argument for the support of a given
proposition ; ' and inferring, ' the deduction of a con-
clusion from given premises.'

" In the one case our Conclusion is given (i. e., set
before us as the Question) and we have to seek for argu-
ments ; in the other, our premises are given, and we have
to seek for a Conclusion — i. e., to put together our own
Propositions, and try what will follow from them ; or, to
speak more logically, in one case, we seek to refer the
Subject of which we would predicate something to a Class
to which that Predicate will (affirmatively or negatively)
apply ; in the other, we seek to find comprehended in the
Subject of which we have predicated something, some
other term to which that Predicate had not been before
applied. Each of these is a definition of reasoning. To
infer, then, is the business of the Philosopher ; to prove^

INFLUENCES OF THE PROFESSIONS. 249

of the Advocate; the former, from the great mass of
known and admitted truths, wishes to elicit any valuable
additional truth whatever, that has been hitherto unper-
ceived, and perhaps without knowdng with certainty what
w ill be the terms of his conclusion. Thus the Mathema-
tician, e. g., seeks to ascertain what is the ratio of circles
to each other, or what is the line whose square will be
equal to a given circle. The Advocate, on the other hand,
has a proposition put before him, which he is to maintain
as well as he can. His business, therefore, is to find
Middle-terms (which is the inventio of Cicero) ; the Philo-
sopher's to combine and select known facts or principles,
suitably for gaining from them conclusions which, though
impHed in the premises, were before unperceived ; in other
words, for making ^ logical discoveries.'

To this I w^ill take the liberty of adding another short
extract from the treatise on rhetoric ; which may fur-
nish a hint as to a class of dangers common to men of
every pursuit and profession ; that of a person supposing
himself, from having been long conversant with a certain
subject, to be qualified for every kind of business, or of
discussion that relates to the same subject: — [Rhet.,
part 2, chap. 3, sec. 5.] " The longest practice in con-
ducting any business in one way does not necessarily
confer any experience in conducting it in a different way ;
e. g.f 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 ^^?^learn ; and,
again, 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
experience, an accurate judgment of the qualities of each

25Q INTELLECTUAL AND MORAL

description 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 a loss in its cultivation^
though he had been, in a certain way, long conversant
about corn. Nearly similar is the experience of a prac-
tised lawyer, (supposing him to be nothing more,) in a
case of legislation ; because he has been long conversant
about law, the unreflecting attribute great weight to his
judgment: whereas his constant habits of fixing his
thoughts on what the law is, and withdrawing it from the
irrelevant question of what the law ought to be, — his care-
ful observance of a multitude of rules, (which afford the
more scope for the display of his skill, in proportion as
they are arbitrary, unreasonable, and unaccountable) with
a studied indifference as to (that which is foreign from
his business,) the convenience or inconvenience of those
rules — may be expected to operate unfavourably on his
judgment in questions of legislation ; and are likely to
counterbalance the advantages of his superior knowledge,
even in such points as do bear on the question */^

And here I may remark by the way, that a person en-
gaged habitually in State affairs — a Politician by profes-
sion— ought to be peculiarly on his guard against sup-
posing his mode of life to generate especial qualifications in
those very points in which its tendency is, — unless par-
ticular care be taken to guard against the danger, — to
produce rather a disqualification. Who is likely to be the
best judge (other points being equal) it might be asked, of
the relative importance of political questions ? At the first
glance many would be disposed to answer, " Of course, a
politician/' But the disproportionate attention necessarily
bestowed on different questions, according as they are or
are not made/?«r^y-questions — the fields of battle on which
the contests for political superiority are to be carried on —

* These short extracts I have thought it best to reprint, instead of trou-
bUng the reader to refer to them.

INFLUENCES OF THE PROFESSIONS. 251

independently of the intrinsic importance of each — this is
a cause which must be continually operating to disturb
the judgment of one practically engaged in politics. Every
one at all versed in history must be acquainted with many
instances of severe and protracted struggles concerning
matters which are now remembered only on account of the
struggles they occasioned ; and again, of enactments ma-
terially affecting the welfare of unborn millions, which
hardly attracted any notice at the time, and were slipped
into one of the heterogeneous clauses of an Act of Parlia-
ment.

Precluded, then, as I find myself, for the reasons above
mentioned, from entering fully on the consideration of the
several departments of legal study and practice, I will de-
tain you only with a few brief hints respecting some of the
dangers to be guarded against from the barristbr^s pro-
fession.

He is, as I have already observed, in less danger than a
Clergyman, of settling down into some confirmed incorrect
view of any 'particular points connected with his profession ;
both for the reason there given, — there being a Court on
earth to correct any mistake he may make ; — and also be-
cause having to plead various causes, he is called upon to
extenuate to-day what he aggravated yesterday, — to attach
more and less weight, at different times, to the same kind
of evidence — to impugn, and to enforce, the same princi-
ples, according as the interests of his clients may require.

But this very circumstance must evidently have a ten-
dency, which ought to be sedulously guarded against, to
alienate the mind from the investigation of truth. Bishop
Butler observes, and laments, that it is very common for
men to have " a curiosity to know what is said, but no cu-
riosity to know what is true,'' Now none can be (other
points being equal) more in need of being put on his guard
against this fault, than he who is professionally occupied
with a multitude of cases, in each of which he is to con-

252 INTELLECTUAL AND MORAL

sider what may be plausibly urged on both sides ; while
the question what ought to be the decision, is out of his
province as a Pleader. I am supposing him not to be
seeking to mislead a judge or jury by urging fallacious
arguments : but there will often be sound and valid argu-
ments— real probabilities — on opposite sides. A Judge, or
any one whose business is to ascertain truth, is to decide
according to the preponderance of the reasons ; but the
Fleader^s business is merely to set forth, as forcibly as
possible, those on his own side. And if he thinks that the
habitual practice of this has no tendency to generate in
him, morally, any indifference, or intellectually, any incom-
petency, in respect of the ascertainment of truth, — if he
consider himself quite safe from any such danger, — I should
then say that he is in very great danger.

I have been supposing (as has been said) that he is one
who would scruple to mislead wilfully a Judge or Jury
by specious sophistry, or to seek to embarrass an honest
witness, and bring his testimony into discredit ; but there
is no denying that he is under a great temptation even
to resort to this. Nay, it has even been maintained by
no mean authority, that it is part of a Pleader's duty to
have no sciiiples about this or any other act whatever
that may benefit his client. " There are many whom
it may be needful to remind,'' says an eminent lawyer,
'^ that an advocate, by the sacred duty of his connexion
with his client, knows in the discharge of that office but
one person in the world — that client and none other. To
serve that client, by all expedient means, to protect that
client at all hazards and costs to all others (even the party
already injured) and amongst others to himself, is the highest
and most unquestioned of his duties. And he must not
regard the alarm, the suffering, the torment, the destruc-
tion, which he may bring upon any others. Nay, sepa-
rating even the duties of a patriot from those of an advo-
cate, he must go on, reckless of the consequences, if his

INFLUENCES OF THE PROFESSIONS. 253

fate should unhappily be to involve his country in confu-
sion for his client." — [Licence of Counsel, p. 3.]

On the other hand it is recorded that " Sir Matthew
Hale, whenever he was convinced of the injustice of any
cause, would engage no more in it than to explain to his
client the grounds of that conviction ; he abhorred the
practice of misreciting evidence, quoting precedents in
books falsely or unfairly, so as to deceive ignorant juries or
inattentive judges ; and he adhered to the same scrupulous
sincerity in his pleadings which he observed in the other
transactions of life. It was as great a dishonour as a man
was capable of, that for a little money he was hired to say
otherwise than he thought," — [License of Counsel, p. 4.]

^^ The Advocate,^^ says another eminent legal writer,
" observing in an honest witness a deponent whose testi-
mony promises to be adverse, assumes terrific tones and
deportment, 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; for 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 witness
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 clear of
suspicion, the witness runs on his course with fluency till
he is entangled in some irretrievable contradiction, at va-
riance with other parts of his own story, or with facts
notorious in themselves, or established by proofs from other
sources." — [License of Counsel, p. 5.]

^' 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 witness

254 INTELLECTUAL AND MORAL

who can withstand such assaults. Sir Roger North, in his
life of Sir Dudley North, relates that the law of Turkey,
like our absurd law of evidence in some cases, required 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 which admitted of only one witness.
Sir Dudley North, while in Turkey, had numerous 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 well stand his many captious questions as a false
witness used to the trade will do ; for he hath been exer-
cised, and is 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.' "

According to one, then, of the writers I have cited,
an advocate is justified, and is fulfilling a duty, not only
in protesting with solemnity his own full conviction of the
justice of his client's cause, though he may feel no such
conviction, — not only in feigning various emotions (like an
actor; except that the actor^s credit consists in its being
known that he is only feigning), such as pity, indigna-
tion, moral approbation, or disgust, or contempt, when he
neither feels any thing of the kind, nor believes the case
to be one that justly calls for such feelings ; but he is also
occasionally to entrap or mislead, to revile, insult, and ca-
lumniate persons whom he may in his heart believe to be
respectable persons and honest witnesses. Another on
the contrary observes : " We might ask our learned friend
and fellow-christian, as well as the learned and noble edi-
tor of ^ Paley's Natural Theology,' and his other fellow-
professors of the religion which says ^ that lying lips are

INFLUENCES OF THE PROFESSIONS. 255

an abomination to the Lord/ to explain to us how they
reconcile the practice under their rule, with the Christian
precepts, or avoid the solemn scriptural denunciation —
* Woe unto them that call evil good, and good evil; that
put darkness for light, and light for darkness; that put
bitter for sweet, and sweet for bitter ; . . . which justify the
wicked for reward, and take away the righteousness of the
righteous from him/ " [License of Counsel, p. 10.]

I have brought forward by choice the opinions of legal
writers, both for and against the necessity and allowable-
ness of certain practices ; leaving each person to decide for
himself both what is the right course for a Pleader to pur-
sue, and what is the probable effect produced on the mind
by the course pursued respectively by each. I will add
only one remark, extracted from a work of my own, indi-
cative of my own judgment as to the points touched on *.

" In oral examination of witnesses, a skilful cross-exa-
miner will often elicit from a reluctant witness most im-
portant truths, which the witness is desirous of conceahng
or disguising. There is another kind of skill, which con-
sists 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 cha-
racterised as the most, or one of the most, base and de-
praved of all possible employments of intellectual power,
I shall only make one further observation. I am con-
vinced 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 subjecting 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 ; and afterwards, by a totally
opposite mode of examination, such as would not have at
* See above, Note, p. 250,

256 INFLUENCES OF THE PROFESSIONS.

all perplexed one who was honestly telling the truth, that
same witness was drawn on, step by step, to acknowledge
the utter falsity of the whole. Generally speaking, I be-
lieve that a quiet, gentle, and straightforward, though full
and careful, 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 witness,
are just what the dishonest one is the best prepared for.
The more the storm blusters, the more carefully he wraps
round him the cloak, which a warm sunshine will often
induce him to throw off*.^^

I have thought it best, for the reasons formerly given,
to omit all notice of the advantages to be derived from each
class of professional pursuits, and to confine myself to the
dangers which are to be guarded against, and which con-
sequently require to be carefully contemplated. Even in
respect of these, however, I have been compelled, not only
to omit many remarks that will perhaps occur to your own
minds, relative to each of the Professions I have spoken
of, but also to leave several of the most important Profes-
sions wholly unnoticed, (the Military, the Naval, the Mer-
cantile, &c.) not from their not exercising as important an
influence, for good or evil, on the human mind, as those
which I have mentioned, but because I could not trespass
further on your patience; and also, because I conceive
that any one, in whatever walk of life, whose attention is
so awakened to that class of considerations which I have
laid before you, as to be put on the watch for the peculiar
effects on his own character likely to result from his own
Profession, will be induced to follow up the investigation for
himself, to his own practical benefit.

' * Rhetoric, Part I. Chap. II. § 4. See Note, p. 250.

PART III.

OF STYLE.

Chap. I . — Of Perspicuity,

§1.

Though the consideration of Style has been Style not
laid down as holding a place in a Treatise of '^ ^^ treated
Rhetoric, it would be neither necessary nor
pertinent, to enter fully into a general discussion of the
subject ; which would evidently embrace much that by no
means peculiarly belongs to our present inquiry. It is
requisite for an Orator, e, g, to observe the rules of Gram-
mar ; but the same may be said of the Poet, and the Hi-
storian, &c.; nor is there any joecM/i«r kind of grammatical
propriety belonging to Persuasive or Argumentative com-
positions ; so that it would be a departure from our sub-
ject 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, I shall, under the present
head, notice but slightly such principles of composition as
do not exclusively or especially belong to the present sub-
ject; confining my attention chiefly to such observations
on Style as have an especial reference to A'gumentative
and Persuasive works.

358 STYLU. [Part III.

§2.

Perspicuity It is sufficiently evident (though the maxim
a relative jg q^^^^^ practically disregarded) that the first
requisite of Style not only in rhetorical, but
in all compositions*, is Perspicuity; since, as Aristotle
observes, language which is not intelligible, or not clearly
and readily intelHgible, fails, in the same proportion, of the
purpose for which language is employed. And it is equally
self-evident (though this truth is still more frequently over-
looked) that Perspicuity is a relative quality, and conse-
quently cannot properly be predicated of any work, with-
out a tacit reference to the class of readers or hearers for
whom it is designed.

Nor is it enough that the Style be such as they are ca-
pable of understanding, if they bestow their utmost atten-
tion : 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 some hearers and readers
will be found slow of apprehension indeed, but capable of
taking in what is very copiously and gradually explained
to them ; while others, on the contrary, who are much
quicker at catching the sense of what is expressed in a
short compass, are incapable of long attention, and are
not only wearied, but absolutely bewildered, 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,

* In Poetry, perspicuity is indeed far from unimportant ; but the most per-
fect degree of it is by no means so essential as in Prose-works. See Part III.
Chap. III. § 3.

Chap. I. § 2.] PERSPICUITY. 259

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 con-
gregations to which most Sermons 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
level to the comprehension of the greater part, at least,
even of a promiscuous audience, without being distasteful
to any.

It is obvious, and has often been remarked,
that extreme conciseness is ill-suited to hear- p \^ ^^
ers or readers whose intellectual powers and
cultivation are but small. The usual expedient, however,
of employing a •prolix Style by way of accommodation to
such minds, is seldom successful. Most of those who
could have comprehended the meaning, if more briefly ex-
pressed, 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 feeble- ^"^J-^I
ness produced by excessive dilution, (if such "^^^^
an expression may be allowed,) will occasion
the attention to languish ; and what is imperfectly attended
to, however 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 unreflecting audience,
or if, on the other hand, there is a wearisome prolixity,

s 2

260 STYLE. [Part III.

the requisite attention may very probably not be be-
stowed.

It is remarked by Anatomists, that the nu-

Danger tritive quahty is not the only requisite in food;

from exces- — ^^^^ ^ certain degree of distention of the

sive concise- . , ^ ^ ^ > • v

ness, 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. Something analogous
to this takes place with respect to the generality of minds ;
which are incapable of thoroughly digesting and assimila-
ting what is presented to them, however clearly, in a very
small compass. Many a one is capable of deriving that
instruction from a moderate sized volume, which he could
not receive from a very small pamphlet, even more per-
spicuously written, and containing every thing that is to
the purpose. 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 sub-
sequent meditation.
^ . . The best general rule for avoiding the dis-

advantages both of conciseness and of prolixity
is to employ Repetition : to repeat, that is, the same senti-
ment and argument in many diiFerent forms of expression ;
each, in itself brief, but all, together, affording such an ex-
pansion of the sense to be conveyed, and so detaining the
mind 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 cor-
rect taste, and lies open to Horace's censure of an author,
^^ Qui variare cupit rem prodigialiter unam :'' but it must be
admitted that he seldom fails to make himself thoroughly
understood, and does not often weary the attention, even
when he offends the taste, of his readers.

CiiAr.I. §2.] PERSPICUITY. 261

Care must of course be taken that the repetition may
not be too glaringly apparent ; the variation must not con-
sist in the mere use of other, synonymous, words ; but what
has been expressed in appropriate terms may be repeated
in metaphorical ; the antecedent and consequent of an ar-
gument, or the parts of an antithesis may be transposed ;
or several different points that have been enumerated, pre-
sented in a varied order, &c.
It is not necessary to dwell on that obvious

rule laid down by Aristotle, to avoid uncom- . f^ ^ ^"
•^ ^ rived from

mon, and, as they are vulgarly called, hard Saxon better

words, i. e. those which are such to the per- understood

sons addressed : but it may be worth remark- ^^ *^^ ^^^^^

ctttsses
ing, that to those who wish to be understood

by the lower orders of the English*, one of the best prin-
ciples 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 f. Our language being (with very
trifling exceptions) made up of these elements, it is veiy
easy for any one, though unacquainted with Saxon, to ob-
serve this precept, if he has but a knowledge of French or
of Latin ; and there is a remarkable scope for such a choice
as I 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 themselves
of this circumstance in employing many synonymous, or
nearly synonymous, expressions, most of which are of the

* This does not hold good in an equal degree in Ireland, where the lan-
guage was introduced by the higher classes.

t A remarkable instance of thi« is, that while the children of the higher
classes almost always call their parents " Papa ! " and " Mamma ! " the cliildren
of the peasantry usually call them by the titles of " Father 1 " and " Mother ! "

262 STYLE. [Part III.

description just alluded to. Take, as an instance, the Ex-
hortation : — "acknowledge^^ and " confess ;^^ — "dissemble"
and "cloke;" — "humble" and "lowly;" — "goodness"
and "mercy;" — "assemble" and "meet together." And
here it may be observed, that (as in this last instance) a
Word of French origin will very often not have a single
wore? of Saxon derivation corresponding to it, but may find
an exact equivalent in o. phrase of two or more words ; e.g,
"constitute," "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 intelligible to
the lowest classes, is characteristic of those who in cultiva-
tion of taste are below the highest. As in dress, furniture,
deportment, &c., so also in language, the dread of vulga-
rity 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 with an advantage in point of elegance also.

In adapting the Style to the comprehension
Perspicuity of the illiterate *, a caution is to be observed

not incon- against the ambiguity of the word ''Plain;"
ststdtit with o V '

ornament. which is opposed sometimes to Obscurity, and

sometimes to Ornament, The vulgar require
a perspicuous, 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 w ith per-
spicuity ; indeed Metaphor, which is among the principal
of them, is, in many cases, the clearest mode of expres-
sion that can be adopted ; it being usually much easier for
uncultivated minds to comprehend a simiUtude or ana-
logy, than an abstract term. And hence the language of
savages, as has often been remarked, is highly meta-
* See Elements of Logic. Fallacies, ch. iii. § 5. p. 146.

Chap. I. § 3.] PERSPICUOUS CONSTRUCTION OF SENTENCES. 263

phorical ; 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 vrords " ponder,^^ *^ deli-
berate,^' " reflect," and many other such, are evidently
drawn by analogy from external sensible bodily actions.

§3.

In respect to the Construction of Sentences,
it is an obvious caution to abstain from such Construe-
as are too long ; but it is a mistake to suppose Sentences
that the obscurity of many long sentences de-
pends on their length alone. A well-constructed sentence
of very considerable length may be more readily under-
stood than a shorter one which is more awkwardly framed.
If a sentence be so constructed 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 ap-
pear,) 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 impartiality as that
of another ;" this labours under the defect I am speaking
of; which may be remedied by some such alteration as

2(51 STYLE. [Part III.

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 gene-
rality 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 understood clause by clause, as it proceeds*. The
caution just given is the more necessary to be insisted on,
because 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.

Universally, indeed, an unpractised writer
Clear ideas is liable to be misled by his own knowledge of
do not imply j^jg q^^j^ meaning, into supposing those expres-
clettTiiess of

expression, ^^^"^^ clearly intelligible, which are so to him-
self; 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 familiar 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 acquired. In the
former case it is a matter of some difficulty to keep in
mind the necessity of carefully and copiously explaining
principles which by long habit have come to assume in

* Care must be taken, however, in applying this precept, not to let the
beginning of a sentence ?,o forestall vihuX follows as to render 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.

Chap. I. § 4.] PERSPICUITY, NOT ALWAYS AIMED AT. 265

our minds the appearance of self-evident truths. Utterly
incorrect therefore is Blair's notion, that obscurity of Style
necessarily springs from indistinctness of Conception. A
little conversation on nautical affairs, with sailors, or on
agriculture, with farmers, would soon have undeceived
him.

§4.

The foregoing rules have all, it is evident,
proceeded on the supposition that it is the P^rspicuiiy
writer's intention to be understood ; and this aimed at
cannot but be the case in every legitimate
exercise of the Rhetorical art; and generally speaking,
even where the design is Sophistical. For, as Dr. Camp-
bell 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 indirectly, assume as self-evident,
a premiss which there is no sufficient ground for ad-
mitting ; or he may draw off the attention of the hearers
to the proof of some irrelevant point, &c., according to the
various modes described in the Treatise on Fallacies *;
but in all this there is no call for any departure from
perspicuity of Style, properly so called; not even when
he avails himself 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 matter
should be misunderstood than not understood ; — that his
language should be deceitful, rather than obscure or unin-
telligible. The hearer must not indeed form a correct,

* Logic, B. iii.

266 STYLE. [Part III.

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, strictly speaking, obscurity of Style ;

it must be, not like a mist which dims the appearance of

things, but like a coloured glass which disguises them.

The nearest approach perhaps to obscurity

Sophistry of style that can serve a sophistical purpose, is,

veie yin- ^^^xew something is said which would be at
distinctness. . .^ i

once rejected if understood fully, and m the

established sense of the words ; those words however
being capable of dimly suggesting some different sense or
senses, in which the assertion would be true, though irre-
levant or nugatory. When an assertion has thus passed
unchallenged, from being imperfectly understood, it may
be assumed afterwards in its proper sense, and in one
which is to the purpose, but which would have been re-
jected if plainly stated in the outset.

To take one example out of many that could be found :
" Though religious liberty ,^^ I have heard it said, " ought
to be enjoyed by all, we should remember that religious
liberty does not imply irreligious liberty:'^ this propo-
sition is one which I have known intelligent and well-
principled men led to assent to ; and which, I have no
doubt, would, in many circles, be received with hearty
acquiescence and applause. Yet, according to the esta-
blished usage of language, it is utterly untrue, and self-
contradictory. When we speak of a man^s being at
^Miberty" to act in a certain way, we always understand
that he is at liberty to act differently ; that it depends on
himself to do, or not to do, so and so. It would be
thought absurd to speak of a Dean and Chapter being " at
liberty" to elect a certain individual, but not at liberty to
refuse him ; or to say of a man imprisoned, that he has
liberty to remain in jail, though not liberty to leave it*.
* See Essay " On the Kingdom of Christ," Note A.

Chap. I. § 4.] PERSPICUITY, NOT ALWAYS AIMED AT. 267

And any one would say that the freedom of Parhament
was at an end, if they were authorized to pass any Bill the
Ministry might propose, but not, to reject it.

x\ccording to the usual and proper sense of the words
therefore, it is plain that religious liberty does imply irre-
ligious liberty ; and liberty to do right, liberty to do
wrong. How then are men brought to assent to that,
which if plainly understood, according to their own ha-
bitual use of language, they would instantly perceive to
be a contradiction? Doubtless, by an indistinct appre-
hension of it. For there are other senses, which, though
not such as the expression can properly bear, may yet be
faintly suggested by it, and in which the assertion would
be an undeniable and nugatory truism. E. G. Liberty,
in the sense of absence of external coercion, does not
imply liberty from conscientious obligation. One who is
at liberty, in any case, to act rightly, and, of course, also,
to act wrongly, — i. e. left free to chflse between good and
evil, — is not at liberty in point of duty, to chOse the evil.
And as there is, morally, no '^ liberty ^^ to do wrong, so
neither is there^ in that sense, liberty to do right. We do
not say that a man is *^ at liberty" to obey the divine
laws, but that he is " bound" to obey them. In every
instance, and in every sense, in which a man is ^^ at li-
berty" to act in one way, it is implied that he is at liberty
to act in another w^ay.

To say then that freedom from external compulsion
does not leave one free from moral obligation, is not only
true, but self-evident, and needless to be stated.

Again, a certain degree of liberty as to any matter, does
not imply complete liberty therein. A man has a certain
degree of religious liberty who is compelled indeed to pro-
fess some religion, but left free to chuse what ; and again
he has some, though a less degree, if he is compelled to
profess Christianity, but left free to chuse the Christian
denomination he may prefer : or yet again, if he be com-

268 STYLE. [Part III.

pelled to ^conform to a certain Church, but allowed to
chuse his awn Confessor or Preacher. So also, a man in
prison may be allowed his choice of rooms ; but in that
case (and it is the same with the other analogous ones)
we should say, not, that he is " at liberty'^ to remain in
the prison, which he is not allowed to quit, but, that he is
'^at liberty ^^ to inhabit such and such a room in it; inas-
much as he is allowed to occupy another instead.

Now the two propositions which I have supposed may
be suggested to the mind by the expression in question,
are both of them mere truisms, not worth being stated.
That freedom from external coercion in religious matters,
does not render them morally indifferent ; and again, that
a certain degree of liberty does not imply full liberty, —
each of these is an assertion, which, if plainly made, would
be perceived to be nugatory. Yet it is doubtless some
indistinct idea of one or both of these, floating, as it were,
in the mind, that leads men to acquiesce in and applaud
an assertion which, in the proper sense of the words, they
would perceive on reflection to be absurd.

Numerous similar instances might be found of fallacies
thus veiled by indistinctness of language in most of the
treatises extant on "fatalism,'^ "free- agency,^' and other
kindred matters ; in which the words " may,^^ ^^ can,^*
" possible,'^ &c. are understood partly in reference to
power, partly, to probability *.

In these however, and in all other cases where indi-
stinctness of language serves to veil sophistry from a man's
hearers, or, — which is quite as common — from himself,
the expressions must always appear intelligible, and wc
must follow, or imagine we follow the meaning, as we
proceed.

There are, however, certain spurious kinds.

Spurious j^g ^jjgy ^^y. ijg called, of writing or speaking,
(distinct from what is strictly termed Sophistry,)
* See Appendix to Logic, articles " May," " Necessary," &c.

Chap. I. § 4.] PERSPICUITY, NOT ALWAYS AIMED AT. 26D

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
such that it cannot be sufficiently supported Appearing
even by specious Fallacies,) to appear to say ^ "^^f.
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 unintelli-
gible the language, the better, provided it carry with it
the appearance of profound wisdom, and of being some-
thing to the purpose.

^' Now though nothing (says Dr. Campbell) would seem
to be easier than this kind of Style, where an author falls
into it naturally ; that is, when he deceives himself as well
as his reader, nothing is more difficult when attempted
of design. It is beside requisite, if this manner must be
continued for any time, that it be artfully blended with
some glimpses of meaning ; else, to persons of discern-
ment, the charm will at length be dissolved, and the
nothingness of w^hat has been spoken will be detected;
nay even the attention of the unsuspecting multitude,
when not relieved by any thing that is level to their com-
prehension, will infallibly flag. The Invocation in the
Dunciad admirably suits the Orator who is unhappily
reduced to the necessity of taking shelter in the unin-
telligible :

Of darkness visible so much be lent,

As half to shew, half veil the deep intent."

Chap. viii. sec. 1. p. 119.

This artifice is distinguished from Sophistry, properly
so 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

270 STYLE. [Part III

argument, when in fact nothing is urged. For in order
for men to be convinced, on however insufficient grounds,
they must (as was remarked above) understand something
from what is said, though, if it be fallacious, they must not
understand it rightly ; but if this cannot be accomplished,
the Sophist's next resort is the unintelligible ; which in-
deed 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: igno^
rant and unreflecting persons, though they cannot be,
strictly speaking, convinced, by what they do not under^
stand, yet will very often suppose, each, that the rest
understand it ; and each is ashamed to acknowledge, even
to himself, his own darkness and perplexity: so that if
the speaker with a confident air announces his conclusion
as established, they will often, according to the maxim
'' omne ignotum pro magnifico,^' take for granted that he
has advanced valid arguments, and will be loth to seem
behind-hand in comprehending them. It usually requires
that a man should have some confidence in his own under-
standing, to venture to say, " what has been spoken is
unintelligible to me."

Another purpose sometimes answered by a

Furnishing discourse of this kind is, that it serves to fur-

a pretext for jjjgjj ^n excuse, flimsy indeed, but not unfre-

voting as one . , ai • i. r x x j.

is inclined. ^^^ntly sufficient, tor men to vote or act

according to their own inclinations; which
they would perhaps have been ashamed to do, if strong
arguments had been urged on the other side, and had
remained confessedly unanswered ; but they satisfy them-
selves, if something has been said in favour of the course
they wish to adopt ; though that something be only fair-
sounding sentences that convey no distinct meaning. They
are content that an answer has been made, without trou-
bling themselves to consider what it is.

Chap. I. § 5.] PERSPICUITY, NOT ALWAYS AIMfiD AT. 271

§5.

Another end, which in speaking is some-
times proposed, and which is, if possible, still . ^^^^pym^
more remote from the legitimate province of
Rhetoric, is to occupy time. When an unfavourable deci-
sion is apprehended, and the protraction of the debate
may afford time for fresh voters to be summoned, or may-
lead to an adjournment, which will afford scope for some
other manoeuvre; — 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 advocate 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 appa-
rently proceed in his pleading ; in these and many similar
cases, which it is needless to particularize *, it is a valu-
able talent to be able to pour forth with fluency an unli-
mited quantity of 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 distinct idea.

Perspicuity of Style, — real, not apparent, perspicuity, —
is in this case never necessary, and sometimes, studiously
avoided. If 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 ^^ ere relevant, and there were no argu-
ments of any force to be urged, except such as either had
been already dwelt on, or were required to be reserved (as

* I have heard an anecdote of an Advocate who occupied the Court with
this " Chronoiriptic" oratory (as it might be styled) for six hours, while a
messenger was despatched for an important document which had been acci-
dentally left behind at a town twenty-five miles off.

272 STYLE. [Part III.

in the case last alluded to) for a fuller audience^ the
speaker would not further his cause by bringing them for-
ward. So that the usual resource on these occasions, of
such orators as thoroughly understand the tricks of their
art, and do not disdain to employ them, is to amuse their
audience with specious emptiness.

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, and the
Display of i^^^^ ^Yioi will be noticed, is that which has for

BlOQUCTlCG.

its object to gain the hearer's admiration of
the Eloquence displayed. This, indeed, constitutes one
of the three kinds of Oratory enumerated by Aristotle f,
and is regularly treated of by him, along with the Deli-
berative and Judicial branches ; though it hardly deserves
the place he has bestowed on it.

When this is the end pursued, perspicuity is not indeed
to be avoided, but it may often without detriment be dis-
regarded!. Men frequently admire as eloquent, and

* See Part III. chap. iii. § 2.

t 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 Oeujpbs, literally, a Spectator ; and is a judge merely (rfys
Svvdfieu)s) of the ability of the Orator.

t See Appendix [L].

Chap. I. § 6.] ENERGY. 273

sometimes admire the most, what they do not at all, or
do not fully, comprehend, if elevated and high-sounding
words be arranged in graceful and sonorous periods. Those
of uncultivated, or ill- cultivated, minds, especially, are apt
to think meanly of any thing that is brought down per-
fectly 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 ; mistaking
the muddiness of the water for depth ; and magnifying in
their imaginations what is viewed through a fog ; and
they conclude that brilliant language must represent some
brilliant ideas, without troubling themselves to inquire
what those ideas are.

Many an enthusiastic admirer of a " fine discourse,'^ or
a piece of " fine writing,^^ would be found on examination
to retain only a few sonorous, but empty phrases ; and not
only to have no notion of the general drift of the Argu-
ment, 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 ex-
pressed 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 obtain the highest applause from those
who not only receive no edification from what they hear,
but absolutely do not understand it. So far is popularity
from being a safe criterion of the usefulness of a preacher.

It should be added that it is (as indeed has
been already hinted) not for eloquence alone of stvle^mK-
that a man will sometimes obtain credit by taken for ori-
means of an imposing and mystical obscurity ginality and
of language. That pompous kind of half- ^^^^l' f^
German dialect for instance, which has of late

274 STYLE. [Part III.

years been particularly in fashion^ and some other such,
have sometimes succeeded in raising the admiration even
of those who condemn the affectation and obscurity of the
style, but who consider the thoughts conveyed as some-
thing very profound and original. For, many persons,
especially those of a somewhat enthusiastic temperament,
(the Schwdrmerei of the Germans,) and a certain craving
after the sublime, and who at the same time are deficient in
the habit of close and patient thinking, are apt, when any-
thing is made very clear to them, to fancy that they knew
it before, and to under-rate an author who enlightens them
without any dazzling flashes, as a second-rate or third-rate
person, destitute of genius ; while they admire the sup-
posed wisdom which is partially veiled by a kind of daz-
zling haze. And yet perhaps these admirers, if called on
themselves to explain in their own words, the meaning of
what has been said, would find that much of it is unsound
and worthless, and that most of the remainder is what has
been often said before — and much better said — in plain
English ; and that a style not wholly unintelligible, yet not
readily and fully intelligible, has deceived them as to the
real value of the matter*. They would find, like the anti-
quarian in ^^ Martinus Scriblerus,'^ that the supposed
curious old shield turned out, when its rust was scoured
off, to be no more than a pot-hd.

* ** These matters are treated of in solemn and imposing language, of that
peculiar kind of dazzling mistiness whose effect is to convey, at first, to ordi-
nary readers, a striking impression, with an appearance of being perfectly in-
telligible at the first glance, but to become more obscure and doubtful at the
second glance, and more and more so, the more attentively it is studied by a
reader of clear understanding ; so as to leave him utterly in doubt, at the last,
which of several meanings it is meant to convey, or whether any at all." —
Essay II. On the Kingdom of Christ, § 38. p. 273.

Chap. II. § 1.] ENERGY. S75

Chap. II. — 0/ Energy,

§1-

Tfie next quality of Style to be noticed is what may be
called Energy ; the term being used in a wider sense than
the '^vepyeca of Aristotle, and nearly corresponding with
what Dr. Campbell calls Vivacity ; so as to comprehend
every thing that may conduce to stimulate attention, — to
impress strongly on the mind the Arguments 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 Number, and
3rd, their Arrangement,

With respect to the Choice of words, it will choice of
be most convenient to consider them under words with
those two classes which Aristotle has de- « "^^^^ to
scribed under the titles of Kuria and Xena, ^^^^91/'
for which our language does not afford precisely corre-
sponding 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 trans-
ferred to a different meaning from that which strictly be-
longs to them, or employed in a different manner from that
of common discourse. All the Tropes and Figures, enu-
merated by Grammatical and Rhetorical Writers, will of
course fall under this head.

With respect then to " Proper" terms, the
principal rule for guiding our choice with a Cautton
view to Energy, is to prefer, ever, those words ^^^ tej^ms,
which are the least abstract and general, In-

T 2

276 STYLE. [Part III.

dividuals alone having a real existence*, the terms de-
noting 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, L e. the more specific or in-
dividual^ 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 distinguish the features of the individual i 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
livinff 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 impres-
sion 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 generic term may be as clearly
understood, as a Specific, or a Singular term, but will con-
vey a much less forcible impression to the hearer's mind.
" The more General the terms are," (as Dr. Campbell justly

* Thence called by Aristotle, {Categ. sec. 3.) " primary substances " {irpuiTai
ovffiaif) Genus and Species, being denominated " secondary," as not properly
denoting a " really-existing-thing," (rode ti,) but rather an attribute. He has,
indeed, been considered as the great advocate of the opposite doctrine ; i. e.
the system of " Reahsm ; " which was certainly embraced by many of his pro-
fessed followers ; but his own language is sufficiently explicit. Udaa de ovaia
doKel Tode n ar\naiveiv. 'Etti fiev ovv riHv TTpoJTiov ovffidv dvafi(l)i(T(3riTt]-
Tov Kai dXrjOes eariv, on rode n ffrifxaivei' aro/jiov yap, kul ev dpi6fi(p to
drjXovixevov eariv. 'Etti ^e ra>v devrepcjv ow<riwv 4>AINETAI nevofjLoiujs ry
crxfjfAaTi, Tris 7rpo<Tr]yopias Tode ri (Ttjfiaiveiv, orav eiTry, dvOpojTros, ri t^tjov.
OY MHN TE AAHGES* dWd fiaXXov ttoIov ti ar]/iaiv€i' K. r. \. — Aristotle,
Categ. § 3. See Logic, Dissert, c. v.

Chap. II. §1.] ENERGY. 277

remarks^ " the picture is the fainter ; the more Special
they are, the brighter. The same sentiment may be ex-
pressed 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 Choice aU
Author has little or no choice on this point, lowed between

but must employ either more or less general 9^^^^^^ ^^^
. J- *i .1 !_• i. 1 • 1 • specificterms,

terms accordmg to the objects he is speaking ^ ''

of. There is, however, in almost every case, great room
for such a choice as we are speaking of; for, in the first
place, it depends on our choice whether or not we will
employ terms more 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 y it may be correctly asserted,
that he has committed a crime : if the Jews were ^^ exter-
minated," and " Jerusalem demolished " by " Vespasian^s
army," it may be said, with truth, that they were ^^ sub-
dued" 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 unnecessarily ; either because they ima-
gine there is more appearance of refinement or of pro-
fundity, 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 reason-
ings, and to increase the utility of what they say, by en-
larging the field of its application. Inexperienced Preachers
frequently err in this way, by dwelling on Virtue and Vice,
— Piety and Irreligion, — in the abstract, without particu-

278 STYLE. [Part III.

larizing; forgetting that while they include much, they
impress little or nothing.

The only appropriate occasion for this Generic language,
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 number-
less instances. On the other hand, in Antony's speech
over Caesar's body, his object being to excite horror,
Shakspeare puts into his mouth the most particular ex-
pressions ; " those honourable men (not, who killed Caesar,
but) whose daggers have stabb'd Caesar."

§2.

But in the second place, not only does a
* regard for Energy require that we should not
use terras more general than are exactly adequate to the
objects spoken of, but we are also allowed, in many cases,
to employ less general terms than are exactly Appropriate.
In this case we are employing words not ^* Appropriate,"
but belonging to the second of the two classes just men-
tioned. The use of this Trope* (enumerated by Aristotle
among the Metaphors, but since, more commonly called
Synecdoche) is very frequent; as it conduces much to the
energy of the expression, 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
remarks made upon it, will serve to illustrate what has been

* From Tpeiru) ; any word turned from its primary signification.

t The ingenious Author cites this in the Section treating of " Proper terms,"
which is a trifling oversight ; as it is plain that " lily " is used for the Genus
" flower,"—" Solomon," for the Species " King," &c.

Chap. II. § 3.] TROPES CONDUCIVE TO ENERGY. 279

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 you * ? ' Let us here adopt a little of
the tasteless manner of modern paraphrasts by the substi-
tution of more general terms, one of their many expedients
of infrigidating, and let us observe the effect produced by
this change. ' Consider the flowers, how they gradually
increase in their size; they do no manner of work, and yet
I declare to you, that no king whatever, in his most splen-
did habit, is dressed up like them. If then God in his
providence doth so adorn the vegetable productions, which
continue but little time on the land, and are afterwards de-
voted 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 particu-
larizing of to-day and to-morrow, is infinitely more expres-
sive of transitoriness, than any description wherein the
terms are general, that can be substituted in its room.'^
It is a remarkable circumstance that this characteristic of
style is perfectly retained in translation, 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 consideration of
Tropes: the most employed and most im- nnd%imih
portant of all those kinds of expressions which
* Luke xii. 27, 28.

280 STYLE. [Part III.

depart from the plain and strictly appropriate Style, — all
that are called by Aristotle, Xena, — is the Metaphor, in
the usual and limited sense ; viz. a word substituted for
another, on account of the Resemblance or Analogy be-
tween their significations. The Simile or Comparison
may be considered as differing in form only from a Meta-
phor ; the resemblance being in that case stated, which in
the Metaphor is implied*. Each may be founded either
on Resemblance, strictly so called, i. e, direct resemblance
between the objects themselves in question, (as when we
speak of " /a^/e-land," or compare great waves to moun-
tains,) or on Analogy, which is the resemblance of Ratios,
— a similarity of the relations 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 shipf.

The Analogical Metaphors and Compari-

Metavhors, ^^^^ ^^^ ^^^^ *^^ more frequent and the more
striking. They are the more frequent, be-
cause 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 resem-
blance,) and what is properly called a Simile or Compa-
rison, introduced merely to give force or beauty to the
expression. And it was added, that the aptness and beauty
of an Illustration sometimes leads men to overrate, and
sometimes to underrate, its force as an Argument J.

* See Logic, chap. iii.

t Roderic Dhu, in the " Lady of the Lake."

t See Part L chap. iii. § 3.

Chap. II. §3.] METAPHORS CONDUCIVE TO ENERGY. 281

With respect to the choice between the Metaphorical
form and that of Comparison^ it may be 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 re-
ceived 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 with
the same contempt as a man does any thing which he
tramples under his feet/^ On the other hand it would be
harsh 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 resemblance. But this is never to be done more
fully than is necessary to perspicuity; because all men
are more gratified at catching the Resemblance for them-
selves, than at having it pointed out to themf. And ac-
cordingly the greatest masters of 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 afterwards employing metaphorical terms
which imply it ; or vice versd, explaining 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 fancy,)

like the bat of Indian brakes,

Her pinions fan the wound she makes,
And soothing thus the dreamer's pain,
She drinks the life-blood from the vein J.

The word " like " makes this a Comparison ; but the three

• 'EoTiv J7 eiKuv n€Ta<popdf dia^ipovffa irpoadeaei' did vttov 7)dv, on
fiaKpoTep(t)s, K. r. \. — Aristotle, Rhet. bookiii. chap. 10.*

f To ixavOdveiv paSibJS riSv ({tixrei. — Aristotle, Rhet. bookiii. chap. 5.
t Rokeby.

289 STYLE. [Part III.

succeeding lines are Metaphorical. Again^ to take an in-
stance of the other kind :

They melted from the field, as snow,

When streams are swoln, and south winds blow,

Dissolves in silent dew *.

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 manage-
ment of Comparison which they exemplify, 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,
{Rhet. book iii. chap 4.) that the Simile is more suitable in
Poetry, and that Metaphor is the only ornament of lan-
guage 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 "the same kind of expression : " These meta-
physic rights entering into common life, like rays of light
which pierce into a dense medium, are, by the laws of na-
ture, refracted from their straight line. Indeed, in the
gross and complicated mass of human passions and con-
cerns, 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 directionf .^'

Metaphors may be employed, as Aristotle

Elevating observes, either to elevate or to degrade the
OT" deofttdiTio
Metaphors, subject, according to the design of the Author;

being drawn from similar or corresponding

objects of a higher or lower character. Thus a loud and

vehement speaker may be described either as bellovAng, or

as thundering. And in both cases, if the Metaphor is apt

and suitable to the purpose designed, it is alike conducive

* Marmion. f Burke " On the French Revolution."

Chap. II. §3.] METAPHORS CONDUCIVE TO ENERGY. 283

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 attributes of the thing spoken of.
Metonymy likewise (in which a part is put for a whole,
a cause for an effect, &c.) admits of a similar variety in its
applications.

A happier example cannot be found than the one which
Aristotle cites from Simonides, who, when offered a small
price for an Ode to celebrate a victory in a mule-race, ex-
pressed his contempt for half-asses, (rj/jLLovot,) as they were
commonly called ; but when a larger sum was offered,
addressed them in an Ode as " Daughters of Steeds swift-
as-the- storm .^^ {deXKoTroScov dvyarpe^ Xinrcdv.)

Any Trope (as is remarked by Dr. Campbell) adds force
to the expression when it tends to fix the mind on 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 punishment : " shall
not the Judge of all the earth do right ?^^ If 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 gene-
rally giving the most distinct impression to it. Thus we
speak of" unbridled rage,^^ ''deep-rooted prejudice,^' ''glow-
ing 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" for " Royalty,"— the "sword"
for " military violence," &c.

But the highest degree of Energy (and to

which Aristotle chiefly restricts the term) is ^J^/«^/y^*^5^
11 1 Tt >r 1 .1 Metaphors.

produced by such Metaphors as attribute life

284 STYLE. [Part III.

and action to things inanimate ; and that, even when by
this means the last-mentioned rule is violated, L e, when
sensible objects are illustrated by intellectual. For the
disadvantage is overbalanced by the vivid impression pro-
duced by the idea of personality or activity ; as when we
speak of the 7'age of a torrent, o. furious storm, a river dis-
daining to endure its bridge, &c.*

The figure called by Rhetoricians Prosopopoeia (literally.
Personification,) is, in fact, no other than a Metaphor of
this kind : thus, in Demosthenes, Greece is represented as
addressing the Athenians. So also in the book of Genesis,
(chap. iv. verse 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, since they
cease to suggest the idea belonging to their primary signi-
fication, and thus are become, practically. Proper terms.
But a new, or at least unhackneyed. Metaphor of this
kind, if it be not far-fetched and obscure, adds greatly to
the force of the expression. This was a favourite figure
with Homer, from whom Aristotle has cited several ex-
amples of it ; as " the raging arrow,'' '^ the darts eager to
taste of flesh f," " the shameless " (or as it might be ren-
dered with more exactness, though with less dignity, " the
provoking) stone," (\aa9 avaiZrjf;,) 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 5 the Greek and Latin, though possessing the ad-

* Poniem indignatus.

t There is a peculiar aptitude in some of these expressions which the mo-
dern student is very likely to overlook ; an arrow or dart, from its flying with
a spinning motion, quivers violently when it is fixed ; thus suggesting the idea
of a person trembling with eagerness.

Chap. II. § 3.] METAPHORS CONDUCIVE TO ENERGY. 285

vantage (which is wanting in the languages 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 femi-
nine gender, that form of expression at once confers per-
sonality 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 circum-
stance 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 " ^Aperr}/' in the feminine gen-
der, can contribute, accordingly, no animation to the Style,
when they could not, without a Solecism, be employed
otherwise.

There is, however, very little, compara- Novelty in
tively, of Energy produced by any Metaphor Metaphor.
or Simile that is in common use, and already
familiar to the hearer. Indeed, what were originally the
boldest Metaphors, are become, by long use, virtually,
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," "ruminate," "edification*,"
&c. If, again, a Metaphor or Simile that is not so hack-
neyed as to be considered common property, be taken from
any known Author, it strikes every one, as no less a pla-
giarism than if an entire argument or description had been
thus transferred. And hence it is, that, as Aristotle re-
marks, the skilful employment of these, more than of any
other, ornaments of language, may be regarded as a " mark
of genius" {ev<f>vta^ a-rffielov). Not that he means to say,
as some interpreters suppose, that this power is entirely a
* See Hinds's " Three Temples ;" Preface.

286 STYLE. [Part III.

gift of nature, and in no degree to be learnt ; on the con-
trary, he expressly affirms, that the " perception of resem-
blances*", on which it depends, is the fruit of " Philo-
sophy f;'^ but he means that any Metaphor which is stri-
king from being not in common use, is a kind of property
of him who has invented it, and cannot fairly be trans-
ferred from his Composition to another^s J.

Some care is accordingly requisite, in order

Explana- ^^i^ ^^„ j^^^ -^^ readily comprehended, and
tion ofMeta- / i .t. c ^ - c

phors ^^y ^^^ nave the appearance of bemg tar-

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 in its trans-
ferred sense, something which does belong to it in its lite-
ral sense. To call the Sea the " watery bulwark " of our
island, would be an instance of the former kind ; an ex-
ample 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 unsubsidized allies of Eng-
land/'

It is hardly necessary to mention the ob-

Mixed and yiQ^jg ^nd hackneyed cautions against mixture
Complex cT^if J. y 1 . ^ xi ^

Metaphors. ^^ Metaphors ; and agamst any that are com-
plex 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 fastidious on this point.
Words, which by long use in a transferred sense, have lost

* T6 o/ioiov bpq,v. Aristotle, Rhet. book ii.
t 'P^ov 6K ^i\o(To<pias. Ibid, books ii. and iii.
X OvK eari irap' aXKov Xa(3€lv. JMd. book iii.

Chap. II. § 4.] EPITHETS CONDUCIVE TO ENERGY. 287

nearly all their metaphorical force, may fairly be com-
bined 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 com-
plex 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 frequently,
not whether this or that is a striking expression, but
whether it makes the meaning more striking than another
phrase would, — whether it impresses more forcibly the
sentiment to be conveyed.

§4.

Epithets, in the Rhetorical sense, denote, „ . ,
not every adjective, but those only which do
not add to the sense, but signify something already im-
plied in the noun itself; as, if one says, ^^the glorious
sun : '^ on the other hand, to speak of the " rising " or
" meridian sun '' would not be considered as, in this sense,
employing an Epithet.

It is a common practice with some writers to endeavour
to add force to their expressions by accumulating 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 intended. 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 remarkable ; 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 language, and to set off trite sentiments and

288 STYLE. [Part III.

feeble arguments 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 epi-
thets, laid on the outside, and into which none of the vi-
tality 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 va-
rious 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
Frigid 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 least, not
so frequently as they occur in the original. Aristotle, in-
deed, gives us to understand that in his time this liberty
was still allowed to Poets ; but later taste is more fasti-
dious. He censures, however, the adoption, by prose-
writers, of this, and of every other kind of ornament that
might seem to border on the poetical ; and he bestows on
such a style the appellation of ^^ frigid,' {'^^XP^^>) 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 natu-
rally applicable to poetry. This veiy circumstance, how-
ever, does in reality account for the use of the other ex-
pression. We are, in poetical prose, reminded of, and for
that reason disposed to miss, the " warmth and glow " of
* Foster, Essay IV.

Chap. II. § 4.] EPITHETS CONDUCIVE TO ENERGY. 289

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 famiUar 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 dif-
ficult 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, how-
ever, 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 boldest
and most striking, and almost poetical, turns Caution
of expression, should be reserved (as Aristotle ^9^^^st um~

tOVTYl Ofil-

has remarked, book iii. chap. 7^) for the most Uancy,
impassioned parts of a discourse ; and that an
author should guard against the vain ambition of ex-
pressing every thing in an equally high- wrought, brilliant,
and forcible style. The neglect of this caution often occa-
sions the imitation of the best models to prove detri-
mental. 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 sen-
tence 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 prominent. 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

290 STYLE. [Part III.

want of relief and contrast ; and Composition, as well as
Painting, has its lights and shades, which must be distri-
buted with no less skill, if we would produce the desired
eifect*.

In no place, however, will it be advisable
Uses of to introduce any Epithet which does not fulfil
epithets. one of these two purposes; 1st, to explain a
Metaphor ; a use which has been noticed un-
der 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
superfluous; thus ^schylusf 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 occur
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 the Epithets
employed by a skilful orator, will be found to be, in fact,
so many abridged arguments, the force of which is suffi-
ciently conveyed by a mere hint ; e, g. if 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 for-
cibly, than if the argument had been stated at length {.

§5.

With respect to the use of Antiquated,

Uncommon poreign. New-coined, or New-compounded

expressions. , . , t i • i

words §, or words applied m an unusual

* Omnia vult belle Matho dicere ; die aliquando
Et bene ; die neutrum : die aliquando male.
t Prometheus. J See Part I. eh. iii. § 3.

§ It is a curious instance of whimsical inconsistency, that many who, with
justness, censure as pedantic the frequent introduction of GreeA and Latin

Chap. II. § 5.] WORDS CONSIDERED AS SOUNDS. 291

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 pro-
duce a barbarous dialect, but because they are so likely to
suggest the idea of artifice; the perception of which is
most especially adverse to Energy. The occasional apt
introduction of such a term will sometimes produce a
powerful effect ; but whatever may seem to savour of affec-
tation, or even of great solicitude and study in the choice
of terms, will effectually destroy the true effect of elo-
quence. The language which betrays art, and carries not
an air of simplicity and sincerity, may, indeed, by some
hearers, be thought not only very fine, but even very
energetic ; this very circumstance, 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, therefore, is an excellence to which the true orator,
i. e. he who is aiming to carry his point, will be ready to
sacrifice any other that may interfere with it.
The principle here laid down will especially

apply to the choice of words, w^ith a view to fiords

. considered

their Imitative, or otherwise appropriate Sound, ^^ sounds

The attempt to make ^^ the sound an echo to

the sense,^^ is indeed more frequently to be met with in

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 learning:"
those who are really good linguists are seldom so anxious to display their
knowledge.

It has been the fashion of late years with some few authors to write a sort
of bastard English, full of German idioms, and of new-coined words fashioned
on a German model. This passes with some persons for uncommon elo-
quence ; which it resembles in being *' uncommon." Some readers, again,
of better taste than not to condemn this Style, are yet so far deceived by it as
to imaghie a great profundity in the thoughts conveyed ; the oddness of the
expression giving an ah* of originality to much that would probably appear
trite if said in plain English,

u 2

292 STYLE. [Part III.

poets than in prose writers ; but it may be worth remark-
ing, that an evident effort after this kind of excellence, as
it is offensive in any kind of composition, would in prose
appear peculiarly disgusting. Critics treating on this sub-
ject have gone into opposite extremes ; some, fancifully
attributing to words, or combinations of words, an imi-
tative 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, consi-
dering nearly the whole of 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 Imi-
tation is, to a certain degree, almost unavoidable, in our
language at least ; which abounds, perhaps more than
any other, in these, as they may be called, naturally ex-
pressive terms; such as "hiss," "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 imi-
tated or represented by words ; many short syllables
(unincumbered by a clash either of vowels, or of conso-

* Pope has accordingly been censured for his inconsistency in making the
Alexandrine represent both a quick and a slow motion :

1. " Flies o'er th' unbending corn, and skims along the main."

2. " Which, like a wounded snake, drags its slow length along."

In the first instance, he forgot that an Alexandrine is long, from containing
more feet than a common verse ; whereas a long hexameter has but the
same number of feet as a short one, and therefore being pronounced in the
same time, seems to move more rapidly.

In the former of these verses the crowd of consonants in " o'er th' un-
bending" does not seem well-adapted to express swift and smooth motion.

t See WalUs, Gram. Anglic.

Chap. II. § 5.] WORDS CONSIDERED AS SOUNDS. 293

nants coming together) being pronounced in the same
time with a smaller number of long syllables, abounding
with these incumbrances, the former seems to have a na-
tural 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 verses being always con-
sidered as of the same length, i, e, in respect of the time
taken to pronounce them, whatever 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 instances it does exist ; as, e. g. in the
often-cited line which expresses the rolling of Sisyphus^s
stone down the hill :

Avdi<; eirecTa TriSovBe KvXivBero Xaa^; dvacStj';.

The following passage from the JEneid can hardly be de-
nied 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 sudden and violent fall :

Aggressi ferro circum, qua sUmma labantes*
Juncturas tabulata dalant, divellimus altis
SedtbuSf impulimusque, ea lapsa repente riiinam
Cum somtu trahtt, et Danaum super agmma late
Incidit.

But, lastly, it seems not to require any excessive exer-
cise of fancy to perceive, if not, properly speaking, an
Imitation, by words, of other things besides sound and

* The slow movement of this line would be much more perceptible, if we
pronounced (as doubtless the Latins did) the doubled consonants^ " ag-gres-si

fer-ro sum-ma : " but in English, and consequently in the English way

of reading Latin or Greek, the doubhng of a consonant only serves to fix the
place of the accent ; the latter of the two being never pronounced, except
in a very few compound words ; as " innate," " connatural," " poor-rate,"
" hop-pole."

294 STYLE. [Part IIL

motion, at least, an Analogical aptitude. That there is at
least an apparent Analogy between things sensible and
things intelligible, is implied by numberless Metaphors ;
as when we speak of '' roughs or harsh, soft, or smooth,
manners,^^ " turbulent passions,^^ the " stroke, or the storms
of adversity,'^ &c. Now if there are any words, or com-
binations of words, which have in their sound a congruity
with certain sensible objects, there is no reason why they
should not have the same congruity with those emotions,
actions, &c., to which these sensible objects are analogous.
Especially, as it is universally allowed that certain musical
combinations are, respectively, appropriate to the expres-
sion 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, oi study ;
but that the idea in the author's mind spontaneously
suggested appropriate sounds ; thus, when Milton'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 inten-
tion 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.

§6.

It is hardly necessary to give any warning,

ec nica ggngj-ally, against the unnecessary Introduction

of Technical language of any kind, when the

Chap. II. § 6.] TECHNICAL TERMS. 295

meaning can be adequately, or even tolerably, expressed
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 ap-
pearance of increased Energy *. But there is
an apparent exception to this rule, in the case "^heological
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 combination,
so as to form altogether a kind of diction widely differing
from the classical standard of the language. This phrase-
ology, 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, perhaps, 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 con-
sist of: the associations which such language will excite
in the minds of those accustomed to it, supplying in some
degree the deficiencies of the matter. But this diction,

* Of course this rule does not apply to avowedly technical systems 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, &c. these, if necessary, as the occasion may
require. Sometimes however 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. See Introduction : latter part of § 4.

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 innovations in language : like some voyagers of discovery,
who take possession o( countries, whether before-visited or not, by formally
giving them new names.

296 STYLE. [Part III.

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 if pleasing to those of narrow and ill-culti-
vated minds, it is in a still higher degree repulsive to
persons of taste.

It may be said, indeed, with truth, that the improve-
ment of the majority is a higher object than the gratifica-
tion 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 to 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 indo-
lent assent to what is said, without making any efibrt of
thought.

It is justly observed by Mr. Foster (Essay iv.) when
treating on this subject, that " with regard to a consi-
derable proportion of Christian readers and hearers, a re-
formed kmguage 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 custo-
mary 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

* It may be added that many would at once take for granted that any
alteration in the statement of any doctrine, though the phrases they had been

Chap. II. § 6.] TECHNICAL TERMS. 297

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 lan-
guage, they do not recognise them/^

He observes also, with much truth, that the studied in-
corporation 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 w^hich 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 Theo-
logy, there are many, the place of which might easily be
supplied by corresponding expressions in common use:
and there are many, again, which are remnants of the
philosophy of the School-men, but are employed fre-
quently by persons who know nothing of the metaphy-
sical theories which gave rise to the use of such terms *.
There are others, doubtless, which, denoting ideas exclu-
sively belonging to the subject, could not be avoided with-
out a tedious circumlocution ; these, therefore, may be
admitted as allowable peculiarities of diction; and the
others, perhaps, need not be entirely disused : but it is
highly desirable that both should be very frequently ex-
changed for words or phrases entirely free from any tech-
nical peculiarity, even at the expense of some circumlo-
cution. 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 sentence explanatory of
the same idea, the evil just mentioned, — the habit of not
thinking, or not thinking attentively, of the meaning of
what is said, — will be, in great measure, guarded against ;

accustomed to were avowedly of Man's framing, — implies a rejection of the
doctrine itself ; and they would accordingly raise a cry of Heresy.
* See Hampden, " Bampton Lect."

298 STYLE. [Part III

the technical words themselves will make a more forcible
expression^ — and the danger of sliding into unmeaning
cant will be materially lessened. Such repetitions, there-
fore, will more than compensate for, or rather will be
exempt from, any appearance of tediousness, by the addi-
tion both of Perspicuity and Energy,

" It must indeed be acknowledged, that in many cases
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 intro-
duced 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 signification clearly in
sight, by means of something separate from these words
themselves, it might be wise in Christian authors and
speakers sometimes to express the ideas in common words,
either in connexion with the peculiar terms, or, occasion-
ally, instead of them. Common words might less fre-
quently be applied as affected denominations of things
which have their own direct and common denominations ;
and be less frequently 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
modifying 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 of
* Foster, Essay iv. p. 304.

Chap. II. § 7.] ENERGY, AS CONNECTED WITH CONCISENESS. 299

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 Judg-
ment were to be completely superseded on that subject.
And accordingly it will be found, that there are many
errors which are adopted, — many truths which are over-
looked, or not clearly undersood, — and 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 judg-
ment. 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 brought forward.

§7.

With respect to the Number of words em-
ployed, " it is certain,^^ as Dr. Campbell ob- Energy, as
serves, "that of whatever kind the sentiment dependent on
be, witty, humorous, grave, animated, or sub- ^y ^j^^ luords.
lime, the more briefly it is expressed, the Ener-
gy 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 diffiisely, 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

3<K) STYLE. [Part III.

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
must have uncommon quickness of apprehension to 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 ob-
viated, and in which the requisite expansion may be given
to any thing which the persons addressed cannot compre-
hend in a very small compass, is, as I have already re-
marked, not so much by increasing the number of words
in which the sentiment is conveyed in each sentence,
(though in this, some variation must of course be ad-
mitted,) as by repeating it in various forms. The uncul-
tivated 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 accom-
plish it : but this is to be done, not by making each blow
fall more slowly, which would only enfeeble them, but by
often-repeated blows.

It is needful to insist the more on the ener-

er osi y ^^^^^ effect of Conciseness, because so many,
perspicuity especially young writers and speakers, are apt
and to to fall into a style of pompous verbosity, not

energy, from negligence, but from an idea that they

* This remark is made, and the principle of it (which Dr. Campbell has
omitted) subjoined, in Part II. chap. ii. § 2. of this Treatise.

CflAP. II. § 7.] ENERGY, AS CONNECTED WITH CONCISENESS. 301

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 im-
pressive. 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 w^ords rather than of
thought, and strings together all the striking expressions
that occur to him on the subject, instead of first form-
ing a clear notion of the sense he wishes to convey, and
then seeking for the most appropriate vehicle in which
to convey it. He has but the same "command of lan-
guages^ 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 turgid
amphfication, it is the orator's business, true to his object,
not to criticise or seek to improve their taste, but to accom-
modate 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 admiration, without
being the nearer to his proper end, which is to carry 7iis
point. It will frequently happen that not only the appro-
bation, 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 men-
tioned, [Part III. Chap. II. § 4, 5, 6,] in which the incul-
cation of the Subject-matter is not the principal object
proposed, a redundancy of words may often be very suit-
able ; but in all that comes within the legitimate pro-

302 STYLE. [Part III.

vince of Rhetoric, there is no fault to be more carefully-
avoided *.

It will therefore be advisable for a tyro in composition
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 be-
fore ; " quamvis invita recedant ;^^ remembering that, as
has been aptly observed, ^^ nobody else 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 consistently with
perspicuity, which yet may be much more concisely ex-
pressed, with equal clearness, by the employment of dif-
ferent words, and by recasting a great part of the ex-
pression. Take for example such a sentence as the fol-
lowing : —

^'A severe and tyrannical exercise of power must be-

* ** By a multiplicity of words the sentiment is not set off and accommo-
dated, but like David, in Saul's armour, it is incumbered and oppressed.

" Yet this is not the only, or perhaps the worst consequence resulting from
this manner of treating Sacred writ:" [^paraphrasing] "we are told of the
torpedo, that it has the wonderful quality of numbing every thing it touches ;
a paraphrase is a torpedo. By its influence the most vivid sentiments become
lifeless, the most sublime are flattened, the most fervid chilled, the most vigo-
rous enervated. 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 vapid." — Campbell, Rhe-
toric, 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 apprehend, that there are
not many passages in Scripture which require expansion with a view to their
being fully comprehended by an ordinary reader. But a regular paraphrase
generally expands every passage, hard or easy, nearly to the same degree : it
applies a magnifying-glass of equal power to the gnat and to the camel.

Chap. II. § 7.] ENERGY, AS CONNECTED WITH CONCISENESS. 303

come a matter of necessary policy with Kings, when their
subjects are imbued with such principles as ^
justify and authorize rebellion ; ^' this sen-
tence could not be advantageously, nor to any consi-
derable degree, abridged, by the mere omission 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. Campbells remark on " Verbosity, ^^
as contradistinguished from ^^ Tautology f/' and 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 Pleonasm 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, be-
cause what they mean is unimportant. Instead, therefore,
of enlivening the expression, they make it languish. An-
other 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 J.^^

* 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
consequmice, of itself," is, in most instances, (of the latter kind at least,) ac-
counted an offence rather against correctness than brevity ; the example he
gives from Bolingbroke, ** how many are there by whom these tidings of good
neiiJS 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 observes, " implies merely
superfluity. Though the words do not, as 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 ill. chap.ii. § 2,

$ Campbell, Rhetoric, book iii, chap. ii. § 2. part iii.

804 STYLS. [Vamt in.

§8.

Conciseness It is of course impossible to lay down pre-

to be recon- ^^jgg y^jIq^ as to the degree of Conciseness

ciled with 1 . 1 . 1 • ii -

perspicuity, which is, on each occasion that may arise,

allowable and desirable ; but to an author who
is, in his expression of any sentiment, wavering between
the demands of Perspicuity and of 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 brevity, will be readily taken in, it may be
recommended to use botli expressions ; — first to expand
the sense, sufficiently 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 deci-
dedly adverse to the brevity recommended ; but it will be
found in practice, that the addition of a compressed and
pithy expression of the sentiment, which has been already
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 certain space, or time,) but to
avoid the flatness and tediousness 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 poignancy and spirit to the whole. Conciseness will
be, practically, 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 remember the shorter.
But the force will, in general, be totally destroyed, or
much enfeebled, if the order be reversed ; — if the brief ex-
pression be put first, and afterwards expanded and ex-
plained ; 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 expansion. The sentence

Chap. II. §8.] ENERGY PROMOTED BY CONCISENESS. 305

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 con-
clusion 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 institu-
tions, has destroyed ancient principles, will hold power by
arts similar to those by which it has acquired it. When
the old feudal and chivalrous spirit oi fealty, which, by
freeing kings from fear, freed both kings and subjects from
the precaution of tyranny, shall be extinct in the minds of
men, plots and assassinations will be anticipated by pre-
ventive murder and preventive confiscation, and that long
roll of grim and bloody maxims, which form the political
code of all Power, not standing on its own honour, and
the honour of those who are to obey it. Kings will be
tyrants from policy, when subjects are rebels from prin-
ciple *."

The same writer, in another passage of the same work,
has a paragraph in like manner closed and summed up by
a striking metaphor, (which will often prove the most con-
cise, as well as in other respects striking, form of expres-
sion,) such as would not have been so readily taken in if
placed at the beginning. "To avoid, therefore, the evils
of inconstancy and versatility, ten thousand times worse
than those of obstinacy and the blindest prejudice, we
have consecrated the State, that no man should approach
to look into its defects or corruptions but with due cau-
tion ; that he should never dream of beginning its refor-
mation by its subversion ; that he should approach to the
faults of the State as to the wounds of a father, with pious
awe and trembling solicitude. By this wise prejudice we

♦ Burke, " Reflections on the Revolution in France," Works, vol. v. p. 153.
The reader will please to observe that I do not pledge myself to an approval
of his opinions. I am at present concerned only with his style.

306 STYLE. [Part III.

are 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 magicians, in
hopes that by their poisonous weeds, and wild incanta-
tions, they may regenerate the paternal constitution, and
renovate their father's life *.''

This, however, being an instance of what may be called
the classical Metaphor, no preparation or explanation,
even though sufficient to make it intelligible, could render
it very striking to those not thoroughly and early familiar
with the ancient fables of Medea.

The Preacher has a considerable resource, of an analo-
gous kind, in similar allusions to the history, descrip-
tions, parables, &c. of SCRIPTURE ; which will often
furnish useful illustrations and forcible metaphors, in an
address to those well-acquainted with the Bible ; though
these would be frequently unintelligible, and always com-
paratively feeble, to persons not familiar with Scrip-
ture f .

So great, indeed, is the effect of a skilful
7) Jh 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 commu-
nicated (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
roundness and majestic sound of his sentences, and a de-
light 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 con-
sidered as a favourable specimen of his style : " Solomon

* Burke, " Reflections on the Revolution in France," Works, vol. v. p. 183.
t See Appendix [M],

Chap. II. § 8.] ENERGY PROMOTED BY CONCISENESS. 307

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 un-
doubtedly 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 curio-
sity* Tediousness is the most fatal of all faults; negli-
gences or errors are single or local ; but tediousness per-
vades 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
an 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 succession
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 ex-
pressed ; yet it can hardly be denied that the parts here
distinguished by italics are chargeable, more or less, with
Tautology,

808 STYLE. [Part HI.

, . . It happens, unfortunately, that Johnson's

hyiitation , , . . , , /» • -i. ^- u

of Johnson. ^^J^^ ^^ particularly easy ot imitation, even 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, consisting 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 ad-
vantage. 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
appearance; 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 of expressing our
thoughts : we have only to find names for our ideas, and
then put them together by connectives, instead of inter-
weaving, or rather ye//m^ them together, by a due admix-
ture of verbs, participles, prepositions, &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 pro-
perly the extremities of the pieces to be joined, so as at once
to consolidate and conceal the juncture.

„ . If any one will be at the pains to compare

rttTtOUS

proportions ^ ^^^ P^g^s, taken from almost any part of

of suhstan- Johnson's Works, with the same quantity

tives in dif- from any other of our admired writers, noting

fcrcnt styles

'' ^ ' down the number of substantives in each, he

will be struck with the disproportion. This M^ould be still

greater, if he were to examine with the same view an equal

portion of Cicero : but it must be acknowledged that the

Chap. II. § 9.] ENERGY PROMOTED BY A SUGGESTIVE STYLE. 309

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, however, care
must of course be taken that it be not crowded. Style.
The frequent recurrence of considerable el-
lipses, even when obscurity does not result from them,
will produce an appearance of affected and laborious com-
pression, 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 di-
stinct, 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 him more than is actually
expressed.

Such a style may be compared to a good map, which
marks distinctly the great outlines, setting down the prin-
cipal rivers, towns, mountains, &c., leaving the imagination
to supply the villages, hillocks, and streamlets ; which, if
they were all inserted in their 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, ifthe 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 com-
pass, and yet in a less cramped and elliptical diction.

310 STYLE. [Part III.

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 limita-
tion ; 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 representa-
tive 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 di-
gressive discussions, which, though laboriously compressed,
would yet occupy a much greater space. Judicious divi-
sions likewise and classifications, save much tedious enu-
meration ; 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 suf-
ficient 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 conversation, will find in
that, a very useful exercise, with 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 conveying 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 Concise-
ness, because it is a quality in which young writers (who
are the most likely to seek for practical benefit in a Trea-
tise of this kind) are usually most deficient ; and because it
is commonly said that, in them, exuberance is a promising

Chap. II. § 10.] ENERGY PROMOTED BY PRECISION. 311

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 sup-
/ plied by copying its attendant defects.
/ The praises which have been bestowed on

' Copiousness of diction have probably tended ^^jjen^ent on

to mislead authors into a cumbrous verbosity, precision.
It should be remembered, that there is no real
Copiousness in a multitude of synonymes and circumlocu-
tions. A house would not be the better furnished for
being stored with ten times as many of some kinds of ar-
ticles as were needed, while it was perhaps destitute of
those required for other purposes: nor was LucuUus^s
wardrobe, which, according to Horace, boasted five thou-
sand 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 language consists in having at command,
as far as possible, a suitable expression for each different
modification of thought. This, consequently, will oflen
save much circumlocution ; so that the greater our com-
mand of language, 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 other-
wise with one who pleases himself in stringing together
well-sounding words into an easy, flowing, and (falsely
called) copious style, destitute of nerve ; and who is satis-
fied with a small portion of matter ; seeking to increase, as

^li STYLE. [Part III.

it were, the appearance of his wealth by hammering out
his metal thin. This is far from a curable fault. When
the style is fully formed in other respects, 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 obscurity, are much more
likely to be remedied. Solid gold may be new-moulded
and polished ; but what can give solidity to gilding ?

§11.

Energy Lastly, the Arrangement of words may be

dependent on made highly conducive to Energy. The im-
the arrange- portance of an attention to this point, 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 lan-
guid, the other a striking and energetic expression, merely
from the difference of Arrangement.

Some, among the moderns, are accustomed
Natural ^^ speak of the Natural order of the words in
ivords. ^ sentence, and to consider, each, the esta-

blished 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 familiar
to ourselves ; but there seems no good ground for assert-
ing, that the customary structure of sentences in the an-
cient languages is less natural, or less suitable for 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 Jogical analysis of a sentence, than that
of Latin or Greek, because we place the Subject first, the
Copula next, and the Predicate last, &c., it does not follow

Chap. II. § 11.] ENERGY AS DEPENDENT ON ARRANGEMENT. 313

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 possible the speaker's sentiments,
and to convey the same to the hearers ; and that arrange-
ment of words may fairly be accounted the most natural,
by which all men are naturally led, as far as the rules of
their respective languages allow them, to accomplish this
object. 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 MeydXr) rj "ApT6fjLL<;
*E<^6o-tft)v, which our language allows us to render exactly,
" Great is Diana of the Ephesians !" How feeble in com-
parison is the translation of Le CI ere, '^ La Diane des
Ejjhesiens est une grande Deesse !" How imperfect that of
Beausobre, ^^ La grande Diane des Ephesiens ! '' How un-
dignified that of Saci, ^^ Vive la grande Diane des Ephe-
siens ! "

Our lanffuaffe indeed is, though to a less . ,
1 I, u AX. ,x. Advantage

degree, very much hampered by the same re- i^ p^i^f ^

strictions ; it being in general necessary, for arrangement
the expression of the sense, to adhere to an j^ ^^^ ancient
order which may not be in other respects the ^

most eligible : " Cicero praised Caesar,'' and "Csesar praised
Cicero," would be two very different propositions ; the si-
tuation 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 restriction is far from
being an advantage. The transposition of words which
the ancient languages admit of, conduces, not merely to
variety, but to Energy, and even to Precision.

If, for instance, a Roman had been directing the atten-
tion of his hearers to the circumstance that even Casar

314 STYLE. [Part III.

had been the object of Cicero's praise, he would, most
hkely, have put " Caesarem " first ; but he would have put
'' Cicero '' first, if he had been remarking that, not only
others, but even he had praised Caesar*.

„ , . It is for want of this liberty of Arrangement

Emphatic . ^ ,/ , , .,

words. *"^^ "^^'^ ^^^ often compelled to mark the

emphatic words of our sentences, by the voice,
in speaking, and by italics, in writing ; which would, in
Greek or in Latin, be plainly indicated, in most instances,
by the collocation alone. The sentence which has been
often brought forward as an example of the varieties of
expression which may be given to the same words, " Will
you ride to London to-morrow ? " and which may be pro-
nounced and understood in at least five different ways,
according as the first, second, &c. of the words is printed
in italics, would be, by a Latin or Greek writer, arranged
in as many difierent orders, to answer these several inten-
tions. The advantage thus gained must be evident to any
one who considers how important the object is which is
thus accomplished, and for the sake of which we are often
compelled to resort to such clumsy expedients ; it is like
the proper distribution of the lights in a picture; which is
hardly of less consequence than the correct and lively re-
presentation of the objects.

The 4th book of Q. Curtius begins with a passage which
affords a good instance of the energetic effect produced by
a skilful use of the licence of the Latin arrangement:
'^ Darius tanti modo exercitus rex, qui triumphantis magis
quam dimicantis more, curru sublimis inierat praelium, per
loca quae prope immensis agminibus compleverat, jam
inania, et ingenti solitudine vasta, fugiebat,'' The effect of
the concluding verb, placed where it is, is most striking.

,^ ,. J It must be the aim then of an author, who

Italics and ii . • i t^ -i i • i /»

underscoring, would write with Energy, to avail himself of

all the liberty which our language does allow,
* See Logic, book ii. chap. iv. § 1.

Chap. II. § 11.] ENERGY AS DEPENDENT ON ARRANGEMENT. 315

SO to arrange his words that there shall be the least pos-
sible 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 w^here they are really needed ;
which is no less absurd than to attempt remedying the in-
tricacies of a road by removing the direction -posts*. The
proper remedy is, to endeavour 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 authoi'^s mind, w ill natu-
rally 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 Emphatic 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 arrange-
ment. Of this licence our translators of the Bible have,
in many instances, very happily availed themselves; as,
e. g. in the sentence 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

* The censure of frequent and long Parentheses also leads some writers into
the like preposterous expedient of leaving out the 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.

316 STYLE. [Part III.

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
original, is, " "ETrecrev, eireae B<x/3fXft)v, 17 /JbeydXr) t,^' which
would certainly have been rendered as correctly, and more
forcibly, as well as more closely, " Fallen, fallen is Baby-
lon, that great city," than, '^ Babylon is fallen, is fallen."
The word " IT" is frequently very service-
fj^ ^^^^ ^'^ enabling us to alter the arrangement :
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 Caesar that Cicero praised." " IT " is, 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 employed to
represent that Subject. Our translators of the Bible have
not scrupled to make ^* IT " refer to a masculine 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/' &c.

§12.

With respect to Periods, it would be neither
rerioas. practically useful, nor even suitable to the pre-
sent object, to enter into an examination of the different
senses in which various authors have employed the word.
A technical term may allowably be employed, in a scien-
tific work, in any sense not very remote from common
* Acts iii. 6. t Rev. xviii. 2.

Chap. II. § 12.] ENERGY OF PERIODIC SENTENCES. 317

usage, (especially when common usage is not uniform and
invariable in the meaning affixed to it,) provided it be
clearly defined, and the definition 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 ^ Loose
contrary, 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 before 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 in-
stance 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 terminated, so as to be grammati-
cally 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 sen-
tence before the final close. These are both of them
simple sentences ; i. e. not consisting 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, or sentences nearly approaching to

Periods, have certainly, when other things are Periods

conduce to
equal, the advantage in point of Energy. An Energy.

unexpected continuation of a sentence which

the reader had supposed to be concluded, especially if in

reading aloud, he had, under that supposition, dropped

r318 STYLE. [Part III.

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 arrangement 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 structure 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, at
Tendency least, of periodic structure, in all languages, is

towards the apparent from this ; that they all contain words
ncf iodic •

structure, which may be said to have no other use or sig-
nification but to suspend the sense, and lead the
hearer of the first part of the sentence to expect the re-
mainder. 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 refreshing 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, but would destroy the Period ; to produce
which is its only use. The MEN, AE f, and TE of the
Greek are, in many places, subservient to this use alone,

* Josephus.

t These two particles seem to be formed from fieveiv, to " stop— wait,"
and 5eetv, to " bind— add on."

Chap. II. § 13.] ENERGY OF PERIODIC SENTENCES. 319

The modern languages do not indeed admit, as was
observed above, of so Periodic a style as the ancient do :
but an author, vi^ho 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 stiffness
and affectation in the construction of them, — in not de-
parting, for the sake of a Period, too far from colloquial
usage, — and in observing such moderation in the employ-
ment of this style, as shall prevent any betrayal of arti-
fice,— any thing savouring of elaborate stateliness ; which
is always to be regarded as a worse fault than the sloven-
liness and languor which accompany a very loose style.

§13.

It should be observed, however, that, as a
sentence which is not strictly a Period, accord- -^^o^e and

... J}6Vt0utC

ing to the foregoing definition, may yet ap- clauses
proach indefinitely near to it, so as to produce
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 con-
tain an enumeration of many circumstances, though the
sentence be so framed, that we 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 uncer-
tainty 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 *, of taking care that
each part of the sentence be understood, as it proceeds.

* Part III. chap. i. § 3.

320 STYLE. [Part III.

Each clause, if it consist of several parts, should be con-
tinued with the same attention to their mutual connexion,
so as to suspend the sense, as is employed in the whole
sentence ; that it may be, as it were, a Periodic 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,

Precedence practically, too long, L e. will have a tedious

of the longer dragffine; effect, merely from its concluding

or shorter ., , , , .1 .. t -.i

clause. wit" ^ much longer clause than it began with ;

so that a composition which most would cen-
sure as abounding too much in long sentences, may often
have its defects, in great measure, remedied, without short-
ening any of them ; merely by reversing the order of each.
This of course holds good with respect to all complex
sentences of any considerable length, whether periods, or
not. An instance of the difference of effect produced by
this means, may be seen in such a sentence as the fol-
lowing : " 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; and 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 oppo-
site 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 pri-
vileges, made the State, which they pretended to serve, in
reality the prize of their contention *.^^

* Thucydides, on the Corcyrean sedition.

Chap. II. § 13.] ENERGY OF PERIODIC SENTENCES. 321

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, smooth-
ness, and elegance : the following passage from the Ex-
hortation 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 toge-
ther— 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 disadvan-
tage, 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 con-
cluded ; 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 drag-
ging 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
satisfaction. 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 of its sen-
timents, but of its language.

It is a useful admonition to young writers,
with a view to what has lately been said, that Recasting
they should always attempt to recast a sen-

322 STYLE. [Part III.

tence which does not please ; altering the arrangement
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 ; for there may be,
suppose, a substantive, which, either because 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 con-
struction. It is an exercise accordingly which may be
recommended as highly conducive to the improvement of
Style, to practise casting a sentence into a variety of dif-
ferent forms.

It is evident, from what has been said, that

Difference j^ compositions intended to be delivered, the
OT stvucture
for the wri- periodic style is much less necessary, and

ter and the therefore much less suitable, than in those

speaker. designed for the closet. The speaker may, 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 great advantage towards the improvement of the Style

in the point concerning which I 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 which reason there will be the less

danger of falling into an obvious and servile imitation *.

* Bolingbroke may be noted as one of the most Periodic of English writers ;
Swift and Addison (though in other respects very different from each other)
are among the most loose.

Chap. II. § 14.] ENERGY PROMOTED BY ANTITHESIS. 323

§ 14.

Antithesis has been sometimes reckoned as .

one form of the Period ; but it is evident that,
according to the view here taken, it has no necessary con-
nexion with it. One clause may be opposed 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. Taci-
tus, who is one of the most Antithetical, is at the same time
one of the least Periodic, 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 expressions. Truth
is opposed to error; wise conduct to foohsh; different
causes often produce opposite effects ; different circum-
stances dictate to prudence opposite conduct; opposite
impressions may be made by the same object, on different
minds ; and every extreme is opposed 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 reflexion, and
the view thus presented will be the more striking.

By this means also we may obtain, con-
sistently with Perspicuity, a much e-reater -Antithesis
, n ry ' !_• 1 • •. 1? • conducive to

degree oi Conciseness ; which m itselr is so conciseness,

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 Antitheti-
cally, so as to be clearly inteUigible, except in a much
longer sentence. Again, " Words are the Counters of
wise men, and the Money of fools * ; ^^ here we have an
instance of the combined effect of Antithesis and Meta-
phor in producing increased Energy, both directly, and at

* Hobbes.

324 . STYLE. [Part III.

the same time^ (by the Conciseness resulting from them,)
indirectly ; and accordingly in such pointed and pithy
expressions, we obtain the gratification which, as Aristotle
remarks, results from " the act of learning quickly and
easily/^ The Antithetical expression, " Party is the mad-
ness of manj'', 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 relations
with each other, will stand in contrast to themselves ; as
in the expression, " A fool with judges ; among fools, a
judge* ; '' and in that given by Quinctilian, " non ut edam
vivo, seel 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 smiled ;
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 J.^' 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 in a Speech of Mr. Wyndham's, '' Some
contend that I disapprove 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§.'^

* Cowper. f Essays, 3rd Series, Essay v. § 3.

X Essay i. 2nd Series.

§ Great pointedness and force is added to the argument from contraries
(Part I. Chap. II. § 6.) by the antithetical form of expression. See Note to
Part IV. Chap. IV. §1.

Chap. II. § 14.] ENERGY PROMOTED BY ANTITHESIS. 325

The use of Antithesis has been censured by some, as if
it were a paltry and affected decoration, unsuitable to a
chaste, natural, and masculine style. Pope, accordingly,
himself one of the most antithetical of our writers, speaks
of it, in the Dunciad, with contempt :

I see a Chief, who leads my chosen sons,
All arm'd with Points, Antitheses, and Puns.

The excess, indeed, of this style, by betray- Caution
ing artifice, eifectually destroys Energy ; and against ex-
draws off the attention, even of those who are ^^^^ }"> -^nti-
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
of intemperance in using 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 antithetical
construction, is to remember that in a true Antithesis 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 between the clauses
which are expressed in a contrasted form. This kind of
style not only produces disgust instead of pleasure, when
once the artifice is detected, which it soon must be, but
also, instead of the brevity and vigour resulting from true
Antithesis, labours under the fault of prolixity and heavi-
ness. Sentences which might have been expressed as
simple ones, are expanded into complex, by the addition

326 STYLE. [Part III.

of clauses, which add little or nothing to the sense ; and
which have been compared to the false handles and key-
holes with which furniture is decorated, that serve no other
purpose than to correspond to the real ones. Much of
Dr. Johnson^s writing is chargeable with this fault.

Bacon, in his Rhetoric*, furnislies, in his common-places,
{i. e. heads of Arguments, pro and contra, on a variety of
subjects,) some admirable specimens of compressed and
striking Antitheses ; many of which are worthy of being
enrolled among the most approved proverbs ; e. g, " He
who dreads new remedies, must abide old evils.^' " Since
things alter for the worse spontaneously, 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.t

It will not unfrequently happen that an An-

Antitkesis tithesis may be even more happily expressed
riod ^ ^^' ^y ^^^ sacrifice of the Period, if the clauses
are by this means made of a more convenient
length, and a resting-place provided at the most suitable
point : e. g, " The persecutions undergone by the Apostles,
furnished both a trial to their faith, and a confirmation to
ours : — a trial to them, because if human honours and re-
wards 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 encoun-
tered 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 under-
gone by the Apostles, furnished both a trial of their faith,
since if human honours, &c. &c. and also a confirmation of
ours, because," &c. Universally, indeed, a complex sen-

* De Augmentis, lib. vi. c. 3.

t See Appendix [A] for some additional specimens.

Chap»II. §15.] ENERGY PROMOTED BY ANTITHESIS. 327

tence, 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-estabh shed principles of
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.

The English reader will find the substance of most of
these "Antitheta" in Bacon's Essays ; though not arranged
in the same manner ; and, in some instances, considerably
amplified *.

§15.

Lastly, to the Speaker especially, the occa- ^
sional employment of the Interrogative form, nation.
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 indi-
vidual, 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 argu-
ment if he can. Either the Premiss f or the Conclusion,
or both, of any argument, may be stated in this form 5
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,

* See Appendix [A].

t The interrogative form is particularly suitable to the minor premiss of a
Dilemma, because that does not categorically assert, but leaves an opponent his
choice of several alternatives. See Logic, Supp. to Part III. § 5.

STYLE. [Part III.

is sufficiently established 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, — Elegance 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 I have been speaking ; and also, because many of
the rules laid down under that head, are equally applicable
with a view to Elegance. The same Choice, Number, and
Arrangement of words, will, for the most part, conduce
both to Energy, and to Beauty. The two
Elegance qualities, however, are by no means undistin-
Tot the same, guishable : a Metaphor, for instance, may be
apt, and striking, and consequently condu-
cive to Energy of expression, even though the new image,
introduced by it, have no intrinsic beauty, or be even un-
pleasant ; in which case it would be at variance with Ele-
gance, 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 easy 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 vigorous and
energetic.

Chap. III. § 2.] ELEGANCE. 329

§2.
When the two excellences of Style are at „ .

JrVBJGTBnCQ

variance, the general rule to be observed by of Energy.
the orator is to prefer the energetic to the
elegant. Sometimes, indeed, a plain, or even a somewhat
homely expression, may have even a more energetic effect,
from that very circumstance, than one of more studied re-
finement ; 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; w^hereas a strikingly elegant ex-
pression may sometimes convey a suspicion that it was
introduced for the sake of its Elegance ; which will greatly
diminish the force of what is said. The appearance of a
too uniform elegance or stateliness of style, is apt to cloy ;
like a piece of music without any discords.

Universally, a writer or speaker should en-
deavour to maintain the appearance of ex- Speaking
pressing himself, not, as if he wanted to say H^J^^^ "^
something, but as if he had something to say : 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 per-
forming that task satisfactorily ; but as if there was some-
thing in his mind which he was desirous of communica-
ting to his hearers.

It is an admonition w^hich 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

330 STYLE. [Part IIL

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 difficulty will have
been explained, or some confused ideas rendered clear ; or,
in short, that I shall at all have edified any one ? Let it
not be said, that 1 preached because there was to be a Ser-
mon, and concluded when I had said enough to — occupy
the requisite time^; careful only to avoid any thing that
could excite censure, and content to leave the hearers just
as I found them. Let me not be satisfied with the thou-
sandth 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 equally
the case whether I preach or not ; and if all I say is what
they not only knew before, but had heard in the same
trite and general statements a hundred times before, I
might as well hold my peace. I ought not to be consider-
ing merely whether these arguments — motives — doctrines,
&c. are themselves hkely 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 I 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

Earnest g^y^ jg probably what Bishop Butler means
simplicity of , ,, . ,, , ... cc ^^^.

wrttina "7 ^^^ expression or a mans writmg "with

simplicity and in earnest.^^ His manner has
this advantage, though it is not only inelegant, but often
obscure : Dr. Paley's is equally earnest, and very perspi-
cuous : and though often homely, is more impressive than
that of many of our most polished writers. It is easy to
* See above, Part III. Chap. I. § 5.

Chap. III. § 2.] ELEGANCE. 881

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 writing " with simphcity and in
earnest/^ to assume the appearance of it *. But certainly
nothing is more adverse to this appearance than over-
refinement. Any expression indeed that is vulgar, in bad
taste, and unsuitable 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 counterbalanced 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 general
rule is not to be lost sight of by him w^ho is in earnest
aiming at the true ultimate end of the orator, to which all
others are to be made subservient; viz. not the amuse-
ment of his hearers, nor their admiration of himself, but
their Conviction or Persuasion.

It is from this view of the subject that I have dwelt
most on that quality of style which seems most especially
adapted to that object. Perspicuity is required in a// com-
positions ; and may even be considered as the ultimate end
of a Scientific writer, considered as such. He may indeed
practically increase his utility by writing so as to excite
curiosity, and recommend his subject to general attention ;
but in doing so, he is, in some degree, superadding the
office of the Orator to his own ; as a Philosopher, he may
assume the existence in his reader of a desire for know-
ledge, and has only to convey that knowledge in language
that may be clearly understood. Of the style of the Ora-
tor, (in the wide sense in which I have been using this
appellation, as including all who are aiming at Conviction,)
the appropriate object is to impress the meaning strongly

* This may be one reason why an Author's notes are often more spirited
and more interesting than the rest of his work.

332 STYLE. [Part III.

upon men's minds. Of the Poet, again, as such*, the
ultimate end is to give pleasure ; and accordingly Ele-
gance or Beauty (in the most extensive sense of those
terms) will be the appropriate qualities of his language.

§3.
Some indeed have contended, that to give
Style the pleasure is not the ultimate end of Poetry f ;
appropriate not distinguishing between the object which
character of \]^q Toet may have in view, as a man, and
.. " that which is the object o^ Poetry, as Poetry.

Many, no doubt, may have proposed to them-
selves the far more important object of producing moral
improvement in their hearers through the medium of
Poetry ; and so have others, the inculcation of their own
political or philosophical tenets ; or, (as is supposed in the
case of the Georgics,) the encouragement of Agriculture.
But if the views of the individual are to be taken into ac-
count, it should be considered that the personal fame or
emolument of the author is very frequently his ultimate ob-
ject. The true test is easily applied : that which to com-
petent 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 in-
structive it may be, is not good Poetry, though it may be
a valuable work.

It may be doubted, however, how far these

Poetry not remarks apply to the question respecting

cons I u e Beauty of style ; since the chief gratification

thoughts, afforded by Poetry arises, it may be said, from

the beauty of the thoughts. And undoubtedly
if these be mean and common-place, the Poetry will be

* See Bishop Copleston's " Lectures on Poetry."

t Supported in some degree by the authority of Horace :

Aut prodesse volunf, aut delectare Poeta,

Chap. III. §3.] ELEGANCE. 83S

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 misinterpretation of a passage in
Aristotle^s '^ Poetics f/O 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 spe-
cies, or the sex, that he is not a man J : and thus some
have been led to confound together the appropriate exceU
lence of the thing in question, with its essence § ; but the
use of such an expression as, an " indifferent '^ or a '^ dull
FoemP shows plainly that the title of Poetry does not
necessarily imply the requisite beauties of Poetry.
Poetry is not distinguished from Prose by ^. .

JjtStlTlCtlOtl

superior Beauty of thought or of expression, of poetry and
but is a distinct kind of composition || ; and prose.

* See Preface to " Telemaque."

t ^ikol Xo'yoi has been erroneously interpreted language without metrej
in a passage where it certainly means metre without music ; or, as he calls it
in another passage of the same work, \pi\oixeTpia.

X "I dare do all that may become a man ;

Who dares do more, is none." — Macbeth.

§ 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 ; 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 circumstance, than
metre.

II I wish it to be observed, that I am not defending or seeking to introduce

334 STYLE. [Part III.

they produce, when each is excellent in its kind, distinct
kinds of pleasure. Try the experiment, of merely break-
ing up the metrical structure of a fine Poem, and you will
find it inflated 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 re-
mained Prose, it was (as we have supposed) unexception-
able. The circumstance that the same Style which was
even required in one kind of composition, 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-
Foetry ^^^^ between the two kinds of composition,
not trans- a n ^ • • ^ i

latable. ^"" ^^ *^^ superior importance of the compres-

sion in Poetry, is, that a good translation of a
Poem, (though, perhaps, strictly speaking, what is so called
is rather an imitation f,) is read by one well-acquainted
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

any unusual or new sense of the word Poetry ; but, on the contrary, explain-
ing and vindicating that which is the most customary among all men who
have no particular theory to support. The mass of mankind often need, in-
deed, to have the meaning of a word (i. 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, that which is under-
stood ly it.

* Hence the impropriety of the practice, by no means uncommon, of learn-
ing a language from its poetry. It is hke 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.

t And accordingly it should be observed, that, as all admit, none but a
poet can be qualified to translate a poem.

Chap. III. § 4.] ELEGANCE. 885

be read by one 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 *.

According to the views here taken, good Poetry might
be defined, '' Elegant and decorated language, in metre, ex-
pressing such and such thoughts:'^ and good Prose-com-
position, ^^ such and such thoughts expressed in good lan-
guage ;^^ that which is primary in each, being subordinate
in the other.

§4.
What has been said may b6 illustrated as
fully, not, as it might be, but as is suitable to , Analogy
the present occasion, by the following pass- p^ose and
ages from Dr. A. Smith's admirable fragment Poetry,
of an " Essay on the Imitative Arts :'' '' Were "^aH^ing and
I to attempt to discriminate between Dancing gJ^akimand
and any other kind of movement, I should Singing,
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 be-
trays 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 perform-
ance of any such ordinary action, every one wishes to ap-
pear 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

* Hence it is that the want of complete Perspicuity (such i. e. as puts the
reader instantly in possession of the whole sense) is a far less fault in Poetry
than in Prose. For Poetry, if it be worth reading at all, is worth reading
over and over; which it will be, if it be sufficiently intelligible, on a first
perusal, to excite vivid and pleasing emotions.

336 STYLE. [Part III.

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 dis-
agreeable vanity or affectation in following out the proper
purpose of any action. When we say of any particular per-
son, 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 exagge-
rates those which are suitable. Every Dance is, in reality,
a succession of airs and graces of some kind or other,
which, if I 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 w ith 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 other ordinary action, we expect and require that
the speaker should attend only to the proper purpose of
the action, — the clear and distinct expression of what he
has to say. In Singing, on the contrary, every one pro-
fesses the intention to please by the tone and cadence of
his voice ; and he not only appears to be guilty of no dis-
agreeable affectation in doing so, but we expect and re-
quire that he should do so. To please by the Choice and
Arrangement 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 purpose
of whatever action he is performing. A person may appear
to sing, as well as to dance, affectedly ; he may endeavour

Chap. III. § 4.] ELEGANCE. 337

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 ap-
pears to consist always, not in attempting to please by a
proper, but by some improper modulation of the voice.'^

It is only necessary to add, (what seems evidently to have
been in the author^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 oithem, wdll 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,^^ " Foetry^^ — for " Speaking,'^
^^Frose^^ — for " Voice/^ '^ Language ^^ &c., will at once per-
ceive the coincidence *.

What has been said wall not be thought an unnecessary
digression, by any one who considers (not to mention 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 is possible for a
poetical style to be affectedly and offensively 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 appearance of attention to the
Beauty of the expression, and to the Arrangement of the
words, which in Verse is essential, is to be carefully avoided
in Prose.

And since, as Dr. Smith observes, " such a Elegance
design, when it exists, is almost always be- of style in
trayed;'' the safest rule is, never, during the ^^^^^^^^if
act of composition, to study Elegance, or think ^y during
about it at all. Let an author study the best the act of
models — mark their beauties of style, and ^^^tmg.

* This probably was in Aristotle's mind when he reckoned Poetry among
the imitative arts ; viz. that it is imitative of Prose-composition, in the same
manner as Singing, of ordinary Speaking ; and Dancing, of ordinary action.

338 STYLE. [Part III.

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 him-
self w^ith 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 endeavouring 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 he will offend more than by the rudest simplicity.

PART IV.

OF 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 rivaPs celebrated Speech on the
Crown was received with a burst of admiration, — ^^ what
would you have said, had you 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 com-
plained; and several have laboured to remove it: but it
may safely be asserted, that their endeavours have been,
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,—

340 ELOCUTION. [Part IV.

probably nearly as many as have fully tried the experi-
ment,— who have by this means been totally spoiled; —
who have fallen irrecoverably into an affected style o^ spout-
ing, worse, in all respects, than their original mode of De-
livery. Many accordingly have, not unreasonably, con-
ceived a disgust for the subject altogether ; considering it
hopeless that Elocution should be taught by any rules;
and acquiescing in the conclusion that it is to be regarded
as entirely a gift of nature, or an accidental acquirement of
practice.

It is to counteract the prejudice which may result from
these feelings, that I have thought it needful to profess in
the outset a dissent from the principles generally adopted,
and to 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*.

§2.

The requisites of Elocution correspond in
of Elocution S^^^^ measure with those of Style : Correct
Enunciation, in opposition both to indistinct
utterance, and to vulgar and provincial pronunciation, may
be considered as answering to Purity, Grammatical Pro-
priety, and absence of Obsolete or otherwise Unintelligible
words. These qualities, of Style, and of Elocution, being
equally required in common conversation, do not fall
within the proper province of Rhetoric. The three qua-
lities, again, which have been treated of, under the head
of Style, viz. Perspicuity, Energy, and Elegance, may be
regarded as equally requisites of Elocution ; which, in
order to be perfect, must convey the meaning clearly, for-
cibly, and agreeably,

* This is, in substance, one of Bacon's Aphorisms.

Chap. I. §3.] READING AND SPEAKING. 341

§3.

Before, however, I enter upon any separate
examination of these requisites, it will be neces- Reading
sary to premise a few remarks on the distinc- •
tion between the two branches of Delivery ;
viz. Reading aloud, and Speaking, The object of correct
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 the stops, paragraphs,
italic characters, notes of interrogation, &c.* which his
sight presents to him. His voice seems to indicate to
them, " thus and thus it is written in the book or manu-
script before me.'^

Impressive reading superadds to this, some
degree of adaptation of the tones of voice to ^^^^^^^
the character of the subject, and of the style.

What is often termed fine Reading seems to convey, in
addition to these, a kind of admonition to the hearers re-
specting the feelings which the composition ought to ex-

* It may be said, indeed, that even tolerable Reading aloud, supplies more
than is exhibited by a book to the eye; since though italics, e.ff. 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 even to the right understanding of
the sentence. E. 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 may be pronounced in different tones ;
one of which would alter the sense, by implying that there was hght already.

This is true indeed ; and it is also true, that the very words themselves are
not always presented to the eye with the same distinctions as are to be con-
veyed to the ear ; as, e. 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
meaning, in saying that such Reading as I am speaking of puts the 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.

342 ELOCUTION. [Part IV.

cite in them : it appears to say, " This deserves your admi-
ration ; — this is sublime ; — this is pathetic, &c/^

^ ,. But Speaking, i.e. natural speaking, when

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 immediate
effusion of the Speaker's own mind, which he is desirous
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, 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 critical attention to the various mo-
dulations of the human voice. So wide is the difference of
the tones employed on these two occasions, be the subject
what it may*.

Attention ^^^ difference of effect produced is propor-

connected tionably great: the personal sympathy felt
with Sympa- towards one who appears to be delivering his

^* own sentiments, is such, that it usually 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 hearing even perhaps feeble
reasoning clothed in indifferent language, delivered extem-

* " 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 per-
son of vivacity deUvering 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 conversation ; 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 tedious uniformity of cadence succeeded to a spirited
variety; insomuch that a blind man could hardly conceive the person who read
to be the same who had just been speaking. — Sheridan, Art of Reading.

Chap. I. §3.] READING AND SPEAKING. 343

poraneously, and in an unaffected style ; whereas it is
common for men to find a difficulty in keeping themselves
awake, while listening even to a good dissertation, of the
same length, or even shorter, on a subject, not uninterest-
ing 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 effort 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 „ ,
, , . . , . . , ^ Both read-

have been just mentioned, it might at first inn and speak-

sight appear as if one only, that of the Speaker, ing, connected

came under the province of Rhetoric. But it ^. Rheio-

. • . fie*

will be evident, on consideration, that 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 composition, 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, notwith-
standing 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

344 ELOCUTION. [Part IV.

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
— in any case where it is not improper— much the more
impressive, it becomes an interesting inquiry, how the diffi-
culty in question may be best surmounted.

§4.
Little, if any, attention has been bestowed
stvle of Elo' ^^ *^^® point by the writers on Elocution ; the
cution. distinction above pointed out between Read-

ing and Speaking, having seldom, or never,
been precisely stated, and dwelt on. Several however have
written elaborately on " good Reading,'^ or on Elocution,
generally ; and it is not to be denied, that some ingenious
and (in themselves) valuable remarks have been thrown
out relative to such qualities in Elocution as might be
classed under the three heads I have laid down, of Perspi-
cuity, Energy, and Elegance : but there is one principle
running through all their precepts, which being, according
to my views, radically erroneous, must (if those views be
correct) vitiate every system founded on it. The principle
I mean is, that in order to acquire the best style of Deli-
very, it is requisite to fix the attention on the voice ; — to
study analytically the emphases, tones, pauses, degrees of
loudness, &c. which give the proper effect to each passage
that is well delivered — to frame rules founded on the ob-
servation of these — and then, in practice, deliberately and
carefully to conform the utterance to these rules, so as to
form a complete artificial system of Elocution.

That such a plan not only directs us into a circuitous
and difficult path, towards an object which may be reached
by a shorter and straighter, but also, in most instances,
completely fails of that very object, and even produces,

Chap. I. § 4.] ARTIFICIAL ELOCUTION. 345

oftener than not, effects the very reverse of what is de-
signed, is a doctrine for which it will be necessary to offer
some reasons ; especially as it is undeniable that the system
here reprobated, as employed in the case of Elocution, is
precisely that recommended and taught in this very Trea-
tise, in respect of the conduct of Arguments, By ana-
lyzing the best compositions, and observing what kinds of
arguments, and what modes of arranging them, in each
case, prove most successful, general rules have been framed,
which an author is recommended studiously to observe in
Composition : and this is precisely the procedure which, in
Elocution, I deprecate.

The reason for making such a difference in
these two cases is this: whoever (as Dr. A. Excellence

Smith remarks in the passage lately cited*) ^n matter and
. T ,, T i 1 • i. in delivery to

appears to be attendmg to his own utterance, ^^ aimed at

which will almost inevitably be the case with in opposite
every one who is doing so, is sure to give w?«y^-
offence, and to be censured for an affected de-
livery ; because every one is expected to attend exclusively
to the proper object of the action he is engaged in ; which,
in this case, is the expression of the thoughts — not the
sound of the expressions. Whoever therefore learns, and
endeavours to apply in practice, any artificial rules of Elo-
cution, so as deliberately to modulate his voice conformably
to the principles he has adopted, (however just they may
be in themselves,) will hardly ever fail to betray his inten-
tion ; which always gives offence when perceived. Argu-
ments, on the contrary, must be deliberately framed.
Whether any one's course of reasoning be sound and judi-
cious, or not, it is necessary, and it 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
* See Part III. chap. iii. § 4.

346 ELOCUTION. [Part IV.

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 composition,
or by exciting suspicion of rhetorical trick ; but he is so
far from being expected to pay no attention to the sense of
what he says, that the most powerful argument would lose
much of its force, if it were supposed to have been thrown
out casually, and at random. Here therefore the employ-
ment 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 arrangement of arguments, is such as must
take place, at any 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 he who does not : he will do well and easily , what the
other does ill, and with more labour. Both alike must be-
stow 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 Argu-
ment and the Delivery,) are, in fact, both the result of the
same circumstance ; viz. that the speaker is expected to
bestow his whole attention on the proper business of his
speech ; which is, not the Elocution, but the matter*.

§5.
Natural When however I protest against all artificial

style of Elo- systems of Elocution, and all direct attention
to Delivery, at the time, it must not be sup-

* 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 comj)osing ^ and how far the appearance of such atten-
tion is tolerated, has been already treated of in the preceding Part,

Chap. II. § 1.] ARTIFICIAL AND NATURAL METHODS. 347

posed that a general inattention to that point is recom-
mended ; or that the most perfect Elocution is to be at-
tained by never thinking at all on the 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 composition with some
degree of the manner and effect of one that is extempo-
raneous, he will have a considerable difficulty to surmount:
since though this may be called, in a certain sense, the
Natural Manner, it is far from being w^hat he will na-
turally, 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 one is reading what
he does not wish to deliver as his own composition, as, for
instance, a portion of the Scriptures, or the Liturgy, it is
evident that this may be done better or worse, in infinite
degrees ; and that though (according to the view^s here
taken) a studied attention 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 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 wdll make them fully under-
stand it, by so delivering it. But to this end, it is not

348 ELOCUTION. [Part IV.

enough that he should himself actually 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 pro-
posed 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 Read-
ing *,^^ (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,) adopted a peculiar set of
marks for denoting the different pauses, emphases, &c., and
applied these, with accompanying explanatory observations,
to the greater part of the Liturgy, and to an Essay sub-
joined t ; recommending that the habit should be formed
of regulating 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

* See note, eh. i. § 3. It is to be observed, however, that most of the objec-
tions I have adduced do not apply to this or tliat system in particular ; to She-
ridan'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 sectiofn.

t See Appendix [N].

Chap. II. § 2.] ARTIFICIAL AND NATURAL METHODS. 349

must necessarily be imperfect ; secondly, that if it were
perfect, it would be a circuitous path to the object in view ;
and thirdly, that even if both those objections were re-
moved, the object would not be effectually obtained.
First, such a system must necessarily be

imperfect : because though the emphatic word . I^P^U^c-
. . . % . • 4. J .' tionofthe

m each sentence may easily be pomted out m artiiicial

writing, no variety of marks that could be in- system.
vented, — not even musical Notation*, — would
suffice to indicate the different tonesf 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 addressed by one of the
Spirits which they raise, " Macbeth 1 Macbeth! Macbeth!"
on which he exclaims, " Had I three ears IM hear thee ; ''
no one would dispute 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
" since he has but two ears he cannot hear." Again, the
following passage, (Markiv. 21,) " Is a candle brought to
be put under a bushel, or under a bed," I have heard so
pronounced as to imply that there is no other alternative :
and yet the emphasis was laid on the right words. It
would be moreover a task almost equally hopeless to at-
tempt adequately to convey, by any written marks, precise
directions as to the rate, — the degree of rapidity or slow-
ness,— with which each sentence and clause should be
delivered. Longer and shorter pauses may indeed be

* And even in Music, the Notation, though so much more complete than
any that could be adapted to Speaking, yet leaves much to be supplied by the
intelligence, taste, and feeling, of the performer.

t See first note, ch. i. § 3.

350 ELOCUTION. [Part IV.

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 actually
take place are infinite — far beyond what any marks could
suggest ; and that much of the force of what is said de-
pends 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 sentence as the follow-
ing, 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 perceive that it is his work;^^
the four words " this hath God done,^^ though monosylla-
bles, 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 to
Circuitous- ^]^g highest perfection the proposed system of
artificial marks, it would still be a circuitous road to

system. the desired end. Suppose it could be com-

pletely indicated to the eye, in what tone
each word and sentence should be pronounced according
to the several 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 sup-
plication ? " &c. The only answer that could be given, is,
that these tones, emphases, &c. are a part of the lan-
guage ; — that nature, or custom, which is a second nature,
suggests spontaneously these different modes of giving ex-
pression to the different thoughts, feelings, and designs,
which are present to the mind of any one who, without
study, is speaking in earnest his own 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 ; withdraw the attention from the sound, and fix it
on the sense ; and nature, or habit, will spontaneously sug-
gest the proper delivery. That this will be the case, is not

Chap. II. § 2.] ARTIFICIAL AND NATURAL METHODS. 351

only true, but is the very supposition on which the arti-
ficial 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 ; — L e. what mode of delivering each part of it
would spontaneously occur to him, if he were attending
exclusively to the matter of it (and this is what, it appears
to me, should alone be studied, and most attentively stu-
died) ; — 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 re-
commending, for the purpose of raising the hand to the
mouth, that he should first observe, when performing that
action without thought of any thing else, what muscles are
contracted, — 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 may be 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 pedantic
tutor upon his Bourgeois Gentilhomme, who was taught, to
his infinite surprise and delight, what configurations of the
mouth he employed in pronouncing the several letters of
the alphabet, which he had been accustomed to utter all
his life, without knowing how *.

3. Lastly, waiving both the above obiec- .

•^ ' ° "^ Appearance

tions, if a person could learn thus to read and of affectation

speak, as it were, by note, with the same fluency resulting

and accuracy as are attainable in the case of A^f^ ^1}^

singing, still the desired object of a perfectly system.

natural as well as correct Elocution, would

* <' Qu'est-ce que vousfaites quand vous prononcez 0 ? Mais,je dis, 0 ! "
— an answer, which, if not savouring of Philosophical analysis, gave at least a
good practical solution of the problem.

352 ELOCUTION. [Part IV.

never be in this way attained. The reader'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 affectation.

It should be observed, however, that, in the reading of
the Liturgy especially, so many gross faults are become
quite familiar to many, from what they are accustomed to
hear, if not from their own practice, as to render it pecu-
liarly 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 observations and direc-
tions respecting the delivery of it ; provided care be taken,
in py^actice, to keep clear of his faulty principle, by with-
drawing the attention from the sound of the voice, as care-
fully as he recommends it to be directed to that point.

§3.

The practical rule then to be adopted, in
manner^how conformity with the principles here main-
to be secured, tained, is, not only to pay no studied 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 ow'n voice ; " and thus they think
to steer a middle course between opposite extremes. But
it should be remembered that this middle course entirely
nullifies the whole advantage proposed by the plan recom-
mended. 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 attention from it alto-
gether.

Chap. II. § 3.] ARTIFICIAL AND NATURAL METHODS. 353

He who not only understands fully what he is reading,
but is earnestly occupying his mind with the matter 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 regu-
lated ; — if, in short, he is thinking of himself, and, of
course, in the same degree, abstracting his attention from
that which ought to occupy it exclusively.

It is not, indeed, desirable, that in reading the Bible, for
example, or any thing which is not intended to appear as
his own composition, he should deliver what are, avow-
edly, 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 an-
other's sentiments, which were both fully understood, and
felt in all their force by the reporter : 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.

* 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 ?

It is to be observed, however, that it is not enough for a reader to have his
mind fixed on the subject ; without regard to the occasion, &c. It is possible
to read a prayer well, with the tone and manner of a man who is not praying^
i. e. addressing the Deity, but addressing the audience, and reciting a form of
words for their instruction : and such is generally the case with those who are
commended as " fine readers" of the Liturgy. Extemporaneous prayers again
are generally delivered, with spirit indeed, but (after the first few sentences)
not as prayers, but as exhortations to the congregation.

2 A

354 ELOCUTION. [Part IV.

§4.

Difficult Some may, perhaps, suppose that this

ties in the amounts to the same thing as taking no pains
natural man- . „ , .^ .,, .1. • • xi, 4.

^^^ at all; and it, with this impression, they at-

tempt to try the experiment of a natural De-
livery, their ill-success will probably lead them to censure
the proposed method, for the failure resulting from their
own mistake. In 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 any thing very familiar to him, are apt to wander
to other subjects, though perhaps such as are connected
wdth that which is before him. If, again, it be something
new to him, he is apt (not indeed to wander to another sub-
ject, but) to get the start, as it were, of his readers, and to
be thinking, while uttering each sentence, not of that, but
of the sentence which comes next. And in both cases, if
he is careful to avoid those faults, and is desirous of read-
ing 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 commonly
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 successful than the natural.
Pompous spouting, and many other descriptions of unna-
tural tone and measured cadence, are frequently admired
by many as excellent reading; which admiration is itself
a proof that it is not deserved ; for when the delivery is
really good, the hearers (except any one who may deli-

Chap. II. §4.] ARTIFICIAL AND NATURAL METHODS. 355

berately set himself to observe and criticise) never think

about it, but are exclusively occupied with the sense it

conveys, and the feelings it excites.

Still more to increase the difficulty of the
.-111 1 1 //» 'i • 1 Advantages

method here recommended, (tor it is no less ^f imitation

M^ise than honest to take a fair view of diffi- precluded by

culties,) this circumstance is to be noticed, ^^^ adoption

that he who is endeavouring to bring it into ^/^^^^^^^^^^^

o ^ manner.

practice, is in a great degree precluded from

the advantage of imitation, A person who hears and ap-
proves a good reader in the Natural manner, may, indeed,
so far imitate him with advantage, as to adopt his plan, of
fixing his attention on the matter, and not thinking about
his voice ; but this very plan, evidently, by its nature, pre-
cludes 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 that model ; the main principle
of the proposed method being, carefully to exclude every
such thought. Whereas any artificial system may as easily
be learned by imitation as the notes of a song.
Practice also (i. e, private practice for the

sake of learning) is much more difficult in the ^dvantages

^' 11. of practice

proposed method ; because, the rule being, to i^^s easily

use such a delivery as is suited, not only to obtained by

the matter of what is said, but also, of course, ^^j adoption
, . 1 ,1 . ,1 of thenatural

to the place and occasion, and this, not by manner.

any studied modulations, but according to the
spontaneous suggestions of the matter, place, and occa-
sion, to one whose mind is fully and exclusively occupied
with these, it follows, that he who would practise this
method in private, must, by a strong effi)rt of a vivid ima-
gination, figure to himself a place and an occasion which
are not present; otherwise, he will either be thinking of
his delivery, (which is fatal to his proposed object,) or else
will use a delivery suited to the situation in which he

2 A 2

356 ELOCUTION. [Part IV.

actually is, and not, to that for which he would prepare
himself. Any system, on the contrary, of studied empha-
sis and regulation of the voice, may be learned in private
practice, as easily as singing.

§5.

Importance It has been thought best, as has been above

of practice ^qj^ to state fairly the difficulties of a regu-
tTi elocuttoti. . . .

lar training in really good elocution ; not, of

course, with a view to discourage exertion for an object so
important, but as a reason for labouring the more sedu-
lously to overcome those difficulties.

In fact, nothing tends more to discourage assiduous
study in this department, than the ill effect produced by
the faulty methods commonly in use. For when it is
found — as it too often will be — that those who have taken
most pains in the study, acquit themselves even worse
than those who have wholly neglected it, the natural re-
sult will be, that, instead of inquiring whether a better plan
might not be adopted, men will be apt to sit down con-
tented with the ordinary slovenly style of delivery, sup-
posing that whatever superiority any one may manifest is
altogether a gift of nature.

Accordingly, little or no care is usually taken, either in
schools or in private families, to teach young persons to
read well. What is called the ^^ English-master '^ in most
seminaries, is usually a person of very humble qualifica-
tions ; and for the most part, either contents himself with
making his pupils " mind their stops,'^ or else teaches them
an affected spout. And the consequence is, that, of men
otherwise well-educated, a considerable number are found
to have acquired an offensively artificial delivery, and a far
greater number, a habit of reading as if they neither felt
nor even understood what they read.

Chap. II. § 5.] ARTIFICIAL AND NATURAL METHODS. 357

And even men of good sense and good taste,

often acquire, through undesigned and uncon- Uncon-^

. .^ ^. , 1,1 n T scious trntta-

scious imitation, an absurd style of reading ^^-^^ of what

those passages which they have been from is faulty.
infancy accustomed to hear ill-read by others.
To the members of our Church accordingly, the difficulty
of reading the Liturgy with spirit, or even with propriety,
is greatly enhanced by the long-established and inveterate
faults to which almost every one's ears are become fami-
liar; 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 Litany, read, ^' have mercy upon us, miserable sin-
ners;'' and others, "have mercy upon us, miserable sin»-
ners ; " both, laying the stress on a wrong word, and
making the pause in the wrong place, so as to disconnect
"us" and "miserable sinners;" w^hich the context re-
quires 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 im-
portant things ; without any consideration of the emphatic
word of each sentence : e, g. in the Absolution, many read,
"let us beseech Him to grant us true repentance ^^^ be-
cause, forsooth, " true repentance " is an important thing ;
not considering that, as it has been just mentioned, it is
not the new idea, and that to which the attention should
be directed by the emphasis ; the sense being, that since
God pardoneth all that have true repentance, therefore, we
should "beseech Him to grant it to W5."

In addition to the other difficulties of reading the Li-
turgy w^ell, it should be mentioned, that prayer, thanks-
giving, and the like, even w^hen avowedly not of our own
composition, should be delivered as (what in truth they
ought to he) the genuine sentiments of our own minds at

358 ELOCUTION. [Part IV.

the moment of utterance ; which is not the case with the
Scriptures, or with any thing else that is read^ not pro-
fessing to be the speaker's own composition.

But the department of education I am speaking of, in-
stead of being entrusted to such persons as usually con-
duct it, is one which calls for the assiduous attention of
some one well-qualified in point of good taste and sound
judgment. Let young persons be accustomed
mod£7f^* much to reading aloud to a parent or other
teaching the teacher thus qualified, and who shall be ready
different to point out and correct any faults they may
points of commit ; and let this be done in strict con-

gOOd elOCU- _ . ' ^ -, • • ^ 1 T.T-i

iiQf^^ lormity with the principles above laid down.

* Let the instructor, accordingly, remember that

the pupils' attention is then, and then only, to be called to
the sounds uttered, when the fault is one which he would
wish corrected (and which indeed he should be ready to
correct) in the utterance of ordinary conversation, E. G.
many young persons have habits, — and such as^ not sel-
dom, grow up with them, — either of an indistinct pronun-
ciation, which makes the vowels audible, while the conso-
nants are slurred *, or of dropping the voice toward the
close of each sentence so as to be nearly inaudible, or of
rising into a scream, or of too rapid and hurried an utter-
ance, or of some provincial vulgarity, &c. All such faults
should, — ^as has been said, — be corrected not in reading
only, but in ordinary speaking.

But on the other hand, all those faults of delivery, which,
though common in reading, do not occur in ordinary speak-
ing, constitute a distinct class, and must be carefully in-
deed corrected, but in a totally different manner. For
hardly any one in ordinary conversation speaks as if he
did not understand, or did not really mean, what he is say-
ing. In reference therefore to correct reading, (in respect

* A useful maxim as to this point, is, to " take care of the consonants, and
the vowels vvili take care of themselves."

Ghap. II. § 5.] ARTIFICIAL AND NATURAL METHODS. 359

of the sense,) and impressive reading,— such as shall con-
vey the true import, and full force, of what is said, — the
appeal must be made to the learner's own mind ; and his
attention should be drawn, /row the sound, to the sense of
what he is reading. And the instructor should give ad-
monitions, when needed, not, as in the other case, by say-
ing " You have pronounced that word wrong ; pronounce
it so and so:^^ or "You read too quick,^^ &c.; but "Read
that passage as if you understood it : read this suitably to
a command, that, to an interrogation, &c. : express the
scorn — the exultation — the earnestness, &c. of that pass-
age, as if you were expressing such a feeling of your own
in your own words,^' &c.

That such an exercise as this, under a judicious guide,
will have most beneficial results, I am convinced from ex-
perience. And if the study of Elocution, thus conducted,
were made, as it manifestly ought to be, an indispensable
part of a liberal education, I have no doubt that good read-
ing would be no longer the exception, but the rule. For
though the method I have been recommending, will not,
as I have said, so readily and so easily accomplish its ob-
ject, as the opposite method does its own object, on the
other hand this latter is in reality no benefit at all, but a
great evil ; while, on the other plan, the student is at least
put on the right course, and will be in the way of inde-
finitely improving himself in after-life.

It is almost superfluous to remark, how ut- Learnina
terly at variance with all that I have been here by rote.
recommending, is the practice of setting chil-
dren to learn by heart and recite, before they are able to
understand, poems, chapters of the Bible, collects, &c., to
which they attach little or no meaning, while they repeat
the words by rote. A habit of reading in an artificial tone,
offensive to those of good taste, and tending to impair the
force of what is so read, is one natural result — though far
from the worst* — of such a practice. If any who have
* See Appendix [0].

360 ELOCUTION. [Part IV.

been thus brought up are found, in after-life, to have a
good elocution, — and, I may add, to have their intellectual
and moral powers unimpaired, — this must be, not in con-
sequence of such a training, but in spite of it.

Chap. III. — Considerations arising from the Differences
between Reading and Speaking,

§1-

Some additional objections to the method I have recom-
mended, and some further remarks on the counterbalancing
advantages of it, will be introduced presently, when I shall
have first offered some observations on Speaking, and on
that branch of Reading 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 author, he has
peculiar difficulties to encounter, if his object be to ap-
proach as nearly as possible to the extemporaneous 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 proportion as he succeeds in this
object, the impression produced will be the greater.

It has been already remarked, how easy it
five advan- " ^^ ^^^ ^^^ hearers to 'keep up their attention,
tages of — indeed, how difficult for them to withdraw

written and it, — when they are addressed by one who is

ex emporary ^^^Hy speaking to them in a natural and ear-
addresses. y r u

nest manner; though perhaps the discourse

may be encumbered with a good deal of the repetition,

awkwardness of expression, and other faults, incident to

extemporaneous language; and though it be prolonged for

an hour or two, and yet contain no more matter than a

Chap. III. § 1.] READING AND SPEAKING DISTINGUISHED. 361

good writer could have clearly expressed in a discourse of
half an hour ; which last, if read to them, would not, with-
out some effort on their part, have so fully detained their
attention. The advantage in point of style, arrangement,
&c. of written, over extemporaneous discourses, (such at
least as any but the most accomplished orators can pro-
duce,) is sufficiently evident * : and it 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 dis-
cussion to inquire ; but it is evidently of the highest im-
portance, 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 methodi-
zing 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 clear-
ness of arrangement, which characterize good Writing f.
In order to attain the corresponding advantage, — to im-
part to the delivery of a written discourse, something of
the vivacity and interesting effect of real, earnest, speaking,
the plan to be pursued, conformably with the principles I
have been maintaining, is, for the reader to draw off his

* Practice in public speaking generally, — practice in speaking on the par-
ticular subject in hand, — and (on each occasion) premeditation 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 he 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.

t 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 in-
tended 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 Elocu-
tion, are more especially designed for the use of the reader.

362 ELOCUTION. [Paut IV,

mind as much as possible from the thought that he is read-
ing, as well as from all thought respecting his own utter-
ance ; — 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 abstracted his mind both from all consideration ofhim^
self, and from the consideration that he is reading.

§2.

Most men The advantage of this Natural Manner

speak well _^^ ^^ ^^le manner which one naturally falls
m common . , . „ , . . ,

discourse. ^°^^ '^^^ ^"^ really speaking, m earnest, and
with a mind exclusively intent on what he has
to say — may be estimated from this consideration; that
there are few (as was remarked in the preceding chapter)
who do not speak so as to give effect to what they are say-
ing. Some, indeed, do this much better than others. Some
have, as I observed above, in ordinary conversation, an in-
distinct or incorrect pronunciation, — 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 completely 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 impression
made on the hearers^ 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, as I have said, a wide difference be-
tween different men, in respect of the degrees of impres-
siveness with which, in earnest conversation, they deliver
their sentiments ; but it may safely be laid down, that he

Chap. III. § 3.] NATURAL MANNER EXPLAINED. 868

who delivers a written composition with the same degree
of spirit and energy with which he would naturally speak
on the same subject^ has attained, not indeed, necessarily,
absolute perfection, but the utmost excellence 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 elocu-
tion of most readers, even when delivering their own com-
positions, (suppose, in the Pulpit,) is such as to convey
the notion, at the very best, not that the preacher is ex-
pressing his own real sentiments, but that he is making
known to his audience what is written in the book before
him : and, whether the composition is professedly the read-
er's own, or not, the usual mode of delivery, 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 admonition 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 Natural
many will urge against, what they will call, a "^^f'^^l^^
colloquial style of delivery ; viz. that it is un- founded with
dignified, and unsuitable to the solemnity of a the familiar.
serious, and especially, of 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 objects of which, and consequently its usual tone,
are comparatively Hght ; — and, that of the coarse and ex-

364 ELOCUTION. [Part IV.

travagant rant of vulgar fanatical preachers. But to con-
clude 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. Smithes 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 representa-
tion of man, interpret this to mean, that Tragedy ought to
be performed exactly like Comedy, he would be thought
very absurd, if he were supposed to be speaking seriously.
It is evident, that what is natural in one case, or for one
person, may be, in a different 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 utter-
ance, delivers his sentiments in private, when he is, for
instance, earnestly and seriously admonishing a friend, —
defending 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 dignified
seriousness which befits the case. Even a stranger to the
language might guess that he was not engaged on any fri-
volous topic. And yet, when an opportunity occurs of
observing how he delivers a written discourse, of his own

Chap. III. § 3.] NATURAL MANNER EXPLAINED. 365

composition, on perhaps the very same, or a similar sub-
ject, will it not often be perceived how comparatively stiff,
languid, and unimpressive is the effect ?
It may be said indeed, that a sermon should

not be delivered before a consrreeration assem- ^„„„^„ • „„

« o manner is aC'

bled in a place of worship, in the same style commodated
as one would employ in conversing across a to the place,

table, with equal seriousness on the same sub- ^" -^^^^^

occasion
ject. This is undoubtedly true : and it is evi-
dent that it has been implied in what has here been said ;
the Natural manner having been described as accommo-
dated, 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 may
be safely asserted, 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 ex-
treme, is, indeed, mindful of the place and the occasion,
but not fully occupied with the subject, (though he may
strive to appear so ;) being partly engaged in thoughts re-
specting 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 un-
attainable,) is to avoid both faults ; — to keep the mind im-
pressed both with the matter spoken, and with all the cir-
cumstances also of each case ; so that the voice may spon-
taneously 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 dimi-
nish the effect.

866 ELOCUTION. [Part IV.

§4.
A familiar It must be admitted, indeed, that the difFer-
delivery one ^^^ kinds of Natural delivery of any one in-
the natural, dividual on different subjects and occasions,
various as they are, do yet bear a much
greater resemblance to each other, than any of them does
to the Artificial-style usually employed in reading ; a proof
of which is, that a person familiarly acquainted with the
speaker, will seldom fail to recognise his voice, amidst all
the variations of it, when he is speaking naturally and ear-
nestly ; though it will often happen that, if he have never
before heard him read, he will be at a loss, when he hap-
pens accidentally to hear without seeing him, to know who
it is that is reading ; so widely does the artificial cadence
and intonation differ in many points from the natural.
And a consequence of this is, that the Natural manner,
however perfect, — however exactly accommodated to the
subject, place, and occasion, — will, even when these are
the most solemn, in some degree remind the hearers of 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 be likely, in some
degree, to strike them. Those who are good judges will
perceive at once, and the rest, after being a little accus-
tomed to the Natural manner, that there is not necessarily
any thing irreverent or indecorous 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 disadvantage continues, a preacher of this kind
may be assured that the doctrine he delivers is much more
forcibly impressed, even on those who censure his style of
delivering it, than it could be in the other way.

Chap. III. § 5.] NATURAL MANNER EXPLAINED. 867

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 pom-
pous spout, or modulated whine, it is probable such an
auditor would have admired his preaching, but would have
known and thought little or nothing 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 principles, to be
mainly, and indeed exclusively, intent on carrying his point;
not, on gaining approbation, or even avoiding censure, ex-
cept with a view to that point. He should, as it were,
adopt as a motto, the reply of Themistocles to the Spartan
commander, Eurybiades, 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 Quinc-
tilian) that no one can be an Orator who is not a virtuous
man ; but there certainly is a kind of moral excellence im-
plied in that renunciation of all effort after display, — in
that forgetfulness of self, — which is absolutely 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

368 ELOCUTION. [Part IV.

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 dis-

Natural advantages of it ; that, after all, even when no
manner not .. , . . . . ... .

praised. disapprobation is incurred, no praise will be

bestowed, (except by observant critics,) on a
truly Natural delivery; on the contrary, the more perfect
it is, the more will it withdraw, from itself, to the argu-
ments and sentiments delivered, 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 contrary, 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.

Bashful- ^^^ inconvenience, which will at first be

nessfelt on experienced by a person who, after having
afrnZraf ^^^^ ^^"^ accustomed to the Artificial de-
manner, livery, begins to adopt the Natural, is, that he

will be likely suddenly to feel an embarrassed,
bashful, and, as it is frequently called, nervous sensation,
to which he had before been comparatively a stranger. He
will find himself in a new situation, — standing before his
audience in a different character, — stripped, as it were, of
the sheltering veil of a conventional and artificial delivery;
— in short, delivering 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 man-
ner to which most congregations are little accustomed, but
also, (even supposing them to have been accustomed to
extemporary discourses,) from their perceiving themselves
to be personally addressed, and feeling that he is not
merely reciting something before them, but saying it to

Chap. III. § 6.] NATtJRAL MANNER. 369

them. The speaker and the hearers will thus be brought
into a new and closer relation to each other : and the in-
creased interest thus excited in the audience, will cause
the Speaker to feel himself in a different situation, — in one
which is a greater trial of his confidence, and which ren-
ders it more difficult than before to withdraw 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 feelings, 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 detected: still the audience
will be differently affected, according to their knowledge
that the v»^ords uttered, are, or are not, written down and
before the speaker's eyes. And the consciousness of this

* The question between preaching extempore and from a written discourse,
it does not properly fall within the province of this treatise to discuss on any
but what may be called rhetorical principles. It may be worth while how-
ever to remark, incidentally, that one who possesses the power of preparing
and arranging his matter, and retaining it in his memory, and expressing it
fluently in well-chosen language, extempore, — in short, who is qualified to
produce the best effects of this kind of preaching, — should remember, as a
set-off against its advantages, that he may be holding out an example and en-
couragement to others who are not thus quahfied. He may perhaps find him-
self cited as approving of extemporary preaching, and appealed to as an author-
ity, and imitated by those who perhaps resemble him only in fluency, and who,
by not merely speaking extempore, but also thinking extempore, leave some
of their hearers disgusted, and the rest, unedified.

2 B

870 ELOCUTION. [Part IV.

will produce a corresponding effect on the mind of the
speaker. For were this not so, any one who, on any sub-
ject, can speak (as many can) fluently and correctly in pri-
vate conversation, would find no greater difficulty in say-
ing the same things before a large congregation, than in
reading to them a written discourse.

§7-

Inquiry And here it may ,be worth while briefly to

respecting inquij-g {^^q ^he causes of that remarkable

the bashful' . . • .i i i. i

nessfelt in phsenomenon, as it may justly be accounted,

addressing that a person who is able with facility to ex-
a large press his sentiments in private to a friend, in

such language, and in such a manner, as would
be perfectly suitable to a certain audience, yet finds it ex-
tremely 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 can-
not 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 values, and whose wisdom he is more disposed to
look up to, than that 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 or three of them, separately ; yet still all of them,
collectively, will often inspire him with a kind of dread.

Chap. III. § 8.] ANALYSIS OF BASHFULNESS. 371

Closely allied in its causes with the phaeno- Powerful
menon I am considering, is that other curious excitement
fact, that the very same sentiments expressed Produced in
in the same manner, will often have a far ^/^wce.
more powerful effect on a large audience, than
they would have on any one or two of these 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 easily driven than a single one.

Another remarkable circumstance, con- ^.^

nected with the foregoing, is the difference in language

respect of the style which is suitable, respec- employed

tively, in addressing a multitude, and two or ^^^^rdtng to

the numbev
three even of the same persons. A much addressed.

bolder, 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 speaking before a
large assembly. And he ingeniously compares them to
the different styles of painting ; the greater the crowd, he
says, the more distant is jthe view ; so that in scene-paint-
ing, for instance, coarser and bolder touches are required,
and the nice finish, which would delight a close spectator,
would be lost. He does not, however, account for the
phaenomena in question.

The phe-
nomena re-

§8.

The solution of them will be found by at-
tention to a very curious and complex play
of sympathies which takes place in a large f erred to
assembly ; and, (within certain limits,) the '''^fl^^ ^y^-
more, in proportion to its numbers. First, it ^ ^'
is to be observed that we are disposed to sympathize with

* " Rhetoric," book iii.

2 b2

S72 ELOCUTION. [Part IV.

any emotion which we beheve to exist in the mind of any
one present ; and hence, if we are at the same time other-
wise disposed to feel that emotion, such disposition is in
consequence heightened. In the next place, we not only
ourselves feel this tendency, but we are sensible that others
do the same ; and thus, we sympathize not only with the
other emotions 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
others present who not only feel the same, but feel it the
more strongly in consequence of their sympathy with our-
selves. Lastly, we are sensible that those around us sym-
pathize not only with ourselves, but with each other also ;
and as we enter into this heightened feeling of theirs like-
wise, the stimulus to our own minds is thereby still further
increased.

The case of the Ludicrous affords the most
^^^^^l^ft^ion oijvious illustration of these principles, from
case of the *^^ circumstance that the effects produced are
Ludicrous. so open and palpable. If any thing of this
nature occurs, you are disposed, by the cha-
racter 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 your presence ; but much more still, if he does
know it ; because you are then aware that sympathy with
your emotion heightens his : and most of all will the dis-
position to laugh be increased, if many are present ; be-
cause each is then aware that they all sympathize with
each other, as well as with himself. It is hardly necessary
to mention the exact correspondence of the fact with the
above explanation. So important, in this case, is the ope-
ration of 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 the pre-
sence of some companion whom he thinks likely to have

Chap. III. § 8.] ANALYSIS OF BASHFULNESS. 373

been amused, had he been present, and to whom he thinks
of describing, or repeating, what had diverted himself.
Indeed, in other cases, as well as the one just instanced,
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 of echoes, or of light,
by a number of mirrors ; or to the blaze of a heap of fire-
brands, each of which would speedily have gone out if
kindled separately, but which, when thrown together, help
to kindle each other.

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 wdth 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 em-
barrassment, but also with each other's feelings on the
perception of it, heightens your confusion to the utmostf.

* Hence it is that shy persons are, as is matter of common remark, the
more distressed by this infirmity when in company with those who are subject
to the same.

t It may be remarked, by way of corollary from what has been here said,
how injudicious is the method commonly employed by those who wish to cure
a young person of Bashfulness. They tell him incessantly of the unfavourable
impression it creates, — the ridicule to which it exposes him, &c., and exhort
him to try to make a better appearance, &c., all which is pouring oil on the
fire which we are seeking to quench. If they could induce him (pursuing just
the opposite course) to think less of the appearance he makes, and not to be
occupied with the idea of what others are thinking of him, they would be ad-
ministering the specific remedy for the disease.

374 ELOCUTION. [Part IV.

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 consciousness 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, in-
dignation, 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, be/ore that mo-
ment'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
heightened 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-
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.

And here it may be observed, incidentally, that a person
of superior ability will often, through the operation of this
reflex sympathy, operate powerfully on his own mind, in
heightening some passion, or fortifying some prejudice of his
own. He will act on others, who in turn will re-act on him.

I have already remarked (Part II. Chap. I. §2.) on the
danger, to a person of great ingenuity, of being himself,
unless carefully on his guard, misled by it : since though
it requires greater skill to mislead him than an ordinary
man, he himself possesses that superior skill. It is no
feeble blow that will destroy a giant ; but if a giant resolve
to kill himself, it is a giant that deals the blow. And then,
the man of pre-eminent ability, has, in the supposed case,
his judgment blinded by the very passion which calls forth
all his argumentative skill. But in addition to this, such

Chap. III. §9.] ANALYSIS OF BASHFULNESS. 375

a man is qualified strongly to influence (whether in a public
speech or in private conversation) those whose abilities are
inferior to his own ; and they again, by adopting and sym-
pathizing with his passion or prejudice, heighten it in him-
self. He will, naturally, be disposed to overrate their judg-
ment when it coincides with his own ; and thence, to find
himself confirmed in what he thinks and feels, by listening
to what is, in fact, the echo of his own voice : and thus,
what is in reality self-reliance, presents itself in the spe-
cious garb of modest deference for the opinion of others.

This accordingly is a danger which any man of superior
talents should sedulously guard against in his intercourse
with persons — the members for instance of his own family
— who are his inferiors in ability.

§9.

The impossibility of bringing the delivery

of a written composition completely to a level ^WV^in,y

i ;' with the ex-

with real extemporary speaking, (though, as temporane-

has been said, it may approach indefinitely ous speaker
near to such an effect,) is explained on the ^.^ surmount-
same principle. Besides that the audience are ^^^y
more sure that the thoughts they hear ex-
pressed, 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 unre-
mitted 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 ac-
complished, the surmounting of the difficulty affords great
gratification ; especially to those who are conscious that

* 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 \iQ frames each sentence at the moment, he must, at that moment, have
the sentiment which is expressed in it strongly present to his mind.

376 ELOCUTION., [Part IV.

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 extemporaneous discourse,
as soon as they should perceive, or even suspect, that the
orator had it written down before him.

§ 10.

The way in which the respective inoonve-

eme y ^iences of both kinds of discourses may best
proposed. •'

be avoided, is evident from what 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 the 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, not indeed which at that time

first arise in his own mind, but which are then really jore-

sent to, and occupy his mind.

CiiAP.IV. — Practical Deductions from the foregoing vievjs,

§1-

One of the consequences of the adoption of
Urigmal ^j^g mode of elocution here recommended, is,
suitable to ^^^^ ^^^ ^'^^ endeavours to employ it will find
the natural a growing reluctance to the delivery, as his
delivery. own, of any but his own compositions. Con-

clusions, indeed, and arguments he may freely

Chap. IV. §1.] PRACTICAL DEDUCTIONS. 377

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 laboriously 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 ad-
visable to introduce 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 Agonistic ; — 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 if again he is de-
sirous of fitting his discourses for the press, he will find it
expedient to reverse this process, and alter the style afresh.
In many instances accordingly, 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 cus-
tomary elocution. For instance, a rapid elocution suits
the more full, and a slow one, the more concise style ; and
great variations in tlie 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 necessity 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 re-
plete perhaps with good sense, learning, and eloquence,
are received with languid apathy, or that many are seduced
from their attendance on his teaching, by the empty rant

378 ELOCUTION. [Part IV.

of an illiterate fanatic. Much of these evils must indeed
be expected, after all, to remain : but he does not give him-
self 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 /rom his own.

I have seen somewhere an anecdote of some celebrated
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 ; w^hile they hear with comparative
apathy, from us, truths the most sublime, and the most
important to them ? ^' The answer was, " Because we de-
liver fiction hke truth, and you deliver truth like fiction.'^
The principles here laid down may help to

Effects of explain a remarkable fact which is usually at-
ed for, tributed to other than the true causes. The

powerful effects often produced by some fana-
tical 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 con-
sidered as a proof of superior eloquence ; though an elo-
quence tarnished by barbarism, and extravagant manner-
ism. Now may not such effects result, not from any supe-
rior 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 effect? The answer is, because he is but half-
attended to. The ordinary measured cadence of reading,
is not only in itself dull, but is what men are familiarly
accustomed to : religion itself also, is a subject ^o familiar,
in a certain 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 intently
fixed on such a stupendous subject, and that subject itself

Chap. IV. § 2.] PRACTICAL DEDUCTIONS. 379

will produce the most overpowering emotion. And not
only unaffected earnestness of manner, but, perhaps, even
still more, any uncouth oddity, and even ridiculous extra-
vagance, 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 some-
times, on such a subject, produce the effects of the greatest
eloquence, by merely forcing the hearers (often, even by the
excessively glaring /«?^//5 of his style and delivery) to attend,
to a subject 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 produce, inci-
dentally, on some, is more than counterbalanced by the
mischievous consequences to others.

§2.

One important practical maxim resulting Practice
from the views here taken, is the decided of recitation
condemnation of all recitation of speeches by ^f^^^^ols m-

111 . Ill junous.

school-boys ; a practice so much approved and

recommended by 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 in-
sisted on. In any one who should think a natural delivery
desirable, it would be an obvious absurdity to think of at-
taining it by practising 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

380 ELOCUTION. [Part IV.

own voice, — of the judgment of the audience on his per-
formance, &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 difficulty
be enhanced, when neither the sentiments he is to utter,
nor the character he is to assume, are his own, or even sup-
posed 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 himself an artificial manner * ;
which (especially if he succeed in it) will probably cling to
him through life, even when he is delivering his own com-
positions on real occasions. The very best that can be ex-
pected, is, that he should become an accomplished actor,—:
possessing the plastic power of putting himself, in imagina-
tion, so completely into the situation of him whom he per-
sonates, and of adopting, for the moment, so perfectly, all
the sentiments and views of that character, as to express
himself exactly as such a person would have done, in the
supposed situation. Few are likely to attain such perfec-
tion ; but he who shall have succeeded in accomplishing
this, will have taken a most circuitous route to his pro-
posed 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 learning to assume, what, when
the real occasion occurs, need not be assumed, but only
expressed. Nothing surely can be more preposterous than
labouring to acquire the art oi pretending to be, what he is
not, and, to feel, what he does not, in order that he may be

* 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
pubhc speaking) from the anxious attention which some persons feel to the
opinion the company may form of them ; a consciousness of being watched and
scrutinized in every word and gesture, together with an extreme anxiety for
approbation, and dread of censure.

Chap. IV. § 2.] PRACTICAL DEDUCTIONS. 381

enabled, on a real emergency, to pretend to be and to feel
just what the occasion 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 speak-
ing which from its nature must necessarily be artificial, —
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 pronounced
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, Acting of
no concern. Nor can it be doubted that a fa- School-hoys.
miliarity with the purest forms of the Latin
and Greek languages, may be greatly promoted by com-
mitting 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 tem-
porary adoption of the characters and sentiments, can
hardly fail to produce a powerful effect on the moral cha-
racter. 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 scene, 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 him-
self, as far as possible, the person he represents*. But let

* If there are any, as I must hope there are not a few, who would deprecate
such a result from the acting of Terence's plays by school-boys, and who yet
patronize the practice, 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

382 ELOCUTION. [Part IV.

no one seek to attain a natural, simple, and forcible Elocu-
tion, 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 deli-
vering 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 mo-
ment, all that he is saying ; but though, thus far, no disguise
is needed, he cannot, without a distinct effort, deliver what

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 crow^n with success
and applause. The foulest obscenity, such as would create disgust in any deli-
cate mind, would probably be less likely to corrupt the principles, than the
more gentleman-like profligacy, which is not merely represented, but recom-
mended in Terence ; and which approaches but too nearly to what the youth
may find exemplified in some persons 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 understand 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 re-
presentation of such a character ? I can only reply, in the words of Thucy-
dides, " We give you joy of your innocence, but covet not your silliness :" —
MAKAP12ANTES 'TMQN TO AnEIPOKAKON, OY ZHAOYMEN TO
A$PON.

I am aware that I run a risk of giving offence by these remarks ; but a
sense of duty forbids their suppression. If the practice is capable of vindica-
tion, let it receive one : if not, let it be abolished.

It is now (1846) a good many years since this remonstrance was first pub-
lished ; during which interval the work has gone through several editions. I
cannot but suppose, therefore, that some refutation of my reasoning would,
before now, have been at least attempted, (which as far as I know, no one ever
did attempt) were it not felt and practically acknowledged by the parties con-
cerned to be unanswerable.

Let the experiment be tried, of placing in the hands of the Mothers 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.] PRACTICAL DEDUCTIONS. 883

he isj in fact^ reading, with the air of one who is not read-
ing, 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 ob-
served, 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 spontaneously suggest itself to one
who has (even his own) written w^ords before him. To at-
tain the delivery I have been recommending, he must make
a strong and continual effort so to withdj-aw his mind, not
only from studied modulation of voice, but from the con-
sciousness 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 1 am far from supposing
that in doing this he will not improve by practice ; indeed
I have all along implied, that no 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, I 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 Caesar,
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 artifi-
cial ; not merely because he is reading, or repeating from
memory, w^hat he is endeavouring to utter as if extempore ;
— nor again, merely because the composition is another^s,
and the circumstances fictitious ; but because the compo-

384 ELOCUTION. [Part IV.

sition, 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 proposed, viz.
to qualify him for delivering well, on real occasions, his
own, or such as his own, written compositions, will have
been defeated ; and we shall have anticipated, and cor-
rupted, 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 such as
one can fully conceive and enter into, expressions 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 compositions 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 exercises *,) but on some real occasion inte-
resting to a youthful mind, {e,g, of some recent occurrence,
or the like,) a system of practice might perhaps be adopted
which would prove beneficial.

Such exercises as these, however, w^oidd make but a sorry
display, in comparison of the customary declamations. The
" pomp and circumstance '^ of annual public recitations
has much that is attractive to Masters, Parents, and Scho-
lars ; 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.

* See Inti-od. § 5.

Chap. IV. § 3.] PRACTICAL DEDUCTIONS. 38S

§3.

The last circumstance to be noticed among Natural

the results of the mode of delivery recom- delivery

Ttiorc easily
mended, is, that the speaker will find it much jieard.

easier, in this Natural manner, to make him-
self heard : he will be heard, that is, much more distinctly
— at a greater distance, — and with far less exertion and fa-
tigue to himself. This is the more necessary to be men-
tioned, 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 un-
natural 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 it be clear, though it be less laboured,
and may even seem low to those who are near at hand,
will be distinctly heard at a much greater distance. The
only decisive proof of this must be sought in experience ;
which will not fail to convince of the truth of it any one
who will fairly make the trial.

The requisite degree of loudness will be best obtained,
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 especially 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 pronun-
ciation 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

2 c

386 ELOCUTION. [Part IV.

be expected a priori,) is evident from daily experience.
An extemporary Speaker will usually be much less ex-
hausted 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 patients are frequently unable
to continue it for a quarter of an hour without great ex-
haustion ; 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.

Recapitu- ^^ *^^" ^^^^ ^^^ determine to aim at the
lation of Natural manner, though he will have to con-
advantages tend with considerable difficulties and dis-
^rf a ^taaes couragements, will not be without correspond-
ing advantages, in the course he is pursuing.

He will be at first, indeed, repressed to a greater degree
than another, by emotions of bashfulness ; but it will be
more speedily and more completely subdued ; the very
system pursued, since it forbids all thoughts of self, stri-
king at the root of the evil.

He will, indeed, on the outset, incur censure, not only
critical but moral ; — he will be blamed for using a collo-
quial delivery ; and the censure will very likely be, as far
as relates to his earliest efforts, not wholly undeserved;
for his manner will probably at first too much resemble

* " "We can at will enlarge or diminish the area of the chest, and stop, ac-
celerate, or retard the act of respiration. When we attend to our breathing,
and regulate its rate, it quickly becomes fatiguing ; but the same happens with
any voluntary and habitual action, if we attempt to perform it analytically,
by directing the attention to every step in its progress." — Mayors Phyaiologyt
p. 107.

It may be added that there is a disease of the larynx to which those pro-
fessionally engaged in reading aloud are often subject, but which, as I have
learnt from medical men, is seldom or never found among Pleaders and other
extemporary speakers.

Chap. IV. § 5.] ACTION. 387

that of conversation, though of serious and earnest conver-
sation : but by perseverance he may be sure of avoiding
deserved, and of mitigating, and ultimately overcoming,
undeserved, censure.

He will, indeed, never be praised for a " very fine de-
livery ;^^ 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 precluded, by the
nature of the system, from minutely imitating ; but he
will have the advantage of carrying with him an Infallible
Guide, as long as he is careful to follow 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 adheres to
this plan, he is in the right road to it ; instead of becoming,
— as on the other plan, — more and more artificial, the
longer he studies. And every advance he makes will pro-
duce 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 ensuring admiration; but he will
far more surpass them, in respect of the proper object of
the Orator, which is, to carry his point,

§5.

Much need not be said on the subject of Action.
Action, which is at present so little approved,
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

202

388 ELOCUTION. [Part IV.

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 vehe-
ment internal emotion by some kind of outward gesture,
that those who do not encourage or allow themselves in
any, frequently fall unconsciously 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 speak-
ing, in the Artificial manner, there is little or

Why ac- nothing of this tendency; precisely, because
mllydisZl'd. ^^^ ^"i^^ ^^ ^^^ occupied by that strong in-
ternal emotion which occasions it. And the
prevalence of this (the artificial) manner may reasonably
be conjectured to have led to the disuse of all gesticula-
tion, 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 circumstance that
it evidently might be entirely omitted f. 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,

* Of o^e of the ancient Roman Orators it was satirically remarked, (on ac-
count 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 per-
haps have been said, that they had been accustomed to address their audience
over a high wall.

f " Gratas inter mensas symphonia discors,

Et crassum unguentum, et Sardo cum melle papaver
Offendunt; poterat duel quia coena sine istis."

Horace, Ar& Poet.

Chap. IV. § 6.] ACTION. 389

in any case, be taken to use graceful or appropriate action;
which, if not 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 pub-
lic speaking, but on all occasions. The case, indeed, is the
same with utterance : if any one has, in common discourse,
an indistinct, hesitating, provincial, or otherwise faulty de-
livery, 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 re-
spect to attitudes and gestures. It is in these points,
principally, if not exclusively, that the remarks of an intel-
ligent 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.

§6.

It would be inconsistent with the principle Action
just laid down, to deliver any precepts for ^^^^'^^J'^y
gesture : because the observance of even the y^Q^ds.
best conceivable precepts, would, by destroy-
ing the natural appearance, be fatal to their object : but
there is a remark, which is worthy of attention, from the
illustration it affords of the erroneousness, in detail, as well
as in principle, of the ordinary systems of instruction in
this point. Boys are generally taught to employ the pre-
scribed action either after, or during the utterance of the
words it is to enforce. The best and most appropriate
action must, from this circumstance alone, necessarily ap-
pear a feeble affectation. It suggests the idea of a person

390 ELOCUTION. [Part IV.

speaking to those who do not fully understand the lan-
guage, and striving by signs to explain the meaning of
what he has been saying. The very same gesture, had it
come at the proper, that 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 utterance, 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, ear-
nest, unstudied speaker, this mode of placing the action
foremost, 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 unsuc-
cessful and ridiculous pantomime.

* " Format enim Natura prius nos intus ad omnem

Fortunarum haUtum ; juvaty aut impelUt ad tram :
Aut ad humum moerore gravi deducit, et angit :
Post effert animi motm interprete lingua."

Horace, Ars Poet.

APPENDIX.

[A.] Pages 8, 156, 326.

Omnino hoc volumusj locos omnes, quorum frequens est
usus (sive ad probationes et refutationes, sive ad suasiones
et dissuasiones, sive ad laudes et vituperia spectent) medi-
tates jam haberi, eosque ultimis ingenii viribus, et tan-
quam improbe, et prorsus praeter veritatem, attolli et de-
primi. Modum autem hujus coUectionis, tarn ad usum,
quam ad brevitatem, optimum fore censemus^ si hujus-
modi loci contrahantur in sententias quasdam acutas et con-
cisas ; tanquam glomos quosdam^ quorum fila in fusiorem
discursum, cum res postulat, explicari possint. * * *
Ejus generis, cum plurima parata habeamus, aliqua ad ex-
emplum proponere visum est. Ea autem antitheta re-
rum nominamus.

[It is worth observing that several of these common-
places of Bacon have become Proverbs ; and others of
them are well calculated to become so. And most of the
Proverbs that are in use in various languages are of a similar
character to these.

Considering that Proverbs have been current in all ages
and countries, it is a curious circumstance that so much
difference of opinion should exist as to the utility, and as
to the design of them. Some are accustomed to speak as
if Proverbs contained a sort of concentrated essence of the
wisdom of all Ages, which will enable any one to judge and

394 APPENDIX [A].

act aright on every emergency. Others on the contrary
represent them as fit only to furnish occasionally a motto
for a book, a theme for a school-boy's exercise, or a copy
for children learning to write.

To me, both these opinions appear erroneous.

That Proverbs are not generally regarded, by those who
use them, as, necessarily, propositions of universal and ac-
knowledged truth, like mathematical axioms, is plain from
the circumstance that many of those most in use, are, —
like these common-places of Bacon, — opposed to each
other ; as e, g, '' Take care of the pence, and the pounds
will take care of themselves ;" to " Be not penny-wise and
pound-foolish ; '' and again, " The more haste, the worse
speed;'' or, "Wait awhile, that w^e may make an end the
sooner;" to " Take time by the forelock," or " Time and
tide for no man bide," &c.

It seems, I think, to be practically understood, that a
Proverb is merely a compendious expression of some prin-
ciple, which wdll usually be, in different cases, and with or
without certain modifications, true or false, applicable or
inapplicable. When then a Proverb is introduced, the
speaker usually employs it as a Major-premise, and is
understood to imply, as a Minor, that the principle thus
referred to is applicable in the existing case. And what is
gained by the employment of the Proverb, is, that his
judgment, and his reason for it, are conveyed — through the
use of a well-known form of expression, clearly, and at the
same time in an incomparably shorter space, than if he
had had to explain his meaning in expressions framed for
the occasion. And the brevity thus obtained is often still
further increased by suppressing the full statement even of
the very Proverb itself, if a very common one, and merely
alluding to it in a word or two.

Proverbs accordingly are somewhat analogous to those
medical Formulas which, being in frequent use, are kept
ready-made-up in the chemists' shops, and which often save
the framing of a distinct Prescription.

APPENDIX [A]. S95

And the usefulness of this brevity will not be though t,
by any one well conversant with Reasoning, to consist
merely in the saving of breath, paper, or time. Brevity,
when it does not cause obscurity, conduces much to the
opposite effect, and causes the meaning to be far more
clearly apprehended than it would have been in a longer
expression. More than half the cases probably, in which
men either misapprehend what is said, or confuse one
question with another, or are misled by any fallacy, are
traceable in great measure to a want of sufficient concise-
ness of expression.]

NOBILITAS.

PRO.

* * *

Nobilitas laurea, qua tem-
pus homines coronat.

Antiquitatem etiam in mo-
numentis mortuis veneramur :
quanto magis in vivis ?

* * *

Nobilitas virtutem invidise
subducit, gratise tradit.

CONTRA.

Raro ex virtute nobilitas:
rarius ex nobilitate virtus.

Nobiles majorum depreca-
tione, ad veniam, ssepius
utuntur, quam sujffragatione,
ad honores.

Tanta solet esse industria
hominum novorum, ut nobi-
les prse iUis tanquam statuse
videantur.

Nobiles in studio respec-
tant nimis ssepe : quod mali
cursoris est.

[" Nobilitatem nemo con-
temnit, nisi cui abest : nemo
jactitat, nisi cui nihil aliud
est quo glorietur f,"]

t This observation, in substance, is attributed to Bishop Warburton.

396

APPENDIX [A].

PRO.

* * *

Senes sibi sapiunt magis;
aliis et reipublicse minus.

Si conspici daretur, magis
deformat animos, quam cor-
pora, senectus.

Senes omnia metuunt, prse-
ter Deos.

JUVENTUS.

CONTRA.

Juventus poenitentise cam-
pus.

Ingenitus est juvenibus se-
nilis auctoritatis contemptus ;
ut quisque suo periculo sapiat.

Tempus, ad quse consilia
non advocatur, nee rata babet.
* * *

UXOR ET LIBERI.

PRO.

Charitas reipublicse incipit
a familia.

Uxor et liberi disciplina
qusedam humanitatis ; et coe-
libes tetrici et severi.

Coelibatus et orbitas ad
nil aliud conferunt, quam ad
fugam.

CONTRA.

Qui uxorem duxit, et libe-
ros suscepit, obsides fortunse
dedit.

* * *

Brutorum eternitas sobo-
les ; virorum fama, merita, et
instituta.

(Economicse rationes pub-
licas plerunque evertunt.

DIVITI^.

PRO.

Divitias contemnunt, qui
desperant.

* * *

Dum pbilosopbi dubitant,
utrum ad virtutem an volup-
tatem omnia sint referenda,
coUige instrumenta utrius-
que.

CONTRA,

Divitiarum magnarum vel
custodia est, vel dispensatio
qusedam, vel fama ; at nuUus
usus.

Annon vides lapillis, et id
genus deliciis, fingi pretia, ut
possit esse aliquis magnarum
divitiarum usus ?

APPENDIX [A].

897

PRO.

Virtus per divitias vertitur
in commune bonum.
* * *

CONTRA. -

Multi, dum divitiis suis
omnia venalia fore eredide-
runt, ipsi in primis venie-
runt.

Non aliud divitias dixerim,
quam impedimenta virtutis :
nam virtuti et necessarise
sunt, et graves.

Divitise bona ancilla, pes-
sima domina.

PRO.

* * *

Honores faciunt et virtutes
et vitia conspicua ; itaque illas
provocant, bsec refrsenant.

Non novit quispiam, quan-
tum in virtutis cursu profe-
cerit, nisi honores ei cam-
pum prsebeant apertum.

'1* 'K 'P

HONORES.

CONTRA.

Dum honores appetimus,
libertatem exuimus.

Honores dant fere potesta-
tem earum rerum, quas op-
tima conditio est nolle, prox-
ima non posse.

Honorum ascensus arduus,
statio lubrica, regressus prse-
ceps.

Qui in honore sunt, vulgi
opinionem mutuentur opor-
tet, ut seipsos beatos putent.

IMPERIA.

PRO. CONTRA.

Felicitate frui, magnum bo- Quam miserum, habere nil
num est ; sed eam et aliis im- fere, quod appetas ; infinita,
pertiri posse, adhuc majus. quae metuas !

398

APPENDIX [A].

LAUS, EXISTIMATIO.

PRO.

Virtutis radii reflexi laudes.

Laus honor is est^ ad quern
liberis suffragiis pervenitur.

Honores diverse a diver-
sis politiis conferimtur ; sed
laudes ubique sunt liber tatis.
* * *

Ne mireris, si vulgus verius
loquatur, quam honoratiores ;
quia etiam tutius loquitur.

CONTRA.

Fama deterior judex, quam
nuncia.

Fama veluti fluvius, levia
attollit, solida mergit.

Infimarum virtutum apud
vulgus laus est, mediarum ad-
miratio, supremarum sensusf
nullus.

* * *

NATURA

PRO.

Consuetudo contra natu-
ram, quasi tyrannis qusedam
est : et cito, ac levi occasione
corruit.

CONTRA.

Cogitamus secundum na-
turam; loquimur secundum
prsecepta; sed agimus secun-
dum consuetudinem.
* * *

FOETUNA.

PRO.

Virtutes apertss laudes pa-
riunt, occultse, for tunas.

Fortuna veluti galaxia ; hoc
est, nodus quarandum obscu-
rarum virtutum, sine nomine.

CONTRA.

Stultitia unius, fortuna al-
terius.

* * *

t This is perhaps under stated. The vulgar are apt, not merely not to un-
derstand, but to contemn, the highest virtues ; such as even-handed justice,
and disinterested public spirit : attributing such conduct as results from these,
to want of feeling, stupidity, or a w^hirasical half-insanity.

APPENDIX [A].

VITA.

PRO.

Prsestat ad omnia, etiam ad
virtutem, curriculum longum_,
quara breve.

Absque spatiis vitse majori-
bus, nee perficere datur, nee
perdiscere, nee poenitere.

CONTRA.

Non invenias inter huma"
nos affectum tarn pusillum,
qui si intendatur paulo vehe-
mentius, non mortis metum
superet.

SUPERSTITIO.

PRO.

Qui zelo peccant, non pro-
bandi, sed tamen amandi
sunt.

* * *

CONTRA.

Ut simise, similitudo cum
homine, deformitatem addit :
ita superstitioni, similitudo
cum religione.

Prsestat nullam habere de
diis opinionem, quam contu-
meliosam.

SUPERBIA.

PRO.

Superbia etiam vitiis inso-
ciabilis; atque ut venenum
veneno, ita baud pauca vitia
superbia expelluntur.

Facilis, etiam alienis vitiis
obnoxius est : superbus tan-
tum suis.

CONTRA.

Hedera virtutum ac bono-
rum omnium, superbia.

Csetera vitia virtutibus tan-
tum contraria; superbia sola
contagiosa.

INVIDIA.

PRO.

Invidia in rebuspublicis,
tanquam salubris ostracis-
mus.

CONTRA.

Nemo virtuti invidiam re-
conciliaverit prseter mortem.

Invidia virtutes laboribus
exercet, ut Juno Herculem.

4t)0

APPENDIX [A].

IMPUDICITIA.

PRO. CONTRA.

Omnes, ut Paris, qui formse
optionem faciunt, prudentise
et potentise jacturam faciunt.

CONTRA.

GLORIA VANA.

PRO.

Qui suas laudes appetitj ali- * * *

orum simul appetit utilitates. Turpe est proco solicitare

ancillam; est autem virtutis
ancilla laus.

FORTITUDO.

PRO.

Nil aut in voluptate soli-
dum, aut in virtute munitum,
ubi timer infestat.

Cseterae virtutes nos a domi-
natu liberant vitiorum ; forti-
tude sola a dominatu fortunse.

CONTRA.

Vitse suae prodigus, aliense
periculosus.

Virtus ferrese setatis forti-
tude.

CONSTANTIA.

PRO.

Basis virtutum constantia.

Miser est, qui qualis ipse
futurus sit, nen nevit.

Etiam vitiis decus aspirat
constantia.

Si ad fortunse inconstan-
tiam accedat etiam incenstan-
tia mentis, in quantis tenebris
vivitur !

Eortuna, tanquam Proteus,
si perseveres, ad formam redit.

CONTRA.

Constantia, ut janitrix mo-
rosa, multa utilia indicia abi-
git.

^quum est, ut constantia
res adversas bene teleret ;
nam fere inducit.

Stultitia brevissima optima.

APPJgNDlX [A].

401

SCIENTIA, CONTEMPLATIO.

PRO.

Ea demum voluptas est se-
cundum naturam^ cujus non
est satietas.

* * *

Omnes affectus pravi^ falsa?
sestimationes sunt; atque ea-
dcm sunt bonitas et Veritas.

CONTRA.

Contemplatio, speciosa in-
ertia.

Bene cogitare, non multo
melius est, quam bene som-
niare.

LITERS.

PRO.

Lectio est conversatio cum
prudentibus; actio fere cum
stultis.

Non inutiles scientise exis-
timandse sunt, quarum in se
nullus est usus, si ingenia
acuant, et ordinent.

CONTRA.

Quse unquam ars docuit
tempestivum artis usum ?

Artis ssepissime ineptus
usus est, ne sit nullus.

PROMPTITUDO.

PRO.

Opportuna prudentia non
est, quse celeris non est.

Qui cito errat, cito errorem
emendat.

CONTRA.

* * *

Cujus consilia non maturat
deliberatio, nee prudentiam
setas.

POPULARITAS.

PRO. CONTRA.

Qui ipsi magni viri sunt, Infima assentatio est assen-
neminem unum fere habent, tatio vulgi.
quem vereantur, sed populum.

403

APPENDIX [A].

DISSIMULATIO.

PRO.

Dissimulatio, compendiaria
sapientia.

Sepes consiliorum, dissi-
mulatio.

Qui indissimulanter omnia
agit, seque decipit ; nam plu-
rimij aut non capiunt, aut non
credunt.

CONTRA.

Quibus artes civiles supra
captum in genii sunt, iis dis-
simulatio pro prudentia erit.

Qui dissimulate prsecipuo
ad agendum instrumento se
privat, i. e. fide.

Dissimulatio dissimulatio-
nem invitat.

CEREMONIiE, PUNCTI, AFFECTATIO.

PRO.

Si et in verbis vulgo pa-
remus, quidni in babitu, et
gestu ?

Virtus et prudentia sine
punctis, velut peregrinse lin-
guse sunt ; nam vulgo non in-
telliguntur.

Puncti translatio sunt vir-
tutis in linguam vernaculam.

CONTRA.

Quid deformius, quam sce-
nam in vitam transferre ?

Magis placent cerussatse
buccae, et calamistrata coma,
quam cerussati et calamistrati
mores.

AMICITIA.

PRO.

Pessima sobtudo, non veras
habere amicitias.

Digna malse fidei ultio, ami-
citiis privari.

CONTRA.

Qui amicitias arctas copu-
lat, novas necessitates sibi im-
ponit.

Animi imbecilli est, par-
tiri fortunam.

APPENDIX [A].

4aa

VINDICTA.

PRO.

Vindicta privata, justitia
agrestis.

Qui vim rependit, legem
tantum violat_, non hominem.

Utilis metus ultionis pri-
vatse ; nam leges nimium ssepe
dormiunt.

CONTRA.

Qui injuriam fecit^ princi-
pium malo dedit ; qui reddi-
dit, modum abstulit.

Vindicta, quo magis natu-
ralis, eo magis coercenda.

Qui facile injuriam reddit,
is fortasse tempore, non vo-
luntate posterior erat.

INNOVATIO.

PRO.

Omnis medicina innovatio.

Qui nova remedia fugit,
nova mala operitur.

Novator maximus tempus :
quidni igitur tempus imite-
mur ?

Morosa morum retentio,
res turbulenta est, seque ac
novitas.

Cum per se res mutentur
in deterius, si consilio in me-
lius non mutentur, quis finis
erit mali ?

CONTRA.

NuUus auctor placet, prse-
ter tempus.

Nulla novitas absque inju-
ria ; nam prsesentia convellit.

Quse usu obtinuere, si non
bona, at saltem apta inter se
sunt.

Quis novator tempus imi-
tatur, quod novationes ita in-
sinuat, ut sensus fallant ?

Quod prseter spem evenit,
cui prodest, minus acceptum j
cui obest, magis molestum.

MORA.

PRO.

Fortuna multa festinanti
vendit, quibus morantem do-
nat.

CONTRA.

Occasio instar Sibyllse mi-
nuit oblatum, pretium auget.
Celeritas, Orci galea.

2 D 2

404

APPENDIX [AA].

PRO.

SUSPICIO.

* * *

Merito ejus fides suspecta
est, quam suspicio labefacit.

CONTRA.

Suspicio fidem absolvit.
* * *

VEEBA LEGIS.

PRO.

Non est interpretation sed
divinatio, quse recedit a li-
ter a.

Cum receditur a litera, ju-
dex transit in legislatoreni.

CONTRA.

Ex omnibus verbis elicien-
dus est sensus, qui interprc-
tetur singula.

Pessima tyrannis lex in
equuleo.

PRO TESTIBUS CONTRA ARGUMENTA.

PRO.

Secundum oratorem, non
secundum causam pronunciat,
qui argumentis nititur.

Tutum foret argumentis
credere, si homines nihil ab-
surdi facerent.

Argumenta, cum sint con-
tra testimonia, hoc prsestant,
ut res mira videatur, non au-
tem ut non vera.

CONTRA..

Si testibus credendum sit
contra argumenta, sufficit,
tantum judicem esse non sui*-
dum.

lis probationibus tutissimo
creditur, quse rarissime men-
tiuntur.

[AA.] Introd. §4.jo.l7.

^^ Sometimes men will tell us that they prefer a natural and
artless eloquence, and that very diligent preparation is incon-
sistent with such qualities. We verily believe that this fal-
lacy, though it lurks under an almost transparent ambiguity,

APPENDIX [AA]. 405

is of most prejudicial consequence. Nature and Art, so far
from being always opposed, are often the very same thing.
Thus, to adduce a familiar example, and closely related to the
present subject — it is natural for a man who feels that he has
not given adequate expression to a thought, though he may
have used the first words suggested, to attempt it again and
again. He, each time, approximates nearer to the mark, and
at length desists, satisfied either that he has done what he
wishes, or that he cannot perfectly do it, as the case may be.
A writer, with this end, is continually transposing clauses, re-
constructing sentences, striking out one word and putting in
another. All this may be said to be art, or the deliberate
application of means to ends ; but is it art inconsistent with
nature ? It is just such art as this that we ask of the preacher
and no other ; simply that he shall take diligent heed to do
what he has to do as well as he can. Let him depend upon
it, that no such art as this will ever make him appear the less
natural.

" A similar fallacy lurks under the unmeaning phrases which
are often bestowed upon simplicity. We love simplicity as
much as any of its eulogists can do ; but we should probably
difi*er about the meaning of the word. While some men talk
as if to speak naturally were to speak like a Natural, others
talk as if to speak with simplicity meant to speak like a sim-
pleton. True simplicity does not consist in what is trite, bald,
or commonplace. So far as regards the thought, it means,
not what is already obvious to every body, but what, though
not obvious, is immediately recognised, as soon as propounded,
to be true and striking. As it regards the expression, it means,
that thoughts worth hearing are expressed in language that
every one can understand. In the first point of view, it is
opposed to what is abstruse ; in the second, to what is ob-
scure. It is not what some men take it to mean, threadbare
commonplace, expressed in insipid language. It can be
owing only to a fallacy of this kind, that we so often hear dis-
courses consisting of little else than njeagre truisms, expanded
and diluted till every mortal ear aches that listens. We have

406 APPENDIX [AAJ.

heard preachers commence with the tritest of truths — ' All
men are mortals ' — and proceed to illustrate it with as much
prolixity as though they were announcing it as a new propo-
sition to a company of immortals in some distant planet,
brought with difficulty to believe a fact so portentous, and
unauthenticated by their own experience.

" True simplicity is the last and' most excellent grace which
can belong to a speaker, and is certainly not to be attained
without much effort. Those who have attentively read the
present Article, will not suspect us of demanding more deli-
berate preparation on the part of the preacher that he may
offer what is profound, recondite, or abstruse ; but that he
may say only what he ought to say, and that what he does
say may be better said. When the topics are such only as
ought to be insisted on, and the language such as is readily
understood, the preacher may depend upon it that no pains
he may take will be lost — that his audience, however homely,
will be sure to appreciate them — and that the better a dis-
course is the better they will like it.

" We have stated as the other great cause of the failure of
preachers, that they are not sufficiently instructed in i\iQ prin-
ciples of pulpit eloquence. We are far from contending that a
systematic exposition of the laws, in conformity with which all
effective discourses to the people must be constructed, should
be made a part of general education ; or that it ought to be
imparted even to him who is destined to be a public speaker
till his general training — and that a very ample one — has been
completed. But that such knowledge should be acquired by
every one designed for such an office, and that all universities
and colleges should furnish the means of communicating it,
we have no manner of doubt.^^ -Jf ^ -jf ^

" Youthful vanity and inexperience alone sufficiently account
for the greater part of the deviations from propriety, simpli-
city, and common-sense, now adverted to. Those who laud Na-
ture in opposition to Art, are too apt to forget that this very
vanity forms a part of it. It is natural for a youth, whether
with or without cultivation, to fall into these errors ; and all

APPENDIX [AA]. 407

experience loudly proclaims that, on such a point, nature alone
is no safe guide. Who, that has arrived at maturity in in-
tellect, taste, and feeling, does not recollect how hard it was
in early life to put the extinguisher upon a fine metaphor or
dazzling expression — to reject tinsel, however worthless, if it
did but glare ; and epithets, however superfluous, if they but
sounded grand ? — how hard it was to forget one^s self, and
to become sincerely intent upon the best, simplest, strongest,
briefest mode of communicating what we deemed important
truth to the minds of others ? Surely it is not a little ridicu-
lous then, when so obvious a solution offers itself, to charge
the faults of young speakers upon the very precepts which
condemn them. It is sufficient to vindicate the utility of such
precepts, if they tend only in some measure to correct the
errors they cannot entirely suppress ; and to abridge the du-
ration of follies which they cannot wholly prevent.

" But it is further said, that, somehow or other, any such
system of instruction does injury, by laying upon the intellect
a sort of constraint, and substituting a stiff mechanical move-
ment for the flexibility and freedom of nature.

" We reply, that if the system of instruction be too minute,
or if the pupil be told to employ it mechanically, we can easily
conceive that such effects will follow ; but not otherwise. We
plead for no system of minute technical rules ; still less for
the formal application of any system whatever. But to imbue
the mind with great general principles, leaving them to operate
imperceptibly upon the formation of habit, and to suggest,
without distinct consciousness of their presence, the lessor!
which the occasion demands, is a very different thing, and is
all we contend for. One would think, to hear some men talk,
that it was proposed to instruct a youth to adjust beforehand
the number of sentences of which each paragraph should con-
sist, and the lengths into which the sentences should be cut
— to determine how many should be perfect periods, and how
many should not — what allowance of antitheses, interroga-
tives, and notes of admiration, shall be given to each page — •
where he shall stick on a metonymy or a metaphor, and how

408 APPENDIX [AA].

many niches he shall reserve for gilded ornaments. Who is
pleading for any such nonsense as this ? All that we con-
tend for is^ that no public speaker should be destitute of a
clear perception of those principles of man's nature on which
conviction and persuasion depend ; and of those proprieties of
style which ought to characterise all discourses which are de-
signed to eifect these objects. General as all this knowledge
must be, we cannot help thinking that it would be most ad-
vantageous. One great good it would undoubtedly in many
cases effect ; — it would prevent men from setting out wrong,
or abridge the amount or duration of their errors ; — ^in other
words, prevent the formation of vicious habits, or tend to cor-
rect them when formed. Nothing is more common than for
a speaker to set out with false notions as to the style which
effective public speaking requires — to suppose it something
very remote from what is simple and natural. Still more are
led into similar errors by their vanity. The young especially
are apt to despise the true style for what are its chief excel-
lences— its simplicity and severity. Let them once be taught
its great superiority to every other, and they will at least be
protected from involuntary errors, and less likely to yield to
the seductions of vanity. Such a knowledge would also (per-
haps the most important benefit of all) involve a knowledge
of the best models, and secure timely appreciation of them.

'^^But it is frequently urged that, after all, the practical
value of all the great lessons of criticism must be learned from
experience, and that mere instruction can do little. Be it so.
Is this any reason why that little should be withheld ? Be-
sides, is it nothing to put a youth in the right way? — to abridge
the lessons of experience ? — to facilitate the formation of good
habits, and to prevent the growth of bad ones ? — to diminish
the probabilities of failure, and to increase those of success ?
Is there any reason why we should suffer the young speaker
to grope out his way by the use of the lead-line alone, when
we could give him the aid of the chart and compass ; or to
find his way to truth at last by a series of painful blunders,
when any part of the trouble might be spared him ? Can

APPENDIX [B]. 409

any one doubt that a great speaker might be able to give a
young beginner many profitable hints which would save him
both much time and many errors, and make the lessons of
experience not only a great deal shorter, but vastly less trou-
blesome ?''—-E;c?m6. Review, (Oct. 1840.) pp. 94s-98.

[B.] Part I. Chap. 11. § 2. p. 43.

" there is a distinction to be made between the

unnatural and the merely improbable : a fiction is unnatm'al,
when there is some assignable reason against the events taking
place as described, — when men are represented as acting con-
trary 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 companions but the nar-
row-minded and illiterate, displays (as a heroine usually does)
under the most trying circumstances, such wisdom, fortitude,
and knowledge of the world, as the best instructors and the
best examples can rarely produce without the aid of more ma-
ture age and longer experience *. — On the other hand, a fic-
tion is still improbable, 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 ? 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 constella-
tion of virtues and accomplishments, turns out to be no other

* Or, one might add, when a lad born and reared in a Workhouse filled
with reprobates, and afterwards further trained among hardened thieves, ex-
hibits a character just the reverse of what all reason and all experience would
anticipate from such an education, this is grossly unnatural ; though many
readers may fail to perceive the fault, or at least, the magnitude of it, through
the fallacy noticed in the Text.

410 APPENDIX [B].

than the 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 another. Nay, it
would be nothing unnatural, though the most determined
novel-reader would be shocked at its improbability, if all the
hero's enemies, while they were conspiring his ruin, were to
be struck dead together by a lucky flash of lightning : yet
many denouements which are decidedly unnatural, are better
tolerated 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 unfavourable dis-
position, after a life of torpor, broken only by short sallies of
forced exertion, on a sudden reverse of fortune, displays at
once the most persevering dihgence in the most repulsive
studies j and in middle life, without any previous habits of
exertion, any hope of early business, or the example of friends,
or the stimulus of actual want, to urge him, outstrips every
competitor, though eveiy competitor has every advantage
against him ; this is unnatural. — When Lord Glenthorn, the
instant he is stripped of his estates, meets, falls in love with,
and is conditionally accepted by, the very lady who is remotely
entitled to those estates ; when the instant he has fulfilled the
conditions of their mamage, the family of the person pos-
sessed of the estates becomes extinct, and by the concurrence
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 j when any thing
takes place of such a nature as we should call, in a fiction,
merely improbable^ because there are many chances against it,
we call it a lucky or unlucky accident, a singular coincidence,
something very extraordinary, odd, curious, &c. ; whereas any
thing which, in a fiction, would be called unnatural, when it

APPENDIX [C]. 411

actually occurs^ (and such things do occur,) is still called un-
natural, inexplicable, unaccountable, inconceivable, &c., epi-
thets which are not applied to events that have merely the ba-
lance of chances against them/^ — Quarterly Review , No. xlviii.
pp. 354, 355. The whole article has been republished in Lock-
hart^s edition of the Works of Sir W. Scott (who however is not
the author). Vol. xviii. p. 209. Miscellaneous Prose Works.

[C] Part L Chap, 11. § 2. p. 50*.

The following is the passage from the 5th Lecture on Po-
litical Economy referred to in the text : —

'^ Several writers on Political Economy have described the
case of a supposed race of savages, subsisting on the sponta-
neous productions of the earth, and the precarious supplies of
hunting and fishing ; and have then traced the steps by which
the various arts of life would gradually have arisen, and ad-
vanced more and more towards perfection.

" One man, it is supposed, having acquired more skill than
his neighbours in the making of bows and arrows, or darts,
would find it advantageous both for them and for himself, to
devote himself to this manufacture, and to exchange these im-
plements for the food procured by others, instead of employ-
ing himseK in the pursuit of game. Another, from a similar
cause, would occupy himself exclusively in the construction
of huts, or of canoes ; another, in the preparing of skins for
clothings &c. And the division of labour having thus begun,
the advantages of it would be so apparent, that it would ra-
pidly be extended, and would occasion each person to intro-
duce improvements into the art to which he would have chiefly
confined his attention. Those who had studied the haunts
and the habits of certain kinds of wild animals, and had made
a trade of supplying the community with them, would be led
to domesticate such species as were adapted for it, in order to

* The matter of the Note C. in the Appendix to the former editions, is to
be found in the Lecture subjoined to Part II.

412 APPENDIX [C].

secure a supply of provisions, when the chase might prove
insufficient. Those who had especially studied the places of
growth, and times of ripening, of such wild fruits, or other
vegetable productions, as were in request, would be induced
to secure themselves a readier supply, by cultivating them in
suitable spots. And thus the Society being divided into Hus-
bandmen, Shepherds, and Artificers of various kinds, exchan-
ging the produce of their various labours, would advance, with
more or less steadiness and rapidity, towards the higher stages
of civilization.'' -x- ^ -x- -k- -jf

" On this subject I will take the liberty of citing a passage
from a very well-written and instructive book, the account of
the New Zealanders, in the Library of Entertaining Know-
ledge ; a passage, which is the more valuable to our present
purpose, inasmuch as the writer is not treating of the subject
with any view whatever to the evidences of religion, and is
apparently quite unconscious of the argument which (as I
shall presently show) may be deduced from what he says.

" ^ The especial distinction of the savage, and that which,
more than any other thing, keeps him a savage, is his igno-
rance of letters. This places the community almost in the
same situation with a herd of the lower animals, in so far as
the accumulation of knowledge, or, in other words, any kind
of movement forward, is concerned ; for it is only by means
of the art of writing, that the knowledge acquired by the ex-
perience of one generation can be properly stored up, so that
none of it shall be lost, for the use of all that are to follow.
Among savages, for want of this admirable method of pre-
servation, there is reason to believe the fund of knowledge
possessed by the community instead of growing, generally
diminishes with time. If we except the absolutely necessary
arts of life, which are in daily use and cannot be forgotten,
the existing generation seldom seems to possess any thing
derived from the past. Hence, the oldest man of the tribe
is always looked up to as the wisest ; simply because he has
lived the longest ; it being felt that an individual has scarcely
a chance of knowing any thing more than his own experience

APPENDIX [D]. 413

has taught him. Accordingly the New Zealanders, for ex-
ample, seem to have been in quite as advanced a state when
Tasman discovered the country in 1642, as they were when
Cook visited it, 127 years after.'

'^ It may be remarked, however, with reference to this state-
ment, that the absence of written records is, though a very
important, rather a secondary than a primary obstacle. It is
one branch of that general characteristic of the savage, im-
providence. If you suppose the case of a savage taught to
read and write, but allowed to remain, in all other respects,
the same careless, thoughtless kind of Being, and afterwards
left to himself, he would most likely forget his acquisition ;
and would certainly, by neglecting to teach it to his children,
suffer it to be lost in the next generation. On the other hand,
if you conceive such a case (which certainly is conceivable, and
I am disposed to think it a real one) as that of a people igno-
rant of this art, but acquiring in some degree a thoughtful
and provident character, I have little doubt that their desire,
thence arising, to record permanently their laws, practical
maxims, and discoveries, would gradually lead them, first to
the use of memorial- verses, and afterwards to some kind of
material symbols, such as picture-writing, and then hiero-
glyphics; which might gradually be still further improved
into writing properly so called.^'

[D.] Part L Chap. II. § 4. p. 67.

" To say, that numerous old manuscripts exist ; that they
admit of classification and date, and other characteristics ; to
speak of evidence, derived from contemporary history, from
the monuments of art, from national manners and customs ;
to assert, that there have been persons qualified for the task,
who have examined duly these several 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

414 APPENDIX [D].

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 spend-
ing a life on some individual point of evidence, the collation
of manuscripts, the illustrations derived from uninspired
authors, 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 fa-
vour 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 capable of deciphering one, if pre-
sented to him. He admits the veiy 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 studied. 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
testimony 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 posi-
tive proofs lu-ged in defence of Christianity. Christianity is
established ; and it may be fair to bid its assailants prove, that
it is not what it professes to be, the presumption and pre-
scriptive title being on its side j but Christianity does not in-
trench itself within this fortress : it 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

APPENDIX [D]. 415

on to maintain. It boasts of the sacred volume having been
transmitted pure by means of manuscripts ; and by asserting
the antiquity, the freedom from corruption, and the inde-
pendence and agreement 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 evi-
dence of the first rise of Christianity. Now it is the way in
which this evidence is employed that is the point to be con-
sidered ; 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 demonstration ;
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 fathers, compared profane
history with holy writ. Can this be called reasonable faith ?
or, at least, do we not pretend to be believing on proofs of
various kinds, when, in fact, our belief rests on the bare asser-
tions of others ?

" 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 them-
selves, the same cannot be done by the barrister, the phy-
sician, the professional man of whatever department besides
theology, however enabled by education ; and then, what is
to be the lot of the great mass of the people ? 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 ? but this people who knoweth not

416 APPENDIX [D].

the law are cursed/ Christians must generally, it would seem,
believe in Christ, because their spiritual rulers do, and reject
the infideFs views, because these people are pronounced ac-
cursed. Nay, the supposition of the clergy themselves having
the qualification, and the opportunity to go through the pro-
cess 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 sufiicient 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 assertions,
because proved by others.

" And is this conviction then reasonable ? Is it more than
the adoption of truth on the authority of another ? It is.
The principle on which all these assertions are received, 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 critical and learned — but the
main principle adopted by all, intelligible by all, and reason-
able in itself, is, that these assertions are set forth, bearing on
their face a challenge of refutation. The assertions are like
witnesses placed in a box to be confronted. Scepticism, in-
fidelity, and scofiing, form the very groundwork of om' 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 re-
futed. 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 disprove it.
We believe the witness, not because we know him and esteem
him, but because 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 contributed
to perplex the Christian inquirer, than the impression which

APPENDIX [DDj. 417

vague language creates of our conviction arising, not out of
the application of this principle to the external and monu-
mental evidences of Christianity, but out of the examination
of the evidence itself. The mind feels disappointed and un-
satisfied, 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 examina-
tion 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 Chris-
tianity ought to make us feel, if we had ascertained the fact
by an examination of their writings ; and we are surprised at
finding that we are not in that frame of mind ; forgetting that
our use of the evidence may be founded on a different prin-
ciple.^'— Hinds, on Inspiration.

[DD.] Part I. chap, ii. § 4. p, 72.

The following extracts are from the fifth Lecture on Poli-
tical Economy, being the portion alluded to in the text.

^^ When we dismiss for a moment all antecedent conjec-
tures, and look around us for instances, we find, I think I may
confidently affirm, no one recorded, of a tribe of savages, pro-
perly so styled, rising into a civilized state, without instruc-
tion and assistance from people already civilized. And we
have, on the other hand, accounts of various savage tribes, in
different parts of the globe, who have been visited from time
to time at considerable intervals, but have had no settled in-

418 APPENDIX [DD].

er course with civilized people, and who appear to continue,
as far as can be ascertained, in the same uncultivated con-
dition No savage tribe appears to have risen into

civilization, except through the aid of others who were civilized.
We have, I think, in this case all the historical evidence that
a negative is susceptible of; viz. we have the knowledge of
numerous cases in which such a change has not taken place,
and of none where it has ; while we have every reason to ex-
pect, that, if it had occurred, it would have been recorded.

There are several circumstances which have conduced

to keep out of sight the important fact I have been alluding
to. The chief of these probably is, the vagueness with which
the term ^ Savage ' is applied. I do not profess, and indeed
it is evidently not possible, to draw a line by which we may
determine precisely to whom that title is, and is not, applica-
ble; since there is a series of almost insensible gradations
between the highest and the lowest state of human society.
Nor is any such exact boundary-line needed for our present
purpose. It is sufficient if we admit, what is probably very
far short of the truth, that those who are in as low a state as
some tribes with which we are acquainted, are incapable of

emerging from it, by their own unassisted efforts

There will be no reason, I think, for believing, that there is
any exception to the positions I have here laid down : the
impossibility of men's emerging unaided from a completely
savage state ; and, consequently, the descent of such as are in
that state (supposing mankind to have sprung from a single
pair) from ancestors less barbarous, and from whom they have
degenerated.

" Records of this descent, and of this degeneracy, it is,
from the nature of the case, not likely we should possess ; but
several indications of the fact may often be found among
savage nations. Some have even traditions to that effect;
and almost all possess some one or two arts not of a piece
with their general rudeness, and which plainly appear to be
remnants of a different state of things ; being such, that the
fii'st invention of them implies a degree of ingenuity beyond

APPENDIX [DD]. 419

what the savages who retain those arts, now possess

As to the causes which have occasioned any portions of man-
kind thus to degenerate, we are, of course, in most instances,
left to mere conjecture : but there seems little reason to
doubt, that the principal cause has been war. A people per-
petually harassed by predatory hostile incursions, and still
more, one compelled to fly their country and take refuge in
mountains or forests*, or to wander to some distant unoccu-
pied region, (and this we know to have been anciently a com-
mon occurrence,) must of course be likely to sink in point of
civilization. They must, amidst a series of painful struggles
for mere existence, have their attention drawn off from all
other subjects ; they must be deprived of the materials and
the opportunities for practising many of the arts, till the
knowledge of them is lost ; and their children must grow up,
in each successive generation, more and more uninstructed,
and disposed to be satisfied with a life approaching to that of

the brutes But whatever may have been the causes

which in each instance have tended to barbarize each nation,
of this we may, I think, be well assured, that though, if it
have not sunk below a certain point, it may, under favourable
circumstances, be expected to rise again, and gradually even
more than recover the lost ground ; on the other hand, there
is a stage of degradation from which it cannot emerge, but
through the means of intercourse with some more civilized
people. The turbulent and unrestrained passions — ^the indo-
lence— and, above all, the want of forethought, which are
characteristic of savages, naturally tend to prevent, and, as
experience seems to show, always have prevented, that process
of gradual advancement from taking place, which was sketched
out in the opening of this Lecture ; except when the savage
is stimulated by the example, and supported by the guidance
and instruction of men superior to himself.

"Any one who dislikes the conclusions to which these views
lead, will probably set himself to contend against the argu-
ments which prove it unlikely that savages should civihze
* Whence the name " Savage," SUvagio,

3e2

420 APPENDIX [DD].

themselves; but how will he get over the /«c/, that they never
yet have done this ? That they never can, is a theory ; and
something may always be said, well or ill, against any theory ;
but facts are stubborn things ; and that no authenticated in-
stance can be produced of savages that ever </f demerge unaided
from that state, is no theory y but a statement, hitherto uncon-
tradicted, of a matter oifact,

" Now if this be the case, when, and how, did civilization
first begin'i If Man when first created was left, like the
brutes, to the unaided exercise of his natural powers of body
and mind — those powers which are common to the European
and to the New Hollander — how comes it that the European
is not now in the condition of the New Hollander ? As the
soil itself, and the climate, of New-Holland are excellently
adapted to the growth of corn, and yet (as corn is not indi-
genous there) could never have borne any to the end of the
world, if it had not been brought thither from another coun-
try, and sown ; so, the savage himself, though he may be, as
it were, a soil capable of receiving the seeds of civilization,
can never, in the first instance, produce it, as of spontaneous
growth; and unless those seeds be introduced from some
other quarter, must remain for ever in the sterihty of bar-
barism. And from what quarter then could this first begin-
ning of civilization have been supplied to the earliest race of
mankind ? According to the present course of nature, the
first introducer of cultivation among savages, is, and must be,
Man, in a more improved state : in the beginning therefore
of the human race, this, since there was no man to effect it,
must have been the work of another Being. There must have
been, in short, a Revelation made, to the first, or to some
subsequent generation, of our species. And this miracle (for
such it is, as being an impossibility according to the present
course of nature) is attested, independently of the authority of
Scripture, and consequently in confirmation of the Scripture-
accounts, by the fact, that civilized man exists at the present
day.

" Taking this view of the subject, we have no need to dwell

APPENDIX [DD]. 431

on the utility — the importance — the antecedent probability —
of a Revelation : it is established as a fact, of which a mo-
nument is existing before our eyes. Divine instruction is
proved to be necessary, not merely for an end which we think
desirable^ or which we think agreeable to Divine wisdom and
goodness, but, for an end which we know has been attained.
That Man could not have made himself, is appealed to as a
proof of the agency of a divine Creator : and that Mankind
could not in the first instance have civilized themselves, is a
proof, exactly of the same kind, and of equal strength, of the
agency of a divine Instructor.

" You will, I suspect, find this argument press so hard on
the adversaries of religion, that they will be not unlikely to
attempt evading its force, by calling on you to produce an
instance of some one art, peculiar to civilized men, and which
it may be proved could not have been derived but from in-
spiration. But this is a manifest evasion of the argument.
For, so far from representing as peculiar to civilized men all
arts that seem beyond the power of savages to invent, I have
remarked the direct contrary, which indeed is just what
might have been expected, supposing savages to be, as I have
contended, in a degenerated state.

" The argument really employed (and all attempts to mis-
represent it are but fresh presumptions that it is unanswer-
able) consists in an appeal, not to any particular art or arts,
but to a civilized condition generally. If this was not the
work of a divine instructor, produce an instance, if you can, of
a nation of savages who have civilized themselves ! "

The arguments urged against these conclusions by writers
not deficient in intelligence are such as to furnish no small
confirmation to any unbiassed mind ; being what no man of
sense would resort to, except when very hard-pressed indeed.
E. G. It has been urged that no super-human instruction in
any of the arts of life could ever have been afforded to Man,
because the Jews, who are supposed to have been peculiarly
favoured with revelations respecting religion, were, in the days
of Solomon, ignorant that the diameter of a circle is less than

422 APPENDIX [DD].

one-tliird of the circumference. This is inferred from what is
said in the Second Book of Chronicles (ch. ii. v. 2), though the
inference is somewhat hasty; since the difference is so mi-
nute between one-third of the cii'cumference and the diameter,
(which is less than /y and more than /^ of the circumfer-
ence,) that practically it may generally be disregarded alto-
gether; and many a person well-aware of the geometrical
truth, will yet, in describing some building, &c., speak as if
the circumference were treble the diameter ; even as he might
speak of a straight line from one place to another on the earth^s
surface ; though well knowing that in reality the line must be
not quite straight, but a very small arch of a circle. However,
let it be supposed that the Jews were thus ignorant : the con-
clusion thence drawn is such as, in any other subject, would
be laughed to scorn. E. G. A man has his several sons edu-
cated for the different professions he designs them for ; the
Church, the Law, Medicine, the Navy, &c., and then if it be
found that the Lawyer is no anatomist, that the Sailor has but
little knowledge of Law and Medicine, and that the Clergyman
does not understand navigation, this objector would be bound,
on his own principle, to infer that the father cannot have pro-
vided any education at all for any of his children !

More recently, the assertion has been made that a solution
has been found of the problem I proposed ; — that there is an
instance of Savages civihzing themselves without external aid.
Such, it has been said, were the tribe of American Indians
called the Mandans, near the Rocky Mountains ; who have
been described by Mr. Catlin as having possessed a considera-
ble degree of civilization, though surrounded by savage tribes.
These latter, not long ago fell upon and destroyed the whole
remnant of the tribe, after it had been thinned by small-
pox.

Now all that is wanted, in reference to the case here pro-
duced, is — precisely the very thing that is wanted in all others
— proof that they had been Savages, and had civilized them-
selves. And this, which is the very point at issue, instead of
being proved, is taken for granted ! Such is the short and

APPENDIX [DD]. 423

easy refutation which " Science/^ we are told, furnishes of the
position I was maintaining !

It is assumed, 1st, that these Mandans were of the same
Race with the Savage tribes around them ; 2ndly, that the
state in which all of them had originally been was that of
Savages ; and 3dly, that the Mandans raised themselves from
that state without any external aid. And of no one of these
assumptions is there, or can there be found, even a shadow
of proof ! To assume at pleasure any premisses whatever that
may suit one's purpose, is certainly neither Baconian nor Aristo-
telian " Science."

1st. How do we know that these Mandans were of the
same Race as their neighbours ? I had an opportunity, in a
casual interview with Mr. Catlin, of asking his opinion on this
point j he instantly replied that he had never doubted their
being a different Race : their complexion, he said, — their very
remarkable and peculiar kind of hair, — their customs and
whole character, — all indicated a distinct Nation.

They may, for aught we know, have been a remnant either
of the aboriginal inhabitants of the region, or of some colony
which had been fixed there ; the others having been destroyed
— 'as these Mandans ultimately were — by the surrounding

2nd. Again, if we suppose, in defiance of all indications to
the contrary, that this tribe did belong to the same Race as
their neighbours, and that consequently all were, once, at the
same level, how do we know that this may not have been the
higher level, from which the others had degenerated ?

Srdly, and lastly, supposing that the Mandans did emerge
from the Savage state, how do we know that this may not
have been through the aid of some strangers coming among
them — like the Manco-capac of Peru — from some more civil-
ized Country, perhaps long before the days of Columbus ?

Of all these difi'erent suppositions there is not one that is
not incomparably more probable (since there are recorded in-
stances of the like) than that which is so coolly assumed.

On the whole, the reasoning employed in this case much

424 APPENDIX [DD].

resembles that of some of the Alchemists. When they found
a few grains of gold in a large mass of ore of some base metal,
they took for granted that the whole had been originally one
kind of metal ; and also, that this one was, not gold, of which
part had degenerated into lead, but lead, of which part had
ripened into gold ; and thence they easily inferred the possi-
bility of transmutation.

Such attempts at refutation as this, serve to show the
strength of the position assailed. The position however was
one which it was necessary to assail somehow or other, from
its being fatal to the attempt made to revive Lamarck's theory
of the spontaneous transition of one species into another of a
higher character ; the lowest animalcules having, it seems, in
many generations, ripened into fish, thence into reptiles,
beasts, and men. Of the earlier stages of these supposed
transmutations I never had occasion to treat ; but the view I
took of the condition of Savages, " breaks the pitcher " (as the
Greek proverb expresses it) " at the very threshold.'^ Sup-
posing the animalcule safely conducted, by a series of bold
conjectures, through the several transmutations, till from an
Ape it became a Man, there is, as I have shown, an insupera-
ble difficulty in the last step of all, from the Savage to the
Civilized-Man.

There is however in truth, a similar difficulty — or rather,
impossibility — in every preceding stage. The theory proceeds
throughout on unsupported and most improbable conjectures.
One, and only one, fact is alleged that is open to the test of
experiment ; on the reality of which fact therefore the whole
theory may be considered as staked. It is asserted that Oats,
if kept constantly mown down during the summer, will, the
next year, become Rye. And this being the only instance
adduced that is not, confessedly, a mere conjecture, it is con-
sequently the basis — supposing it established — of all the
conjectures thrown out. Now I would suggest to some of
our Agriculturists to oiFer a trial of the experiment, pro-
posing to the speculators a wager on its success. If the Oats
do become Rye, the conjectures as to other such transmuta-

APPENDIX [DD]. 425

tions will at least be worth listening to : should it prove — as
I have no doubt it will — a failure, the key-stone of the whole
structure will have been taken away.

It may be worth while to add, that I have seen it suggested
— apparently as a hasty conjecture — that there may perhaps
be different Species or Varieties of Mankind ; of which some
are capable of originating civilization by their own natural
powers, while others are only capable of receiving it by in-
struction. What I wish chiefly to point out, is, that admit-
ting— and it would be a great deal to admit — the possibility
of the supposition, it would leave unsolved the main problem;
to produce an instance of Savages who have civilized them-
selves. None can be found : and the supposed capability of
self-civilization, if it has ever existed, seems never to have
been called into play.

Of the hypothesis itself, the utmost that can be said, is,
that it cannot be demonstrated to be impossible. There is
not only no proof of it whatever, but all the evidence that the
case admits of is on the opposite side.

Great as are the differences in respect of size, colour, and
outward appearance, in those different Races of Animals (such
as dogs and horses of different breeds) which are capable,—
as we know is the case with the human Races — of free inter-
mixture, there is no case, I think, of so great and essential a
difference in these, as there would be between the supposed
two varieties of Man ; the " Self-civilizing,^' and Man such as
we know to exist. That difference indeed would hardly be
less than between Man and Brute. If a good Physiologist were
convinced of the existence of two such Races, (whether called
Species or Varieties,) one of them, a Being, capable — ^when
left, wholly untrained, to the mere spontaneous exercise of his
natural endowments, — of emerging from the Savage state, so
as to acquire, in the course of successive generations, the
highest point of civilization, and the other, such as actual ex-
perience presents to us, he would, I think, assign to this latter
an intermediate place between the self-civilizing Man and the
Oran-otang ; and nearly equidistant from each : and he would

420 APPENDIX [DDD].

not conceive the possibility of an intermixture of any two of
the three Races.

However^ allowing the abstract possibility of the conjecture
I have been alluding to, the main argument, as I have said,
remains untouched. If Man generally, or some particular
Race, be capable of '* self-civihzation,'^ in either case it may
be expected that some record, or tradition, or monument, of
the actual occm'rence of such an event, should be found : and
all attempts to find any have failed.

See Dr. Taylor's " Natui'al History of Society.''

[DDD.] Part I. chap. ii. § 4. p. 72.

" Witnesses are divided into incompetent, suspicious, (ver-
dachtiff,) and sufficient, [vollgultig .) Childi*en under the age
of eight years, those who have accepted any reward or promise
for their evidence, those who have an immediate and certain
interest in the success or failure of the prosecution, those who
have been accused of calumny, of giving false information or
of perjury, and have been convicted or not fully acquitted,
and those who, in any material part of their evidence, have
been guilty of falsehood or of inconsistency, are all incompe-
tent witnesses. Their evidence is to be rejected in toto. Per-
sons under the age of eighteen, the injured party, informers,
(unless officially bound to inform,) accomplices, persons con-
nected with the party for whom they depose, by blood, by
marriage, by friendship, by office, or by dependence — persons
opposed to the party against whom they depose, by strife or
by hatred, those who may obtain by the result of the inquiry
any remote or contingent benefit, persons of suspicious cha-
racter, persons unknown to the court, and those whose man-
ner gives the appearance of insincerity or of partiality— are
all suspicious witnesses.

'^ The testimony of two sufficient witnesses, stating not
mere inferences, but facts which they have perceived with

APPENDIX [DDD]. 427

their own senses, amounts to proof. That of one sufficient
witness amounts to half-proof.

" Two suspicious witnesses, whose testimony agrees, are
equal to one sufficient witness. Therefore the testimony of
two suspicious witnesses agreeing with that of one sufficient
witness, or the testimony of four suspicious witnesses by them-
selves, amounts to proof.

" When the evidence on each side, taken per se, amounts
to proof, the decision is to be in favour of the accused. In
other cases, contradictory testimonies neutralize one another.
So that if there be two sufficient witnesses on one side, and
two suspicious witnesses on the other, it is as if there were a
single sufficient witness, and consequently a half-proof. But
if the number of sufficient witnesses had been three, it would
have amounted to proof — the two suspicious witnesses merely
neutralizing the evidence of one of the three sufficient wit-
nesses, and therefore still leaving the fact proved. So, the
testimony of seven suspicious witnesses, opposed only by
three similar witnesses, amounts to proof — that of six to half-
proof. Circumstantial evidence amounts to proof when each
fact of which it consists is fully proved, (that is to say, by two
sufficient witnesses, or by one such witness and two suspicious
ones, or by four suspicious ones,) and when these facts cannot
be rationally accounted for on any hypothesis except that of
the prisoner's guilt*. If any other explanation is possible,
though it may be improbable, or if the facts are imperfectly
proved, the circumstantial evidence is imperfect f. The Code
does not state with its usual arithmetical preciseness, the gra-
dations in value of imperfect circumstantial evidence. It
seems, however, that it may amount to half-proof; for (by
Art. 324) if it coalesce with direct evidence amounting to half-
proof, the mixture amounts to whole proof. The most com-
plete circumstantial evidence, however, does not authorize the
infliction of death J.

" Let us see how such rules may work. A man meets two
others in a path through a wood. Soon after he has passed
* Art. 328. t Art. 327. t Art- 330.

428 APPENDIX [DDD].

and lost sight of them, he hears screams. He turns back
and finds one of them lying senseless on the ground, and sees
the other running away. He overtakes him, and finds on him
the purse and watch of the wounded man, who, by this time,
is dead. The murderer and robber, unless he will confess,
must escape. In the first place, the evidence is only circum-
stantial— no one saw him give the fatal blow ; and secondly,
as there is only one witness, there is only a half-proof even of
the circumstances to which the witness deposes. We will
suppose, however, that the wounded man revives, and deposes
that the prisoner demanded his watch and pm*se, and on his
refusal struck him down, and took them. Even then the
prisoner, imless, we repeat it, he will confess, cannot be con-
victed even of the robbery. For the only direct, evidence is
that of the injured person, and he is, as we have seen, a sus-
picious witness; his testimony, therefore, amounts to only
half of a half-proof; and as that of the other witness amounts
to only a half -proof, the prisoner must be discharged for defect
of evidence. Well might Feuerbach say, that unless a man
choose to perpetrate his crimes in public, or to confess them,
he need not fear a conviction.^^ — Edinb. Rev., Oct. 1845,
pp. 328—330.

Another Country might have been mentioned, in which
though great stress is laid by many persons on the utility of
Oaths, and much outcry is raised at any proposal for doing
away with the numerous Oaths of office, &c. that are required,
as if the safety of the Community depended on these, yet, at
the same time, with strange inconsistency, it is taken for
granted that every individual without exception, is — not merely
likely, but — certain, to be ready to perjure himself for the
value of a penny : the evidence of any one in a cause in which
he has an interest, however small, being not merely regarded
with suspicion, but totally rejected and disallowed.

As for promissory Oaths of office, it would have been beside
the purpose of this treatise to enter on the question how far
any one is likely to be induced to do his duty, by swearing to
do so, who would not have been induced by a sense of duty

APPENDIX [DDD]. 429

itself : — how far e. g. any king is likely to have been induced
by the Oath taken at his Coronation (which, be it remem-
bered, he can defer, or wholly omitj at his own pleasure) to be
more attentive to his duties as a Sovereign than he felt bound
to be before.

The objections which have been brought against Oaths of
this class, lie against them, in fact, rather as promises, than
simply as Oaths. A man is then only, strictly speaking,
bound bi/ {i. e. in consequence of) a promise, when he en-
gages to do something which he was not bound to previously,
as, to deliver such and such articles of merchandize at a sti-
pulated price, — to vote for a certain candidate, &c. But any
promise to fulfil a previous obligation, should be understood
(and it would be much better that it should be so expressed)
as merely a declaration, that he owns, and is sensible of that
obligation ; which he does not — as in the other case — then
take upon him. But Oaths of Office are often made to supply
topics for rhetorical purposes, in the worst sense of the word.
A man will try to convince others, and often, himself also,
that the course he prefers is one to which he is bound by
Oath ; and will maintain or insinuate that all who do not
agree with him, are perjured.

In reference to this point I subjoin a passage from a
Charge containing the substance of a Speech in the House of
Lords on the question of the increased grant to Maynooth
College : —

" The solemn vow by which we are bound to ' banish
and drive out all erroneous and strange doctrines, contrary
to God's word,' has been again and again brought forward on
this and on several other analogous occasions; and it has
been either distinctly asserted, or by implication insinuated,
that any one who has taken that vow, cannot, without a vio-
lation of it, support such a measure as the one lately passed.
For there are some, I am sorry to say, among the loudest
censurers of Romish claims to infallibility, who yet have such
full confidence in their own infallibility, as to make no scruple
of imputing breach of a vow to any one who does not inter-

430 APPENDIX [DDD].

pret that vow in the same sense with themselves. And since
such imputations are, I suppose, listened to by some persons,
(as may be inferred from their being on so many occasions,
and so pertinaciously, urged,) I feel bound to protest against
them, in behalf not only of myself but also of many of my
brother- Clergy who think with me on these points, and
among whom are to be found some of the most truly pious
and able, and unostentatiously zealous and useful Christian
ministers.

^^ I am not, I trust, more forgetful of the vows I have
made than those whose interpretation of them is utterly at
variance with mine. But, from their interpretation would
follow consequences, from which not only I, but probably
most of themselves also would recoil. We have vowed not
merely not to promote and encourage, but to ^ banish and
drive out erroneous doctrines.^ This vow therefore cannot,
at any rate, be fulfilled by simply voting against a pecuniary
grant. We are actively to ' drive out doctrines contrary to
God^s word.' But whence are we to drive them out ? and by
what means ? Is it by penal laws, — by secular coercion, — by
the point of the bayonet, — that we are to drive out religious
error ? And again, is it from these islands — from the soil of
the British empire — that we are bound to banish false doc-
trines ? This can only be effectually done by banishing the
professors of them ; as Ferdinand and Isabella expelled from
Spain the Moors and Jews. And are these the measures
which Christian Bishops, and other Clergy, are bound to re-
commend, and the Legislature, to adopt ?

" We have heard of late much complaint of the unscriptu-
ral and immoral, and indeed seditious and dangerous doctrines
taught at Roman Catholic Seminaries ; and we have been
called upon, on that ground, by virtue of our vows, to — vote
against an increased grant to such seminaries ! Manifestly, if
the statements be admitted and the reasoning assented to,
we must not stop there. All allowances to Roman Catholic
Chaplains of regiments, jails, and workhouses must be stopped;
as well as the grants and endowments enjoyed by Roman

APPENDIX [DDD]. 431

Catholic Ministers in tlie Colonies and dependencies. Nor
can we consistently stop at the withdrawing of all grants to
Roman Catholic Seminaries : we must call for the total sup-
pression of the Seminaries. Nor will even this be enough :
we must go on to prohibit the teaching, in any way, or in any
place, at home or abroad *, of the obnoxious doctrines : in
short, we must urge the total suppression of the Roman Ca-
tholic religion, by the forcible expulsion of all its adherents.

^^ If such were the vow proposed to me, sooner than fulfil or
undertake so unchristian an engagement, I would resign my
office, — I would abandon my profession, — I would abjure the
Church that imposed such vows. But I have always consi-
dered the vows I have taken as binding me, — or rather asremm^-
ing me of the duty, — to drive out, as far as lies in me, erroneous
doctrines from my own Church, and especially from that portion
of it committed to my own immediate superintendence.

'^ By instruction, — by admonition and remonstrance, — and
finally by ecclesiastical censure, when applicable and neces-
sary— a bishop is bound to endeavour to drive away from
among those of his own Communion, ' all strange doctrines
contrary to God's Word.' Over those of another Commu-
nion I claim no control. But I have expressed, openly, in
many works which are before the Public, my utter disappro-
bation of what appear to me erroneous doctrines, and have
given my reasons for thinking them such : without indeed
any polemical bitterness, but without any suppression, through
fear of man's censure, of what I hold to be God's truth : en-
deavouring, according to the Apostolic precepts, to be ' gentle
unto all men, in meekness instructing them that oppose them-
selves,' and ^ speaking the truth in love.'

^' But though I presume not to pass any authoritative cen-
sure on the members of other Communions, I have exerted
myself, I think I may say, as zealously as any of my brethren,
to banish strange doctrines from our own Communion, and
to counteract the disingenuous procedure of those who hold
the doctrines of one Chm*ch and the emoluments of another.
* See Speech of the Lord Bishop of St. Davids.

432 APPENDIX [DDD].

" It is thus that I have always interpreted the vows alluded
to. But were the other interpretation of them to be adopted,
no man of logical mind could stop short of consequences
which most, I believe and trust, of those who urge such argu-
ments, would themselves shrink from."

The following extract from a number (published about the
same time) of a clever Periodical, contains some just remarks
on some of the points above noticed.

'' Among other apparitions of sophisms supposed defunct,
the Coronation-oath-argument has been resuscitated in the
course of the Maynooth debate, and even in the solemn shape
of a protest in the House of Lords ! Reasonable men inter-
pret the Coronation-oath as binding the King not to encroach
on the laws by his prerogative. The opponents of the in-
creased allowance to Maynooth view it as binding him to
refuse his assent to certain laws : they deem the oath a means
of restricting the royal prerogative and diminishing the liberty
of the subject at the same time. This view is the standing
consolation of politicians beaten in argument : they seek to
persuade themselves, that though the King be convinced, and
the People be convinced, yet neither one nor other, nor both
together, can act upon their convictions notwithstanding.

^^ The consolation, it is true, does not last long : for the im-
possibility is always achieved. The Coronation-oath, in their
acceptation of it, may be compared to the mirage of the Desert.
The mirage looks like a vast lake, in which the traveller will
be drowned if he advances : but when he does advance to the
place of the supposed water, he finds dry land, and the lake
still before him j which again and again recedes as he marches
on. George the Third took the Coronation-oath, which some
maintain binds the King to allow of no change in what per-
tains to religion : he found no perjury in relaxing the penal
laws, and granting the elective franchise to Roman Catholics ;
but he stuck at Emancipation — that was his * Lake.^ George
the Fourth, after much apparent fear of drowning in his father^s
lake, stepped on as far as Emancipation, with dry clothes :
there he stopped. William the Fourth was threatened with

APPENDIX [DDD]. 433

being overwhelmed in the sea of perjury, and losing his crown,
Pharaoh-like, in the waves, if he assented to the Church Tem-
poralities Act : he reached this point, however, and the shore ;
the receding mirage being yet at some distance before him.
And now the Queen is to be over head and ears in perjury,
and lose her crown, for assenting to the Maynooth grant ; and
she will be threatened with the like again and again, for
making still further advances in the same direction. When
shall we get over this low arid region of prejudiced sophistry,
in which the mirage is perennial ?

" If there were a shadow of reason in the allegation that
the Queen has forfeited the crown by recognizing the Roman
Catholics, Ireland would have been forfeited at the Ileforma-
tion ; since the Kings of England for a long time claimed
that country as a gift from the Pope, on the condition of
bringing it into subjection to him. And the case of the Pope
was even stronger. Parliament may interpret or relax con-
ditions imposed by Parliament : it cannot be supposed that
Parliament would bind a King to refuse his assent to a bill
passed through Parliament. But the Pope and the Irish na-
tion did not give their sanction to the Reformation; and
therefore, on this hypothesis, may fairly demand the forfeit.

^' If the interpretation of the Coronation-oath, put forth by
some with such apparent seriousness, should ever prevail,
there would still be one resom'ce left for English kings wish-
ing to deal justly by their subjects. From this interpretation
it follows that we have in the realm two kinds of regal govern-
ment— ^that of an uncrowned and that of a crowned King.
The latter is bound to certain things, which the former is not.
Every King has at the outset his choice which of these two
he will be ; for he is King at once ; and may reign as long as
he likes without being crowned, or may decline it altogether."

2 F

434 APPENDIX [E].

[E.] Parti. Chap. 11. §92.jo.92.

^' 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 rela-
tions ; 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
CQvi^vQ. proposition may be called the basis of a system. The
proposition is to the system what the basis is to a building.
It serves a similar office and purpose : and this last relation
being well known is of use to illustrate 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 system must fall. The only cautions re-
quisite in the use of this kind of analogy are, first, not to
proceed to a comparison 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, SECONDLY, 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 dif-
ferent natures that they have no one point of resemblance.
But when the first and the third term are not only corre-

APPENDIX [E]. 435

spending 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 pursued 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 the 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 signified,
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 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 may be 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
religion, 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.

* Philosophical Essays, Ess. v. chap. 3.

t Ibid. In the analysis here given of analogy, it will be perceived by those
who are conversant with Mr. Stewart's writings, that I have ventured to depart
widely from his use of the word. Indeed M. Prevot's etymology, as given in a
passage quoted with approbation by Mr. Stewart, vol. ii. chap. iv. § 4, appears
to me quite erroneous. * Le mot Analogic, dans Vorigine, n'exprime que la
ressemblance.' The reverse of which I take to be the fact. But this is not
the place for entering farther into the discussion.

2f3

433 APPENDIX [E].

'' 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 similitude, as being
addressed rather to the fancy than to the judgment, and in-
tended 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 summer,
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 im-
portance, 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 assm'cd that all States have the same period
of infancy, manhood, and decrepitude, that are found in indi-
viduals. Parallels of this sort rather furnish similitudes to
illustrate or to adorn, than supply analogies from whence to
reason. The objects which are attempted to be forced into
an analogy are not found in the same classes of existence.
Individuals are physical beings — commonwealths are not phy-
sical 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 house f, 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 J V

* Letters on a Kegicide Peace, p. 4. f 1 Pet. ii. 5.

t Christian and Philosophical Necessity Asserted, p. 56. See 1 Cor.xiv. 4.

APPENDIX [E]. 437

" Even when we attribute to inanimate things the qualities
of animals, the same analysis may be adopted as before. Thus
the rage of the sea denotes a similarity of ejffect 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 pro-
ducing these effects, answering 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 Kttle danger of confounding
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 substitute 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 account. But if we pursue the inquiry throughout
the animal creation, we shall find that the form of the corre-
sponding parts is infinitely varied, although the analogy re-
mains 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
difference has reached this length in popular discourse the
analogical name is dropped, and the scientific use of it in such
cases sounds pedantic to unlearned ears. Thus the beak of a
bird answers to the tooth of man, and the shell 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.

438 APPENDIX [E].

^^ 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 we 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 necessarily
alike, and we naturally slide into that form of speaking which
makes no distinction between analogy and resemblance : but
even then we regard the qualities as identical, only in propor-
tion as the nature of the respective 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 cor-
responding terms as resembling one another in their own natm'e,
but when we presume that a similarity of relation subsists in
other points besides those which are the foundation of the
analogy.

" When the analogy consists in slight or superficial circum-
stances, still more when it is fanciful only, no attempt what-
ever should be made to reason from it ; as was exemplified in
the passage produced from Burke^s writings : but even when
the analogy is solid and well-founded we are liable to fall into
error, if we suppose it to extend farther than it really does.
Errors of this nature are often committed by men of lively
fancies, or of ardent minds, and they are 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 between

APPENDIX [£]. 439

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 func-
tions— or even be the means of its 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 denoted
by them be the same in one or in several important particu-
lars_, yet it scarcely ever holds throughout ; and the most false
notions are in consequence entertained by people of the nature
of these corresponding offices in every country 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 ma-
gistrate 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, be-
cause the duty of a subject towards his sovereign coincides in
many respects with the duty of a child towards his parent,
some speculative writers have hastily concluded that the in-
stitution of monarchy is equally founded in nature, and pos-
sesses the same inherent authority with the parental.^' —
Copleston's Four Discourses on the Doctrines of Necessity and
Predestination, note to Disc. III. p. 122 — 130.

* " The ^Servants' that we read of in the Bible, and in other translations of
ancient books, are so called by Analogy to servants among us : and that Ana-
logy consists in the offices which a ' servant ' performs, in waiting on his
master, and doing his bidding. It is in this respect that the one description of
'servant' ' corresponds' [' answers'] to the other. And hence some persons
have been led to apply all that is said in Scripture respecting Masters and
Servants, to these times and this Country ; forgetting that the Analogy is not
complete, and extends no further than the point above mentioned. For the
ancient * servants ' (except when expressly spoken of as hired servants) were
Slaves *, a part of the Master's possessions.'^

For a remarkable instance of the kind of mistake the author is speaking of
see Appendix to Logic, Art. " God."

440 APPENDIX [F].

[F.] Part I. Chap, III, § 3. p, 136.

'' No man is so obstinate an admirer of the old times, as
to deny that medicine, sm'gery, botany, chemistry, engineer-
ing, navigation, are better understood now than in any former
age. We conceive that it is the same with poHtical science.
Like those other sciences which we have mentioned, it has
always been working itself clearer and clearer, and depositing
impurity after impurity. There was a time when the most
powerful of human intellects were deluded by the gibberish of
the astrologer and the alchymist ; and just so there was a
time when the most enlightened and virtuous statesmen
thought it the first duty of a government to persecute here-
tics, to found monasteries, to make war on Saracens. But
time advances, facts accumulate, doubts arise. Faint glimpses
of truth begin to appear, and shine more and more unto the
perfect day. The highest intellects, like the tops of moun-
tains, are the first to catch and to reflect the dawn. They are
bright while the level below is still in darkness. But soon
the light, which at first illuminated only the loftiest eminences,
descends on the plain, and penetrates to the deepest valley.
First come hints, then fragments of systems, then defective
systems, then complete and harmonious systems. The sound
opinion, held for a time by one bold speculator, becomes the
opinion of a small minority, of a strong minority, of a majo-
rity— of mankind. Thus, the gi-eat progress goes on, till
schoolboys laugh at the jargon which imposed on Bacon, —
till country rectors condemn the illiberality and intolerance of
Sir Thomas More.'' — Edinh. Review, July, 1835, p. 282.

^' We have said that the history of England is the history
of progress, and, when we take a comprehensive view of it, it
is so. But, when examined in small separate portions, it may
with more propriety be called a history of actions and reactions.
We have often thought that the motion of the public mind in
our country resembles that of the sea when the tide is rising.

APPENDIX [F]. 441

Each successive wave rushes forward, breaks, and rolls back ;
but the great flood is steadily coining in. A person who
looked on the waters only for a moment might fancy that they
were retiring, or that they obeyed no fixed law, but were rush-
ing capriciously to and fro. But when he keeps his eye on
them for a quarter of an hour, and sees one sea-mark disap-
pear after another, it is impossible for him to doubt of the
general direction in which the ocean is moved. Just such has
been the course of events in England. In the history of the
national mind, which is, in truth, the history of the nation, we
must carefully distinguish that recoil which regularly follows
every advance from a great general ebb. If we take short in-
tervals—if we compare 1640 and 1660, 1680 and 1685, 1708
and 1712, 1782 and 1794, we find a retrogression. But if
we take centuries, — if, for example, we compare 1794 with
1660, or with 1685, — we cannot doubt in which direction
society is proceeding.^^ — Edinb. Review, July, 1839, pp.228,
289.

This last passage closely resembles the following one in the
" Lectures on Political Economy."

" Another point which is attainable is, to perceive, amidst
all the admixture of evil, and all the seeming disorder of con-
flicting agencies, a general tendency nevertheless towards the
accomplishment of wise and beneficent designs.

" As in contemplating an ebbing tide, we are sometimes in
doubt, on a short inspection, whether the sea is really receding,
because, from time to time, a wave will dash further up the
shore than those which had preceded it, but if we continue
our observation long enough, we see plainly, that the boundary
of the land is on the whole advancing ; so here, by extending
our view over many countries and through several ages, we
may distinctly perceive the tendencies which would have
escaped a more confined research." — Lect. iv. p. 106.

The following from the Edinbm'gh Review*, is an admirable
specimen of illustrative argument : —

" A blade which is designed both to shave and to carve will
* No. cxxxix. April, 1839.

442 APPENDIX [F].

certainly not shave so well as a razor^ or carve so well as a
carving-knife. An academy of painting, which should also be
a bank, would in all probability exhibit very bad pictures and
discount very bad bills. A gas company, which should also
be an infant school society, would, we apprehend, light the
streets ill, and teach the children ill. On this principle, we
think that government should be organized solely 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 howr
ever excellent.

" But does it follow from hence that governments ought
never to promote any end other than their main end ? In
no wise. Though it is desirable that every institution should
have a main end, and should be so formed as to be in the
highest degree efficient for that main end ; yet if, 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 splendour
of architectural effect — to place the building in a bad air only
that it may present a more commanding 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 absui'd not
to 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, for 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 follows that
it is improper for a government 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

APPENDIX [F]. 443

of libraries, menageries, plants, fossils, antiques — of journeys
and voyages for purposes of geographical discovery or astro-
nomical observation. It is not for these ends that govern-
ment is constituted. But it may well happen that a government
may have at its command resources which will enable it, with-
out any injury to its main end, to serve these collateral ends
far more effectually than any individual or any voluntary asso-
ciation could do. If so, government ought to serve these col-
lateral 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, for example, is by no
means a primary object of government. But as steam vessels
are useful for the purpose of national defence, and for the
pm'pose of facilitating intercourse between distant provinces,
and thereby consolidating the force of the empire, it may be
the bounden duty of government to encourage ingenious men
to perfect an invention which so directly tends to make the
state more efficient for its 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—275.

^' We may illustrate our view of the policy which govern-
ments ought to pursue with respect to religious instruction,
by recurring to the analogy of a hospital. Religious instruc-
tion 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 con-
valescent who has been advised to eat heartily of nourishing
food — to direct, as the bigoted Pius the Fifth actually did, that
no medical assistance should be given to any person who de-
clined spiritual attendance — would be the most extravagant
folly* Yet it by no means follows that it would not be right

444 APPENDIX [G].

to have a chaplain to attend the sick^ and to pay such a chap-
lain out of the hospital 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 different
opinions. And religious parties may run so high, that, though
people of different opinions are willing to contribute for the
relief of the sick, they will not concur in the choice of any
one chaplain. The high churchman insists that, if there is a
paid chaplain, he shall be a high churchman. The evangeli-
cals 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 ap-
point two chaplains, and pay them both, or they must appoint
none : and every one of them must, in his individual capa-
city, do what he can for the purpose of providing the sick
with such religious instruction and consolation as will, in his
opinion, be most useful to them.

" We should say the same of government. Government is
not an institution for the propagation of religion, any more
than St. George's hospital is an institution for the propagation
of religion. And the most absurd and pernicious conse-
quences would follow, if government should pursue, as its
primary end, that which can never be more than its secondary
end ; though intrinsically more important than its primary
end. But a government which considers the religious in-
struction of the people as a secondary end, and follows out
that principle faithfully, will, we think, be likely to do much
good, and little harm.''— Pp. 275, 276.

[G.] Part L Chap. III. § 3. p. 136.

" Theirs " (the New-Testament- writers) " is a history of
miracles; the historical picture of the scene in which the

APPENDIX [G]. 445

Spirit of God was poured on all flesh, and signs and wonders,
visions and dreams, were part of the essentials of their narra-
tives. How is all this related ? 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
mth miracles ; partly too because to them these miracles had
long been contemplated only as subservient measures to the
great object and business of their ministiy — the salvation of
men's souls. On the subject of 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 be effected, they exhaust all their feel-
ings and eloquence. Their history, from the narrative of our
Lord's persecutions to those of Paul, the abomination of the
Jews, embraces scenes and personages which claim from the
ordinary reader a continual effusion of sorrow or wonder, or
indignation. In wi'iters who were friends of the parties, and
adherents of the cause for which they did and suffered so great
things, the absence of it is on ordinary grounds inconceivable.
Look at the account even of the crucifixion. Not one bui'st of
indignation or sympathy mixes with the details of the narra-
tive. Stephen the first martyr is stoned, and the account
comprised in these few words, ' They stoned 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 related 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 Derbet^ Had these
authors no feeling ? Had their mode of life bereaved them of
* Acts V. 40, 41. t Acts xiv. 19, 20.

446 APPENDIX [H].

the common sympathies and sensibilities of human nature ?
Read such passages as St. PauFs parting address to the elders
of Miletus j the same apostle^s recommendation of the offend-
ing member of the Corinthian Church to pardon j and, more
than all, the occasional bursts of conflicting feeling, in which
anxious apprehension for the faith and good behaviour of his
converts is mixed with the pleasing recollection of their con-
version, and the minister and the man are alike strongly dis-
played ; 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 subservient to it, however great those means might be.
In the storm, the pilot's eye is fixed on the headland which must
be weathered; in the crisis of victory or defeat, the general sees
only the position to be carried; and the dead and the instru-
ments of death fall around him unheeded. On the salvation of
men, on this one point, the witnesses of Christ and the mi-
nisters of his Spirit, expended all their energy of feeling and
expression. All that occurred — mischance, persecution, and
miracle — were glanced at by the eye of faith only in subser-
viency to this mark of the prize of their high calling, as work-
ing together for good, and all exempt from the associations
which would attach to such events and scenes, when contem-
plated by themselves, and with the short-sightedness of un-
inspired men. Miracles were not to them objects of wonder,
nor mischances a subject of sorrow and lamentation. They
did all, they sufiered all, to the glory of God.^^ — London Re-
view j No. ii. p. 345.

[H.] Partll. Chap.IL §3.;j. 193.

" 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 impression on the hearers, to introduce remarks
like these : that the tale which they relate is not old^ that it

APPENDIX [H]. 447

happened but lately, or in their 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 trans-
action ; but we must acknowledge that passion may be as
strongly excited 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 occasionally 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 plausi-
bility are scarcely distinguishable, when used in reference to
events in futurity. As in these there is no access for testi-
mony, what constitutes the principal distinction is quite ex-
cluded. In comparing the influence 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, i?, 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 near-
ness or relation to the one constantly increaseth as the other
decreaseth. 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
present view aggrandizes the one, and diminishes the other.

^' 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 situation to the lights
of the body. These discover clearly the prospect lying before
us, but not the ground we have already passed. By the me-
mory, on the contrary, that great luminary of the mind, things

448 APPENDIX [H].

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 discoverable by testimony, and by effects at present
existing; whereas we have nothing equivalent to found our
arguments 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. Duration and
space are two things (call them entities, or attributes, or what
you please) in some respects the most like, and in some re-
spects the most unlike, to one another. They resemble in
continuity, divisibility, infinity, in their being deemed essen-
tial to the existence of other things, and in the doubts that
have been raised as to their having a real or independent ex-
istence of their o\vn. They differ in that the latter is perma-
nent, whereas the very essence of the former consisteth in
transitoriness ; the parts of the one are all successive, of the
o^er all co-existent. The greater portions of time are all
distinguished by the memorable 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 distinction intelligible, the other sensible ; the one chiefly
known to the inquisitive, the other in a great measure obvious
to all.

" Hence perhaps it arises, that the latter is considered as a
firmer ground of relation than the former. Who is not more
curious to know the notable transactions which have happened
in his own country from the earliest antiquity, than to be ac-
quainted with those which have happened in the remotest
regions of the globe during the century wherein he lives ? It
must be owned, however, that the former circumstance is
more frequently aided by that of personal relation than the

APPENDIX [H]. 449

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 connexion 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 acci-
dent hath happened in our own neighbourhood, and that,
even though we be totally unacquainted with the persons con-
cerned !

" Still greater is the power of relation to the persons con-
cerned, 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 im-
mediate 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 suf-
ferers, the first in extenuation, the second in aggravation, of
the crime alleged. The fkst 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 dif-
ferent tempers and sentiments of different audiences. Per-
sonal relations are of various kinds. Some have generally
greater influence than others ; some again have greater in-
fluence with one person, others with another. They are con-
sanguinity, affinity, friendship, acquaintance, being fellow-
citizens, countrymen, of the same surname, language, religion,
occupation, and innumerable others.

" But of all the connexive circumstances, the most power-
ful is interest i which is the last. Of all relations, personal

450 APPENDIX [H].

relation, by bringing the object very near, most enlivens tbat
sympathy which attaches us to the concerns of others ; in-
terest 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 there-
fore, in 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 gazing 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 difference,
have, when self is concerned, given a different name to what
seems originally the same passion in a higher degree. In-
jury, to whomsoever offered, is to every man that observes it,
and whose sense of right is not debauched by vicious prac-
tice, the natural object of indignation. Indignation always
implies resentment, or a desire of retaliating on the injurious
person, so far at least as to make him repent the wrong he
hath committed. This indignation in the person injured, is,
from our knowledge of mankind, supposed to be, not indeed
universally, but generally so much stronger, that it ought to
be distinguished by another appellation, and is accordingly
denominated revenge. In like manner, beneficence, on whom-
soever exercised, is the natural object of our love ; love always
implies benevolence, or a desire of promoting the happiness of
the beneficent person ; but this passion in the person benefited
is conceived to be so much greater, and to infer so strong an
obligation to a return of good ofiices to his benefactor, that it
merits to be distinguished by the title gratitude. Now by this
circumstance of interest in the effects, the speaker, from en-
gaging pity in his favour, can proceed to operate on a more
powerful principle, self-preservation. The benevolence of his
hearers he can work up into gratitude, their indignation into
revenge.

^' The two last-mentioned circumstances, personal relation

APPENDIX [I]. 451

and interest, are not without influence, as was hinted in the
enumeration, though they regard the speaker only, and not
the hearers. The reason is, a person present with us, whom
we see and hear, and who by words, and looks, 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 between his relation and our re-
lation, his interest and our interest." — Campbell's Rhetoric,
pp. 184—190. (book i. chap. 7. § 5. parts 4, 5, 6, 7.)

[I.] Part IL Chap. 11. § 3. p. 195.

A good illustration of what has been said is supplied by
the following extract from Mr. Milman^s Bampton Lectures,
(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 pow-
ers, having adopted their itinerant system of teaching from
human motives, and for human purposes alone. As they pass
along to the remote and obscure quarter, where they expect
to meet with precarious hospitality among their countrymen,
they survey the strength of the established religion, which it
is their avowed purpose to overthrow. Every where they be-
hold temples on which the utmost extravagance of expendi-
ture has been lavished by succeeding generations ; idols of
the most exquisite workmanship, to which, even if the reli-
gious feeling of adoration is enfeebled, the people are strongly
attached by national or local vanity. They meet processions,
in which the idle find perpetual occupation, the young excite-
ment, 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 of the makers of silver shrines
in Ephesus, are pledged to the support of that to which they

2 G 2

452 APPENDIX [I].

owe their maintenance. They pass a magnificent theatre, on
the splendour and success of which the popularity of the ex-
isting authorities mainly depends ; and in which the serious
exhibitions are essentially rehgious, 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
contests of wild beasts and of gladiators, in which they them-
selves may shortly play a dreadful part,

Butcher 'd to make a Roman holy day I

Show and spectacle 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 eradicated, those lusts
which must be brought into total subjection to the law of
Christ. They encounter likewise itinerant jugglers, diviners,
magicians, who impose upon the credulous, and excite the con-
tempt of the enlightened : in the first case dangerous rivals
to those who should attempt to propagate a new faith by im-
posture and deception; in the latter, naturally tending to
prejudice the mind against all miraculous pretensions what-
ever : here, like Elymas, endeavouring to outdo the signs and
wonders of the apostles ; there throwing suspicion on all
asserted supernatural agency, by the frequency and clumsi-
ness of their delusions. They meet philosophers, frequently
itinerant like themselves ; or teachers of new religions, priests
of Isis and Serapis, who have brought into equal discredit
what might otherwise have appeared a proof of philanthropy,
the performing 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 dif-
ferent mysteries, which would engross all the anxiety of the
inquisitive, perhaps excite, even if they did not satisfy, the
hopes of the more pure and lofty minded. Such must have

APPENDIX [I]. 453

been among the obstacles which would force themselves on
the calmer moments of the most ardent ; such the overpower-
ing difficulties, of which it would be impossible to overlook
the importance, or elude the force ; which required no sober
calculation to estimate, no laborious inquiry to discover ;
which met and confronted them wherever they went, and
which, either in desperate presumption, or deliberate reliance
on their own preternatural powers, they must have con-
temned and defied.

" The commencement of their labours was usually dis-
heartening, and ill-calculated to keep alive the flame of un-
grounded enthusiasm. They begin their operations in the
narrow and secluded synagogue of their own countrymen.
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 countenances of the leaders : if here and there one is
pricked to the hearty it requires considerable moral courage to
acknowledge his conviction ; and the new teachers are either
cast forth from the indignant assembly of their own people,
liable to all the punishments which they are permitted to in-
flict, 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
turbulent and contentious harangues : at all events, dis-
claimed by that very people on whose traditions they profess
to build their doctrines, and to whose Scriptures they appeal
in justification of their pretensions. They endure, they per-
severe, 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 idolatry;
to tear up by the roots all ancient prejudices ; to silence
shrines, sanctified by the veneration of ages as oracular; to
consign all those gorgeous temples to decay, and all those
images to contempt ; to wean the people from every barbarous
and dissolute amusement." -h- -x- -x- -je-

454 APPENDIX [K].

*' 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 establishment of Chris-
tianity, the adoration of ages, the reverence of nations, has
thrown around the cross of Christ an indelible and inalienable
sanctity. No effort of the imagination can dissipate the illu-
sion of dignity which has gathered round it ; it has been so
long dissevered from all its coarse and humiliating associa-
tions, that it cannot be cast back and desecrated into its state
of opprobrium and contempt. To the most daring unbeliever
among ourselves, it is the symbol, the absurd, and irrational,
lie may conceive, but still the ancient and venerable symbol
of a powerful and influential religion : what was it to the Jew
and to the heathen ? 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 despicable and
revolting instrument of public execution is to us. Yet to the
cross of Christ, men turned from deities in which were em-
bodied every attribute of strength, power, and dignity ; in an
incredibly short space of time multitudes gave up the splen-
dour, the pride, and the power of paganism, to adore a Being
who was thus humiliated beneath the meanest of mankind,
who had become, according to the literal interpretation of the
prophecy, a very scorn of men, and an outcast of the people"
— Milman's Bampton Lectures, Lect. vi. p. 279.

[K.] Part 11. Chap, 11. § 4 p. 199.

" Such is our yoke and our burden ! Let him, who has
thought it too hard and too 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

APPENDIX [K]. 455

will come forward, and say, ' I knew that thou didst die to
save me from such sufferings and torments, and that thou
only commandedst me to keep my body in temperance, sober-
ness, 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 drunkennesSj — even the body which thou didst
declare should be the temple of thy Holy Spirit/ The poor
Indian will, perhaps, show his hands, reeking with the blood
of his children, saying, ' I thought this was the sacrifice
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 commandedst
me to lead my ofi"spring 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 example : 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 for-
ward, and say, ' Behold, I am come from the wood, the desert,
and the wilderness, where I fled from the cheerful society of
my fellow-mortals, because I thought it was pleasing in thy
sight/ And the Christian will come forward, and say, ^Be-
hold, I come from my comfortable home and the communion
of my brethren, which thou hast graciously permitted me to
enjoy ; but I thought it too hard to give them a share of those
blessings v/hich thou hast bestowed upon me ; I thought 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 hatred, and
my hand from violence and revenge/ What will be the an-
swer 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 purchase him ever-
lasting 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

456 APPENDIX [K].

burden ; thou, for whom all was already purchased : '

Thank God ! it is not yet pronounced : — begone ! and fly for
thy hfe ! '^ — Wolfe's Sermons {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 what 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 which 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 ever-
lasting sunshine of the love of God ! It is perhaps impossible
that all this should not call forth an immediate feeling of de-
light : but if you wish the sensation to continue, you must go
to the wilderness; you must beware how you come 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 belong ; unless indeed the Almighty, in pity to your de-
solation, 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 charity 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 common kindnesses of humanity, 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

APPENDIX [L]. 457

ever ) ! — perhaps it would be too much for you ; at all events,
it would be hard to state a degree of exertion within the ut-
most 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 sup-
pose, at that moment, that the angel who brought the first
intelligence returns to tell you that there are Beings upon
this earth who may yet be saved, — that he was before mis-
taken, 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 Bedeemer^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 ? —
privations, — dangers, — difiiculties ? No ; but you would say,
'Lord, what shall I do? Shall I traverse earth and sea, through
misery and torment, that of those whom thou hast given me
I may not lose one?' ''—Ibid, Sermon XI. pp. 391—393.

[L.] Part III. Chap. /. § 6. p. 272.

In Dr. CampbelFs ingenious dissertation {Rhetoricj book ii.
chap. 6.), ''on the causes that nonsense often escapes being
detected, both by the writer and the reader," he remarks
(sec. 2.), that " there are particularly three sorts of 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 tem-
perately and appositely used, serves to add hght to the ex-
pression, and energy to the sentiment. On the contrary,
when vaguely and intemperately used, nothing can serve more
efiectually to cloud the sense, where there is sense, and by

458 APPENDIX [L].

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 metaphors, but also
where the metaphoric style is too long continued, and too far
pursued. \_Ut modicus autem atque opportunus translationis
usus illustrat orationem ; ita frequens et ohscurat et tcedio
complet; continuus vero in allegoriam et cenigmata exit. Quint,
lib. viii. c. 6.] 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 meta-
phors that come naturally and opportunely in his way, rum-
mages the whole world in quest of them, and piles them one
upon another, when he cannot so properly be said to use me-
taphor, as to talk in metaphor, or rather when from metaphor
he runs into allegory, and thence into enigma, his 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 conceit. Most readers will account
it much to bestow a transient glance on the literal sense, which
lies nearest ; but will never think of that meaning more re-
mote, which the figures themselves are intended to signify.
It is no wonder then that this sense, for tlie discovery of
which it is necessary to see through a double veil, should,
where it is, more readily escape our observation, and that
where it is wanting, we should not so quickly miss it.^'
^ ^ -jf # -Jf

^^ 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 distinct
meaning or sentiment suggested, which is called the figura-
tive sense. Examples of this are unnecessary. Again, where
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 Addison remarks that

APPENDIX [L]. 459

' there is not a single view of human nature, which is not
sufficient to extinguish the seeds of pride/ he expresses a true
sentiment somewhat incongruously ; for the terms extinguish
and seeds here metaphorically used, do not suit each other.
In like manner, there is something incongruous in the mix-
ture 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 esta-
blished, till it is established there.' Yet the thought is excel-
lent. But in neither of these examples does the incongruity
of the expression hurt the perspicuity of the sentence. Some-
times, 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 natural
for the reader to suppose that there must be something under
it; for it is not easy to say how absurdly even just senti-
ments will sometimes be expressed. But when no such hid-
den sense can be discovered, what, in the first view conveyed
to our minds a glaring absurdity, is rightly on reflection de-
nominated 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 in-
tention.

" It may be proper here to observe, that some are apt to
confound the terms absurdity and nonsense as synonymous;
which they manifestly are not. An absurdity, in the strict
acceptation, is a proposition either intuitively or demonstra-
tively 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

460 APPENDIX [L].

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 ; insomuch, that on hearing the sentence we
pronounce its falsity. Now nonsense is that whereof we can-
not say either that it is true, or that it is false. Thus, when
the Teutonic Theosopher enounces, that ' all the voices of the
celestial 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 dissent. 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 nonsense are not so accurately distin-
guished. Absurd positions 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 figura-
tive 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 desire of flourish-
ing 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 sub-
ject, to which these attributes can with justice and perspicuity
be applied. This immoderate use of metaphor,'^ Dr. Camp-
bell observes, " is the principal source of all the nonsense of
Orators and Poets.

'^ The second species of writing wherein we are liable to 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 Phi-
losophers mixed modes, come under this denomination. Of

APPENDIX [L]. 461

these the instances are numerous in every tongue ; such as
government, church, state, constitution, polity, power, com-
merce, legislature, jurisdiction, proportion, symmetry, elegance.
It will considerably 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 applications of it
as will make no sense at all. It deserves om* notice also, that
we are in much greater danger of terminating 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 an-
other 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 species
of composition, wherein we are exposed to this illusion by the
abuse of words, is that in which the terms employed are very
abstract, and consequently of very extensive signification. It
is an observation that plainly ariseth from the nature and
structure of language, and may be deduced 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 consequently requires the more extensive know-
ledge 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, in
what are called abstract subjects, a still greater fund of ob-
scurity than that arising ft-om the frequent mention of the
most general terms. Names must be assigned to those qua-
lities as considered abstractedly, which never subsist inde-
pendently, or by themselves, but which constitute the generic

462 APPENDIX [M].

characters and the specific differences of things. And this
leads to a manner which is in many instances remote from
the common use of speech, and therefore 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 stri-
kingly exemplify the errors he has been treating of, by in-
dulging 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 defend any position what-
ever, however contradictory to common sense;" and that
"that art observed the most absolute indifference to truth
and error," he cannot mean that a false conclusion could be
logically proved from true premises; 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 perfectly unaware of the emptiness of what
he was saying.

[M.] Part IIL Chap, II. § 8. p. 306.

'^ Moses stretched forth his hand, and the waters were di-
vided, and became a wall unto the children of Israel, on the
right hand and on the left. Moses smote the rock wdth his
rod, and the waters flowed withal, and the children of Israel
were 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 ? Or what in the rod of Moses, that
it should turn the flinty rock into a living fountain ? Let me
freely, though reverently, speak to you of the patriarch Moses.
He was indeed great, because he was indeed good, in his gene-

APPENDIX [M]. 463

ration. 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 IsraeUtes, and the rest of men. Like them, Uke us, hke
every human being that is born of woman, he was compassed
with infirmities, and tried with afflictions, and subject to ter-
ror, and surrounded with sorrow. Of himself he was able to
do nothing, but all the mighty acts which he did, he did be-
cause ' 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 the
promise of his beloved Son, that to Christians, in all spiritual
and necessary 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 yom* lusts. He will divide the tumultuous 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 ungodliness, which, without his control-
ling arm, would have drowned your souls in perdition and de-
struction. 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 Hulsean Lectures for 1820. Lect. XIV. pp.
344—346.

464 APPENDIX [N].

[N.] Part IV, Chap. 11. § 2. p. 348.

" 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 decorum, 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 master 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 emphatic words, for
which I shall use the Grave accent of the Greek [^] .

" 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 over 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 fol-
lowing manner :

" ^ Dearly beloved brethren, the Scripture moveth us in
sundry places to acknowledge and confess our manifold sins
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

APPENDIX [N]. 465

heart,, to the end that we may obtain^ forgiveness of the same,
by his infinite goodness and mercy. And although we ought
at h\\ 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 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 jjray and beseech you, as many as are here pre-
sent, 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 infinite
goodness and mercy,' there are several faults committed. In
the first place the four epithets preceding the word ^ heart,'
ar^. huddled together, and pronounced in a monotone, dis-
agreeable 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' peni-
tent and obedient heart,' &c. At first view it may appear,
that the words ' humble ' and ' lowly ' are synonymous ; but
the word ^ lowly ' certainly implies a greater degree of humi-
liation than the word ^ humble.' The word ' penitent ' that
follows, is of stronger import than either; and the word
^ obedient,' signifying a perfect resignation to the will of God,
in consequence of our humiliatioij and repentance, furnishes
the climax. But if the climax in the words be not accom-
panied by a suitable climax in the notes of the voice, it can-
not be made manifest. In the following part of the sentence,
^ to the end that we may obtain' forgiveness of the si\me,'
there are usually three emphases laid on the words, endy ob-
tain, same, where there should not be any, and the only em-
phatic word, forgiveness, is slightly passed over ; whereas it

2 H

466 APPENDIX [N].

should be read — ^ to the end that we may obtain forgiveness
of the same/ keeping the words^ obtain, and forgivenessj
closely together, and not disuniting them, both to the preju-
dice of the Sense and Cadence, &c. &c.

'^ I shall now read the whole, in the manner I have recom-
mended ; and if you will give attention to the marks, you will
be reminded of the manner, when you come to practise in
your private reading. ' Dearly beloved brethren ! = The
Scripture moveth us' in sundiy places' to acknowledge and
confess our manifold sins 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
obtain forgiveness of the same by his infinite goodness and
mercy'". And although we ought at kll 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 we have received at his hands"
to set forth' his most worthy prh,ise" to hear' his most holy
word" and to ask those things' which are requisite and neces-
sary' as well for the bod/ as the soul'". Wherefore I pray
and beseech you as mkny as are here present' to accom-
pany me' with a pure heart' and hiimble voice to the throne
of the heavenly grace, saying,^ &c.^^ — Sheridan, Art of Read-
ing 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 fron\ what is suggested in the present
treatise. In some points, however, the 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

APPENDIX [N]. 467

altogether without any detriment to the sense ; " thy will be
done, as in Heaven, so also on earth," which is a more literal
translation, is perfectly intelligible.

A passage again, in the second Commandment, he directs
to be read, according indeed to the usual mode, both of read-
ing 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 implies that the third and fourth generations, who
suffer these judgments, are themselves such as hate the Lord,
instead of being merely, as is meant to be expressed, the
children of such. " Of them that hate me," is a genitive
governed not by " generation," but by " children." The
passage should therefore be read (according to Sheridan's
marks) " visit the sins of the fathers' upon the children unto
the third and fourth generation' of them that hate me :" i. e.
visit the sins of the fathers who hate me, upon the third and
fourth generations of their descendants.

The same sanction 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 enjoy-
ment in the garden' which you have planted." He has

also strangely omitted an emphasis on the word " covet," in
the tenth Commandment. He has, however, in the negative
or prohibitory commands avoided the common fault of accent-
ing 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 ; {i. e,
the "is" if the proposition be affirmative, the " noty^ if nega-
tive;) viz. where the proposition may be considered as in oppo-

* Dr. Johnson, in Boswell's Life, is recorded to have sanctioned this fault,
in respect at least of the ninth Commandment.

2h2

468 APPENDIX [N].

sition to its contradictory *. If, e. g. it had been a question
whether we ought to steal or not, the comnianclment, in an-
swer 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 steaV^ In such a case as this, the propo-
sition is considered as opposed, not to its contradictory y but
to one with a diffei-ent Predicate : the question being, not,
which Copula (negative or affirmative) shall be employed, but
what shall be affirmed or denied of the subject: e. g. "it is
lawful to beg; but not to steal-/' in such a case, the Predi-
cate, not the Copula, will be the emphatic word.

One fault worth noticing on account of its commonness is
the placing of the emphasis on " neighbour '^ in the ninth and
tenth Commandments; as if there might be some persons
precluded from the benefit of the prohibitions. One would
think the man to whom our Lord addi-cssed the parable of
the good Samaritan, had been used to this mode of delivery,
by his asking "and who is my neighbour? f

The usual pronunciation of one part of the " Apostles'
Creed '^ is probably founded on some misapprehension of the
sense of it { : " The holy Catholic Church, the Communion
of Saints,^^ is commonly read as if these were two distinct
articles ; instead of the latter clause being merely an expla-
nation of the former : " The holy Catholic Church, [viz.] the
Communion of Saints."

* 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 Predicate ; the question
being in fact whether "true" or "false" shall be predicated of a certain asser-
tion.

t I have heard again of some persons among the lower Orders who, prac-
tically, lay the stress on " against ; " thinking it allowable to give false evi-
dence in any one's favour.

t See Sir Peter (afterwards Lord) King's " History of the Apostles' Creed;"
a work much more valuable (in proportion to its size) than most that are
studied by theologians.

APPENDIX [0]. 469

[0.] Part IV. Chap, 11. § 5. p. 359.

" It need hardly be observed how important it is, with a
view to these objects/' (the training of children in sound and
practical religious knowledge) ^' to abstain carefully from the
practice, still too prevalent, though much less so, we believe,
than formerly, of compelling, or encouraging, or even allow-
ing children to learn by rote, forms of prayer, catechisms,
hymns, or in short anything connected with morality and
religion, when they attach no meaning to the words they
utter.

'^ It is done on the plea that they will hereafter learn the
meaning of what they have been thus taught, and will be able
to make a practical use of it. But no attempt at economy of
time can be more injudicious. Let any child, whose capacity
is so far matured as to enable him to comprehend an expla-
nation e. g. of the Lord's Prayer, have it then put before him
for the first time, and when he is made acquainted with the
meaning of it, set to learn it by heart ; and can any one doubt
that in less than half a day's application, he would be able to
repeat it fluently ? And the same would be the case with other
forms. All that is learnt by rote by a child before he is com-
petent to attach a meaning to the words he utters, would not,
if all put together, amount to so much as would cost him,
when able to understand it, a week's labour, to learn perfectly.
But it may cost the toil — often the vain toil — of many years,
to unlearn the habit oi formalism -, of repeating words by rote
without attending to their meaning : a habit which every one
conversant with education knows to be, in all subjects most
readily acquired by children, and with difficulty avoided, even
with the utmost care of the teacher ; but which such a plan
must inevitably tend to generate.

" It is often said, and very truly, that it is important to
form early habits of piety ; but to train a child in one kind
of habit, is not the most hkely way of forming the opposite

4/0 APPENDIX [0].

habit ; and notliing can be more contrary to true piety than
the superstition (for such in fact it is) of attaching efficacy to
the repetition of a certain form of words^ as of a charm^ inde-
pendent of the understanding and of the heart *.

'^ It is also said, with equal truth, that we ought to take
advantage of the facility which children possess of learning
words : but to infer from thence, that Providence designs us
to make such a use (or rather abuse) of this gift, as we have
been censuring, is as if we were to take advantage of the
readiness with which a new-bom babe swallows whatever is
put into its mouth, to dose it with ardent spirits, instead of
wholesome food and necessary medicine. The readiness with
which children learn and remember words, is in truth a most
important advantage, if rightly employed; viz. if applied to
the acquiring of that mass of what may be called arbitrary
knowledge of insulated facts, which can only be acquired and

" * We have spoken with so much commendation of the * Hints on Early
Education' [Mrs. Hoare's], that we feel bound to notice incidentally a
point in which we think the author, if not herself mistaken, is likely to lead
her readers into a mistake. ' Public Worship. Silence,* says the author,
' self-subjection, and a serious deportment, both in family and pubhc wor-
ship, ought to be strictly enforced in early life ; and it is better that children
should not attend, till they are capable of behaving in a proper manner. But
a practical regard for the Sabbath, and for the services of religion, is but an
effect of that reverence for everything sacred which it is of primary import-
ance early to establish as a halit of mind.' — pp. 172-173.

" Now if * reverence for things sacred ' be the only habit we wish to implant,
the caution here given is suflScient : but if we would form in the child the
much more important habit of hearty devotion, as distinguished from super-
stitious formalism, we should wait for his being not only ' capable of be-
having ' wdth outward decorum, but also of understanding and joining in the
Service.

♦* We would also deprecate, by the way, the practice (which this writer seems
to countenance, though without any express inculcation) of strictly prohibit-
ing children from indulging in their usual sports on the Lord's Day; which
has a manifest tendency to associate with that festival, ideas of gloom and re-
straint ; and also to generate the too common notion that God requires of us
only one day in seven, and that scrupulous privation on that day will afford
licence for the rest of the week. We are speaking, be it observed, of the
Christian festival of the Lord's Day. Those who think themselves bound by
the precepts of the Old Testament relative to the Sabbath, should remember
that Saturday is the day to which those precepts apply.'-

APPENDIX [GG]. 471

retained by a mere act of memory, and which is necessary in
after hfe; when the acquisition of it would both be more
troublesome, and would encroach on time that might other-
wise be better employed. Chronology, names of countries,
weights and measures, and indeed all the words of any lan-
guage, are of this description. If a child had even ten times
the ordinary degree of the faculty in question, a judicious
teacher would find abundance of useful employment for it,
without resorting to any that could possibly be detrimental
to his future habits, moral, religious, or intellectual/^ —
London Review, 1829, No. II. Art. V. '' Juvenile Library/^
pp. 412, 4a3.

[GG.] Part 11. Chap. I. § 1. p. 179.

" So great is the outcry which it has been the fashion
among some persons for several years past to raise against
expediencijy that the very word has become almost an ill-
omened sound. It seems to be thought by many a sufficient
ground of condemnation of any legislator to say that he is
guided by views of expediency. And some seem even to be
ashamed of acknowledging that they are in any degree so
guided. I, for one, however, am content to submit to the
imputation of being a votary of expediency. And what is
more, I do not see what right any one who is not so has to
sit in Parliament, or to take any part in public affiiirs. Any
one who may chuse to acknowledge that the measm'cs he
opposes are expedient, or that those he recommends are in-
expedient, ought manifestly to have no seat in a deliberative
assembly, which is constituted for the express and sole pur-
pose of considering what measures are conducive to the public
good; — in other words, ' expedient.^ I say, the ^public good,'
because, of course, by ' expediency ' we mean, not that which
may benefit some individual, or some party or class of men,
at the expense of the Public, but what conduces to the good
of the Nation. Now this, it is evident, is the very object for

473 APPENDIX [GG].

which deliberative Assemblies are constituted. And so far is
this from being regarded, by om' Chm'ch at least, as something
at variance with religious duty, that we have a prayer specially
appointed to be offered up during the sitting of the Houses
of Parliament, that their consultations may be ' directed and
prospered for the safety, honour, and welfare of our Sovereign
and her dominions/ Now, if this be not the veiy definition
of political expediency, let any one say what is.

"But some persons are so much at variance with the doc-
trine of our Church on this point, — and I may add, with all
sound moralists, — as to speak of expediency as something that
is, or may be, at variance with duty. If any one really holds
that it can ever be expedient to violate the injunctions of duty,
— that he who does so is not sacrificing a greater good to a
less, (which all would admit to be inexpedient,) — that it can
be really advantageous to do what is morally wrong, — and
will come forward and acknowledge that to be his belief, I
have only to protest, for my own part, with the deepest ab-
horrence, against what I conceive to be so profligate a prin-
ciple. It shocks all the notions of morality that I have been
accustomed from childhood to entertain, to speak of expe-
diency being possibly or conceivably opposed to rectitude. ^

^' There are indeed many questions of expediency in which
morality has no concern, one way or the other. In what way,
for example, a husbandman should cultivate his field, or in
what branch of trade a merchant should invest his capital,
are questions of expediency in which there is usually no moral
right or wrong on either side. But where there is moral
right and wrong, it can never be expedient to chuse the
wrong. If the husbandman or the merchant should seek to
gain increased profits by defrauding his neighbour, this would
be at variance with expediency, because it would be sacrificing
a greater good to a less. ^ For what would it profit a man if
he should gain the whole world, and lose his own soul ? '

" I believe however that the greater part of those who raise
a clamour against expediency mean, in reality, an apparent,
but false and delusive expediency ; — that which is rqyresented

APPENDIX [GG]. 478

as expedient, but in truth is not so. But if this be their
meaning, it would surely be better, with a view to cutting
short empty declamation, and understanding clearly whatever
matter is under discussion, that they should express, distinctly,
and according to the ordinary use of language, what they do
mean. It would be thought absurd for a man to declaim
against 'virtue,^ and then at length to explain that what he
meant was not real virtue, but an hypocritical semblance of
it; or to argue against the use of 'coin,' meaning all the
time, not real genuine coin, but fraudulent counterfeits. And
surely it is not at all more reasonable for any one to declaim
against ' expediency,' if what he means, be, not what is really
expedient, but what is erroneously mistaken for it," — Charge
0/1845.

INDEX

TO SOME OF THE PRINCIPAL WORDS.

Ability, (dreaded by a certain

class of persons,) part ii. ch.

iii. § 2.
Accessible arguments, (to the

unlearned,) p. i. ch. iii. § 8.
Action, p. iv. ch. iv. § 6.
Adversaries, (testimony of,) p.

i. ch. ii. § 4.
Advice to a Reviewer, p. i. ch.

iii. § 7.
Advocate, (office of,) p. i. ch. i.

§ 1.
, (endeavour of, to con-
vince us that he thinks what
he says,) p. ii. ch. iii. § 3.
■, (habits formed by the

occupation,) p. ii. ch. iii. § 5.
Allegory, p. i. ch. ii, § 3.
Analogy, p. i. ch. ii. § 7.
Antiquarians, (estimate of their

authority,) p. ii. ch. iii. § 5.
Antithesis, p. iii. ch. ii. § 14.
Approach, (argument by,) p. i.

ch. ii. § 6.
A priori, (argument,) p.i. ch.ii.

§2.
Argument, (distinguished from

proposition,) p. i. ch. i. § 3.
..J I (satis/act or 1/ and com-

pulsory,) p.i. ch. iii. § 1.
Aristotle, (his definition of

Rhetoric,) Introd. § 4.

Aristotle, (his distinction be-
tween real and invented ex-
amples,) p. i. ch. ii. § 8.

Arrangement, (of arguments,)
p. i. ch.iii. § 4.

, (of words,) p. iii.

ch.i. § 3. and ch.ii. § 11.

Arrogance, (what,) p. i. ch. iii.
§2.

Articles, (how to be interpreted
when drawn up by an As-
sembly,) p. i. ch. iii. § 2.

Assembly, (documents proceed-
ing from, how to be inter-
preted,) p. i. ch, iii. § 2.

Bashfulness, (in public speak-
ing,) p. iv. ch. iii. § 7, 8.

Belief, (coincident with disbe-
lief,) p. i. ch. ii. § 5,

Benson, (extract from,) Ap-
pendix [M].

Burden of proof, p.i. ch. iii. § 2.

Burke, (extract from,) p. iii.
ch. ii. § 8.

Butler, Bp., (his style,) p. iii.
ch. iii. § 2.

Campbell, Dr., (extracts from,)
Appendix [D] and [H].

Catlin, (his account of the
Mandan-Indians,) Appendix
[DDD],

476

INDEX.

Cause, (argument from,) p. i.
ch. ii. § 2.

Chances, (calculation of,) p. i.
ch. ii. § 4, 5.

Character, (of Speaker,) p. ii.
ch. i. § 3. and ch. iii. § 1.

(of persons to be ad-
dressed,) p. ii. ch.iii. § 1.

Cicero, (omits to state when,
and why he begins with his
proofs,) p. i. ch. iii. § 5.

Climax, (use of,)p.ii. ch.ii. §4.

Common Sense, p. i. ch. ii. § 6.

■ ,(when apt to be

laid aside,) p. iii. ch. ii. § 6.

Comparison, (use of, in exciting
any feeling,) p. ii. ch. ii. § 4.

' , or Simile, p. iii. ch.

ii. §3.

Composition, (fallacy of,) p. i.
ch. ii. § 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. 436, note.

Consistency, (mistakes respect-
ing,) p. ii. ch. iii. § 5.

Conviction, (distinguished from
Persuasion,) p. ii. ch. i. § 1.

Copleston, Bp., (on Analogy,)
Appendix [E].

, (Letter of Lord Dud-
ley to,) p. i. ch. iii. § 2.

, (his share in reviving

the study of Logic,) p. i. ch.
iii. § 2.

Council, (joint compositions of,
how to be interpreted,) p. i.
ch. iii. § 2.

Credulity, (coincident with In-
credulity,) p. i. ch. ii. § 5.

Crowded, (style,) p. iii. ch. ii.
§9.

and disadvantages of,) Introd.

§6.
Deference, p. i. ch. iii. § 2.
Delivery, p. iv. ch. iv. § 1.
Dickinson, Bp., ("Remains" of,)

p. i. ch.iii. § 7.
Direct (Argument), p. i. ch. ii.

§ 1. and ch. iii. § 6.
Diversion of Feelings, p. ii. ch.

ii. § 6.
Dividing (a question), p. i. ch.

iii. § 4.
Doubt, (opposite to what,) p. i.

ch.2. § 5.
Dudley, Lord, (his statement of

a presumption against logical

studies,) p. i. ch. iii. § 2.

Edinburgh Review, (extracts

from,) Introd. § 6. and Ap-
pendix [F].
Effect, (Argument from,) p. i.

ch. ii. § 3.
Elegance, (of style,) p. iii. ch.

iii. § 1, 2.
Eloquence, (reputation for, its

consequences,) p. ii. ch. iii.

§2.
Emphasis, p. iv. ch. ii. § 2.
Energy, (of style,) p. iii. ch. ii.

§ 1, &c.
Envy, (hard to be counteracted,)

p. ii. ch. iii. § 1 .
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.
Expediency, (true character of,)

p. ii. ch. i. § 2. and Appendix

[GG].
Experience, (Argument from,)

p. i. ch. ii. § 6.

Authority derived

Debating Societies, (advantages from, p. ii. ch. iii. § 5.

INDEX.

477

Extempore speaking, (cha-
racter of,) p. iv. ch. i. § 3.

prayers, (apt to be

delivered not as prayers,) p.
iv. ch. ii. § 3. note.

Fable, p. i. ch. ii. § 8.

Fact, (matters of,) p. i. ch. ii.
§ 4. and ch. iii. § 3.

Fallacies, p. i. ch. iii. § 7.

Fathers, (appeal to their testi-
mony, sometimes gives an
advantage, in the eyes of the
multitude, to the worse cause, )
p. i. ch.iii. § 8.

Feelings, (apt to fall short of
what the occasion calls for,)
p. ii. ch. i. § 2.

Fine delivery, p. iv. ch.iii. § 4.

Free-trade, (questions relating
to,) p.i. ch. ii. § 7.

Gender, p. iii. ch. ii. § 2.
General terms, p. iii. ch. ii. § 1.
Good-will, (essential to the

Speaker's character,) p. ii.

ch. iii. § 3.

Hampden, (Bampton Lecture,)

p. iii. ch. ii. § 6.
Hinds, Dr., (extracts from,)

Appendix [D].
Historic Doubts, (referred to,)

p. i. ch.iii. § 7.

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, (Argument,) p.i. ch.ii.
§i. and ch.iii. § 7.

Induction, p. i. ch. ii. § 6.

Ingenuity, (liability to be mis-
led by one's ovm,) p. ii. ch. i.
§2.

Instruction, (distinguished from
Conviction strictly so called,)
p. i. ch. i. § 1.

Integrity, (of the speaker's cha-
racter,) p. ii. ch. iii. § 3.

Intellect, (dreaded by some per-
sons,) p.ii. ch. iii. §2.

Interrogation, p. iii. ch. ii. § 15.

Ironical form, p.i. ch. iii. § 7.

Johnson, Dr., (style of,) p. iii.
ch. ii. § 8.

Language, (a necessary instru-

mentofReasoning,)Introd.§4.
Loose sentences, p. iii. ch. ii.

§ 12.
Ludicrous, (a refuted sophism

often becomes so,) p. i. ch. iii.

§7.

Mandan- Indians, (rashly assu-
med to have raised them-
selves from the savage state,)
Appendix [DDD].

Manifesto, (see Council).

Mathematics, (contempt for-
merly bestowed on the study,)
Introd. § 4.

Metaphor, p. iii. ch. ii. § 3.

Metonymy, p. iii. ch. ii. § 3.

Milman, (extract from,) Ap-
pendix [I],

Milton, (his opinion of exercises
in composition,) Introd. § 5.

Natural delivery, p. iv. ch. ii.
iii. &c.

Natural representations liable
to be thought unnatural, p. i.
ch. ii. § 2.

Negative probabilities, p. i. ch,
ii. § 4.

Nominalism, Introd. § 4.

Number of words, (energy de-
pendent on,) p. iii. ch. ii. § 7.

478

INDEX.

Oaths, (erroneous estimate of
the value of,) Appendix
[DDD].

Objections, p. i. eh. iii. § 7.

Omissions, (force of,) p.i. ch.ii.

Opinion, (see Fact.)
Oratory, (spurious,) p. iii. ch. i.
§ 4, 5, 6.

Paley, (Horse Paulinse,) p. i.
ch. ii. § 4. and p. i. ch. iii. § 1 .

Parable, p. i. ch. ii. § 7.

Paradox, p. i. ch. iii. § 2.

Parity of reasoning, p. i. ch. ii.
§ 6.

Party-spirit, p. ii. ch. iii. § 3.

Passions, p. ii. ch. i. § 3.

Pepys, Bp., (onnegativeproofs,)
p. i. ch. ii. § 4.

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.

Plays, (acting of, at schools,)
p. iv. ch. iv. § 2.

Pleader, (see Advocate.)

Poetry, (characteristic of,) p.iii.
ch. iii. § 3.

Political Economy, (extract
from Lectures on,) Appen-
dix [C] and [DDD].

Practice, (in composition,) In-
trod. § 5.

Presumptions, p. i. ch. iii. § 2.

Professions, (Lecture on,) ap-
pended to p. ii.

Prolixity, p. iii. ch. i. § 2. and
ch. ii. § 7.

Proper terms, p. iii. ch. ii. § 1 .

Propositions, (to find,) part i.
ch.i. § 3,

Quarterly Review, (extract
from,) Appendix [B].

Ranting, (mistakes respecting
it,) p. iv. ch. iii. § 3.

, (effects of, accounted

for,) p. iv. ch. iv. § 1.

Reading, p. iv. ch. i. § 3. and
ch.iii. § 1.

Recapitulation, p. i. ch. iii. § 9.

Recitation, p. iv. ch. iv. § 2.

Refutation, p. i. ch. iii. § 7.

, too forcible, § 8.

Repetition, (conducive to per-
spicuity,) p. iii. ch. i. § 2.

Rhetoric, (why in greater repute
among the Ancients,) Introd.
§3, 4.

Rhetorician, (art of, practised by
a wise man on himself,) p. ii.
ch. i. § 2.

Ridicule, (how to be employed,
and met,) p. ii. ch. iii. § 6.

Robinson Crusoe, (why appa-
rently natural,) p. i. ch.ii. § 2.

Rote, (learning by, its effects,)
p. iv. ch. ii. § 5.

Sequence, (physical and logi-
cal,) p.i. ch.ii. § 3.

Sermons, (common-place,) p .iii ,
ch.iii. §2.

Sheridan, (his principles of elo-
cution,) p. iv. ch.ii. § 2.

, (extract from,) Ap-
pendix [M].

Sign, p. i. ch. ii. § 3.

Simile, p. iii. ch.ii. § 3.

Smith, Adam, (extracts from,)
p. i. ch. ii. § 8. and p. i. ch.
iii. § 1. and p. iii. ch. iii. § 4.

Sound, (imitative,) p. iii. ch. ii.
§5. .

Speaking, (distinguished from
Reading,) p. iv, ch. i. § 3.
and ch. iii. § L

INDEX.

479

Spurious eloquence, p. iii. ch. i.

§ 4, 5.
Subjects, (for learners,) Introd.

§5.
Substantives, (excessive use of,)

p. iii. ch. ii. § 8.
Suggestive (style), p. iii. ch. ii.

§9.
Sympathy, (reflex,) p. iv. ch. iii.

§8.

Tautology, p. iii. ch. ii. § 8.
Technical terms, Introd. § 4.

and p. iii. ch. ii. § 6.
Terence, (tendency of the acting

of his plays,) p. iv. ch. iv. § 2.
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.

Unlearned (see Accessible.)
Unnatural representations likely

to appear natural, p. i. ch. ii.

§2.

Verbosity, p. iii. ch. ii. § 8.

Waiving (a question), p. i. ch.
iii. § 5.

Will, (how influenced,) p. ii.
ch. i. § 1.

Williams, Roger, (one of the
earliest and soundest advo-
cates for liberty of con-
science,) p. i. ch. iii. § 3.

Wisdom, (as consisting in cor-
rect perception of analogies,)
p. i. ch. ii. § 7.

Wolfe, (extracts from,) Appen-
dix [K].

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Binding sect, jun 3 0 196a

PE Whately, Richard, Abp. of

U02 Dublin

W43 Elements of rhetoric

1846 7th ed., rev.

PLEASE DO NOT REMOVE
CARDS OR SLIPS FROM THIS POCKET

UNIVERSITY OF TORONTO LIBRARY

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Full text of "Elements of rhetoric; comprising an analysis of the laws of moral evidence and of persuasion, with rules for argumentative composition and elocution"

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